He nodded slowly and thoughtfully. “If it weren’t for that, you wouldn’t be going.”
At that moment, my cell phone chimed, alerting me to a text message notification. I was pulling my phone out to check it when I saw Rick’s face.
“What?” I asked.
“Your phone is dead, Danni. You took out the battery, remember?”
My jaw dropped. “But how—” I looked more closely. I had at least a dozen text messages, mostly from my friends. Not too surprising since I’d had my phone off for a couple of days. But the latest message had no name on it. Puzzled, I opened it. There was no name or number showing in the sender box. And the text itself was blank.
“Who’s it from?” Clay asked.
I held it up for him to see. “Nobody,” I guess. Then I looked more closely. “Wait. There’s something at the bottom.” I scrolled down quickly and saw a series of numbers. The first was 21-11-1934. That was followed by a seventy-eight enclosed in a hexagon and a seventy-nine enclosed in a circle. The others moved in closer to see.
“That’s strange,” Rick said. “The numbers 1934 sound like a year, but it can’t be a date. There’s no twenty-first month.” He snapped his fingers. “Could it be GPS coordinates?”
“No,” Cody said. “Wrong format. And there’s only one number. You need two for GPS.”
I was still staring at the first number. I leaned forward to peer at it more closely. And then I suddenly knew what it was. “It’s Grandpère’s birthday. But written in the European way, with the day first and the month second. He was born on November 21, 1934. This is a message from Grandpère. I know it is.”
“So what’s the next part, then?” Clay asked. “Why are those other numbers enclosed inside those shapes? I didn’t even know you could do that on a cell phone.”
“And I didn’t know Grandpère knew how to text. Or that a cell phone without a battery could still work, either,” I said. “I know it’s from him. That’s why he talked about texting me. He’s trying to tell us something.”
“I taught Grandpère how to text,” Cody said smugly. “And those numbers are channel markers for Lake Powell.”
“What?” I cried. Would this kid never cease to amaze me with his gift for numbers?
“The odd numbers are in circles, and the even ones are in hexagons. That’s how you mark how many miles you are from the dam. The hexagons are for when you’re going upstream, and the circles are for when you’re headed downstream.”
“Grandpère’s telling us where they are!” I nearly shouted. “I’ll bet the entrance to the canyon is between channel markers seventy-eight and seventy-nine.”
Clay whirled to his laptop and typed rapidly. “I think we have a detailed map of Lake Powell in our database.”
I barely heard. I was pacing back and forth, trying to remember exactly what Grandpère had said, and how he’d said it. His joke about texting was clear now. But why the charge to listen to Mom? I had thought it odd at the time because Mom had barely said hello to me. Except she’d said how cold she was. And how her feet were like blocks of ice.
I whirled around. “I can tell you which canyon it is.”
“Just a second. I’ve got the map.” He was moving the image on his screen with his fingertips.
“It’s Iceberg Canyon.”
He looked skeptical. “How could you—” He turned back to his laptop. He zoomed in, then swiped it more slowly with his fingertips. The map was blue print on a white background, with red numbers showing GPS coordinates, key sites, and channel markers. He zoomed in some more. He leaned forward, unintentionally blocking my view. I heard a soft intake of breath. When he turned, his eyes were filled with astonishment. “The opening to Iceberg Canyon is at channel markers seventy-eight and seventy-nine.”
I did a little bow, acknowledging my just dues.
He hit a speed-dial number on his phone. “Gus. Clay here. I need a current satellite scan of the full length of Iceberg Canyon at Lake Powell. Yeah, that’s right.” Pause. “No, it’s not a national emergency, but there are several lives at stake.” Another pause. “Right. Let me know as soon as possible. And also, when we have a man on the ground at Bullfrog Marina, have him discreetly start nosing around, see what he can find out. Thanks.”
As he put his phone down, he was shaking his head. “How did you know?”
“Because of what Mom said. A couple of years ago, we stayed in Iceberg Canyon. It was the middle of July and seriously hot, but Mom kept saying how cold she was.” I turned to Cody. “Remember? She told us that now she knew why they called it Iceberg Canyon.” Back to Clay. “And it fits what they’d be looking for. It’s got a narrow entrance, easily guarded. There are only a few places to beach a houseboat, so it’s never crowded. The high vertical cliffs come right down to the water. I’m sure that’s it.”
Clay sat back, appraising me and Cody with even greater respect. “Okay, my confidence level keeps going up.” He flashed a grin. “I have got to meet this grandfather of yours. In the meantime, we’ll get to work and check things out.”
I was soaring. We knew where my family was. And the FBI was taking us seriously.
“We’re going to make this work, Danni. There’s only one problem I haven’t solved yet,” Clay said with a rueful smile.
“What’s that?” Rick asked.
“I’m not sure how I’m going to write all this up in my official report.”
Part Nine: Entrapment
Chapter 57
Wellington, Utah
Friday, June 17, 2011
I didn’t think I’d get back to my journal quite so soon, but in some ways, I’m like a little kid with her favorite blanket. The journal gives me something to cling to, something that helps me feel some semblance of normalcy, which is something I very much need right now.
So, here’s what’s going on now. (In brief. It’s going to take a long time to write everything that’s happened.) We—Rick, Cody, and me—are in a small motel in Wellington, just south of Price. We got in last night and crashed. We have two rooms. Rick and Cody are in one, and I’m in the other by myself. Pure heaven! It’s the first time I’ve been alone in four days. This morning, we’re just hanging out, getting things ready for tomorrow.
And BTW, checking in and paying for the rooms wasn’t a problem. Clay called ahead and set everything up. And the FBI’s paying for it! Good thing. The Guardian isn’t being much of a guardian at the moment. It absolutely refuses to make any more money for me.
At the moment, Rick and Cody are out gassing up the truck and replenishing our supply of water and food. I’ve been doing some laundry. I volunteered. It gives me time to write. When they get back, we’ll check out and head south.
Tonight, there’ll be no motel and no bed. We’ll all be sleeping outside. Here’s the plan. Rick is going to drop me and Cody and the four-wheeler off in Cainsville with our sleeping bags, etc. Though we know people in Cainsville—it’s only twelve miles west of Hanksville—and I’m sure we could find someone to put us up for the night, we can’t let anyone know we’re there. So we’ll find a place where the willows and undergrowth are heavy enough to conceal us from the highway and do our best to cope with the ten gazillion mosquitos who anxiously await our arrival.
Rick will then go on to Cathedral Valley, but he’ll use a back way that will take him up on the mesa rather than down in the valley itself. Then he’ll hike the four or five miles under cover of darkness to the temples. He’ll stay there until we arrive.
Later today, Clay is bringing in his team over the west road into Cathedral Valley. That’s a long and brutal way into the valley, and few people use it, so they should be able to come in pretty much unobserved. They’ll be in place before dark tonight, but staying back where there is no chance they will be seen.
Tomorrow morning, I’ll turn on my cell phone as promised, but Cody and I will hang there by the river in Cainsville until about ten. On full alert, you can be sure. We’ll then get on the four-wheeler,
taking some water and Dad’s rifle, and head north for the valley. At eleven, the game begins.
Since we can’t pick up the four-wheeler from where we left it down by Rick’s house until tonight, we have all of today to kill. Rather than sit around in the motel and go bonkers, we’re heading for Leprechaun Canyon, which is about twenty-eight miles south of Hanksville. That’s the second part of the plan, and I’ll say more about that in a minute.
Unfortunately, we have to pass through Hanksville to get there, but me and Code will hide in the backseat of the truck, and Rick will have his hat pulled way low so no one can recognize him. Since he’s not driving his 4Runner, we’re pretty sure we’ll be all right.
Good news. Clay just called. Satellite photos show a single houseboat moored in Iceberg Canyon. No sign of my family, but that’s not a surprise. There are a couple of men visible. Clay’s going to send a team in by chopper this morning and drop them off up at the head of the canyon. They’ll hike in along the cliff tops and set up a surveillance station. One other thing. Clay’s man at Bullfrog Marina posed as a tourist from California and said he’d heard Iceberg Canyon was a good place to take a houseboat, and asked the staff about it. They agreed, but said they had received some reports that two park rangers were turning people back at the mouth of the canyon. The rangers said that some severe water pollution had been found and that the canyon would be closed for a few more days while they tested things.
Thank you, Grandpère. This is great news. Clay is already starting preliminary plans for going in to get them. But again, none of that happens until we finish the opening round tomorrow.
Side comment: Clay is the best thing that could have happened. He’s honoring his promise to make sure Mom and Dad and Grandpère stay safe. He’s great, and it’s such a relief that he—in his words—“has our back.”
While our clothes have been washing, I got out all the stuff Grandpère sent me and read everything again. It was a great way to put things into perspective. It inspires me to do all that I can to honor the name of Monique. Knowing the role the pouch played in that whole experience is also a comfort. I need all the inspiration I can get right now, and I’m—
A knock on the door brought my head up. “Who is it?”
“It’s me,” Cody called out. “And Rick.”
I got up and opened the door. “Is it time to go already? The laundry’s not quite done.”
“No,” Rick said. “Cody and I still have to pack. Let’s plan to leave in half an hour.”
“That works for me.” I told them about Clay’s call, which lifted their spirits as well as mine. As they started for the door, I had another thought. “Rick?”
He turned back. “Yes?”
“Would you think it was silly if we . . . umm . . . if we like had a prayer before we go? We keep saying we’re not alone, so maybe it wouldn’t hurt if we acknowledged that fact openly and asked Him for a little help over these next few days.”
He shut the door again. “Good idea. I should have thought of that.”
I sighed. “You’re not nearly as scared as I am.”
“Oh?” He held out his hand, palm down. “Look at me shake.” His hand was rock steady.
Before I could comment on that, he reached out and caught my hand. Then he took Cody’s hand as well. “Do you want to stand or kneel?”
“Kneel,” Cody and I said together.
Have to close. We’re leaving. May not have time to write again until this is all over.
Chapter 58
Cathedral Valley, Utah
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Cathedral Valley occupies the north end of Capitol Reef National Park. The valley includes a fantastic array of brilliant red cliffs sculpted by the wind and the rain into hundreds of enormous spires and towers. There are also freestanding monoliths, as tall as fifty-story skyscrapers, scattered throughout the valley.
Two of those monoliths on the very eastern border of the park are known as the Temple of the Sun and the Temple of the Moon. Made of the same soft sandstone as the cliffs, they resemble Gothic cathedrals with their needlelike spires, imposing battlements, and vertical drops of hundreds of feet.
One of the easiest ways to access the valley is via the Cainsville Wash Road, which takes off from Highway 24 at the little hamlet of Cainsville and follows the wash for about ten miles or so. The road crosses the wash in several places. In those places, the road becomes quite rough and makes for slow going. But that was all right. Cody and I left Cainsville early so we would be sure to meet the scheduled time.
About five or six miles in, I pulled the four-wheeler off the road where it crossed one of the higher ridges. As we stopped, red dust swirled around us, but was quickly dissipated by the light breeze. The temperature was relatively mild for this time of year, probably only eighty or so, but by this afternoon, when the breeze died, it could easily be pushing a hundred degrees.
I shut off the engine and both of us climbed off the four-wheeler. Turning slowly, I rotated three hundred and sixty degrees, scanning the landscape for any sign of dust plumes, vehicles, or human life. There was nothing. I took the handheld radio off my belt and clicked the transmit button. “Rick, this is Danni. Do you copy?”
Radio static sounded for a moment, then Rick’s voice came on. “I’m here. Good morning.”
“Are you in place?”
“Have been for about eight hours.”
“Clay, do you copy?”
“Ten-four,” came the immediate reply. “We’re in the cliffs about two and a half miles west of the temples. In place and out of sight.”
Cody came up beside me. In a hushed voice, he asked, “Is it smart to be using our real names?”
“Cody, this is Clay. The radios are secure. They not only use a restricted frequency, but the signal is also encrypted. Even if someone were to tune us in, all they would hear is static.”
I came back in. “Last night, Cody and I camped where we could see the Cainsville Wash Road turnoff. About seven thirty this morning, we saw two vehicles turn off the highway and head north. A dark green, four-door Jeep Rubicon and a white GMC Yukon SUV. We were too far away to read the license plates. Also too far away too see how many people were in each vehicle, but they were definitely traveling together. There has been no other vehicles since then.”
“The Jeep arrived here about eight fifteen,” Rick said. “Alone. There were four men in the Jeep, and they immediately started scouting the area, including the parking area around the Temple of the Moon. But about half an hour later—I assume when they got the all-clear signal—the Yukon joined them. The man I assume is El Cobra was in the Yukon along with two more men plus Danni’s dad and granddad.”
“Are they all right?” Cody blurted.
“I’m looking at them through the binoculars right now. They’re in cuffs, but they look fine.”
“Good,” Clay said. “Then everything is as we hoped.”
“Uh . . . Clay?”
“Yes, Rick?”
“None of the men are wearing ski masks. Should that concern us?”
Long silence. Remember, Clay. You said you’d be honest.
Finally the radio clicked again. “It says that the situation has changed in their minds, which I don’t like. But not only would the masks be stifling in this heat, if anyone happened to see them it would mean trouble for them. I’m not overly concerned.”
I tried to put a smile in my voice. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better, aren’t you?”
No answer.
“Well, don’t stop. Make me feel better.”
“Danni, I want you to go ahead and activate the listening device on the ATV. Be sure the red light comes on. You’re still too far away for us to pick up the signal, but I don’t want you having to turn it on while they’re watching you. Oh, and be sure you turn off the engine when you get there or it’ll drown out everything else.”
I reached under the four-wheeler’s gas tank and flipped a switch on a sm
all black box. “Okay, it’s on. Will you be able to hear everything once I get there?”
“Only what takes place within a thirty- to forty-foot range of you. Try to keep El Cobra within that radius, if you can.”
“Okay.”
I guess he read the tone of my voice, because he came right back, his own voice calm and soothing. “Danni, you don’t have to do this. If you’re feeling that something’s wrong, then . . . You have the pouch, right?”
I sighed. “I do. And so far, I’m fine.”
“Which reminds me,” Clay went on. “I got a call early this morning. They’ll have a duplicate pouch ready for you by this afternoon. It’ll be in your truck by the time you and Rick get back.”
“Great. Thanks.”
“Anything else?”
There was no answer from either of us.
Clay came on one last time. “It’s going to work, Danni. I feel it.”
“And if it doesn’t, do I get a refund?”
I heard a soft chuckle, then the radios went dead.
Chapter 59
We left the wash several miles later and crossed the South Desert, which was mostly flat, sagebrush-covered landscape. I braked and pulled to a stop. In the distance, about a mile away, we had our first view of the two monoliths. I also saw the Jeep and the Yukon, though they were small specks from this distance. I half turned my head. “Okay, Code. Here we go.” I twisted the throttle and we shot forward. I was ready to get this over with.
The road into the temple area forked to the left from the main gravel road. We took it, moving slowly so as to give El Cobra and his men plenty of time to see us coming. A short distance later, we passed the marker for the park boundary. I could see the two vehicles more clearly and several men standing around them. I slowed down a little more.
“Possible problem,” I said to Cody, looking down in the direction of my hidden transmitter. “I don’t see Dad and Grandpère.”
There was no answer from the radio, even though Clay and Rick were both monitoring us. Nor would there be. We were under strict radio silence. All we needed for this to become a major disaster was for El Cobra to know I was talking to someone.