Cody was watching me, but he didn’t seem to want to come over and join the conversation. He looked lost and forlorn. I wondered if he was thinking about Mom. It’s not just himself he’s scared about. He’s just a kid. That last thought came quite strongly.
And then I knew. When Aron Ralston said he’d had an epiphany about how to perform the amputation of his arm, I had wondered what he meant. It hadn’t been something he’d seen in a vision, like when he saw his future little boy. It was something he saw, or understood, in his mind. Now I knew what he meant.
Like a sudden flood of light in a darkened room, I understood my anxieties. All along, I had been picturing me and Cody and Rick loading up into black, government SUVs and roaring off into the desert to find Mom and Dad and Grandpère. I pictured me and Cody in this working partnership with the FBI, going along with the agents, helping them when they got stumped, making sure El Cobra and his gang were brought to justice.
What a fantasy. And Cody had seen it first.
“What is it, Danni?” Rick said, peering deeply into my eyes. “What’s the matter?”
His father held up his hand to ward him off, but I wanted to answer him. I needed to answer him. “We’re just kids,” I said.
Both father and son reared back a little.
“I’m sixteen, and Code’s only thirteen.”
“So what?” Rick asked.
“So our parents are being held for ransom. We have no legal guardians right now.”
“I’m not following,” Charlie said.
“What do you think the FBI is going to do with us once they have finished questioning us? Send us home? Take us with them? No, they’ll take us into protective custody. And because we’re just kids, they probably put us with foster parents somewhere out of state until all of this is over.”
Realization dawned in Rick’s eyes. He turned to his father. “Dad, we can take them home with us, can’t we?”
“Yeah, right,” I shot back, “when El Cobra’s men are already watching your place?” I turned to his father. “Do you think I’m wrong?”
His dark eyes were filled with sadness. He finally shook his head and answered Rick’s question. “I have no legal status here, son. Danni’s right. It will very likely be protective custody for them.”
“I can’t do that,” I cried. “I can’t. I won’t.”
Cody came over to stand beside me. I took his hand. “Did you hear all that?”
He nodded, then squeezed my hand hard. “I don’t want to be in protective custody.”
“But you can’t do this alone,” Rick exclaimed. “It’s too dangerous.”
I said nothing. He was right. But so was I.
After a moment, Charlie straightened. “I would like to propose something to you, Danni. I think we can make it work, but you have to be the one to decide.”
I searched his face for a long moment, and as I did, understanding came into my mind with that same crystal clear clarity as before. I could trust his wisdom and maturity. I knew that was what Dad would want me to do. “All right,” I said. “I’m listening.”
Five minutes later, Charlie Ramirez went inside the building, heading for the twelfth floor. At the same time, Rick, Cody, and I went back to Rick’s 4Runner and returned to the motel.
We had one hour to pack up before Rick’s father called.
At precisely ten thirty, Rick’s phone rang. He snatched it up, then handed it to me. I took a quick breath, looked to Cody for encouragement, then put it to my ear. “Hello?”
“Danni?” Mr. Ramirez’s voice was calm.
“Yes?”
“There’s someone here I want you to talk to.”
“I’m not going to change my mind, Mr. Ramirez.”
“I know. And he knows. Can he speak with you?”
“Of course.” I was already dreading what I knew was going to be a lecture on the dangers of going it alone and being foolish, and—
“Miss McAllister?” It was a pleasant voice of an older man.
“Yes?”
“This is Agent Clay Zabriskie. I’m the AIC, or agent in charge, of the Salt Lake Regional Office. I understand you have a story to tell me.”
“Yes.”
“May I call you Danni?”
“Yes.”
“Danni, Mr. Ramirez has explained to me your concerns about being taken into protective custody.”
I said nothing, bracing myself.
“And you are right. That is the protocol in a situation like this. And personally I believe that is the wisest thing to do, but—”
“I’m not going to be kept out of it,” I cut in.
“I understand. I also understand that we have a very unusual set of circumstances here. Mr. Ramirez assures me that nothing I can say is going to change your mind.”
Meaning you’re a very stubborn young woman. “Yes, he’s right about that.”
“Of course, we cannot force you to do something against your will. However, to give you the help and support you need in this very dangerous situation via telephone connection alone, as Mr. Ramirez has suggested, isn’t going to work. It’s too problematical. In the first place, I need to spend time with you and your brother. I need to interview you in person and help you recall every detail. That’s not going to work over the phone.”
“Go on.”
“In the second place, what if things start to unravel and we’re a hundred or two hundred miles away from you? Or what if you’re in a dead zone for phone service and you can’t contact us at all?” He hesitated. “I could give you a dozen other ‘what if’ scenarios that are just as scary.”
I had no answer for him. All I knew was that Cody and I couldn’t be taken out of this. But I liked his voice. He sounded kind and wise and competent.
“I have a counterproposal which I think will honor your wishes and also answer these other concerns at the same time.”
“What is that?”
“That I come with you.”
“But—”
He rushed on. “Just me. I won’t be bringing a whole bunch of agents with me. Not yet. I’m not sure that would be wise at this point anyway. But I’ll have a satellite phone and laptop with me. I can keep in touch with my agents no matter where we are. I can keep them apprised of the situation, and I can also tap into the vast resources of the FBI as needed. For example, I’d like to slip someone into your house to see if we can pick up any fingerprints. Find out who these guys are.”
“There won’t be any prints. They all wore surgical gloves.”
“See, that’s the kind of thing I need to know.” Long pause. “What do you say? Will you let me come with you?”
This was a no-brainer. My relief-meter was going through the roof. “Yes.”
“Wonderful. It’s going to take me an hour or two to get organized, then Mr. Ramirez and I will come to the motel. Stay together in one room. Put out the Do Not Disturb sign. I’ll post some men in the area to make sure there’s no one around.”
“But what if—”
“I can assure you no one will see my men,” he said. “This is what we do. Okay?”
“Yes. All right. Thank you, Mr. Zabriskie.”
“It’s Clay. We’ll see you in a couple of hours. I’m looking forward to meeting the three of you.”
Chapter 54
Clay Zabriskie was about ten years older than my dad, and he looked more like a kindly grandpa than a senior FBI agent. His features were pleasant—not particularly handsome, just one of those faces you liked immediately. His hair was dark brown and cut short but graying around temples. There were smile wrinkles around his mouth and eyes, which were a blue-gray color.
Other than that, he was FBI through and through—lean and muscular. His face and arms were deeply tanned. I expected him to be in a suit, but he had dressed so he could go with us—hiking boots, Levis, a sport shirt, and a baseball cap with the Pittsburgh Pirates logo. Most of all, he had a look of supreme confidence—and competence—about him.
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br /> I took all of this in as he shook hands with Cody and Rick. I liked what I saw. This was someone I could work with.
Finally, he extended his hand to me. “Danni, Clay Zabriskie. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m sorry about your parents and your grandfather. Sounds like you’ve been through a lot. ”
“Thank you. It’s been a rough few days.”
“Well, I’m here to help.” He took out a laptop from his briefcase. “Mind if I take over the desk? I’d like to record our interview and type up some notes, okay?”
“Fine.”
As he set up, we got settled ourselves—me and Cody on the extra chairs, close to the desk, with Rick and his dad behind us on the bed.
“We have some good news,” he said as he booted up his laptop. “In a preliminary search, we found seven other kidnapping cases over the last three years with a similar MO to your case. One in Brazil, two in Paris, one in Spain, two in England, and one in Arizona. All of them were carefully planned and flawlessly executed.”
“Really? And that’s good?”
“In one sense, yes. It looks like it’s the same guys, probably an international cartel or gang. None used the name El Cobra that we know of, but there were a lot of other similarities. A mixture of nationalities, including some Europeans and others from Latin America. No Americans have been identified. Their trademark is extortion through holding family members hostage. Except, in the other cases the families were wealthy. You’re the first to have them go after what amounts to a business fortune.” He shrugged. “It doesn’t solve anything for us, but it does give us a leg up.”
“And did they let the hostages go in the other cases?” Charlie Ramirez asked.
“In all cases but one—the one in Arizona. That one fell apart when they spotted a member of the surveillance team and opened fire on him. One of our agents was wounded; one of their men was killed.” I could see he was uncomfortable telling us this. “A family member was also wounded. He was hospitalized, but recovered. But yes, they were all freed.”
Seeing the dismay on my face, he went on quickly. “I was tempted to hold that back from you, Danni, because I thought you might ask. But if you and I are going to make this work, we need to be totally honest with each other.” His eyes dropped for a moment. “I was the head of the surveillance team who got shot.”
“Oh.”
“No one is more motivated than I am to make sure that never happens again. But if you would like me to bring in someone else, I’ll understand.”
I glanced at Rick, who gave a quick shake of his head, then to his father, who was more emphatic about it.
“No,” I said. “Thank you for being honest.”
“Good. I can also tell you that this gang has extorted about twelve million dollars from people.”
“Whoa!” Rick cried.
“Yeah. This is a lucrative business. The ransoms have ranged between one to five million dollars. It was clear they had done their homework and knew what each family could afford to pay. Your case almost doubles their total. But I see that as a positive. These guys are not radical extremists. Their motives are not political or stem from some fanatical cause. This is purely a business to them. Which means that if they start killing hostages, it will greatly increase the likelihood that life will get more difficult for them. People will refuse to cooperate. It also means that countries that might otherwise turn a blind eye to people like them would have a different reaction if it involves murder, especially of families.”
“That is good,” I said, “but if I’m hearing you right, if they were to find out we have gone to the police, then . . .” I couldn’t say it.
He was grave. “Yes, it could mean all bets are off. We have to assume that possibility, but we’ll go to great lengths to keep our involvement secret.”
He could see I wasn’t happy with that, but then there wasn’t much about the situation I was happy with. “Okay. Thanks again for being honest.”
He gave a curt nod, then turned on the recorder. He spoke briefly, giving the date and time and our names. Finished, he set it on the desk, then turned to the laptop. “Okay, I’m ready. Why don’t you and Cody start from the beginning. Just talk it out first. Then we’ll go back, and I’ll start asking questions.”
I picked up the pouch. This was the first thing on my mental list. “Before we do that, I have sort of an odd request.”
A little puzzled, he glanced back and forth between my face and the pouch. “Go on.”
“Would it be possible to have your people make a duplicate of this pouch?”
It said a lot about him that he didn’t ask why. He held out his hand, and I gave him the pouch. He put it under the light of the desk lamp, turning it over and over, examining the embroidery closely. He opened it, peered inside, then came back to the flap. He leaned in. “Are these letters here?” he asked.
“Yes. They spell out Le Gardien, which is French for the Guardian.”
“Hmm.” He set it beside the laptop, took out his cell phone, and began snapping pictures of the pouch from every angle. When he was done, he turned back to me. “The fabric and the wooden button are unusual. The biggest problem will be duplicating the embroidery.” He shrugged. “I think we can come close. Has anyone in the gang actually held this pouch?”
“Yes, a couple of them. But only briefly, and they were more interested in what was inside it than what was on the outside.”
“And you feel that getting a duplicate is important?”
“I’m not sure. El Cobra is definitely interested in it. It could turn out to be important.”
He nodded. He made a quick call, explaining what he wanted and telling them he was sending pictures. “Okay,” he said. “Tell me what it is about this pouch that is so important.”
My shoulders lifted and fell. “It is important, but before I tell you why, you need to know something else. There are some things in our story that you’ll find strange. In fact, you’ll wonder if we aren’t all a little crazy. So I think it’s important we get something settled up front. And it has to do with this pouch.”
“Okay,” he said slowly. “Go ahead.”
“You may want to turn off the recorder for this.”
He reared back. “Do you want me to?”
“No, but I think you’ll erase this part later.” I took a deep breath. “If you’ll look in the pouch, you’ll find something of particular interest to you.”
“I did look in it. The pouch is empty.”
“Please.” My hands were resting on my knees, and I had crossed my fingers. I didn’t have the slightest idea what I was doing, or why. I was just going with my gut.
He started to say something, then shook his head and turned back to the desk. He picked up the pouch, and immediately I saw his eyes widen. Even I could see the small lump inside of it. He shook it, then felt it. Gingerly, he set the pouch on his lap and lifted the flap.
“What is this?” he cried. He gaped at the black wallet in his hand for a moment, then opened it, revealing the FBI badge attached inside of it. “This is my wallet.” He reached inside his jacket. “How did you—”
“Why don’t you look again?” I said.
He didn’t move. His eyes narrowed into slits. “What kind of game are you playing?”
“Please. Just look again.”
He reached in the pouch again. This time he withdrew a key ring with several keys on it. His jaw dropped even further. “But—” He felt his pants pocket.
“Again,” I said.
In quick succession, he pulled out Rick’s wallet, Charlie’s wallet, Rick’s car keys, Charlie’s car keys, a small shampoo bottle with the motel’s logo on it, the Bible from the dresser drawer, and a shower cap, also furnished by the motel.
By that time, he was looking quite dazed, as was Charlie.
Satisfied that we had his attention, I said, “Okay, Clay, now we’re ready to tell our story.”
Cody and I talked for nearly fifteen minutes, with occasional
additions from Rick and his father, while Clay recorded us all on his digital recorder. Several times, he shook his head, muttering something to himself, but he held back until we finished. When we did, I stood up and started pacing, knowing what was coming.
“This is impossible.”
“I know,” I said cheerfully.
“What are you doing, Danni? How are you doing this? Is this a setup? I want to know how you really got away from them. No more of this invisibility, or toy guns shooting at people, or money materializing out of nowhere.” He picked up the pouch. “This is some kind of magician’s pouch, Danni, and it’s not funny.”
I sighed and walked to the bathroom, stopping in the open doorway so he could still see me. “Where’s your wallet now, Clay?”
He slapped his jacket again. A look of anger crossed his face. He snatched up the pouch, reaching inside. Then he turned it upside down and shook it. Nothing came out.
“Where is it?” he barked at me.
“On the television.”
He leaped up and grabbed it.
“Convinced?”
“No. Tell me how you’re doing this.”
What was it going to take to convince this guy? The answer came immediately. “Do you always keep your gun loaded? You have it with you, right?”
“Of course. Why?”
“Take out the clip.”
Wary, he got to his feet, then reached beneath his jacket for the shoulder holster under his arm. He pulled out a pistol and ejected the clip. We could all see the bullets in it. “It’s loaded. I checked it this morning.”
“No, it’s not.”
He looked down, then fell back a step. The clip was empty.
“Oh,” I said, feigning surprise. “I was wrong. Look.”
His eyes jerked back to the magazine. The clip was full again. After what seemed like a long time, he put the clip back in, slid the pistol back in the holster, then sat down slowly at the desk.
Cody grinned at him. “Magicians can’t change things they’ve never touched. The pouch really is magic,” he said.
“I prefer the word enchanted,” I said. Clay had to accept this, or we weren’t going to get anywhere.