As we neared the Grand Canyon Village, I decided that Alan was probably awake. I needed to warn him about this new information. I tried Alan’s cell phone. A sleepy voice answered. I updated him on the recent information and encouraged him to keep an eye on Jason McKinney, but to avoid being alone with him.
Margaret and I walked to the El Tovar. Our weekend together was over. I helped her put her suitcase in the car, which was parked in the lot near the train station. We kissed goodbye, and I watched her drive off. I would miss her, but it was safer for her back home. There was a serial killer in the Grand Canyon National Park.
As I walked back to the hotel, two large men, both over six three and over two hundred pounds, passed me on the stone stairway that leads from the train station area up to the hotel. They were hurrying up the stairs taking two steps at a time. Both men had a week’s growth of beard and smelled as if they missed too many recent baths. They were speaking in Russian. I don’t speak the language, but their tone was not one of tourists anticipating a great view of the Grand Canyon. They both wore brand new navy blue windbreakers with Grand Canyon patches. I’d considered purchasing an identical one in the Bright Angel gift shop. As they climbed the stairs ahead of me, I noticed the faint outline of a shoulder holster strap under their identical windbreakers. I knew the signs very well, because I also had my shoulder holster under my yellow windbreaker.
I let the two suspicious men move farther ahead. I saw them turn toward the Colter House rather than toward the tourist areas near the rim or the El Tovar. I quickly dialed Alan Markley’s cell phone. He answered after the first ring. As the men walked toward the door to the Colter House, I was already describing them to Alan. He was alone in his dorm room. I suggested that he move down the hall to the shared men’s rest room taking his pistol. I‘d enter behind the two men, and they’d be trapped between us. I warned Alan that they were speaking Russian and that they were certainly armed. We both assumed they were looking for the missing Sam Gilbert. We continued to talk on our cell phones to coordinate our activity as the men entered the building.
I climbed to the second floor hall. As I reached the top of the stairs, I heard the sound of a door being forced open by the burly men. I turned into the hallway. The door to Sam Gilbert’s former room closed. I described their activity to Alan using our open cell phone line. Alan joined me in the hall, and we positioned ourselves on either side of the door the Russians had entered. The dorm room was empty, but they spent a few minutes searching it looking for any trace of Sam Gilbert I assumed. Our pistols were drawn as we waited for the hit men to emerge.
They had entered the room with their own pistols drawn, but they returned them to their shoulder holsters before they returned to the hallway. That left them at a disadvantage. Our guns were aimed at their heads. They offered no resistance. They knew that any move toward their pistols was hopeless. We disarmed them and ordered them to sit on the floor with their hands on their head. They spoke enough English to understand my orders.
I had only one set of handcuffs. Because he was undercover, Alan had none. I handcuffed the right hand of the man on the right to the left hand of the man on the left. With their arms behind their backs and handcuffed together, it would be very difficult to cause trouble. I phoned the local sheriff’s office substation for backup. I also called Amy Ziegler and explained the situation. She said she would have park rangers prevent access to the dorm and clear anyone who was currently there until the men had been transported. We searched the two thugs and found hunting knives as well as their American made Colt pistols. They had Ukrainian passports with addresses in Kiev. I wanted Alan to maintain his undercover role, so I had him leave once the men were handcuffed and sitting with their legs crossed on the floor.
I read the two men their rights, but they did not show any sign of understanding. I tried asking a few questions, but they knew at least one English word. Both of them said only the word "lawyer" in answer. It was unlikely that there was a Russian translator available locally. I decided that the men should be transported down to Flagstaff. Northern Arizona University often provided translators from the language faculty. It was about fifteen minutes before Deputy Craig Callison and two other officers from the Tusayan Substation arrived.
Once the men were transported, I checked to see if Jason McKinney was in his room. His roommate said he hadn’t seen him today. That was concerning. I’d clearly told him not to leave the Grand Canyon Village. I was uncertain just how far to go with my principal suspect. I didn’t want him to flee, and I didn’t have the evidence to hold him.
As I was walking back to El Tovar, my cell phone rang. It was Janna Colbert, the undercover officer from Phoenix. She called to let me know that she’d checked in and was in room 207 directly across the hall from my room. Alan would be working the dinner shift at El Tovar for the first time this evening. Will Blake would also be working that shift. He held the second position on my current suspect list. Alan would keep an eye on Janna Colbert during the meal. Chad would be here soon to help with the surveillance. Officer Colbert was a judo instructor with the Phoenix Police Department. She understood the risks of this assignment. If the attacker tried to push Janna Colbert off the Rim Trail, there was a high probability that the murderer would be the one who ended up going over the edge. We would still keep her under constant surveillance during her stay and keep her safe.
After the Ukrainians were gone, I phoned Steven Gilbert at his motel in Tusayan. I reported on the breakin to Sam’s former room. Mr. Gilbert said, “Good Lord, Sam was right. I didn’t believe he was really in danger in this country. What will happen to the men who broke into his old room?”
“I’m confident we’ll get them for breaking and entering and carrying concealed weapons. They’ll do several years at the penitentiary in Florence before being deported.”
“What can we do to stop others from coming?” he asked.
It was clear that Mr. Gilbert was still concerned about his son’s safety even though the odds were high that he’d drowned in the Colorado the day before. Maybe Sam had planned a disappearance and Mr. Gilbert knew it. I said, “I don’t have a good answer for you sir. If Sam is not found alive soon, there’d be no point in sending other assassins.”
“Thanks for calling.” He hung up without further discussion.
I had just entered my room at El Tovar when the phone rang. It was Alan calling from the kitchen of El Tovar. He said, “With the excitement of our unexpected guests, I forgot to tell you something. In the trash basket in our room, I found a UPS ticket addressed to Sam. He signed for a package from the Always Ready Dive Shop of San Diego two days before his accident.”
“That’s very interesting. I think I’ll give them a call. Good work Alan.”
I tracked down the phone number and found that Sam Gilbert had purchased a mini-tank underwater breathing apparatus. It weighed only fifteen pounds and was good for about twenty minutes and depths of about fifty feet.
I smiled when I learned of the purchase. I liked Sam Gilbert and I hoped he made it.
CHAPTER 31
Chad knocked on my door at 4:30 after completing his work in the Sedona office and making the two-hour and fifteen-minute drive. He brought photos of the mothers of Garland Pickney, Craig Callison, Will Blake, and Billy Blackstone. None of the women bore a close resemblance to our victims. The enlargements of driver’s license photos were not of sufficient quality to be conclusive, but I already was leaning toward Jason McKinney as the prime suspect, and Chad hadn’t been able to get information from Australia during the weekend.
We spent half an hour discussing our surveillance plan. It had to be foolproof. The highest risk time would be when our undercover operator went to view the sunrise tomorrow. We decided to take turns in four-hour shifts watching Janna’s room tonight, and we’d both follow her trip to view the sunrise in the morning. I would have dinner at El Tovar tonight and watch Janna to see if she attracted anyone. Alan Markley would be working the ev
ening meal and also watch for trouble.
My cell phone rang at 5:00. It was Frederich Mann of Interpol Bonn. He started the conversation by saying, “Mike, I called to recount on an interesting phone call with a colleague in Sydney. I was following up on your request for information on Jason McKinney.”
“Excellent, Frederich. That was quick work.”
“Well, you may not like the answer. Jason Griffin McKinney drowned at Bondi Beach near Sydney on the eighth of December of last year.”
I was at a loss for words. Who the hell was working as a desk clerk on the night shift at El Tovar. I studdered, “What else did you learn?”
“Jason McKinney was a young man who worked as a desk clerk in the Biltmore, a backpacking hotel on Bondi Beach. It’s an inexpenseive hotel right across the street from the boardwalk. A good location, but the cheapest place in the area.”
So far that paralleled his job in Arizona.
Frederich continued, “Jason McKinney was an excellent swimmer. He was on his high school swim team, but it appeared that the twenty year old man drank too much one night and died while swimming alone a short distance from his hotel. His body was found the next day, brought in by the high tide. His alcohol level was high, but he was not legally drunk by Australian statutes. Jason McKinney lived at home about five miles from the beach. Both of his parrents maintained that his death was suspicious. However, there was no definitive evidence of a crime. The death was recorded as an accident. My contact in Sydney was very interested in who might be using Jason’s name. It raises questions about the accident verdict. They may reopen the investigation.”
I explained, “The young man we know as Jason McKinney here is the prime suspect in five murders. Is there someone you can refer me to in Sydney who would know about the case?”
Frederich provided me with the name of his contact in Sydney. I thanked Frederich for his help and called the contact he’d given me, Victor White.
When I described my case to detective White, he was very willing to help. “Jason’s parents have always been convinced that the young man didn’t drown in an accident. One of the reasons they could never accept the accident verdict was that Jason’s passport and recently issued US resident alien card were missing and never found.”
I explained the deaths of women from falls at the Grand Canyon. I believed the imposter was involved.
The Australian detective got his supervisor on the line to discuss a very confidential inquiry the Sydney area police had spent two fruitless years investigating. Hal Mason was the senior investigator for the Bondi Beach area of Sydney. He described a series of unexplained deaths that had occurred at local beaches over an eighteen-month period. All of the deaths appeared accidental; all were middle-aged women who drowned at night. There had been no deaths that followed that pattern in the past six months.
The Sydney authorities became suspicious when the medical examiner pointed out the close physical resemblance between the women. Most of the victims were tourists who had traveled to Sydney alone, both from other parts of Australia and from other countries. Three had been Americans. They all were from forty to fifty years old. They had brown hair, blue eyes, similar facial features, and similar figures. The Sydney authorities were never able to establish that the women’s deaths were not simply accidental, but the deaths were too frequent and numerous to explain by coincidence. The Sydney authorities suspected there was a serial killer who charmed unaccompanied women into going for a late night swim and then drowned his victims leaving no evidence of his crime.
I described the details of my case to the Australians. The conclusion was easy. There had been a serial killer at Bondi Beach, and he was now in Arizona. The investigators in Australia explained that they would begin to look for anyone who had dropped out of sight about the same time that the real Jason McKinney drowned. They planned to focus their attention on young men who were staying at the Biltmore on Bondi Beach where Jason worked, or men who would have known that Jason McKinney had recently been issued an American resident alien card. Because the card and passport have photos that would be difficult to fake, the thief might look somewhat like the real Jason McKinney.
I committed to sending them the fingerprints of the fake Jason McKinney and photos of the American victims. The fingerprints should be easy to obtain from his room or workplace without his realizing that we were on to him. The last thing I wanted was for the killer to disappear into the American population. We might never find him if he kept on the move. We were only on to him because he killed too many women in the same locations both in Sydney and in Arizona. A single accident in an area would never have been noticed.
This monster was both diabolical and smarter than most criminals. He staged the deaths to look like accidents. So far, no one had been able to prove otherwise. Jim Otto was the only death that was clearly a murder. Making the crimes seem like accidents had greatly reduced the police resources devoted to the deaths. I needed to stop Jason here in Arizona before he moved on to another jurisdiction under a different assumed name and a new set of accidents began.
The Australians agreed to fax me photos of the women who had died there. I had almost no doubt that they would resemble the Arizona victims. The stolen passport would be strong enough grounds to arrest him. Chad and I talked it over and decided that the Sheriff should make the final decision about whether to arrest Jason on passport fraud or try and catch him with Janna
I called Sheriff Taylor. I explained the encounter with the Ukrainian thugs and updated him on the most recent information about Jason McKinney. He listened to my story of the Australian deaths and the fake identity being used by the man I knew as Jason McKinney. I suggested continuing the undercover operation using Janna as the decoy. I thought it was the best way of catching Jason in some crime other than using a false passport.
The Sheriff replied, “Mike, my assistant just handed me a note. She received some news from the Page substation a few minutes ago. You’ll probably hear from Amy Ziegler about it very soon. A woman fell from a hiking trail on the North Rim this afternoon. She was hiking alone, but some other hikers heard her scream as she fell. The body hasn’t been recovered yet. It’s in a very inaccessible location.”
I uttered an obscenity. That’s unusual for me, especially when talking to my boss. “I checked Jason’s room less than an hour ago. He hasn’t been in his room all afternoon. His roommate didn’t know where he was.”
Sheriff Taylor, “Bring him in if you can find him. We can’t play games trying to trap him and let anyone else be killed.”
It was a difficult call. Jason would be deported, but probably not put on trial for the fake passport. The problem and Jason McKinney would be transferred out of Arizona and the Sheriff’s county, but there was no useful evidence yet to convict the young man of a serious crime.
I thought of a comment made this morning by Will Blake. He said a friend had borrowed his car this morning after dropping him off at the motel where the Gilberts were staying. If that friend was Jason, that would explain how he’d reached the North Rim. It was a more than four-hour drive from the South Rim where the Colter House and El Tovar are located to the Grand Canyon Lodge on the North Rim. If he had pushed a woman to her death on the North Rim, there was no way for him to be back at the Grand Canyon Village yet. I described the BMW roadster to the Sheriff and said that I’d go down to the dining room and confirm that Jason had borrowed the car. I also provided a detailed description of the Australian. The Sheriff decided to notify the Page substation and the southern Utah authorities to pick up the driver of the car if they could locate him.
Chad went down and found Will Blake. He confirmed that Jason had borrowed his car first thing this morning. Will had been surprised but not alarmed that Jason was still not back. I called the Sheriff with the car tag number, and he issued an APB on the vehicle and its driver. The Sheriff would fly to the North Rim. They would follow the highway checking for Will Blake’s car as they went. I was to meet him at t
he North Rim if I could get a ride with Amy Ziegler in the National Park’s helicopter.
I called Amy. We decided to meet her in fifteen minutes for the flight to the North Rim. Chad retrieved his crime scene kit from his trunk. We then went to Jason McKinney’s room and took fingerprints from his mouthwash bottle and shaving cream can. We took his comb and razor for DNA samples. We’d give the prints to the Sheriff to take back to Flagstaff for processing and to forward to Sydney.
The Park Service helicopter was ready for takeoff when we reached it. It was a fifteen minutes flight across the Canyon rather than a four-hour drive around it. Stiff winds made the landing difficult. The pilot let us out on a road about a quarter mile from where the woman had fallen. The North Rim is about a thousand feet higher than the South Rim of the Grand Canyon. The colder temperatures and higher level of snowfall supports a much denser alpine forest of blue spruce, aspen, and other higher elevation tree species. The dense forest and high winds made retrieval of the body by helicopter impossible.
As we approached the recovery area, I could see men rappelling from the cliff to reach the crumpled body. They were lowering a metal basket to bring the unidentified woman up the hundred-foot cliff. Two people in Park Service uniforms and a deputy from Page were standing next to the body. The woman’s corpse was curled unnaturally against the base of a pine tree that grew on a narrow ledge. The tree had kept the body from tumbling another five or six hundred feet into an area that was not visible from the trail. We were lucky the tree stopped her fall. Other hikers noticed the body within a few minutes and quickly notified a ranger. That let us start the search for Jason before he could get out of Coconino County. I felt horrible about this most recent death. I had been determined to prevent any other killings. I had failed.
CHAPTER 32
The Murders at El Tovar Page 18