Stranded

by Patricia H. Rushford

  “A little late for you to be out, isn’t it?” Stan eyed her curiously. “Is there something I can help you with?”

  “I … um, no. I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to take a walk. I was curious about the airstrip and …” Her voice trailed off.

  “Not much to see.”

  “I guess not.”

  “You shouldn’t be out here at night. Not with our neighbors still taking potshots at us.” He settled a firm hand on her shoulder. “Come on. I’ll walk you back to the dorm, where it‘s safe. You can ask Eric to give you a tour of the hangar and airstrip in the morning.”

  Jennie didn’t argue. She fell into step beside the big man. What part was he playing in all of this? Are you a federal agent? She wanted to ask but didn’t. He probably wouldn’t have told her if he was. And not knowing made it impossible for her to confide in him.

  “I was hoping maybe there’d be a plane. I could radio Portland …”

  “No need. I spoke with the sheriff today. He’s on it.”

  “But—”

  “Jennie, it’s only been two days. Be patient. These things take time.”

  “Right.” His reassurance did nothing to ease her mind.

  At the door to the dorm, she thanked him and went inside.

  Wonderful smells of home-baked bread reached Jennie’s nose long before she got to the kitchen for her rendezvous with Dory. She found the spry older woman bent over a huge mound of bread dough.

  “Come in, dear. Have a seat.”

  Jennie didn’t feel like sitting but hitched herself up on a stool near the door.

  “Can I get you some tea or juice?”

  “No, thanks.” Jennie’s stomach felt like lead. Had coming to the kitchen been a mistake? Had she misread Dory’s intent? Or did the woman really believe the juice was harmless? “Why did you want to see me?”

  Dory glanced past Jennie into the dining room. “Lois told me if anything happened to her that I was to make sure you got away from here. It’s not safe.”

  “I can’t leave. My grandmother—”

  “There is nothing you can do for her now. She’d want you to go.”

  Jennie stiffened. “Why? What do you mean, there’s nothing I can do?”

  Dory patted the dough into a ball, transferred it into a large bowl, and covered it. “Things are not as they seem here, Jennie. For some time Lois and I have been concerned that Donovan and his men are using our facilities for their own gain.”

  “Like what?”

  She washed her hands and picked up a towel. “We don’t know. Certain parts of the compound are locked and guarded. We think it may be drugs. There is too much money. Too many changes.” She looked up at Jennie. “Not that we’ve seen anything. It’s just that most of the planes come at night. We ask ourselves, why at night? Why not in daylight? And why the secrecy? When those two men were murdered, we became even more suspicious. We are led to believe they were killed by outsiders, people who are intolerant.”

  “But you can’t believe that?”

  “We’ve lived here for many years. We’ve always been on good terms, with our neighbors. That has changed, or so we’re led to believe. They no longer want us around. I suppose it’s possible, but I can’t imagine them killing anyone. There has always been a kind of respect. At least, it used to be that way … until Donovan took over.”

  “Did you know that the two men who were killed were government agents?” Jennie asked.

  “No, not until Lois talked to your grandmother. She is certain she will be killed, as well, and fears for your safety. You must leave. It’s only a matter of time.”

  “I have to get her out too.” Jennie slipped off the stool. “Can you help us?”

  “There is nothing I can do. l shouldn’t even be talking to you.”

  “Are you afraid you’ll end up in the hospital?”

  She glanced up at Jennie, her eyes moist and dark. “Not afraid. We all end up there eventually. Lois went before her time.”

  “You make it sound like she’s dead.”

  “She soon will be. As will your grandmother.”

  “We have to help them.”

  “There’s nothing I can do!” Dory insisted.

  Jennie wanted to shake the woman. How could she be so compliant?

  “Then tell me what to do.”

  “It’s too late. Lois and your grandmother have been taken from the infirmary.”

  Fear turned Jennie’s blood cold. “Where are they?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t know?” Jennie pressed her hands to her eyes. She had to keep her cool. Getting angry with Dory would get her nowhere. “Please help me. We can’t let Donovan get away with this. I need to contact the authorities. There must be a way.”

  “Perhaps.” Dory stared at her floury hands. “Last night Lois told me she was planning to contact the authorities. I’m not sure how, but she planned to go into the tunnels.”

  “You mean the ones that are locked.”

  She nodded. “They all used to be open. Sometimes we’d use them in winter. Donovan blocked off the portion under his quarters and the warehouse. You can only get into them through his quarters. There’s a hidden panel in the kitchen pantry in Donovan’s quarters. The cupboard to the left of the sink. It’s locked.” She reached inside her blouse and pulled out a cross on a chain, then slipped it over her head. “This will open it. Just insert the base into the keyhole.”

  “Have you been inside?” Jennie took the cross and examined the intricate carvings. She never would have known it was a key.

  “Not for several years.”

  “Then how do you know this will work?”

  “I’m not certain it will. Lois showed it to me this morning before she … took ill.”

  “Before she was drugged.”

  Dory didn’t respond to Jennie’s comment. Her hand shook as she hung the towel she’d used on a rack beside the sink. “I took it from Lois’s nightstand this morning. I’m not certain how she managed to get it.”

  Jennie’s head was spinning. She wasn’t certain she believed Dory—not completely. Much of what Dory said rang true, but some of it, like her conveniently having the key, smelled of a setup. Still, Jennie had no choice. She had to find a way to save Gram and prayed she wasn’t too late. She had to know what was in those tunnels and find out exactly what kind of covert operation Donovan was running. Jennie thanked her and slipped the key over her head.

  “Wait,” Dory said as Jennie turned to leave. “I’ll take you the back way so you won’t be seen.”

  Jennie waited while Dory slipped into a coat. Jennie put her own jacket on as Dory took a flashlight from a hook near the door. Instead of going across the courtyard, they went along a path between the exterior wall and a wooden fence. The path and wall bordered the airstrip and went straight to Donovan’s back door. It was locked. Dory took a key from her pocket and let Jennie in, then pointed her in the direction of the pantry. “God be with you, Jennie.”

  “Is Donovan here?” she whispered. “What if he’s still up?”

  “He won’t be. He takes a sleeping potion every night. I put a little extra into his tea tonight.”

  “And his men?”

  “They’ll be busy with their duties.”

  “Thanks.” Jennie wasn’t sure what she had to be thankful for. Coming here was dangerous, but what other choice did she have? True, she could have taken a horse and gotten out of there, but they’d just come after her. Besides, she wasn’t leaving without Gram.

  Jennie stood for some time in the dark kitchen. Lights from outside Allowed her to see outlines of a table and chairs. Her foot seemed glued to the floor. When she did move, the wood creaked. She stopped and waited, certain someone would come rushing in to stop her. No one came. Jennie crept into the p
antry and turned on the flashlight.

  The false cupboard had no shelves, only a couple of brooms and dustpans and a pail with a mop standing in it. She slipped the cross into the keyhole and pulled it out as Dory had instructed her on the way over. It clicked and slid to one side, leaving a black yawning hole. Jennie put the chain holding the cross back around her neck and tucked it inside her shirt, then ventured inside. She found herself in a small room lined with concrete.

  There was no musty dirt smell in this part of the underground. There were two hallways—one lit, one dark.

  Jennie flashed her light into the dark one first. Three doors lined the wide hall. Two to her left and one at the end of the hall. The doors were closed.

  Moving cautiously, Jennie entered the lighted room just to her right. It was spacious—about fourteen square feet. “I knew it,” she breathed. Just inside the door to her right was a desk topped with a computer and keyboard. A bank of electronic components made the room look like a command center, which it probably was. On the other side was a door that Jennie suspected led outside, probably to the hangar and airstrip.

  Jennie set her flashlight on the desk and moved the mouse to exit the screensaver. The desktop revealed an icon for the same Internet server she used. She clicked it on and waited for the program to come up. When it did, she composed an email to her father. She was about to send it when one of the monitors lining the wall lit up. She could hear two men’s voices coming closer, and then she heard a click. They were coming in.

  Jennie hit the desktop icon to hide her letter and dived under the desk.

  20

  The door slid open, and Jennie felt the cold air rush in and engulf her Jennie huddled back against the wall, praying the men wouldn’t see her.

  “You’re late.” Stan walked over to the desk. Jennie hoped he wouldn’t notice that the screensaver wasn’t on. If he was astute he’d see the minimized internet icon at the bottom of the screen. One click and he’d be able to read her e-mail. She swallowed hard.

  “Had trouble with connections at the other end.” The man spoke with an accent—Australian, maybe.

  “Where’s the guy who usually makes the run?”

  “Julio? He’s making another drop. But not to worry, mate. Got your usual order. Stuff‘s pure. What more do you need?”

  “You look familiar. Have you made the run before?” “Sorry, mate. This is my first time.”

  Jennie’s breath caught. She knew that voice. At least she thought she did.

  “I got some extra cargo for you to take out,” Stan said. “Oh yeah?” The other man had on jeans and a pair of expensive-looking cowboy boots. “And what might that be?”

  “Barrels. Filled with some cargo we need to get rid of. Want you to dump it in the ocean on your way back to Colombia.”

  “And what is it you might be wanting to get rid of?”

  “No need for you to know. Better that way. You’ll be paid well for your trouble.” Stan reached down beside the desk and pulled out a black briefcase. “Ten thousand extra in there for you.”

  “And all you want me to do is dump these … barrels?”

  “That’s it.”

  Jennie leaned forward to get a better view. Stan stood with his back to her now. His bulk nearly obliterated her view, but she’d seen all she needed to. The pilot had nearly white hair. Being of English and Irish descent, he could easily speak with an Aussie accent. Jennie had never been so happy to see anyone in her life. She had to cup her hand over her mouth to keep from cheering. She should have known J. B. would come through. He loved Gram and had to have known what she was doing. He’d come to rescue them. She didn’t know how he’d managed it, but he had.

  “I don’t like it,” J. B. said. “That’s a lot of money just to dump barrels. If I’m taking on a dangerous job, I want to know the details.”

  Stan grunted. “Can’t say as I blame you. We need to dispose of some bodies.”

  Jennie’s insides crumbled. Bodies. He was talking about Gram and Lois. And she had actually considered Stan one of the good guys. How could she have been so wrong?

  “How many?” J. B. asked.

  “Six.”

  Jennie gasped. Six? It took a moment for her brain to adjust to the shock. Of course—Gram and Lois, and Eric’s family. If Donovan was responsible for the death of the two agents, it made sense that he’d be in on getting rid of Eric’s family. It would give him more land. More privacy. More space in which to carry out his drug-smuggling operation.

  But who is the sixth?

  You. The answer came all too clear. Someone was probably looking for her now. Jennie tried to process the information.

  “Ah. Six bodies. You’ve been busy.” J. B. had been an agent all his life, but Jennie still couldn’t understand how he could stay so calm and appear so callous. He was the kindest, most generous man she knew. She supposed he had to stay in character to stay alive.

  “What can I say? It’s a nasty business.”

  “That it is. All right, then. Let’s load them up, and I’ll be out of here.”

  Jennie had to find a way to let him know she was there.

  She had to get aboard that plane.

  A beep sounded. Stan pulled a cell phone from his jacket pocket and barked into it. “Yeah.” After a moment’s silence, he said, “You’ve got to be kidding.” Then, “I’ll deal with it.”

  He placed the cell phone on the desk and took a step toward J. B. “That was Julio’s boss. Seems Julio was found in the warehouse. Unconscious.”

  Stan pulled out a gun. Jennie bit her lip to suppress a cry.

  “Really. I wonder what happened.” J. B. continued to play his part.

  “We’ll find out for sure when Ramirez gets here.”

  “So they’re sending a replacement? And here I thought I was doing a pretty fair job.”

  “Funny man. Somehow I don’t think you’ll be laughing for long.”

  “I’m not laughing now.”

  “Hey, I do remember where I’ve seen you,” Stan announced.

  “And where might that be, mate?”

  “There’s a picture of you in your wife’s billfold, Mr. Bradley.”

  “So you do have her.”

  “We do, and we know she’s an agent.”

  “I see. And my granddaughter?”

  “That would be Jennie,” Stan snorted. “Yeah, she’s here. Kid’s nothing but trouble.”

  “I take it she and my wife are among the bodies you wanted me to dispose of?”

  Stan still had his back to her. So close that if Jennie could work up enough courage, she could tear out from under the desk and tackle him. She held her breath and began to move out.

  Stan stepped away, putting himself out of Jennie’s reach. “Let’s go.”

  Jennie crouched low and thought about rushing him, but it was too dangerous. He’d see her and probably shoot before she could straighten up. Why didn’t J. B. go for his gun? He must have one.

  “Where are we going?” J. B. asked. “For a little walk.”

  “And if I don’t agree?”

  “Then you’ll get to see me personally put a bullet through your wife’s head.”

  “Can’t have that, now, can we? She’s still alive, then, is she?”

  “For the moment. Behave yourself, and you can spend your last couple of hours together. It’s not a honeymoon suite, but … what can I say. This place isn’t exactly the Ritz.”

  “I’ll take what I can get. Lead on.”

  “Your gun.” Stan extended his hand. “I take it you carry a piece?”

  “Be rather foolish of me not to.” Stan took J. B.’s gun and set it on the corner of the desk, then pushed J. B. forward toward the door Jennie had come through only minutes before.

  Jennie set aside her thoughts of tackling the man—at leas
t for now. He was taking J. B. to Gram. Gram was still alive. Jennie eased out of her hiding place and peered around the corner. At the end of the hall, Stan pushed a button on the wall, and the door slid open.

  “Here’s another one for you,” Stan said to a man who stood in the doorway with a rifle. “Watch him.” He pushed J. B. inside.

  “Good grief,” J. B. sounded angry now. His pretense was gone. “What have you done to these people?”

  Stan didn’t answer.

  “What’s going on?” the guard asked. “I thought we were getting rid of these guys, not bringing in more.”

  “Long story.” Stan explained what had happened. To J. B. he said, “My friend here will take good care of you.” Stan hit the button again. As the door slid shut, he turned and came back down the hall toward the office.

  Jennie jerked back and took cover under the desk again, grabbing Stan’s cell phone and J. B.’s gun on the way down. Stan walked into the office and out through the outer door he and J. B. had entered through earlier. She could hear him telling someone else about J. B.

  “Let’s get this stuff unloaded,” Stan ordered.

  “You sure it’s the real thing? If the guy was a phony, maybe …”

  “It’s okay,” Stan said. “I checked it when he came in.”

  “All this government activity is making me nervous.” Another man came up to the door and walked in with Stan. Jennie hadn’t seen him before, but his uniform and badge told her in no uncertain terms who he was. This was the county sheriff. “I think we ought to move the operation.”

  “Been thinking the same thing. I’ll tell Ramirez this will be the last run. We’ll drop out for a while and open up somewhere else.”

  “Do you think the agent was working with anyone?”

  “Probably. We’d better hide the plane just in case. I told Daniel to put it in the hangar and douse the lights.”

  Jennie sat there too stunned to move or think. She had to do something, but what? The plane was sitting on the airstrip waiting for a pilot. She was a pilot—almost. But she couldn’t leave the others behind. And at the moment she was trapped under a desk.