George Hartmann Box Set

by Kelly Utt

“You’re right where you belong,” Roddy says. “Think no more of it.”

  “That’s incredible,” Duke says. “Thank you all.”

  Roddy winks in Duke’s direction, still treading water and making it look effortless.

  “How are we going to structure this thing?” Roddy asks, looking at me. “The business was your idea, George. I’m happy to let you have the lion’s share of ownership.”

  “Absolutely,” Taye adds. “Fine with me.”

  “Nah,” I say. “I don’t want that.”

  “Then, what are you thinking, buddy?” Liam asks.

  “Let’s be equal owners of the entity,” I say. “Money isn’t the primary focus here. I have plenty of that already.”

  “Yeah, but if you’re going to invest,” Taye says.

  “I don’t have anything to put in but sweat equity,” Duke adds. “Isn’t that what it’s called?”

  “How about we think that part over and revisit in a day or two?” I offer.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a man who has been parked on a small speedboat nearby cranking up his engine and navigating towards us. He appears to want to talk.

  “Looks like we have company,” Roddy says.

  The guy seems harmless enough. I think about climbing back on the boat. I wonder which is the position of greatest power. I suspect it communicates a lot to simply stay in the water without reacting. He looks to be in his mid-thirties. He has shoulder-length, stringy, jet black hair and a lanky build. He’s waving now as he cuts the engine and eases towards us. When his boat has slowed enough, he jumps into the water near us, then paddles over.

  “Hello, friend,” Roddy says. “Can we help you?”

  The guy shakes the water off his head as he settles in and begins treading water near us, looking completely at ease. He appears to be alone. Liam shoots me a look that tells me to be cautious.

  “I am Pepe!” he says, continuing to advance slowly the rest of the way towards our group. “Pepe Dali! I hear you talk.”

  Pepe sounds foreign. His English is choppy.

  “Oh?” I say to our visitor, trying not to sound concerned. We were careful to be quiet when discussing Roddy’s British Intelligence connection, but I suppose our voices might have carried loud enough to be heard during other parts of the conversation.

  “Yea,” he replies, pointing at me and Liam. “I hear you and you.”

  “Is there something you want to share with us?” Liam asks.

  “I work at Stanford,” Pepe explains excitedly. “Teach aeronautics and astronautics. I work at SpaceX before. You know, SpaceX with Elon Musk?”

  Liam’s eyebrows go up. Mine want to do the same, but I hold them in place.

  “You did?” I ask. “That is interesting.”

  “I hear you say aerospace business,” Pepe inquires. “Can I talk, too? I can work at your business. I not like teach so much.”

  The five of us look at Pepe with a mix of intrigue and disbelief. What are the chances that an aeronautics and astronautics guy from Stanford who has worked for Elon Musk would be out here on the lake at the same time as us and just happen to overhear some of our conversation about our fledgling aerospace business? That could be incredibly lucky. Or incredibly creepy. I can’t help but be skeptical. Especially these days.

  Roddy decides on an approach.

  “We’re just about to stop talking business for today and drink another beer before we head back home to get cleaned up for dinner,” my father-in-law explains to Pepe Dali. Would you like to join us on our boat for a beer? They’re ice cold.”

  “Yes, I do,” Pepe answers enthusiastically.

  One by one, we climb up the ladder and back onto our pontoon boat. As Pepe emerges from below, we can see that he is wearing nothing but standard swim trunks. He doesn’t have a weapon on him. He sure doesn’t seem like a threat. If he is the real deal, this could be a fantastic connection. Of course, we haven’t mentioned that our business will be based in New York.

  “Where are you from, Pepe?” Roddy says as we each grab a cold bottle and settle into our seats. We’re tired from being in open water for so long. Although, I’ll bet none of us would admit that if we were asked.

  “I from Spain,” Pepe says cheerfully. “I come to California to work SpaceX. Then I go to Stanford for teach.”

  We’re fascinated now. His story sounds plausible. From what I understand, Elon Musk recruits the best and brightest from around the world to come work for him at his Hawthorne, California headquarters.

  Liam and I ask Pepe some pointed questions about the field and he answers them perfectly. There’s no way he could be faking this level of knowledge. Once Liam and I consider him vetted, we look at Roddy, Duke, and Taye to let them know Pepe has our approval. I’m not sure we can signal Duke with just a glance yet. At least not as easily as we can Roddy and Taye. But Duke is beginning to catch on and get into sync. He’s going to be a good addition to our group. And just maybe, we should consider bringing Pepe into our ranks. We can’t let him be part owner, because we don’t even know him. Maybe he can work for us though.

  While in flight, our drones will be monitored and controlled via satellite, which allows them to be operated from anywhere in the world. Perhaps we could even have a second base of operations on the West coast. I suppose anything is up for discussion at this point.

  We sit with Pepe and talk for nearly an hour as the warm afternoon sun dries our hair and swim trunks. We don’t give him much information about ourselves, but he tells us his contact information is on Stanford’s website and that he hopes we will be in touch.

  It’s certainly been an afternoon to remember, right here at this little cove. I’ll have to look up the name of this spot at some point. We need a name for our business, after all. Maybe we can draw inspiration from this place in the sun where our first official meeting happened in the lake.

  When it’s time to head back towards the house to pick the ladies and kiddos up, we say goodbye to Pepe and help him get back onto his own boat.

  We’re in open waters on the return trip to the vacation house when my phone rings. It’s an unknown number, but I pick it up anyway.

  Part III

  My Whole World

  9

  Missing

  “Hello,” I say. “This is George Hartmann.”

  “Uh, yes,” the male voice on the other end stammers. “Mr. Hartmann?”

  “That’s right,” I confirm. “Who’s this?”

  “Um, I’m sorry,” he says, then pauses. I’m pretty sure he’s holding his breath, although it’s hard to tell for sure over the sound of our boat’s motor.

  “Who is this?” I repeat. “Sorry for what?” I pull the phone away from my ear to look at the number again. I definitely don’t recognize it. Seven-seven-five area code. I hear the man on the other end of the line clear his throat.

  “I’ll just come right out and say what I have to say,” he announces.

  “Okay,” I reply. I motion to Liam to quiet the engine, then put one finger in my opposite ear to try and be sure I hear what this guy is about to say.

  “Sir, this is Detective Stuart Dunley with the Reno Police Department,” he begins.

  My legs suddenly feel like they’re made of lead. What on earth would the Reno police want to tell me? I sit down hard on one of the pontoon boat’s rear bench seats as my eyes search for support from the friends and family members here with me. This could be a false alarm. But the sinking feeling I’ve had for days now tells me it’s probably not.

  “Wait a minute,” I say feebly into the phone. “I’m going to put you on speakerphone. I have some family here.”

  My hands shake as I pull the phone away from my ear and push the button to turn on the speaker. Liam cuts the boat’s engine and walks back to sit down beside me.

  I lean over and talk to my uncle quietly. “Liam?” I ask. “Ali and the boys are safe at the rental house, right? And Marjorie?”

  “Yeah, buddy. I
think so,” he replies. He sits close at my side, letting me feel his strong shoulder up against mine. Then, gently, “George, talk to the man.”

  Summoning my strength, I turn my attention back to Officer Dunley. I don’t want to hear what he has to say.

  “What is it?” I ask, holding the phone out in front of me with both hands and tilting my mouth towards it. It feels like the phone might slip right out of my grip like an unruly fish. Maybe I’d like that. It could bounce into the lake and swim away with whatever unfortunate news it bears.

  “Mr. Hartmann,” Officer Dunley begins again. “I’ve been informed by management of the rental car company you patronized at the Reno-Tahoe International Airport that one of their employees placed unauthorized tracking devices on your vehicles.”

  “What?” I say in disbelief. My mind struggles to take in all of those words.

  Roddy stands up from where he’s sitting and puts one hand on the top of his head while he thinks. It’s an unusual gesture for someone who is typically so calm and collected.

  “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, sir,” Officer Dunley says, clearly working to sound as official and professional as possible. “We believe that the individual placed the devices with intent to do you harm.”

  Upon hearing that, Roddy leaps into the captain’s chair and starts the motor up. The boat is running again and we’re moving full speed ahead before I can get another word out. Duke and Taye look stunned. Actually, they look like they’re watching a train wreck. They’re horrified but can’t look away.

  “What’s the threat?” I say to Officer Dunley, louder now so he can hear me over the engine. A cocktail of fear and anger seems to be brewing deep within my veins.

  “Sir, we don’t know, exactly,” he replies. “My lieutenant is on the phone with the South Lake Tahoe Police Department as we speak. We know that the mini-van you rented was tracked there as recently as earlier this afternoon.”

  “Tracked?” I ask. “By criminals?”

  “We believe so,” the officer confirms. “We got your mobile phone number from the rental car company. Mr. Hartmann, I hope you understand that this is an active investigation and we don’t have a handle on the scope of the situation yet. We wanted to call you as soon as possible... to warn you.”

  “My God,” I say. It’s all I can get out.

  “Sir?” Officer Dunley continues. “Are you and your family somewhere safe?”

  When I hear him speak those words, my insides suddenly feel like they’re made of molten lava. Tears rush to my eyes as my hands ball up into fists. I thrash and punch the air with one of my arms. Liam takes the phone from me and takes over the conversation.

  “Officer, this is Liam Hartmann,” he begins. “I’m George’s uncle. Are you aware that this family was victim of a break-in and attempted kidnapping of their young son in Ithaca, New York this past January? It happened at their home on East Shore Drive. An accomplice got away and the case remains unsolved.”

  “Oh, no,” the officer says, sounding like the wind has just been knocked out of him.

  “Hang up the phone!” I yell, suddenly realizing that I need to call Ali. “I need to call my wife. Liam, hang up the phone right now!”

  “Officer, we’ll call you back at this number,” Liam barely gets in before I’ve disconnected the call.

  Frantically, I find Ali’s name in my favorites and select her number. The boat rocks and bumps as Roddy moves us as fast as he possibly can. A pontoon boat isn’t meant for speeds like this. Now I wish Liam had rented a different boat. Beads of perspiration cover my body from head to toe, while a chill goes up and down my spine. I feel sick as the call connects and rings, but Ali doesn’t pick up. I may vomit at any minute.

  “Are there any missed calls from Ali or Marjorie?” Liam asks.

  I quickly look through my call log.

  “No. Nothing,” I say.

  “Anybody else have a missed call from either of the ladies?” Liam asks as he looks through the call log on his own mobile phone.

  “No,” the guys say one by one as they confirm their incoming call histories.

  “George,” Taye tries. “I checked the security system at the rental home myself. Everything’s buttoned up. Ali is probably fine. Maybe she left her phone in another room or something.”

  I’m not sure he even believes what he’s saying. We all remember Marjorie’s comment about going to the grocery store. I dial again. No answer. And again.

  “Let me try with my phone,” Liam says. I have a different wireless carrier.

  “I’m calling my team in New York,” Duke adds, pulling his own phone out of his pocket and dialing the number to the Tompkins County Sheriff’s Office. “They’ll probably want to get involved right away to share information.”

  I try and nod my head to Duke, but am so discombobulated that I’m not sure the gesture actually happens.

  Roddy tosses his phone to Taye. “Call my wife. I have to drive,” he says as Taye obediently opens the phone and cues up Marjorie’s number.

  I continue to try Ali. No answer.

  “Does anyone have the number of the landline at the rental house?” I ask frantically.

  “No,” they say.

  “We all have mobiles,” Taye clarifies as he waits to see if Marjorie is going to pick up. “I didn’t even think about the landline. So, no, I don’t have the number.”

  Duke gets an answer from an officer in his department and begins telling her the important details.

  “Yes, ma'am,” he says. “This is Duke Hale. I’m in South Lake Tahoe, Nevada near the California border. I’m on vacation with my friends the Hartmanns of East Shore Drive in Ithaca. We have reason to believe that George Hartmann’s wife Alessandra Davies, their sons Ethan Hartmann, Leo Hartmann, and infant John William Hartmann, along with Alessandra’s mother Marjorie Dyer may be in imminent danger. We need a detective to call the South Lake Tahoe Police Department immediately to brief them on the break-in and attempted abduction that happened at the Hartmann home in January. Time is of the essence. Do you copy? Make it happen right now.”

  Hearing the names of my family members listed like that sends a fresh wave of nausea through me. It sounds so cold and clinical. Like their names are being read on an evening newscast. I sure hope and pray they don’t ever end up being read on an evening newscast.

  Satisfied for the moment, Duke ends the call so the dispatcher can notify the appropriate personnel and get things in motion.

  Liam, Taye, Duke and I alternate attempts to reach Ali and Marjorie by phone with no success.

  “How long?” I ask Liam.

  “At least a ten-minute ride from here,” he replies. My uncle’s tone has changed. He sounds less reassuring than he did a few minutes ago.

  Taye tries again to frame the situation in a positive way.

  “Maybe they’re busy and simply don’t hear their phones,” he offers. “If something was wrong, wouldn’t they have called us?”

  “One of them would answer now,” Roddy says in a growl as he continues to drive the boat just as fast and hard as it will go.

  “It’s time for action,” I find the strength to say to the group. “We’re likely in serious trouble here. Think, guys! Utilize every resource you have to help us find them. Right now. Make the calls.”

  Everyone hears me. They furrow their brows and I can see the wheels turning in their minds. It looks like we’re operating a mobile operations center out here on the boat, which gives me a measure of comfort. I feel horrible for leaving my family alone. I should have listened to my gut and kept them close.

  We hit a big bump and water sprays my phone. As I wipe it off with a bottom section of my shirt, I’m reminded that we need to provide the authorities with Ali and Marjorie’s mobile phone numbers so they can triangulate the signals and hopefully get a lock on their location.

  “Liam,” I say. “Call Officer Dunley back and give him their phone numbers while I call the alarm company.”
/>   “On it,” Liam replies.

  “Taye,” I say as I scroll through the recent calls on my device to reach the alarm company. “Keep calling Ali and Marjorie.”

  “Doing that now,” he confirms.

  “And Duke,” I begin. “Call Jen and then my mom. See if either has heard from them in the last few hours.”

  “Got it,” he confirms.

  “Next chance someone has, also try the agent who rented us the vacation house,” I add. Her contact information is in the paperwork I sent all of you via email. I’m going to call the alarm company.”

  It feels like we’re in slow motion as we diligently make our calls, bounding along through the water on the shiny, new pontoon boat that, less than thirty minutes ago, was the scene of happy laughter. There were so much promise and anticipation of good things to come in the air. I can’t help but wonder if some creep was harming my family while I sat oblivious on a pontoon boat. How could I be so careless?

  The sun is still bright and radiant in the sky. It feels unfair that the weather would be so callous as to go on as if everything is okay. Everything is most definitely not okay.

  “Can you hear me?” I ask desperately of the customer service representative who answers the phone at the alarm company.

  “Yes, I can hear you,” the man says. He sounds young.

  “I need to talk to someone in charge, immediately,” I proclaim. “It’s important. Go, now!”

  “Okay, okay,” the young guy says. He seems to believe the urgency.

  Less than a minute later, an older, wiser sounding woman gets on the line.

  “Mr. Hartmann,” she begins. “This is Louisa Petty. What can I do for you, sir?”

  “How do you know my name?” I ask. “I hadn’t mentioned it yet.”

  I wonder if an employee of the alarm company could be involved in a scheme to harm us. My hands shake as I try and determine whether or not I should trust Louisa Petty. If I inadvertently give out information which could divulge my wife’s whereabouts, it might assist any criminals who are actively looking for her. If criminals were able to gain access through the rental car company, it isn’t much of a stretch to think they might have done the same with the alarm company. Although, if they’re already tracking her vehicle, they don’t need any assistance in locating her. What a gut-wrenching thought.