Deliverer (9 page)

Chapter 15

Sanders voice was heavy with disappointment. "We're still surveying the area, but I don't know where they went."

Truman squeezed his eyes shut and pounded his fist into the pool table. He couldn't give in to the desperation wrapping itself around his chest. "Keep searching. I'll check back." He slammed the phone down on the green fabric, then grabbed a pool stick and snapped it in half.

The next call came from Fayande. "My patrol spotted them and gave chase. But they switched vehicles, and we haven't had any sightings since then."

"Fine." Truman felt no anger or disappointment, only a calm resoluteness. "I have no more need of your services."

"But—" Fayande started to respond, but Truman hung up. Instead, he called Claber.

"News?" Claber asked.

"No. We've lost their trail. But let's think here. Where would they go?"

"To America," Claber said instantly.

"Exactly." Truman smiled. "I want you to research the most likely route by road and through the woods. Chances are they won't use a legal point of entry because they've seen the police with me and they don't want to get caught."

"Makes sense. Then what?"

"Get everyone together. The Bennett brothers, Grey and Sanders. Send two groups into the woods. I want you and two others back in the States, prowling the border."

Someone in the background let out an exclamation.

"What?" Truman barked. "Someone have a comment?"

"Just Hastings,” Claber said, his voice less confident.

"What's his problem?"

"Apparently he has some concerns about the plan."

“Out with it,” Truman demanded.

"He thinks it's a waste of time."

So Hastings had decided there were no boundaries, that he could insult and rage to his heart’s content. Respect was still lacking.

"He doesn't have to go, then," Truman said, his voice icy calm. "Dispose of him."

"Sir?" Claber asked, and there was no mistaking his surprise.

"
You had no problem doing it to McAllister’s men. I'm tired of having my decisions questioned," Truman growled. "What hurts one of us hurts us all. Hastings doesn't want to help, fine. We don't need a broken wheel. Get rid of him."

Claber's voice murmured as a muffled conversation occurred in the van. Then Claber said, "He changed his mind. He's more than willing to help."

That's more like it.
"Perfect. I want him in a rental car, stateside. He reports directly to you. I want constant surveillance on the likely points of entry."

"Yes, sir," Claber said, his voice hesitant.

What was the problem now? "This isn't difficult," Truman snapped. "Four people in the woods. Four in the States. You just have to research the likely entry points."

"But there could be dozens—"

"Then choose the best ones!"

"Yes, sir."

Truman took a deep breath, letting his rational self take over. “Get on this. I want detailed maps by tonight. Send Hastings and the Bennett brothers into the States right away. But you come back with the four going into the woods. We'll need to prep them with supplies for the journey."

"Yes, sir."

Truman hung up. He stumbled over to the bar and grabbed the whiskey. It looked like he still needed his contact with the police force. Truman pressed the preassigned number.

"Fayande," the man answered.

"I need you to arrest some people."

"On what charges?"

"Well, that's up to you, isn't it?" Truman consulted the notepad he'd used when speaking with Claber. "Let's start with Chris Coton and his girlfriend, Natalie."

#

Claber and the four men he’d selected to track the girls in the forest entered Truman's office. Their faces glistened with sweat, and he could practically smell their fear. It had come at a heavy cost, but Truman admitted to liking the respect the men had for him. He glanced at Claber. Claber’s mouth twitched, a vein on his neck pulsing. He clutched a manila folder at his side.

Truman tapped his fingers on the wooden desk in a solemn staccato, letting the silence draw out. The men shifted about and kept their eyes on the floor.

"Well?" he finally said. "What happened? How did you and the police both manage to lose the girls?"

Sanders cleared his throat, straightening a little. He glanced at Claber, who gave a slight nod. "The last call Claber got on his hotline was at a gas station in Victoriaville. The caller correctly identified the car and the driver. We found the vehicle on the side of the road. It was empty. Either they proceeded on foot or they got a different car."

Truman kept his face impassive. "What are your projections? Where are they now?"

Sanders’ Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "Fayande has patrols watching the routes to the American consulate, the RCMP, and the border. They’re looking for any vehicle with a blond driver and three or more girls in the car."

Already Truman saw the ways they could slip through. Dye the blond's hair. Get a different driver. Divide the girls. Head different directions.

He shook his head. The girls wouldn't think to do those things. "Let's assume they won't go to the authorities. We’ve frightened them into hiding. If the patrols don't find them, then what?"

Sanders looked to Claber for support. Claber shifted his weight just enough to increase his height by an inch before speaking up. "The girls could hide out at their rescuer's house."

Natalie’s house. "We'll find them, then. And soon. Fayande will be arresting all parties involved in the rescue. I can't risk them contacting the FBI or American police."

Claber nodded. "I don't think they'll stay here, anyway. Hiding is a short-term solution. The girls want to get home. There's plenty of unguarded land between here and the New York/Vermont border. I've used that information to chart routes through the forest, assuming they’ll avoid roads or public places. In case we don't catch them before they cross over, I've narrowed the points of entry down to seven. Vermont is most likely. Keep in mind, though, this only works if they slip across illegally. If they use the legal border stations, we'll lose them."

"But?" Truman prompted.

Claber's lips curled upward. "But they probably won't, for two reasons. Number one, we've scared them, as you mentioned. They know they won't be safe until they get to America. Number two, they don't have any legal documents. They’ll think without proof, no one will believe them."

Truman nodded. "Agreed." Truman settled back and steepled his fingers. "Pack your gear and get into the forest. Keep satellite phones and anything necessary to sedate them until back up arrives.” He swiveled his head in Claber’s direction. “We've already got men patrolling the border?"

Claber nodded. "The men will circle around the city by car, and foot if necessary. I have four points of entry being watched. But there are several others I'd like to monitor, as well. I’d like a few more men to help."

Truman didn't have an endless supply at his disposal. All of the men not assigned to Claber were out on raids. "How many would you like?"

"Another four, if you can spare them. Just to be sure."

"How confident are you that the girls will use one of these points of entry?"

"Almost one-hundred percent." Claber opened the manila folder he held at his side. "Here are the maps I printed out with the different trails marked. You can check them yourself. While the border is several miles long, after we take out the legal routes, there are only half a dozen or so ways to get safely across the terrain."

Truman waved him away. "Good. As long as you have something substantial and not just guess work. I'll call in one of the raids and get you two more men. But that’s all I can spare you. Notify all of our American agents. We need them on this, fast. If the girls make it to America, they'll find allies at every turn. We have to make sure we find them before someone else does."

"On it." Claber left the folder on Truman’s desk and strode from the room.

Why couldn't all his men be so amenable? "The rest of you, you have your plan of action. Get your camping gear together and get into that forest. Any more questions?"

Nobody said a word.

"Go on, then. And I expect hourly updates!"
Sara's face danced in his head and he sat back hard as the men left the room.

Truman had one more item to take care of. At some point, the girls would call home. They might want help, or to simply tell their parents that they were okay. All he needed was one thirty-second phone call, and he'd have their location.

First, though, he had to tap their landlines. Rodriguez was already in Idaho, confirming Gregorio Rivero’s identity. He could do that as well.

Chapter 16

Truman finished adding up all the jewels in the coffer, a nervous sweat breaking out across his forehead. He had almost three million here, if he could get to a buyer.  He hardly dared leave the confines of his house, though. What if he were intercepted? Followed? McAllister might not recognize Truman's men, but if he had spies anywhere else, he'd find Truman.

He leaned back and chewed on his lower lip. None of that mattered, of course, if McAllister already knew where he was and was just biding his time to spring a trap.

Truman opened the desk drawer and flipped through a notepad. He only had one raid scheduled for this week, thanks to most of his men lallygagging around the border, looking for the missing girls.

The thought made Truman snarl, a flash of red anger blinding him. One week. One week with no sign. He wasn't ready to admit defeat, but he couldn't have his men parading around doing nothing for much longer. The girls hadn't gone to the authorities, they hadn't tried to call home, and they hadn't appeared at the border. Which left only a handful of options: either they were still in Canada somewhere, they were dead, or they were still making the journey.

His phone rang, and he glanced at Claber's name before answering. "Tell me you've got good news."

"Depends on what's good news," Claber said, a note of confidence in his voice. "Did Hastings call you?"

"No." Truman frowned. "Why?"

Claber hesitated just a moment, then said, "He found the girls."

Truman jumped to his feet. Hastings. He'd been surveying an entry point in Vermont. "Where is he now?"

"That's a very good question," Claber said. "Apparently Christof made his way out of the forest yesterday. He and Hastings met up. Then today they ran into the girls as they crossed the border into a city park."

Truman nodded. “
So we know they're in America.” He paused. When Claber didn't continue, he prodded him, "But that doesn't tell me where Hastings is."

"I don't know. He wasn't able to apprehend them. They created a scene and ran off. He told me he was going to hunt them down before they could go to the police."

The information overwhelmed Truman, and he sank back behind the desk. "He found them. Then he lost them. And now he's hunting them. Do we have any agents at the local PD?"

"No. But Hastings told the girls the police are on our side. That should deter them."

Truman nodded. "Good. I'll call Hastings, find out if he has them."

"His phone's off. I can't reach him."

"Then I'll try Christof,” he snapped, losing patience with Claber’s constant need for direction. “In the meantime, get all the men to Vermont."

"On it. I’ve got Alfred with me. I’ll get the Bennett brothers and Sanders over here too."

At noon the call center called. "They used a phone to call Idaho,” Nigel said, “And I’ve got that address. I'm emailing it to you along with the message."

"Thank you," Truman said. "Let me know as soon as you get another." He opened the attachment and played the message. Truman listened while a teenage boy told Mrs. Rivera that the girls were going to Maryland.

Nothing more, but it was enough. Maryland. It gave him a definite trail to follow. He jabbed his finger at Claber's number.

“Yes?” Claber answered.

"The girls are going to Maryland," Truman said. "Realign your trajectories."

"I'm on it."

The girls couldn't hide now. The possibilities from Vermont to Maryland were minimal.

Chapter 17

The girls never appeared in Maryland. After days of waiting, Truman ordered the Bennett brothers into the forest to search for them.

And then silence. Two days passed with no updates.

Truman spent the time organizing elaborate raids for Grey’s team in Michigan. When Claber finally called, Truman couldn’t understand him because of all the yelling in the background.

"What's wrong?" Truman demanded.

"Huge. This is huge," Claber said, practically shouting in the phone. "I’ve got Derek with me. He saw them."

So that's who was yelling in the background. "Put him on!"

"Hang on, boss," Claber said. "He's a bit hysterical. He wandered the forest for a day before he found a street, and then it took him hours to get to a town and find a pay phone to track me and Sanders down."

Something didn't make sense. "But the Bennetts have a car. Where's his car?"

"He left it in the forest. He was a bit... confused." Claber's voice lowered. "Danny's dead."

The shrieking in the background intensified. Surely Truman had heard that wrong. "What?"

"She killed him!" Now Derek's voice, high and irrational, screamed into the phone. Truman backed his head away from the speaker. "That bitch killed my brother!"

"Derek. Give me the phone back. Derek. Thank you." Claber's voice returned. "As you can hear, he's not quite himself."

"Is it true?" Truman couldn't wrap his mind around the idea. He pictured Danny, tall and stocky. "One of the girls killed him?"

"According to Derek. But Truman, it was just a few days ago. They can't be too far!"

“Can Derek get you there?”

“Well, he’s not exactly coherent. He can’t remember what direction he came from.”

"Derek needs to rest," Truman instructed. "Get him medical care. I need him better so that he can remember exactly where the incident happened!"

"Yes, sir."

"Claber. How many girls? Were they all there?"

"All three. It was the
Carnicero
's
daughter that killed Danny."

The
Carnicero
's
daughter. Did it run in the family? "Have you found anything out about
him
?" As soon as his daughter was back in Truman's hands, he planned to offer her up for a huge ransom. More than enough to make up for all the trouble she was causing.

"Found a place of employment. Getting contact information a bit trickier, though. Apparently he has more than one name."

"Well, try and track that down." Truman bit the words out, doing his best to mask the anger he felt. "This is priority. Take Alfred off the surveillance team and put him on this full-time."

"Will do."

#

Grey had just finished reporting on their last raid when Rodriguez knocked on the study door and let himself in.

Truman looked up, annoyed. He needed Grey to hurry and finish so they could discuss next week's raid. But his report was taking hours, thanks to Truman's inability to focus. "It better be important."

"It is, sir," Rodriguez answered, bobbing his head. He held the phone out to Truman and waved it. "Nigel from the Alberta call center is on the line. Says he has to talk to you."

Nigel was one of the only people that had his actual phone number. And email address, for that matter. Truman opened his palm and beckoned with his fingers. Rodriguez placed the phone into his hand and Truman pressed it to his ear. "Do you have something?"

"Yes," Nigel said. "I got a tap for you. Wasn't long enough for a location, but I'm emailing the recorded message."

"Excellent," Truman said, unable to resist the hope tightening his throat. "Keep me informed of anything else." He looked at Grey and Rodriguez. "Dismissed. Grey, I need to borrow your phone. Go over next week’s raid with your team." Grey left his phone on the desk. Truman glanced at it before opening Nigel’s email. His heart pounded in his ears so loudly that he decided to read the transcription rather than listen to the recording. He read it twice and then jabbed his finger at Claber's number.

"Sir?" Claber answered.

"The girls called home. We have to act fast. I don't have their exact location, but I got the city they're in. And they said they're going to the police."

Claber caught on without Truman having to spell it out. "I’ll intercept them. Where are they?"

"Remsen, New York." Truman tapped his fingers on the desk. Opening the top drawer, he pulled out his agent directory. "We have an agent in the PD at Sweden, Pennsylvania. Five hours away."

"Send me his number. I'll call him."

"No." Truman inhaled. "I will. Stand by. I'll call you with the plan." Hanging up with Claber, he picked up Grey’s phone and dialed the Pennsylvania number.

"This is Captain Jefferson."

"Captain." Truman took a deep breath. Rarely did he have to contact this man. "It's Alexander King." He used the name on his American passport, the one his American contacts were familiar with.

A short pause, and then Jefferson continued, his voice smooth and calm. "Yes. How can I help you?"

Truman kept his words encrypted. "Did you hear about that kidnapping in Idaho?"

"Idaho?" Computer keys clicked in the background. "Oh, yes, the four girls. I heard about that when it happened. Why?"

"I've lost something."

"Can I help you find it?"

"If someone finds it, I need you to get it."

"Will I recognize it?"

"Yes, you'll know it. Just call me if you notice anything."

"Sure. Will do."

Truman hung up. He knew that, behind Jefferson's confident words, he was sweating and anxious. Truman paced the office, resisting the urge to call the police station closest to Remsen. He couldn't be the one to tip them off. It had to come from Jefferson.

His phone rang, an unknown number with a United States prefix. "Yes?" Truman answered.

"I'm a block away, using a pay phone. I think I've deciphered your message." Jefferson usually friendly voice sounded jittery. The man was the typical police officer; fit, dark hair, mustache, a warmth in his smile that made people trust him. That was a valuable asset. "A fax came in from the Little Falls PD twenty minutes ago, telling us to watch for the three surviving girls and immediately call them if they show up. I just distributed it to all the officers. Do you have something to do with this, King?"

Truman knew from his tone that Jefferson hated him at that moment. Kidnappers, people who would hurt young girls, were the quintessential bad guys. Truman pulled on his lower lip. He didn’t have time to explain the entire situation, yet somehow he had to keep Jefferson's allegiance. "It's not what you think. But yes, they are important to me. One of the girls—her father is a vigilante. We're using her to hunt him down."

"King, those girls—they need to go home."

Truman lowered his voice, putting a threatening element to it. "Jefferson, we chose you for a reason. How does your wife like that seven-thousand square foot house you bought five years ago? Does your son like his new Mustang? Weren't you planning on repeating that vacation to New Zealand next year? Or maybe you'd prefer that they think of you as the dirty cop? Do you really want them to know where that extra inheritance came from?"

Silence reigned, and Truman knew he had him. Jefferson, like most people, couldn't bear the personal consequences that would come to his family. "All right. What do you want me to do?"

"I need you to send a fax to the police departments around Remsen, New York. Put an official signature on there saying this is the most up-to-date information. The girls are in danger. Top secret case. Anyone who sees them must swear to protect them and not give away their presence." Nothing like appealing to a policeman's protective nature. "They need to be brought straight to you before anyone can see them. Then get yourself to an isolated location so you can receive them. Let me know when they're on the way."

Truman paused, thinking through his next command. He wanted to follow this through in person. Could he risk it? Yes. This was big enough. "Get me the address. I'll meet you there." Which meant he had to catch a flight to New York, right now.

"King, if I sign this, it's going to come back to point to me."

"Tell everyone this is so top secret they must destroy the fax after reading it. Tell them there can be no evidence that the girls were ever there."

"They won't buy it." Jefferson's voice was flat. "It's too suspicious."

"Not coming from you," Truman soothed. "They don't suspect you. They'll believe you if you say your orders come from the FBI or Homeland Security or something. Make it believable, Jefferson."

"Got it." Jefferson's mellow voice was even and formal again. "I'll call you as soon as I know anything."

"I'm sure you will." Truman disconnected, unable to keep the smile off his face. A line from one of Shakespeare’s lesser-known plays,
Cymbeline, King of Britain
, paraded through his mind.
That opportunity, Which then they had to take from ’s, to resume We have again.

Dialing Claber's number, he headed back to his room and started throwing things into a suitcase. He shifted through a shoebox of passports and tossed the American one in as well.
He nudged Barley and rubbed the dogs belly.

“
I'll see you soon boy. Keep everyone safe here.” He gave him another pat and straightened, all business.

"Game plan," he said when Claber answered. "I'm flying to New York."

“Before you come, you should know,” Claber said, an ominous note in his voice.

“What?” Truman braced himself.

“We backtracked into the forest and found the Bennett brothers’ car. We also found Danny. Boss—she bludgeoned him to death.”

“How?” Truman demanded. “How could she do that with Derek right there?”

“He wasn’t with Danny. By the time he got there, it was too late.”

“But he did see the girls?”

“Yeah. But they have two boys with them. They’re picking up allies, Boss.”