by David Dun
"I'm supposed to wait around and see if they can eat my heart out? What else are they doing?"
"Young is talking to relatives of the photographer. They say it's impossible that he would have raped the woman and run off."
"Shit. Is there anything we can do?"
"Not really. But this is the same stuff the police were told."
"Is there any way Young could have seen the money drop?"
"No. He saw the copter coming back to the compound after we got the money. He may have made a connection."
"How?"
There was a brief pause in Groiter's quick responses.
"We found a transmitter in the briefcase-"
"Did you say transmitter?"
"We destroyed it on the way back to the compound."
"You didn't tell me this. You didn't tell me."
"Didn't think it was important. He thinks he got a signal before we destroyed it. That's all. It's a hunch."
"A hunch? He's investigating because of it."
"So far, he has nothing. I think it's dangerous to jump to conclusions."
"I want you on this. I want you all over this."
"What did she do to Kim Lee? He's dead, right?"
"She was supposed to bomb the car. But it's in the parking lot and he's vanished into thin air."
"What do you mean supposed to?"
"You know. We've got surveillance. We were pretty sure that's how she was going to do it. But I didn't come right out and discuss the method. It doesn't work that way. She's gotta believe she's working for Mother Earth. We're just sort of fatherly advisers in the cause."
"I don't care about the shrink stuff. I just want to know."
"I'll get the details, but it may take a little time."
"Well, get them. And get control. Push back."
13
The iridescent green of the alarm showed 3:00 A.M., and the sound of the bathroom fan reminded Dan that he had gone to sleep listening to its comforting hum. He got out of bed, went to the bathroom, then to the kitchen, where he got a beer on his way to the den. There was by now an even greater clutter of maps, news clippings, and lists. The bulletin boards were full of scribbles. But nobody, not he, Maria, nor the sheriff, was making any real progress.
Although it was another long shot he had learned that Corey Schneider was indeed a single woman, thirty-six years of age. Interestingly, she was an environmental activist, although in these parts that wasn't unusual. Maria knew who she was and commented that she was a loner, an extremist, and weird. Two years ago she and Maria had gotten into a screaming match over invading a congressman's field office and chaining themselves to furniture, but Maria was certain it wasn't this woman who had robbed them. Robbery and political statements were two different matters.
Dan had been lobbying for Maria to have someone call this woman, perhaps the fund-raiser person at Wildflower who knew Schneider as someone who was wealthy, occasionally gave money, and often wanted information. He was determined to discover whether Schneider had an explanation for her whereabouts on the day of the robbery.
The other clue that he had done nothing about was the helicopter. In northern California timber companies, public utilities, or the government usually owned the jet helicopters. Amada had one, but he had never seen it. Perhaps a look would give him a clue as to whether the copter that emitted the radio signal belonged to Amada. One easy way to see the chopper was to fly over the compound. But there was a much more compelling reason to do that, and that was in preparation for another trip inside. Something was going on behind that fence. Somehow it all related to the missing money, the break-in at his house, and the guys who almost killed them on the road.
Dan wanted to do the flyover next Sunday morning at daybreak. He had a growing certainty that the all-white unmarked helicopter had emitted a radio signal precisely because it contained the missing money. It also followed that if it had been landing it would have come down on the pad near the compound.
If it was the same aircraft, it would further link the compound and Amada with the missing $500,000. That information plus what he might discover on a second trip inside would perhaps help convince Jeb Otran and Hutchin that Amada and their compound were not as benign as they claimed. And it would get him one step closer to the men who had invaded his home. His fingers tapped nervously on his knee. There was no way that he could not tell Maria, especially since she was back in town. Obviously, she would want to come along for the flight. That was a complicating factor because a contract logger by the name of Anderson was harvesting Otran's land immediately adjoining the Highlands. So far, it seemed that his preparations were undiscovered by the enviros. By commencing on a weekend, Anderson hoped to get a jump on any court order the enviros might obtain. If the enviros had known about this cutting in the old growth immediately adjoining the Highlands, they would have sought a court order before the weekend-they still might. So by flying Maria around the area, he was potentially inviting a Monday-morning court appearance for an emergency temporary injunction. It would look really odd if the Wildflower Coalition discovered Anderson's harvesting on Otran's land while flying around with him.
Dan knew he could wait until another day, after she found out about Anderson's harvesting another way. Or he could just go without her-without saying anything-but she would be furious. Tortured by indecision, he picked up the phone and called the Palmer Inn.
"Hello," the sleepy voice answered.
"This is the Republican Central Committee and we would like to know if for a mere three hundred dollars you would like to join the Voice of Congress Club."
"It's almost four in the morning," she said. Then in a more good-natured tone: "It must be awfully important. Either that or you're drunk."
"It's important. I want to take a plane over the Amada compound on Sunday and look at that helicopter to see if it might be the one that emitted the signal."
"You sure that's the reason you want to fly over the compound?"
"Uh-huh."
"Dan, you're not back on your idea of going in there?"
"It's just a consideration."
"Your boss and your client said no. It's stupid. You heard that guy on the phone. You could get killed."
"Maria?"
"Yes?"
"It means a lot to me that you're open-minded about this."
"Damn you."
Dan chuckled. ''It's important to me to see that chopper." He said it warmly in a confident basso.
"I have meetings Sunday morning. Important meetings."
"I know. And you should attend them-"
"What's that mean?"
"It means I'd like to go alone."
"I liked you better as the Republican Central Committee. I'm going. What time does the plane take off?"
"I want to go at six a.m. I don't know when I'll be back."
"Call me when you get the exact departure time."
''What about the chemist and the bat guy? You mentioned that Patty McCafferty was working on it."
''She is. I'd like to go in person and talk to these people."
"How about the Corey Schneider gal?"
"I talked with the fund-raiser and got her to call Schneider."
"So what did she say: 'Where were you on the morning of June fifteenth?'"
"No, no. They got all cozy. Schneider offered a small donation. Small for Schneider at least. She likes to donate to the legal-defense fund for sit-in protesters that have been arrested. Anything in-your-face she likes."
"So what happened?"
"Well, Penny gave her the inside scoop that we were supposed to get a big donation, but it never arrived. Penny said there was even a rumor that it was stolen by a woman. Then Penny said this: "The only woman I know who would be gutsy enough to pull that off would be you.' There was a silence on the line, then Schneider said, 'Couldn't have been me because I was at the conference in Portland.' I checked and she was there. Several people saw her at the beginning and the end, and she was register
ed. So I'll see you at the plane, you just tell me when."
Damn. Maybe they could somehow avoid flying over the area where Anderson was logging. With luck, they could fly low, straight to the compound.
Regrettably, Corey Schneider wasn't a whore. Oddly, Groiter had always been attracted to her.
Now as he sat looking at the wooded drive that led to her house, he thought carefully about his plan. It had amazed him that Corey's extended family had spoken with him so freely. But then it was a long time ago and she hadn't spoken to them in years.
The attorneys had become even more aggressive and were amassing quantities of information. Although he didn't admit it to Kenji, at this point no one really knew what they knew. Now they were going to fly over the compound taking pictures. Kenji had been furious about that. His failure to locate the device until just prior to landing the helicopter had been an incredible blunder, and Groiter knew it. Now was not the time to make a similar mistake.
He was driving a Mercedes with heavily tinted glass.
Taking his foot from the brake, he let the big car roll down the redwood-lined lane, until he came to a barely graveled and mostly overgrown side road. Turning off the motor, he coasted down it, listening to the barely audible sound of his tires crunching little stones and later the duff of the forest floor. He put on his full-face knit headpiece and donned a ski mask that left no hint of his hair or his skin revealed.
The small dead-end forest road, partially grown over with young alder sprouts, ended in a patch of wild blackberries. He decided that this was a good place to leave the car. His mother's favorite berry patch back in Germany looked much like this. While his mother picked for a pie, he and his brothers would eat their fill and play hide-and-seek amongst the thorns. Those were easier days.
When he stepped from the car the ground was soft with moisture. There was a chill in the air because the coastal fog was at least 20 road miles farther inland than usual this morning. The green of the forest had grown in an arch over the little road, and even if there had been sun it would have been obscured. Usually a stranger to the forest, Hans didn't like being surrounded by a thousand hiding places.
Just through the woods from Ghost Lane, as he now called it, he knew he would find the home of Corey Schneider. But this forest was somewhat problematic. He was near enough to the coast that the cut-over second-growth forests contained a fair number of dense brush patches. Using his compass to do a little figuring, he deduced that one such thicket lay directly in the line of travel.
Flipping the brass compass shut, he was pondering whether to avoid the brush by going left up a hill, or right down into a gulch, when he felt something at the back of his head. He knew it was a gun-even before he heard her words.
"Put your hands on your head. Berry pickers don't come out here in a Mercedes with new leather."
The thought that she had walked up on him so easily terrified him. She was good.
"Pleased to make your acquaintance."
"That won't last," she said dryly. "Now take off the head gear."
"Once I do that, you'll have to die. You know there's an endless supply of guys like me."
"I should worry that they'll send another dumb shit in a Mercedes, followed by another? What are you doing here?"
"I came to talk to you."
"With a mask and a gun?"
"Next time I'll bring flowers."
"You're the Kraut on the phone, aren't you?"
"What phone?"
"Imagine having your scrotum slit open, your eyes gouged out, and your tongue rolled around in garlic, onion, and flour, then fried in olive oil. Can you picture that?"
"What's your point?"
"I'm serving a blind man's tongue and balls with tartar sauce if I don't get some answers. And you're going to eat them one little piece at a time."
"Next question."
Suddenly his head felt like it had exploded. A few seconds disappeared on him, and he was on his knees with blood wetting his stocking cap. His temple throbbed and he felt nauseated.
A voice whispered in his ear. "I say when the next question comes. First you answer the last question or I'm gonna string you up and I'm going to take this knife-" Through blurred vision he could see a wicked-looking skinning knife with a long, curved blade turning slowly in her hand. "-and I'm going to cut you where the sun don't shine."
His head spun and he felt like he might lose consciousness. He didn't doubt that she would do everything she threatened, and more. Up until this moment his fright had been tempered. Being a cautious and thorough man, he had hired Garcia, a cocky young Spaniard, to watch his back. Garcia always rode a motorcycle unless the job required a car. Suddenly it occurred to him that if Garcia hadn't arrived by now, perhaps she had somehow found him first
"Maybe we could make a deal," he said, stalling for time.
"I'd rather watch her cut your balls off," a voice interjected.
Hans could feel Corey Schneider whirl. By the time he got turned around, he saw Garcia with a submachine gun leveled at Corey's middle. Corey's gun was aimed in Garcia's direction, but his body was almost completely bidden behind a tree.
"Drop the gun," Hans said. "That Uzi will saw you in half and we won't be able to have our little talk."
Corey Schneider dropped the gun.
Hans shook his head, trying to get rid of the dizzy feeling. Slowly he stood. "It would be pointless to beat the shit out of you," he said. "But I'm going to do it anyway."
Corey never actually lost consciousness, but she became confused and sick. She couldn't recall how many times she'd thrown up. There was something scientific about the beating. It was calculated and brutal, but not deadly and not disfiguring. Most of the blows, other than a dozen open-handed slaps, were delivered to her torso and kidneys. At first she could tighten her muscles as a means of protection, but eventually she was a lifeless punching bag. She craved unconsciousness, but it wouldn't come.
There was an intermission to this beating when they marched her to the house. It resumed in her living room, where she noticed that she felt hot, as if she had a fever. Oddly, she recalled being grateful that there was no blood. When they stopped, she was lying facedown on the couch with one hand touching the floor. It was her father's plaid couch, and the crisscrossing of the red and greens seemed to add to her nausea. She closed her eyes. Letting her mind wander down her right arm to her hand, she didn't think anything was broken. She did the same for the left arm lying at her side.
Her right leg was bent at the knee but didn't seem unnaturally contorted. The left leg was almost straight. It was as though her body were a big room and her mind rolled around inside, checking the walls for cracks, looking for leaks in the roof.
"Would you care for a cup of coffee?" someone asked.
Opening her eyes, she tried to focus on the mahogany floor.
"Wait outside, I can take it from here."
"But-"
"I said get some fresh air."
"Shit." The Spaniard left. She heard the door close.
"Can you talk?"
"Yeah."
"I didn't want to hurt you. Really. I just needed to show you. You're going to do what I say?"
"That depends."
"Take off your clothes."
"No. No. No."
"You see, if you would have learned with the others in your life, they, too, would have left you alone. You just wouldn't learn. Now do you think you have learned?"
"Learned what?"
"Take off your clothes."
"No. I have learned."
"I couldn't hear you." "
I have learned."
"Good. Crawl over to that closet." She did as she was told. Hating herself for it.
"Get in."
"Can you hear me?" he asked an hour later.
"Yes."
"I want you to talk to me."
"About what?"
"I want you to tell me about where you grew up. About your father and your mother."
They went back to the couch and he brought a tall glass of water. "Drink."
Then he drew her down. She lay with her head in his lap while he stroked her hair. It was disorienting. She felt like a small child.
"You're very good, you know. Nothing can touch you when you're allowed to be clever. When you're not opposing our cause. And when you oppose me, you oppose our cause. You'll lose for Mother Earth if you oppose me. Now we can work together. How do you feel about that?"
"OK."
"I take it, then, you agree that we're a team." His hand rubbed the back of her scalp; while arousing her hatred, it felt good.
"You beat the shit out of me."
"You wanna argue about this?"
"No."
"Good. Now you're not gonna have any of those nosy questions on the phone anymore, are you?"
"No."
"You're gonna hold up your end of the deal?"
"Fucking A, man."
"Don't give me lip."
"Yeah."
"Did you bury Denny in the woods out behind your house? After you shot him in the back of the head?"
"Yes."
"We're gonna dump Denny's body in the ocean with a concrete block tied to his ankles right after we work together on a few more projects. And these are all for the cause."
"What do you want?"
"I want you to tell me exactly what you did with Kim Lee. But first I want to know all about Denny."
Corey hesitated, feeling strangely attracted to this man while hating him. For reasons that came from a deep pit in a closed-over part of her mind, she wanted to please this German-sounding bastard.