Deep Into The Night (Hartz Island Series) (27 page)

Chapter Forty-Two

L
ike Ray and the other officers, Jack strapped on his vest, secured his badge, and then his P229. He holstered his Glock on one ankle and his knife on the other. After smearing black grease paint all over his face, he pulled on a tight knit black cap. He tossed a cap and the grease to Ray, who did likewise.

He saw Cassie watching him gear up. They exchanged a faint smile, and she nodded her head. Canadian Border Services had alerted him the fishing trawler had left the marina with the Zodiac firmly in place.

They were ready to go. Kip was in the lead with his SUV, followed by the sheriffs in the unmarked Mustang. Jeannie followed in Ray’s Jeep with Montana and Ray behind her in the Saab. With permission to use the farm from the owner, a make-shift command center was to be set up in the barn.

Jack climbed into his Tahoe and handed Cassie the keys. “This is the first time I’ve ever ridden with you.”

“Make sure there’s a second.” She hit the gas.

Montana was right behind in her Saab with Ray. She veered off to the left, Cassie went right. Slowing down to a crawl, Jack checked for vehicles. Cassie stopped at the big boulder trail leading up into the woods. Jack hopped out. She sucked in her breath and nodded.

“I’ll be fine.” He gave her the thumbs up and scrambled up the hillside into the woods. When he reached his post, Jack inserted his earpiece and checked in with Kip.

Montana approached the county park entrance and turned off her lights. She stopped abruptly, and Ray jumped out, waved, and headed into the woods to his stake-out. Montana came around the curve heading back to the farm when a sedan exited the compound and nearly hit her. The familiar-looking car sped ahead. Montana’s radar system zinged in high alert. Kip had said they might need to improvise, and Montana decided it was one of those times.

Until she had accurate information, Montana decided not to check in with Kip. No doubt in her mind, she was tailing Margery Anne. At the moment, they were on a direct route to her house. Instead of turning in, the car swung around and parked at the rear of the church. Montana continued up the block to the closed mini-mart store and parked in its lot. Even though it was late, Montana surveyed the area before running down the block to the church. She took refuge in the overgrown rhododendron bushes that grew all around the building. Hidden by the bushes, she made her way to the rear of the church. Margery Anne’s car was backed in, parked next to a white van by the back stairs. She needed to rethink her situation. Still without definite information to relay, she decided to continue sleuthing before she called Kip.

Concealed behind the van, Montana closed her eyes and listened. Certain everything was in the clear, she crept up the back stairs and pulled slightly on the door. To her surprise, it opened. She leaned in but heard nothing, so she entered. A nightlight illuminated the corridor, so she crept along. At the end of the hallway, Montana came to a T. For a moment, she contemplated which way to go. Organ music blasted out, nearly sending her screaming with fear. She gripped her chest and took several breaths. Now she understood where she was: the entrance where the minister could step in front the congregation.

The music continued blasting, and the hair on her arms tingled as did every other warning signal in her body. Something very creepy was happening, but it was beyond her what. Down on her hands and knees, she crept into the area where the choir stood and peeked out the end. Margery Anne and Rob Armstrong posed as a bridal couple, but not in a traditional appearance—pornographic was more like it. Other than a bridal veil and very tall thigh high spiked boots, Margery Anne wore only a white satin bustier that stopped just below her breasts, enhancing the size. She swished the air with her white leather horse crop. Armstrong sported tight, black leather pants that were wide open where normally a zipper might be. Both were bare-chested. The camera filming them was just a few feet away. Horrified, Montana bit back words that were not very church-like. As quietly as she entered the church, she left. Inside the safety of her car, she now could call Kip.

Kip checked his phone once again and frowned. With his expression tight, he glanced over at Jeannie and Cassie, and they both shrugged. His phone vibrated in his hand. Kip let out a deep breath before answering it. Listening, he cleared his throat several times and shook his head.

“You stay in your car, completely out of their sight. Make sure your doors are locked. When they leave, you call me immediately,” he said with emphasis, in a low composed voice. He tucked his phone back in his pocket. Somewhere between a frown and a twisted smile, he said into his microphone, “We have an update on Armstrong and the Black woman. They are not in the compound but at the church where Margery Anne’s husband is the minister. Though he is not present.”

With Armstrong out of the complex, Kip and the officers discussed their next move with Jack and Ray.

Kip waved Cassie over. “Jack is coming back here. Go get him. Make sure you avoid the compound entrance.”

Cassie left in Jack’s truck.

Trying to ignore Jeannie, Kip gave up and walked over to where she stood. “What?”

“Oh, come on. Spill the beans.” She poked him and grinned.

He rolled his eyes and threw up his hands.

“What in the world?” she asked.

“I can honestly say I am at a loss for words. Text her.”

Jeannie perched on the back of his truck, texting. He smiled when he saw her eyes widen several different times and her mouth drop open. He was not surprised when Cassie returned with Jack, that Jeannie motioned for Cassie to join her. Cassie looked over Jeannie’s shoulder, reading the texts with her eyes practically popping out of her head.

Kip announced, “Operation
Your Cheatin’ Wife
is underway.”

The San Juan County sheriffs piled into the SUV and left. Jack loaded up Ray’s Jeep with rock climbing ropes and other gear. He handed Kip the shotgun. Kip called Jeannie and Cassie over to the Jeep.

“This is where we’ll need your help. Jack’s going to rappel off the boulder and drop into the compound. Once he lands, he’ll need someone to pull up the rope. Unfortunately, I’m not able.”

“I’ll do it,” said Cassie.

“Okay then. Everyone in the Jeep. Let’s go.”

Jack followed the walking path, plowing through the brush. He stopped where the trail dropped down to the meadow. The women each grabbed a bag and hung on to their guy’s hand. Going slow, Jack and Cassie led the way with Kip and Jeannie behind him.

Jack climbed the madrona tree. He threw a rope down; Cassie tied up the gear bags for him to pull up to where he stood. Securing the line around the tree, Jack checked its hold. As quickly as he went up the tree, he came down. He and Kip checked their microphones to make sure Ray and the other men could hear him.

Jack pulled Cassie aside and squeezed her hand. “Please do exactly what Kip says.”

“I will.”

He winked, and she winked back. She followed Jack up the tree. He gave her a hand over to the ledge and showed her where he wanted her to wait while he rappelled off. Over the edge he went, pushing off the face of the boulder, swinging out to land in the compound. The line went slack, and Cassie pulled it up immediately.

She peered out into the night and whispered, “You go, Wyatt Earp, lawman of the west.”

It took a few minutes, but she got the line unknotted and tossed it down to Kip. Cassie climbed down and joined Kip and Jeannie at the base.

Kip touched his earpiece and then smiled. “The Coast Guard just apprehended the zodiac. Our boys went nose to nose running them down. No women onboard but contraband.”

“What’s our plan?” Cassie asked.

“The plan is for Jack to return with the women. At that point, we’ll need to cut the fence and get them out fast.”

“So it could be a while?”

“Definitely.”

Jeannie pulled out her cellphone and motioned for Cassie to join her on the boulder.

Montana read Jeannie’s text and had to agree with her that Margery Anne had lost her mind. Rob Armstrong possessed her. No matter how hard she tried, Montana could not get the image out of her mind. Her body still shook. Margery Anne needed an intervention, and the only person capable was her. That was all there was to it.

Once again, Montana ran to the edge of the church property where she took cover in the rhododendron bushes. Listening and using her hands, she felt for vibration. Still clear. She sprinted to the door, opened it, and listened. Now that she understood what was going on, she faintly heard the music. Other than the dim light from the nightlight, the hallway appeared empty. Montana scampered down until she came to the T and slipped inside the choir room. Using her cellphone for light, Montana found a hidden space behind the line of choir robes. What better place was there than a church to try and save someone through an aura clearing and cleansing of her soul. Sometimes she just had to step in and do the right thing.

Chapter Forty-Three

S
o far, Jack encountered no one. In the shadows of the building, he watched and waited. No guards, no foot patrol, nothing. He believed their detection system was next to the fence and not where he landed.

Everyone speculated the women were imprisoned in the basement, probably in the largest building. Jack headed to the rear of the building where he came upon large Dumpsters. A cement ramp between them sloped down to the lower level loading dock. Hiding by the huge bins, he crouched down and took a good look around. He searched for security cameras but saw none. What he did find surprised him. Several heavy duty satellite dishes were hidden behind a wooden screened fence. The fence and the dishes had mobile capabilities, allowing ease of movement for clear reception. They’d not shown up on any images.

Jack sprinted down the cement ramp to the steel kitchen door. Not surprised to find the door locked, he used his favorite tool.
Nothing like cheaping out with a cheap-ass lock from your local hardware store
, he thought breaking the lock. Jack entered into a good-sized kitchen, one that could be in any community center or church. Sitting in full view on the counter was a pink bakery box. He had to know for Cassie’s sake. Jack lifted the lid and noted only a few cupcakes were left. He reported back to Kip and the others he was in the kitchen and cupcakes were found. That ought to make Cassie happy.

Jack peered through the small window of the dining room door. Dim lights lit the corridor, allowing a clear view of steel doors numbered one through four with electronic locks. He listened at each door. Doors one and two had muffled sounds, but not three and four. Jack retreated back to the kitchen and reported what he found.

He waited until he got word the front gate was being stormed by Ray and the other San Juan County sheriffs.

“Operation
Your Cheatin’ Wife
just stormed the front,” Kip reported.

Jack returned to the first door and used his other favorite tool and zapped the lock. He opened the door and heard the sounds of crying, whimpering women. Taking precaution, he entered and shined his light around, revealing a bare bones room with six cots shoved together, each occupied with a young woman wrapped in a thin blanket. Desperation etched their faces.

“Do any of you speak English?” Jack asked.

“I do,” said one. She didn’t look more then twelve.

He explained he was there to help and asked her to get everyone up and not to be afraid.

“What about the room next door? More women?”

“Yes.”

“What about rooms three and four?”

“No, mister. Those rooms are bad. Bad things.”

“Can you get everyone up?”

“Yes.”

Jack zapped the door next to it, opened it, and listened. The sounds were slightly different, but they echoed desperation. He shined his light and sucked in his breath; it was difficult to remain calm, anger simmered through his body. He returned to the first room and took the English-speaking woman to the room to explain. Six other young woman or girls, he couldn’t tell, appeared drugged. She spoke in a language Jack did not recognize. One out of the six was coherent. Jack motioned for her to come and closed the door.

“Are they drugged? Can they walk?”

“Please, mister, please don’t leave them,” she pleaded. “Please.”

Back in the first room, the women were up. They had no shoes and no clothes other than a T-shirt and a skimpy blanket.

“Can you each help one from the next room?”

They all nodded. He took the women to the next room where they partnered up.

“Where are your clothes?” he asked.

“They take them away at night.”

Jack called Kip for ideas. Cassie said to pad their feet with towels and wrap them in as many plastic bags as possible. He headed back to the kitchen, looking for anything.
Thank god for Washington State recycle laws
, thought Jack. Bag after bag of canvas-style grocery bags hung on the back of a door. He grabbed them all and then found several rolls of paper towels. He pulled drawers open, looking for scissors and tape and found duct tape. Jack showed the women how to bind their feet. He went hunting for any sort of clothes and found the laundry room with clean men’s clothes. Filling his arms, Jack headed back to the room. The women snatched up the clothes, put them on, and helped the others. They used the blankets as shawls. Everyone was ready to leave.

Out the back, up the ramp, he stopped and listened. By the sounds of it, Operation
Your Cheatin’ Wife
was in full action. The rat-a-tat-tat of spitting gunfire erupted.

“Come,” he said.

They looked like a small herd of deer moving slow across the acreage. The drugged women kept pace better than Jack expected, but it was still slow going. Near the fence, Jack had the women lay flat on the ground. He signaled Kip to start cutting.

Kip, Jeannie, and Cassie cut the fence fast and furiously. Kip pulled it apart and whistled to Jack it was a go. The women sprinted across the last fifty feet and through the opening. Jack was last. They hustled them behind the big boulder.

“We need to get these women out of here and up to the barn. You two take the Jeep and bring back the Tahoe. We can make a couple of trips.”

Jeannie and Cassie left.

Three trips later, everyone was inside the barn. The women were huddled together on old bales of hay. Some were crying softly, others held each other.

Jack knelt down in front of the woman who spoke English, “You’re safe.”

“Thank you.” Tears streamed down her face.

“You can’t leave them here. It’s cold, and my guess is they are hungry,” Jeannie pointed out. “Why not take them to the café. It’s secure, it’s safe.”

After conferring with everyone, they agreed that the Ferry Dock Café would be a good spot to hold the victims. Jeannie and Cassie went ahead to open it up, while Kip and Jack figured out how to transport the twelve women.

Deep in mediation, Montana continued to chant softly. It was her will up against his. Further and further she cleared the black aura that surrounded the two of them until she disconnected his possession of her. Wailing, horrific screams vibrated around her. Exhausted, with her heart pounding, Montana took several breaths, slowly coming out of meditation. Rage like she’d never felt before surrounded her. Outside the choir room in the hall, Margery Anne screamed profanity. A door slammed and then another.

Montana pushed aside the choir robes and listened at the door. Silence. She sprinted down the hall to the back door. Locked. At this point, she didn’t care and ran to the front and unbolted the lock and slipped out just in time to see Margery Ann drive into her garage. The door closed. So where did Rob Armstrong go? Running, Montana made it to her car in record time. She squealed out of the parking lot and raced down the road, heading to Blue Heron Lane. Not until she had accurate information did she want to call Kip.