Tony was not aware of the situation and Dutch planned to keep it that way. He did not need any more loose cannons. Better to wait for Regis Walsh to arrive and let him deal with it. It might be time to start withdrawing his generous support. School loyalty and patronage to fellow Bonesmen could only be expected to go so far.
They landed at the lodge and Dutch was pleased to see the wide-eyed look of amazement that filled Tony’s face. It was always the same for a first-time visitor. They never truly appreciated how well the rich lived until they came face to face with it.
“This is fucking unbelievable,” Tony said. “I mean, I knew it would be fancy. Everything about you guys is fancy. But this is like a castle built of logs.”
They stood at the base of the lodge looking up. It seemed to rise in tiers, each one larger than the last, each spreading out on another layer of land, each protected by electrified fencing to keep the wildlife at bay.
“Everything, of course, operates on our own power grid,” Dutch said. “What you can’t see are the iron gates that slide into place with the touch of a button on a computer screen. They cover all the doorways, all the windows, everything.”
“And you what, have a secret way out once they’re in place?” Tony asked.
“No need. The lodge is totally self-sufficient and self-sustaining. It has its own radio communication system, its own infirmary, and the ability to feed a half-dozen guests and staff for up to three months. If we were forced to close ourselves off to the outside world, to be trapped inside, so to speak, we would just sit back and drink some wonderful vintage wine until help arrived.”
“Not a bad way to be trapped,” Tony said.
“And, of course, we have one of the finest armories imaginable, filled with rifles which in the hands of a true marksman can take down a fully grown Alaskan brown bear.”
The two men climbed the wide wooden stairs that led up to what was referred to as the Greeting Room. It was a forty-by-forty-foot room, the walls of which were lined with mounted animal heads; one full-sized brown bear standing on its hind legs, snarling mouth agape, front paws and claws extended; a fully mounted bull moose; deer heads with ten or more points; numerous hunting prints, many showing Indians and pioneers fighting animals with spears and knives; and animal pelts and rugs made from wolves, deer, moose, otter.
“How many kinds of animals are here?” Tony asked.
“If it’s native to Alaska, it’s here,” Dutch said. “Come, let me show you your room.”
Dutch filled Tony in on the other guests who were there. The senator and the CEOs made no impression, but the movie star left him wide-eyed. “He doesn’t get up until midafternoon. Just tell him you work here if he asks. He probably won’t. He doesn’t have many interests beyond his own comforts. By the way, Regis Walsh may be stopping by today.”
“What? Why?”
“I haven’t the foggiest,” Dutch said.
“Do you think something’s gone wrong?”
Dutch only shrugged.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Let’s go get that slimy little son of a bitch,” Harry said. “How long will it take to get a helicopter here, rifles, search warrant, and whatever backup you think we need?”
Jessie looked at her watch. “We’ve got lots of daylight left, so that’s not a problem. We’re only going after one man, and I don’t think Dutch will be stupid enough to put his people up against us if we have a lawful warrant. Your Max Abrams has one from a Florida judge that he sent us, and since it involves four homicides, no Alaska judge is going to refuse to honor it. That will only take an hour or two and a quick fax from Juneau to Homer. Then it’s just a question of one or two officers for backup and we’re good to go. I’d say by three at the latest.”
Harry took Vicky aside. He put his hands on her shoulders and looked intently into her eyes. “I want you to promise me something,” he said.
“What’s that?”
“I want you to deal with Rolf from a distance. Promise you’ll do that. You let me handle him up close.”
“What is this, Harry? When did I become some rookie cop who you have to protect?”
“It’s not you, it’s him. He’s a psycho about women. If you get close to him he’s going to want to cut you. He won’t be able to help himself. Meg was good at what she did. She was very, very good. He shouldn’t have been able to kill her, but he did. You are too important to me, Vicky. Just don’t let him get too close to you.”
“I’ll do my best. That’s all I can promise.”
He squeezed her shoulders and she leaned against him. It was a brief moment of tenderness, but it was enough.
* * *
The helicopter brought Regis Walsh to the lodge at two p.m. Dutch immediately took him into the office without letting Tony know he was there.
“How serious is it?” Dutch asked.
“I gather there’s a warrant out for my arrest,” Walsh said.
“What are the charges?” There was a demanding edge to Dutch’s voice.
“Apparently my assistant, Ken Oppenheimer, has told the authorities that I shielded Tony from them even though I knew he had killed at least one woman, possibly more. It’s nonsense, of course. Ken is simply trying to justify his own errors in judgment.”
“Did Tony kill the woman?”
“I have no way of knowing. I certainly don’t believe he did.”
Dutch let out a long breath. “I can’t allow my company to become involved in a murder.” There was a tremor in his voice.
“Nor could I allow the church to be involved with one,” Walsh said.
“I think the police are going to be coming for him.”
“That may be the best solution. Providing Tony doesn’t survive the police assault.”
“That would seem to be the best solution for everyone,” Dutch said.
* * *
Dutch went down to Tony’s room and found him staring out a window into the vast expanse of wilderness that surrounded the lodge.
“Do you get many wild animals close to the lodge?”
“Only when someone is careless with food,” Dutch said. “We always warn guests about that, but sometimes people get careless. It only takes one encounter with a bear—a black bear usually—who wants the remains of a sandwich that was left out on a bedside table to make a believer out of a careless guest.”
“I’ll bet,” Tony said.
“By the way, Regis is here. Would you like to see him?”
“Yeah, sure,” Tony said. “Is anything wrong?”
“The police are sniffing around. I think it might be a good idea if you slipped back to Homer and let us get you on a fishing boat that will take you out to sea for a bit.”
“Shit, I was really looking forward to staying here for a while.”
Dutch thought for a moment that Tony might stamp his foot. He could be such a little boy when things didn’t go his way. “Let’s go see Regis,” he said.
Regis was still in the lodge office and when Tony entered he moved quickly toward him and embraced him like a long-lost relative. It was a heartfelt scene and completely genuine on the surface and Dutch made note of it for future reference. Regis had far better acting skills than he had ever suspected.
“Dutch tells me the cops are on their way,” Tony said.
Sadness filled Walsh’s face. “Yes, the two sheriff’s detectives who harassed us in Florida, the one they call the dead detective and his female partner, and some Alaskan state police officers they’ve enlisted up here. Also, you should know that Ken Oppenheimer kicked open the door by giving sworn testimony to a Clearwater police sergeant named Max Abrams who apparently has warrants out for both you and me. The whole thing is absurd, of course, but it has to be dealt with.”
“That fucking Oppenheimer, that goddamn turncoat—you made him and this is what he does to you?”
Regis looked at Tony’s cold eyes and knew without question that Ken Oppenheimer would be a dead man if Tony ever set foo
t in Florida again. It was truly tempting, but the aftermath would be far more dangerous to all concerned. He slipped an arm around Tony’s shoulder in a gesture that exuded fatherly warmth. “The important thing right now is to keep you out of the hands of the police. I believe Dutch has a workable plan. We’ll send you out with a hunting guide, who will take you back to Deep Creek, the river about a quarter of a mile north of the lodge. From there he’ll head back toward Ninilchik. You’ll have a compass with you and a radio so we can keep you informed about the police. Once you hit the river, it’s just a question of following it west until you reach the village. You’ll be picked up there and taken to Homer.”
“What if the police show up before then?” Tony asked.
“The guide will lead them away from you, and when they stop him he’ll just explain that he was out scouting a hunt planned for tomorrow. If they ask about you, he’s instructed to give them a see-no-evil, hear-no-evil, speak-no-evil response. When they’re gone he’ll find you again. If they find you first, do your best to get away.”
Dutch came over to them. “It’s important that you stay out of police custody. We need time to set up a strong defense against the lies that Kenneth Oppenheimer is spreading about us and about the church.”
“They won’t get me,” Tony said. “Do you have any camouflage clothing and a good hunting rifle?”
“Of course. Come with me and I’ll get you outfitted and introduce you to your hunting guide.”
* * *
Two Alaskan state police helicopters were waiting for them at the Homer Airport, along with two extra troopers. Jessie had equipped Harry and Vicky with bulletproof vests and rifles fitted with telescopic sights. She had the arrest warrants Max Abrams had sent ahead—one for Tony Rolf and one for Regis Walsh—along with a request that they be held for extradition to Florida.
Harry and Vicky had decided to use their own handguns and Jessie was familiarizing them with the rifles. “These are Savage 116 Bear Hunters. They take a .300 Winchester Magnum cartridge and hit with a helluva wallop. They also give a good kick to the shoulder, so just be prepared for that,” she warned. “The scope is a standard Bushnell eight-power on a raised mount so you can use the iron sights beneath it as well. It’s been sighted in but may be a touch off for you. I think it will be so slight it won’t make a difference. Now, the weaponry they have at the lodge is a helluva lot better than ours. You can expect anything this guy Rolf is using will have more sophisticated attachments.”
“Like what?” Vicky asked.
“Laser scopes, infrared scopes, basically scopes that paint little dots on you. Some of them are cheap and ain’t worth shit, but some others are pretty sophisticated. So if you see a little red dot dancing across your shirt, hit the deck.”
“Sounds like good advice,” Harry said.
“Indeed,” Vicky added.
* * *
Tony was dressed in camouflage clothing from head to foot. His boots and shooting gloves were made of camouflage cloth, his face was painted, his one-piece hunting outfit looked like tree bark with loose pieces designed to move like parts of a bush blowing in the wind. No section of his body remained uncovered. For a weapon he carried a Remington 700 .30 06 rifle with an eight-power infrared scope. In the right hands it could stop a charging brown bear at one hundred yards. In the wrong hands it would probably get you killed.
Tony was also carrying an eight-inch hunting knife with a razor-sharp edge. By the way he had caressed it, Dutch could tell it would be his weapon of choice. His personal switchblade was also tucked into his left hunting boot. For Tony it was like some people and their American Express Cards: he just didn’t leave home without it.
Tony and Dutch stepped out into the hallway and ran right into the movie star, who was bleary-eyed and unshaven and stood there absently scratching his belly.
Tony was too startled to speak, not because he was face-to-face with a man he had seen so many times on the silver screen, but because that man was almost a head shorter than he and was staring up at him with a silly smile on his face.
“Hey, bro, we’re off to the woods, are we?” The smile widened into the broad, sparkling gleam familiar to millions.
“Tom, how are you?” Dutch said, stepping forward.
“Oh, Dutchman, I am one starving, very hungry man.”
“Well, get yourself on up to the dining room. I’ve got two four-star chefs just waiting to cook for you. In fact, Regis Walsh is up there ordering a late lunch right now.”
“Regis! What the hell is he doing here? I haven’t seen him since the dedication of the Flag Building in Clearwater. And why lunch? The hell with lunch, I need breakfast. You think your boys can rustle up an order of huevos rancheros? I became addicted to them on a gambling junket in Vegas last year.”
“If you can hum a few bars, they can play it,” Dutch said.
The dazzling smile returned. “Atta boy, Dutch,” he roared, then turned back to Tony. “Go find out where all those deer are hiding, I wanna take back a freezer chest full of venison.” He spun on his heels. “See you guys at dinner.”
Tony watched him wander off down the hall. The man hadn’t even asked his name, hadn’t cared who he was. He just wanted someone to feed him.
“Let’s go find the guide you’re going out with,” Dutch said.
The guide was a French Canadian named Chris Chagal, known to his peers as Frenchy. He had been raised in the woods of Labrador and had worked his way west across northern Canada until finally settling down at age forty as a hunting guide in the Kenai Peninsula.
Standing next to Tony he looked even bigger than his six feet, 230 pounds. He had a full beard of red hair that went down to his chest and covered all of his face except for two-inch patches beneath his eyes. His hands were big and brutish, his shoulders broad, and his protruding belly hard as rock. Frenchy’s arms were as thick as most men’s legs and his legs were like the trunks of trees. He had a scar on his left shoulder where a brown bear he thought he had killed had swatted him, sending him thirty feet through the air. Fortunately, the hunter he was guiding had shot the bear dead. He had never made that mistake again.
Dutch explained the situation: They did not want Tony taken into custody by the police. Frenchy was not to engage the police in gunfire. If they saw him with Tony, he was to separate from him and try to lead the police away from him. When stopped, he was to say that Tony was a guest at the lodge and he was guiding him on a hunt. The real goal, which he was not to reveal under any circumstances, was to get Tony to Ninilchik and then back to Homer.
“Am I to leave him to get to Ninilchik on his own?” Frenchy asked.
“Yes.”
“Is he a skillful enough woodsman to make it all the way by himself? It’s not an easy trip and there are—”
“We expect him to be able to handle it.”
“I hope he understands what this will involve.”
“He’s been told,” Dutch said. “Don’t concern yourself with it.”
* * *
“Let’s mount up,” Jessie said.
Jessie and the two other Alaskan state troopers boarded one helicopter and Harry and Vicky boarded the other. They lifted off from Homer Airport and swung northeast toward the Vandermere hunting lodge. It was a clear, bright, sunny day and visibility was almost endless. Beneath them they could see the occasional moose or deer, disturbed by the helicopters, moving off into the brush. Cars headed north and south along the Sterling Highway, paying little attention to the aircraft that flitted above them. Probably an everyday occurrence for them, Harry thought. Like Coast Guard helicopters in Florida.
Florida—it seemed a million miles away right now. Harry looked at Vicky with her deep tan, matching his own. He reached across the helicopter, extending his hand. She took it. He squeezed. “Let’s get this bastard and go home,” he said.
* * *
Frenchy and Tony moved out into the woods, slowly working their way north to Deep Creek, the river that would
lead them to Ninilchik.
Frenchy raised his hand indicating they should stop. He spoke in little more than a whisper. “Deep Creek can be dangerous—shallow and then suddenly opening into deep holes. There are good crossing points, but you have to know them. I’ll show you.”
Tony noted that Frenchy was not dressed in camouflage and he asked about it.
“It’s my job to lead the police away from you,” Frenchy said. “If they come, you use the camo to hide yourself and I will move off and lead them away. When they’re gone, you continue to follow the river to Ninilchik.”
“Will I be able to do it alone?”
“The river goes there. You follow the river, you go there,” Frenchy said. “It’s easy.”
“If you say so.”
Frenchy placed a meat hook of a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry. You just follow the river west. Go slow. Use your compass to be sure. When the police leave I will come find you. I promise. You have a good rifle. Only use it for bear and only if you have to. Camo will keep bear from seeing you, but they will still smell you. If you see a brown bear, find a tree you can climb and get up it. Brown bears don’t climb. Black bears, they climb like bastids. They can come right up after you. But the brown ones aren’t aggressive like that. Okay? Just go slow and easy now, and if the cops show up I’ll lead them away and then I’ll come back and find you. Okay?”
“Okay.”
* * *
The state police helicopters started circling when the lodge was a hundred yards in the distance. The brush below was thick, the fir trees rising one hundred, one hundred and fifty feet in the air. Deep Creek lay seventy-five yards to the north and could be seen as patches of sunlight flashed across its surface through openings in the trees. All the troopers as well as Harry and Vicky scoured the ground for any sign of movement. The copters moved up to the river, one covering the north bank, one covering the south. They rose up and then dropped down again, trying to gain any good vantage point they could.
“Do you see anything?” Jessie called over her radio.
“Nothing,” Harry responded.
The Scientology Murders Page 26