Missing persons, p.9
Missing Persons, page 9
She put her glass on a side table, leaned forward, and peered at the flames.
“We have an arrangement. If he is ever captured, I’m supposed to take the kids to a cabin we have in the woods and hunker down with them until the danger passes.”
“Makes sense,” I observed. “Bad guys can’t use you and the children as leverage to get him to talk.”
She nodded.
“Three days ago, two guys posing as cops pulled me over when I was bringing the kids home from school. I escaped, but they used a drone to follow us to the cabin—I spotted it just in time before they showed up with others. We had to make it out on foot.”
“And when you did, the guy posing as your father hired me to track you down,” I remarked. “I checked him out thoroughly. His cover was impeccable. Whoever these people are, they’re well-resourced and professional.”
Beth nodded somberly, and I watched her wrestling with concern for her children and husband. I felt anger rising that the man calling himself Donald Singer had used me to put them in harm’s way.
“I’m going to find out who’s behind this,” I assured Beth. “And I’m going to make sure you and your family—including Joshua—are safe.”
Beth replied with a faint smile. Studying her face in the flickering light of the fire, I got the distinct impression she didn’t believe me.
CHAPTER 31
A CHILL RAN down the back of Floyd’s neck. He woke suddenly and sat up. He rubbed his chin and found it was wet. He looked up to see an icicle glistening in the morning sun. There was already another drop hanging at the very tip, ready to fall. He looked out of the mouth of the tiny cave that had sheltered him and his horse, and saw the deep valley was bathed in sunlight. The snow-covered slopes of the mountains opposite dazzled him, and the green flourishes of trees or the gray of rock could only be seen here and there. The snow was far too thick to be defeated, even by the most severe outcrops in the landscape.
Floyd had named his horse “Mule” in honor of what would politely be called its independent mind. He turned to see the creature pawing the cave floor impatiently. Floyd had wrapped himself in most of the clothes he’d found in the pack Chris and John had given him, and had covered Mule in the rough woolen blanket he’d also found inside. But the blanket had fallen off and the horse was stamping it into the frozen ground.
“Easy,” Floyd whispered, getting to his feet.
The animal must have been freezing, and Floyd knew the kindest thing to do would be to get moving, but he was worried about the men who’d come looking for him.
“Shush,” he said, reaching down for the blanket.
He placed it over the horse’s back and patted the animal on the flank. Mule snorted again, and clouds of steam burst from her nostrils.
“Just wait here,” Floyd said, but the animal didn’t have much choice; it was still bridled and its reins were tied around a rock.
Floyd jogged out of the cave and went up the narrow snow-covered path that led to the ridge overlooking Kamdesh. He slowed as he approached the end of the path, crouching as he picked his way between ice-crusted rocks. He reached the apex of the ridge and looked down at the town. He could see tiny figures dotted on the mountainside, gathered in groups of three or four, all in gray and white combat fatigues, very obviously searching for him.
Why would someone go to all this trouble for a Green Beret pilot? Floyd had never considered himself a high-value target, but someone was throwing a great deal of manpower at him.
He held his breath when he heard voices and slowly turned to his left to see three men moving through the trees, two hundred yards below him. They were checking every mound and bump, searching in the roots of trees.
Overnight snow had covered Mule’s tracks out of town, but the sky was now clear, so as he withdrew, Floyd did his best to brush away the marks he’d left in the snow. When he was well below the ridge line, he turned and ran down the path to the cave. He couldn’t stay there. It was only a matter of time before he’d be discovered.
He hurriedly packed his clothes and gear, and checked the map John had given him. He slung the backpack onto his shoulders, saddled Mule, and once the billet strap was secure, he untied the reins and led the horse from the cave. He moved slowly and cautiously, and patted Mule in an attempt to convey the need for silence.
They headed down the path into the valley—Floyd’s plan was to cross it and climb the mountains to the south. The border was only eighty miles away as the crow flies, but in this terrain, it might as well have been eight hundred.
You’ll do what it takes, soldier, he told himself, thinking of Beth, Maria, and Danny. When he was a safe distance from the men hunting him, he mounted Mule and set off down the slope at a trot.
CHAPTER 32
I WOKE EARLY the next morning and crept out of the cabin without waking Beth or the children. I walked over crackling snow and followed the trail back to the road, and from there, I headed into town. A few vehicles passed me, but it was quiet. The morning rush hour hadn’t started.
Dawn’s tendrils reached over the treetops as I neared town, casting everything in a weak light. The brooding clouds suggested day would come slowly, and when it did arrive there was likely to be snow.
I returned to the mini-mart we’d passed, and offered the same bored teenager twenty dollars to use his cell phone.
“Forty,” he said.
I nodded and handed the bills over in exchange for his cracked old iPhone. He unlocked it, and I moved to the back of the store to talk in private.
“Hello?” Jessie said. She sounded groggy.
“Sorry for calling so early,” I responded.
“Jack!” She suddenly came to life. “I’ve been so worried about you. We all have. The thing at the motel—”
“A set-up,” I assured her. “Designed to get the cops looking for me. They want me found. More importantly, they want Beth Singer.”
“Rafael has been on damage limitation,” Jessie replied. “Turns out there was an emergency call naming you as a suspect, but motel guests who witnessed the incident give a conflicting story. You’re not a suspect anymore, but the cops want to talk to you to clear up a few questions.”
“I can’t do that until we know Beth and her children are safe from the people after them.”
“Who are they?” Jessie asked.
“We don’t know yet, but Donald Singer isn’t who he says he is,” I replied. “How are you?”
“Aching, but otherwise OK.”
“Glad to hear it,” I said. “I’m going to need a ride and somewhere safe to lie low.”
“No problem,” Jessie replied.
“Where do you want to meet?”
“Swiftwater, PA,” I replied. “There’s a bus depot just off the highway.”
“I’ll find it,” Jessie said. “When?”
“Two hours,” I replied.
“See you there.”
“Also, I need you to fill in Justine—especially about Singer. But this guy has serious resources, so we need to be vigilant and careful in our communications.”
“No problem, boss.”
“Thanks, Jessie,” I said finally, before hanging up.
I returned to the front of the store and handed the clerk his phone with a grateful thanks. He shrugged and started swiping it as I left the mini-mart.
I started across the parking lot, but changed direction when I noticed a couple of cops eying me from a cruiser that slowed to a halt on the other side of the street. They might have been genuine police or they could have been part of the crew who’d tried to abduct Beth and the kids. Either way, I couldn’t risk being caught. I headed back toward the convenience store, and nodded at the teenage clerk.
“It’s brutal out there,” I said.
“Well, you can’t live in here,” he scoffed.
“You got a bathroom?” I asked.
“Ten bucks,” he replied.
I shook my head at his greedy opportunism and laid a bill on the counter.
“In the back,” he said, gesturing toward the floor-to-ceiling fridges that lined the rear wall.
As I hurried in their direction, I glanced over my shoulder to see the uniformed cops crossing the parking lot, heading straight for the store. I jogged along an aisle and saw a corridor that cut between the fridges. I went straight down it, ignored the bathroom, and headed for the fire exit. An alarm sounded when I opened the door. I sprinted around the side of the building, ran across the parking lot and over to the other side of the street to where the cruiser was parked. I took out a small pocketknife and dug it into the nearside tire.
“Hey!” a voice yelled as air rushed out.
I looked up to see the two cops racing from the store.
“Stop!” the closest yelled.
I ignored him and sprinted into the front yard of the nearest house. I vaulted a locked side gate, dodged a barking German Shepherd, and ran alongside the house until I reached a large garden. There was a chain-link fence at the end, beyond it the woods that surrounded town. I flew across the lawn, jumped onto the roof of a doghouse near the fence, and used a fence post to push myself up and over.
“Stop or I will shoot!” one of the cops yelled.
I didn’t even bother looking around, instead starting to run the moment my feet hit the ground. I threw myself into the snow-laden firs and within moments was lost in their cold embrace.
CHAPTER 33
“WE HAVE TO leave,” I said, shaking Beth awake.
She’d fallen asleep with Danny and Maria, the three of them cocooned under heavy blankets and breathing deeply when I made my announcement.
Beth sat up suddenly and stared at me in bewilderment, until she recalled who I was and where we were.
“I got spotted by a couple of cops—or people dressed as cops,” I explained. “I went to make a phone call.”
Beth eyed me with disapproval.
“I was calling someone who can help us.”
“Come on, kids,” she said, rousing the children.
They had all slept in their clothes, so getting ready simply involved wrapping up for the cold weather and grabbing provisions to take with us.
We were soon starting our journey through the woods. I decided against the trail and road to avoid unnecessary exposure, so we were going to make this journey cross-country.
“Where are we going?” Beth asked.
“Swiftwater,” I replied. “One of my colleagues is meeting us there.”
Beth nodded uncertainly and we continued through dense woodland. Swiftwater was about an hour’s walk by road, but this terrain would take much longer to cover.
I heard a bird call and looked up to see the familiar shape of a golden eagle riding the morning updrafts high above us.
“Hey,” I said. “You kids ever seen a golden eagle?”
Danny nodded and Maria rolled her eyes.
“We live in Garrison,” she said. “There’s a ton of eagles in the mountains.”
“Maria,” Beth chided.
“It’s OK. I still remember when I was young enough to believe it was cool to be jaded about everything,” I said. “If you’re interested, there’s one right over us.”
Danny looked up immediately, and was captivated by the bird. Maria pretended not to look, but I saw her sneak a couple of glances. Beth smiled at me, and we walked on.
Ninety minutes later, we emerged from the woods onto a quiet road just south of Swiftwater. We hurried directly across Route 611, onto an inclined driveway that led up to the bus depot. We didn’t have to walk far before I saw a black Nissan Rogue parked in a turnout opposite the depot. Jessie got out as we approached.
“Beth, this is Jessie Fleming. She runs our New York office,” I said. “Jessie, this is Beth, Maria, and Danny.”
“You guys look frozen,” Jessie said. “Let’s get you inside. I’ve got the heater on scalding.”
Beth and the children climbed in the back of the Nissan, and I took the passenger seat beside Jessie, who hopped behind the wheel. The car was warm and stuffy, and after the chill of the long walk, I loved it.
“I brought you a phone,” she said, handing me an iPhone. “And cash, and there are some clothes in the trunk. I’ve arranged a place for us to stay. Rye—just outside the city. Secluded and safe.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“Thank you,” Beth added.
I checked the phone and saw many of my important numbers had already been added. I dialed one I knew by heart.
“Hello?”
“It’s me,” I replied.
“Jack!” Justine exclaimed breathlessly. “It’s good to hear your voice.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t call sooner,” I replied.
“Jessie explained. Sci and Mo-bot have started very carefully digging into Singer’s background to find out who he really is and how he produced such a convincing legend.”
“Get in touch with Singer,” I suggested as an idea formed.
I noticed Beth suddenly tense, but I signaled her to stay calm.
“Tell him I want to meet somewhere in the city this afternoon. Text me the location.”
“Will do,” Justine replied. “But be careful, Jack. I want you back in one piece. I saw what happened at the motel.”
“I’ll do my best,” I assured her, before hanging up.
“You want to meet him?” Beth asked.
I nodded. “I don’t like being played. It’s time to turn the tables.”
Jessie put the car in gear.
“New York?” she asked.
“New York,” I replied. She swung the car around and joined 611 heading south.
CHAPTER 34
THE JOURNEY ACROSS the valley had taken most of the day. Floyd had followed the trail marked on the map, but thick snow had made the going difficult. He’d veered off course a number of times and had to retrace his steps.
The sun had gone down by the time the horse started to climb the mountain on the other side of the valley. Mule was clearly exhausted, and Floyd knew they wouldn’t be able to go on much longer, so he began to look for somewhere to spend the night. The lower slopes were covered by big trees, which made it hard to spot any shelter from the trail. If they could get above the treeline, it would be easier to see a crevasse or cave.
Floyd urged Mule up the steep incline. As they trudged slowly on, he wondered whether Beth and the children had gone to the cabin. Would the Department of Defense have notified her he was missing in action? Would they even know? Or would they mistakenly count him among the fallen? He couldn’t bear the thought of Beth worrying about him, much less the children, so he pushed such questions from his mind. Get to the border. Get to a phone. His task was simple, even if the execution of it was not.
Mule was breathing heavily, and ridges of white, foamy sweat had formed on her neck, but she kept going, and they were in sight of the rocky terrain that marked the end of the forest. The trees were thinning out, unable to thrive much higher. Floyd looked at the shadows up ahead and tried to see if he could spot shelter, but he was still too far away.
He was surprised to hear the low thrum of an engine, and recognized the frequency—too low for a car or a plane, the rhythm belonged to a chopper. He urged Mule off the trail, into the last of the trees, and the horse pushed through snow that came to its knees until Floyd pulled up by the trunk of a cedar. Mule settled and Floyd watched the sky. The tops of the trees swayed gently against the bright stars, but there was no sight of the aircraft. The sound of its engine grew louder, and Mule pawed the ground nervously.
Floyd’s heart pounded as he began to make out the occultation of the rotors, which meant the aircraft must be close. Then it appeared, the distinctive silhouette of a Russian-made Mil Mi-24 Hind, commonly known as the flying tank: a fast, heavily armed chopper with trademark down-swept wings. The bird had no running lights and was a solid black against the gray and white of the mountains opposite. It flew toward Floyd and, as it banked in his direction, he saw something that sent panic rushing through him: the familiar green glow of an infrared night-vision system. Against the cold mountainside, he and the horse would light up in bright oranges and yellow.
Floyd looked around, desperately searching for somewhere to hide, but there was nothing other than trees and deep drifts of snow. As the chopper came straight toward him, he could see the pilot, co-pilot, and someone else who stood in the center of the cockpit. All three were staring directly at him. They couldn’t land, but if the bird was properly equipped, they wouldn’t need to. A team could drop-line down to him.
Floyd knew he only had moments to get out of there, but he had no idea how he could outrun a chopper. They would follow him through the mountains. His heart sank at the thought he might never see Beth and the kids again. Then inspiration struck. He dismounted Mule and smacked her rump.
“Get out of here!” Floyd said. “Go! Yah!”
The horse, which had grown increasingly nervous at the sound of the helicopter, didn’t need much encouragement and bolted forward. As Mule ran off, Floyd jumped into a deep drift at the foot of the tree, burying himself in.
As he quickly scooped the last of the freezing snow over his face, Floyd saw the chopper turn toward the horse. With the trees and branches flickering in front of Mule, it would be impossible to tell whether there was a rider clinging to her back.
Floyd held his breath and prayed his gambit would work. Finally, he heard the noise of the chopper’s engine fading away.
Floyd hauled himself out of the drift, dusted off the worst of the damp, clumping snow, and made his way back to the trail. He’d managed to escape capture, but his freedom had come at a high cost. He was now about to cross the Hindu Kush mountains on foot.
CHAPTER 35
JESSIE HAD ARRANGED for us to stay in an empty house outside Rye, Westchester County. The house belonged to the cousin of Dinah Palmer, one of Private New York’s detectives, who was on vacation in the Caribbean for the winter.
