My eyes went back to the person standing behind Grandpère. Not a man, I thought. A woman. She was the shortest of them all, and slight of build. And curvy, though her scrubs hung on her like a sack. Interesting.
Ironically, everything else in the room seemed perfectly normal. The house had not been ransacked. There weren’t bullet holes in the wall or any signs of struggle. The men must have come in some time after Mom and Cody got home. Or, more likely, they were already here, waiting.
I suddenly realized there was another oddity in all this. My mind was not numb with panic. It was past midnight, and I was tired. Yet my mind was firing like it was on full throttle. Not only were all these details registering with perfect clarity, but I was making connections, putting things together. Perhaps it was one of the effects of the adrenaline rush that had been coursing through my body since that moment I woke up screaming.
“She has a cell phone,” El Cobra said in English. “Find it.”
He had a slight accent—maybe Spanish, but I wasn’t sure. Whatever it was, his English was excellent. I was trying to absorb as much detail as possible so I could tell the police later. Were they members of a Mexican drug cartel? Stories of isolated ranchers being brutally murdered along the Arizona border came to mind, and my panic meter shot up sharply. What was the cartel doing this far north? And why us?
My thoughts were cut off as Doc stepped forward and started his search. My cell phone was in my jacket pocket. He found it immediately, but that didn’t stop him from completing a pat down, his hands lingering a half a second longer than was necessary. Everything about the guy gave me the shivers. I couldn’t see his face behind his ski mask, of course, but I was confident he was ugly. Everything about him felt ugly.
Then he grabbed my arm, fingers pressing hard into my flesh, and steered me toward the couch. “Move it!” he barked.
“Ow!” I cried. “You’re hurting me.”
He turned me around so I was facing him, then gave me a shove backward. I crashed down on the couch, nearly hitting Grandpère. The cuffs dug deeply into my wrists, and I yelled in pain.
“Stop it!” Mom shouted, leaping to her feet. El Cobra stepped in front of her, but she knocked him aside with one shoulder and went after Doc like a heat-seeking missile. “Take those cuffs off of her!” she yelled, sticking her face right up to his ski mask.
Doc started to raise his pistol, but if Mom saw it, she gave it no mind. She spun around to face El Cobra. “If you hurt my children, you’ll get nothing from us. Nothing! Do you hear me?”
We were all stunned by her ferocity. One moment she was in tears; two seconds later she was a mama lion going for the jugular. I could see that Dad was even more shocked than El Cobra was.
Doc came up behind her and jammed the muzzle of his pistol against her back.
She knocked it away with her elbow, not even turning around to see what it was. “Now!” she shouted at El Cobra. “Take her cuffs off.”
El Cobra eyed her for a long moment, then nodded at Doc. “She’s right. We’re not here to hurt anyone. Take off the cuffs.”
It was like a huge collective sigh exploded from us all as Doc pulled me to my feet. A moment later, the cuffs were off, and Mom and I were in each other’s arms. She was still breathing hard, and I could feel her chest rising and falling. She brushed her hand against my cheek. “Are you okay?” she whispered.
“I am now,” I said, my voice tinged with awe.
“This is a mistake,” Doc snarled. “The girl’s a hellcat. She nearly got away outside.”
“Then watch her,” the boss said. “If she tries to get away, she’s yours.” El Cobra looked directly at me, stabbing the air with one finger. “You hear that, Danny Boy? And he’s not the only one who would love to get his hands on you, so behave yourself. ¿Comprendes?”
It felt like an icy draft swept across my bare flesh. I knew he meant what he said, and that was frightening enough. But what really turned me cold was having him call me Danny Boy. Anyone in town could have told him my nickname was Danni, but no one except Dad ever called me Danny Boy. If he knew that, then he knew a lot about my family, and that was truly frightening.
My chin came up, and I managed to meet the marble black eyes that peered out at me from beneath his mask, even though I was shaking like a leaf in a hurricane.
Doc tossed El Cobra my cell phone, who dropped it into an open duffel bag at his feet. As he did so, I caught a glimpse of the butt of Dad’s pistol and wondered if they had disarmed him without a fight. Then I saw El Cobra staring at me. I felt another flutter of fear.
“What’s that?” he asked.
For a moment, I didn’t know what he meant. Then I saw he was looking at the pouch. I pulled it off my shoulder and held it out before Doc could grab it. “It’s an old pouch I carry around for good luck. There’s nothing in it.”
“She’s right, El Cobra,” Doc said. “I checked. It’s empty.”
El Cobra snapped his fingers, and Doc took the pouch from me and tossed it to him. He caught it with one hand. Sticking his pistol in his belt, he patted the pouch briefly, then looked inside. Finally, he looked up at me. “Why do you carry an old, useless purse?” Before I could answer, he nodded. “Ah, sí. This is the purse your grandfather gave you for your birthday. The nanny pouch, no?”
I winced, feeling Grandpère’s eyes boring into me. My mind was frantically working. Whoever El Cobra’s source was, it had to be someone from Hanksville, someone anxious to pass on the town joke—Danni and Nanny. Which meant this wasn’t a random home invasion.
“Well, señorita, have you nothing to say? Why do you carry around an old, useless purse?”
“It belonged to my great-grandmother,” I answered. “It has been in our family for many generations. It has great sentimental value, nothing more.”
“I see. Perhaps I shall keep it then, to make sure you give us no further problems.”
“No!” I couldn’t help myself. “It means nothing to you. Please give it back.”
I could sense those glittering black eyes taking my measure. I forced myself to meet his stare. After a moment, he suddenly flipped the pouch in my direction, like he was throwing a Frisbee. My hand shot out and grabbed it.
He laughed, a cold, mirthless bark. “Hear me well, chiquita. You will do as I say or else I will personally stuff that purse down your throat. ¿Comprendes?”
Chiquita. Little girl. A term of endearment for one’s girlfriend. I felt physically sick. “Sí.” I turned my face away and found myself looking directly into Grandpère’s eyes. The disappointment in them was evident, and after a moment, I had to turn my gaze elsewhere because they only made me feel worse.
Chapter 21
With me put in my place, El Cobra called a war council. He moved to one side, keeping Mom and Dad clearly in his sights, and began talking to Doc and the woman. Their voices were low enough I couldn’t tell if they were speaking in Spanish or English. They seemed to argue about something, then finally come to some agreement.
El Cobra came back and sat on the coffee table directly in front of Mom and Dad. His pistol waved nonchalantly in front of their noses. The others returned to their places. Mom was subdued again, staring at her hands. Her fingers interlocked and twisted together as though she was in pain.
“Okay, then,” he began. “Here’s the deal, Mr. Lucas McAllister.” He cocked his head. “May I call you Luke?”
Dad shrugged. “No one calls me Luke. It’s Mack, Lucas, or Mr. McAllister.”
“Okay, Luke. Here’s the deal. And, by the way, I will not be repeating myself, so listen carefully. We have no desire to hurt you or your family. We’re here to negotiate a simple business deal. When we’re done, you’ll never see us again.”
He leaned forward, looking directly at Dad. “It’s important for you to believe that, Luke, so you don’t complicate matters. You have a beautiful family, and you can make sure nothing happens to them simply by cooperating with us. There is no way you can
identify us, and when this is all over, we will simply disappear, and it will all be over.”
“What is it you want?”
“If you try anything, such as thinking that you can contact the police, your family will be the ones to simply disappear, and none of you will ever be seen again. Do you understand me?”
Dad’s head bobbed briefly. “What is it you want?” he asked again.
“Twenty million dollars.”
I gasped. So did Grandpère. The blood drained from Mom’s face. Dad nearly choked. Then he shocked everyone by laughing in the man’s face. “I don’t have that kind of money.”
“Oh, really?”
“We have about three thousand dollars in our checking account and twenty-three thousand in savings, but—”
“We know exactly how much money is in all of your accounts, Luke, but thank you for being cooperative. That is what I’m talking about.”
Something was wrong. El Cobra seemed to know everything about us—my nickname, what I called the pouch, how much money we had in the bank, when we would be home. If he knew so much, why ask for such an outrageous fortune when he knew we didn’t have it?
He reached down and fumbled in the bag at his feet for a moment. When he straightened, he held a sheet of paper, folded in half. My head came up with a snap. I remembered the impression that had come to me shortly after I awoke from my nightmare. This is about the mine.
He unfolded the paper, feigning puzzlement. “Let’s see,” he mused. “What have we here?”
He held it up in front of Dad’s face. Shock flashed across his face, then Dad’s shoulders slumped, and hope drained out of him like water down a rain pipe. Courteous as an English butler, El Cobra turned and held up the paper for Grandpère, Cody, and me to see. I heard Grandpère’s sharp intake of breath. But I was not surprised. It was the report from the assayer’s office, a duplicate of what Dad had showed us this morning. So that answered one question. The report had named the mine: Danny Boy, Shaft One. That’s how he knew my nickname.
When El Cobra spoke again, any trace of amusement was gone. His voice was cold, hard, and menacing. “Luke, we know about your offer from the Canadians. When I first learned they were paying you a cool twenty million dollars, I thought somebody had been out in the Canadian cold for too long.”
Twenty million dollars? No wonder Dad hadn’t wanted to tell me the amount.
Seeing my expression, El Cobra laughed aloud. “So little Danny Boy didn’t know how much her mine was worth. I don’t blame you for not telling her, Luke. In a town like Hanksville, such news would spread like wildfire.” He bent over, his face just inches from my dad’s. “And when I learned what rhodium brings in per ounce,” he said, “well, all I can say is, ‘Excelente, señor. Muy bien.’ So tell me, Luke. How much do you think those four sacks of ore you brought back are worth?”
I felt a little jolt. He knew about the ore? Was that what I had felt this morning at breakfast? Had there been someone up there in the trees watching us?
Dad considered his question, then said, “We won’t know until we—”
The man moved so quickly that Dad didn’t even have a chance to flinch. In one instant, El Cobra had jammed the muzzle of his pistol into Dad’s cheekbone. Mom screamed. I yelled. Cody gasped. Grandpère leaped to his feet.
Instantly Gordo, Doc, and the others were in our faces, waving their weapons. Grandpère fell back heavily onto the couch. It had all happened so fast. No wonder they called him El Cobra.
“Let me ask that again, Luke,” he said, his voice tight. “How much rhodium did you bring down with you? I know you haven’t had it assayed yet, but give me a ballpark guess.”
Though my heart was pounding and my breath had caught in my throat, once again my brain registered a piece of trivia. This guy used American slang like a native. He had lived in the United States a long time, perhaps most of his life. Maybe he wasn’t Hispanic at all.
To his everlasting credit, Dad lifted his head slowly, even though it must have pushed the pistol into his flesh even more. “The sample we had assayed was carefully chosen. This is pretty much raw ore.”
The pistol was withdrawn. “Go on.”
“We have a vein about twenty-five feet long. It looks promising, but in the mining business, how much good ore is in a vein is always a crap shoot. A vein can run for as much as a mile, or it can peter out after a few feet. After an independent investigation, and after receiving a copy of the same report you have there, the new owners are betting there’s a lot more than twenty million dollars worth of rhodium in the mine. And they’re probably right.”
“Then why sell it?”
“I’m not interested in running a mine. Also, there’ll be a huge capital investment to get it running. Plus there’s always a chance the US Forest Service won’t approve any kind of mining operation up there, let alone a big one.”
To my surprise, Grandpère spoke up. “If I may, sir, I have a pen and a small notebook in my shirt pocket. We are thinking the ratio of rhodium to ore is about ten percent. I could quickly figure how much rhodium those four sacks would yield if we are correct.”
“Check his pockets,” El Cobra snapped to Doc.
He leaned over and roughly yanked a pocket notebook and pen from Grandpère’s shirt front.
“You’re the LaRoche part of the McAllister and LaRoche partnership, aren’t you, old man?” El Cobra asked.
“Yes.”
“Make it fast.”
Doc handed Grandpère the pen and notebook. As Grandpère began to write rapidly, I wondered what he was up to. Ricky had already done the calculations. Was he stalling for time? But why?
Dad spoke, pulling my attention back to him. “If you let my family go, I’ll sign the mine over to you. It could be worth a lot more than twenty million.”
El Cobra offered a hard, mirthless laugh. “Oh, you’d love that, wouldn’t you? Us registering the mine in our names. Coming up to work it every day. Getting cozy with the local sheriff.” He turned to Grandpère. “Come on, Gramps. What’s it worth?”
Grandpère held up one finger, continuing to write with his other hand. Finally he tore out a sheet and held it up. Doc snatched it from him. He looked at it and did a double take. He walked over to his leader and handed the paper to him.
El Cobra looked at it, and his eyes perceptibly widened. “One million dollars?” he cried. “In four sacks of ore?”
Grandpère nodded. He lowered his hands. “If we’re right about there being ten percent rhodium. That’s only a guess. Right now, all we have are four bags of rock.”
El Cobra let loose with a string of Spanish words, talking to his henchmen. There was considerable elation among them. The shortest one, the one right behind Grandpère, said something and confirmed my earlier guess that she was a woman.
She must have sensed I was watching her, because she turned to face me. What I saw startled me. The light was fully on her face, and though she was hooded like the others, I saw startling light green eyes through the eye holes. I hadn’t expected that, and I had to reexamine my assumptions. Maybe this wasn’t a Hispanic gang after all, just a gang with Hispanics in it. I actually felt relieved in some small way. The Mexican drug cartels had a reputation for ruthless brutality and merciless elimination of their enemies. These were hardly regular churchgoers, but maybe they weren’t cold-blooded murderers either.
Just then I felt a touch on my leg. I looked over. Grandpère was motioning with his eyes for me to look down. I did and saw that he held the notebook down low and close to his body, but turned so it was facing me. The page was filled with big, bold letters.
WHEN I STAND UP TAKE CODY AND THE POUCH
AND HIDE IN YOUR OLD FORT. TRUST ME!
I nodded. My body felt like a coiled spring. I was ready to do anything to release the tension.
Grandpère didn’t look at me as he leaned forward. “So what is your plan, Monsieur El Cobra?” As he spoke, he casually closed the notebook and put it ba
ck into his shirt pocket.
“It’s simple,” El Cobra said. He looked at Dad. “The closing on the sale of the mine is Tuesday morning, right?”
Dad nodded. “Yes. Nine o’clock at a bank in Salt Lake City.”
“When everything is properly executed, your Canadian friends will transfer twenty million dollars into your company’s account. Everyone will shake hands and congratulate each other. You and the old man will then return to your car, where I will be waiting. We will drive to a secure location not far away, where my compadres will be waiting with your wife and children.”
Mom gasped, her eyes widening in shock. Cody gave a low cry beside me. But from Dad’s expression, I could tell he had already seen that one coming. He merely nodded.
“We will then transfer your twenty million dollars into an account in the Cayman Islands. We will leave you securely locked in a room, and make our departure. Just before our plane takes off for an international destination, I will call the Salt Lake City police department, and tell them where you can be found, and you shall be free within the hour.”
“What guarantee do we have that you will keep your word?” Dad asked.
“None,” he said easily. “Except for this. As I said, you cannot identify any of us. You will have no idea where we have gone, but I can assure you that it will be to a country which does not have an extradition treaty with America. Finally, remember this. For a twenty million dollar theft, there will be a vigorous but short-lived manhunt. For the murder or the disappearance of an entire family, that manhunt will go on forever. Do you agree?”
Dad didn’t respond either way. “So what happens between now and then?”
“You and Grandpa will stay here, going about your daily business, acting normal in every way. You will tell people that your wife decided to take the children to Montana to see their grandparents there. But they will actually be much closer at hand than that. I assure you they will be perfectly comfortable and well-cared for. Once each day, at a time of our choosing, you will be allowed to talk to them.”