Got the Look (41 page)

Following the kidnapper's instructions, Jack went to the bushes and found the metal capsule. It was about two feet long and shaped like a torpedo. He opened it. As expected, it was empty. He removed his backpack and unzipped it. The cash was in neat bundles.

It was decision time.

Jack didn't have anywhere near the two million dollars he'd promised the kidnapper. Yesterday morning, rather than fill the bag with counterfeit bills, Jack had made the executive decision to bluff his way through the negotiations with a quarter million dollars. Now that it was time to pay, however, Jack couldn't bring himself to put his friend's money at risk. He stuffed his share of it, fifty grand, into the watertight capsule. Theo's money went back in his backpack. Then he jotted down a note on a piece of paper.

Here's $50,000 more than your mere promise to release Mia is worth. You get the rest - you get what she's worth - when I get Mia. Simultaneous exchange. Nonnegotiable. Call me.

He read it twice, making sure it said everything that needed to be said. Satisfied, he tucked the note in with the stack of bills, sealed the capsule shut, and carried it to the water's edge. Fastened to a log was a thick nylon rope. It had a loop at the end, and an indeterminable length of rope descended into the water, disappearing somewhere inside the cave below. Jack tied the capsule to the end of the rope, then lifted the capsule with both hands. He knew what he was supposed to do, but it gave him pause.

Fifty thousand dollars. It didn't sound like much in this world of nine-figure Lotto, until it was your money, and it was literally going down into a hole in the ground. The kidnapper was at the other end of this line, he knew, somewhere deep in the bowels of the underwater cave system - a system that honeycombed beneath the surface for hundreds of miles, through millions of tons of sand and solid limestone. Much of it was unmapped - a tactical advantage that the kidnapper was poised to exploit, Jack was sure of it. Eventually, he would emerge somewhere in the swamp, perhaps popping up through a recently formed sinkhole that no one else knew about. Until then, he would wind his way through tunnels and caves, perhaps a hundred or more feet underground. It might seem like an awful lot of trouble, but he had surely anticipated that Jack would plant a GPS tracking system inside the capsule along with the money. So long as he was underground, the GPS chip was worthless. The guy was no dummy, that was for sure. But he had to come up somewhere, at which time the GPS chip would reactivate. Then the FBI would know exactly where he was.

That was the plan, at least.

He pitched the capsule into the pool. It landed with a splash, and then it bobbed on the surface in a way that reminded Jack of fishing with his dad as a kid, a little perch or sunfish on the end of his cane pole. Then he waited. A breeze kicked up, and the light patches of fog began to disperse as quickly as they had arrived. Rising water from the spring continued to break gently at the surface, causing the capsule to turn gently in a clockwise direction.

Finally, the capsule jerked at one end. Jack couldn't see anything below the surface, but someone was down there, and he was tugging on the line. A little voice inside told him to dive in and see who it was, but that was just foolishness. He had to stick to the plan, wait for the kidnapper's call, tie him up in negotiations for a simultaneous exchange while the FBI closed in around the GPS coordinates.

The capsule jerked one more time, and then it began to sink, slowly and steadily. It was like watching the Titanic - the bow first, then the stern rising up above the surface as the metal tube began its long descent into darkness.

Fifty thousand dollars down the hole, just like that.

And there was still no sign of Mia.

Phase One of Jack's plan was complete. Now all he could do was hope that fifty thousand dollars was enough bait to make the kidnapper call back - to lure him into Phase Two.

Chapter
63

Agent Crenshaw slipped into the black water without a splash, without a sound, almost without a ripple. For a moment he was a young Navy SEAL back in Vietnam, but the cold water quickly shattered that image. Seventy-two degrees didn't sound that cold until you were in up to your eyeballs in the dead of night. Slowly, the heat from his body warmed the thin layer of water beneath the tight-fitting rubber of his wet suit, gloves, and booties.

You know you don't have to do this, said Danfield. The divers were three heads bobbing just above the surface, their regulators not yet in place.

I'm no damn good to anyone standing around up here, said Crenshaw.

Danfield nodded, then gave a thumbs-up and switched on his diving light. Crenshaw and the other diver did likewise. It was startling, the way a flip of a switch could transform the impenetrable blackness into a pool so bright and crystal clear. The divers tucked their regulators into their mouths. Danfield went first, followed by the other search-and-rescue diver. As they submerged, their air bubbles quickly rose to the surface, and the lights refracted against their glistening trail like a hydrogen lamp on a cache of diamonds. Crenshaw watched with a combined sense of excitement and apprehension as he sucked a quick breath of dry air and then followed the fins of the lead divers.

The pace was quick, of course, with Mia's life potentially hanging in the balance. Crenshaw was not nearly as fit as he had once been, and he found himself sucking more air than he would have liked. At a depth of fifty feet they reached the opening to the Devil System. It was larger than he had expected, and the combined lamp-power of their three dive lights made it almost inviting. Danfield stopped and signaled the others to do likewise. As they hovered a few feet above the floor, the sweep of their fins kicked up a hurricane of white sand. They were just outside the gallery, as cavers called it, the cave system's first section, which was like a large foyer. So far, so good, thought Crenshaw. He'd dived much tighter spaces before at much greater depths.

Danfield's mask flashed with the reflection of the dive light. Crenshaw couldn't see his face, but he did see the signal. One slashing gesture with his hand, left to right, straight across the throat, which meant cut. The divers simultaneously switched off their lights.

The depths went black.

It lasted only a few seconds, but even in that short time, Crenshaw could feel his pulse quicken and hear himself exhausting far too much of his precious air. A less experienced diver might have warmed his wet suit on the spot, but Crenshaw kept control. He was so focused on not freaking out, however, that he almost forgot the purpose of the blackout. He peered into the gallery, toward the ever-narrowing restrictions beyond - and he saw it. Or at least he thought he saw it. A trace of light from somewhere deep within the cave.

Someone was in there.

Danfield switched his light back on, as did the others. On the leader's signal, the team entered the Devil's Ear.

Jack was headed toward the river, exactly as the kidnapper had instructed him: Drop the money and follow the path north to the riverbank. It was clear that the kidnapper would be underwater - underground - for the next few minutes, at least. Jack used this opportunity to touch base again with Andie Henning.

He took the money, Jack said into his cell phone, walking as he spoke. He explained exactly what had happened, ending with the capsule's disappearance into the spring.

Crenshaw was right, said Andie. He is down there.

What?

Crenshaw and his dive team saw a light in the Devil's Ear. They're down there now in pursuit.

Jack stopped in his tracks. No one is supposed to be down there. Not until he calls me back to negotiate the simultaneous exchange.

We changed our plan. The divers spotted a light inside the cave and went in.

Did it occur to them that the kidnapper might see their lights? In which case he'll know that I called in the FBI. That'll give him the green light to kill Mia. I only gave him fifty thousand, so he's going to be pissed off as it is.

Jack, after what happened to Ashley Thornton, we have to be aggressive. This is our best shot. If he's down there, we can only hope that Mia isn't down there with him. If our divers can find him, corner him, and capture him, we might get Mia back alive.

What do you want me to do? said Jack.

Keep following the kidnapper's instructions. Let him think that things are going according to his plan. We'll take it from there.

What if he finds his way out of the aquifer before your divers can catch him?

Did you put the GPS tracker inside the capsule?

Yes.

Good. He has to surface sometime. As soon as he opens that capsule and starts counting his money, the tracker will tell us where he is. In the meantime, you should just continue to follow his instructions. I have several teams in the field. We're watching you at all times. If you're in danger, I'll tell you.

It wasn't Jack's plan to go quietly out of harm's way, but if things were coming to a head underwater, there was little else he could do. Okay, I'm headed for the river. Just one thing more. And I want an honest answer.

Shoot.

Do you think Mia's still alive?

The pause on the line wasn't very reassuring. I'd pull you out of here in a heartbeat if I didn't think there was a chance.

Not the most encouraging response, but it was honest enough. Thanks. I needed to hear that. He switched off the phone and started toward the river.

Chapter
64

At a depth of fifty feet in chilly water, Agent Crenshaw focused on his breathing as the search-and-rescue diver fastened the guideline to a protruding rock at the cave's entrance. Rigged like an oversize fishing reel, the long yellow rope would follow them into, and guide them out of, the Devil's Ear. Without it, they'd be lost, left to their own devices to find their way out of an underwater labyrinth that played for keeps, entombing its victims in watery limestone catacombs until someone happened upon them.

The lead diver let out the line and darted through the gaping cave entrance. Crenshaw followed the shiny fins ahead of him, careful not to fall behind as the bubbles roared in his ears. Their dive lights probed and scanned the cave, peeling away the darkness to reveal strange knobs and hollows of rock. They kept moving forward, and Crenshaw was increasingly aware of the rock formations overhead. Overhead. It was a benign enough word, but it had rather disturbing implications for possible escape routes. In an overhead environment there was no going up - no ditching the weight belt, popping your buoyancy, and heading for the surface when equipment failed or nerves cracked. The way in was the way out. Period. Crenshaw checked his equipment, then breathed a little sigh of relief to find that both of his backup dive lights were still with him.

They were swimming faster, and the blue-silver cone of light stretched out before him to reveal the first narrowing in the cave. It wasn't a welcome sight. Crenshaw was just getting things under control, getting comfortable with the notion of cave diving. Now he was supposed to follow the leader into a so-called opening that was, at best, like crawling into the gaping mouth of a hungry prehistoric shark. He checked his gauges. Still at fifty feet, but the ceiling was so much lower. How was that possible? It could only mean one thing: There was less water and more earth above him, more tons of solid limestone between him and the outside world. Wasn't it the ancient Greeks who entombed their dead in limestone - the perfect casket, turning the body to dust in just forty days? He shook off that thought and caught his breath.

The silence was remarkable, almost unnerving.

A flash of light crossed his path, and Danfield was suddenly right in front of him. He was looking straight into Crenshaw's eyes, and he was giving him the okay signal. After a moment, Crenshaw regained his focus and realized that he had zoned out for a second. He blinked hard and took control of his breathing. He returned the okay signal, then followed the flash of Danfield's fins through the first restriction.

Beyond that tight opening, deep within this underground honeycomb, Crenshaw had hoped to find another sprawling gallery, something on the order of Poseidon's ballroom. But the narrowing continued, and the farther he swam, the tighter it seemed to get. If he stretched his arms out wide he could simultaneously touch the walls on both sides of the cave. It would have been impossible to stand upright. In fact, there wasn't even enough head clearance to sit upright. He was barely able to advance in the prone position. He heard his tank scrape on the rocks above him. His fins brushed against the sandy floor below. He was churning up dust, as were the divers ahead of him, and a flick of his light caught only a rolling cloud of darkness in his path. The air hissed through his regulator. What if the airflow stopped? he wondered. Could he possibly turn around and get back at this stage? He patted his chest, searching for the spare regulator, the octopus. It wasn't there. Yes, yes, there it was. But what if that failed, too?

He kept finning forward, fighting the almost uncontrollable impulse to turn back. The ceiling continued to drop, which didn't seem possible. They were diving deeper, surrounded, walled in, going places where life itself depended on valves, hoses, diaphragms, lights, and countless other man-made gadgets that could malfunction at any moment. A little mustard-colored eel nipped at his wrist. You've got the edge down here, buddy.

Finally, the tunnel widened. There was room to maneuver - not much, but enough to be thankful for. Crenshaw checked his air supply. He'd blown way too much. He flashed his light at Danfield, who was giving the signal again - that slashing gesture across his throat. It was time to cut off the lights. Crenshaw shook his head. Danfield swam toward him, the anger on his face apparent even through the mask. Both S&R divers had switched off their lights. Only Crenshaw's was beaming. Danfield gave the signal once more. Crenshaw bit down so hard on his mouthpiece that his teeth ached. His fingers felt numb, but he flipped the switch.