Doc started forward, smiling. “Officer, that’s my niece and nephew in the truck,” he said, smooth as oil. “I wanted to make sure they’re all right.”
Blake glanced back. I shook my head emphatically. “It’s them,” I cried in a low voice. But when Blake turned back, already pulling her weapon from its holster, it was too late.
Doc held a pistol in his bandaged hand. Behind him, Gordo was out of the car with an assault rifle trained on her.
“Oh,” Doc said easily, “I think this is anything but a routine traffic stop. Hands off your weapon. Now!”
She hesitated for a moment, then complied. Gordo moved in quickly, coming around behind her to cover the three of us.
Doc motioned with his pistol. “Ma’am, we don’t want any trouble. Unbuckle your gun belt with your left hand and let it drop to the ground. Then step away from the truck.”
She did as she was told. As Gordo collected the gun belt, Doc moved to my side of the truck and yanked the door open. He waved the gun at Rick. “Out! Both of you.” We got out of the truck. Doc’s eyes were murderous as he glared at Rick. “You’re the one who shot at me, boy. I’d love an excuse to even the score.”
“Car coming,” Gordo sang out. “Everybody look natural.” He lowered his rifle and turned his back to the road.
The car whipped past us, and instantly we felt the blast of wind from its passing.
“All right,” Doc said. “We can’t stand out here. Listen up. I would really rather not shoot anyone today, so here’s what we’re going to do. Officer, get back in your vehicle. Don’t be foolish enough to touch your radio. Danni, you get in the back of the patrol car. Lew, you’ll ride with her. Ramirez, you’ll drive your truck until we find a place to ditch it. Patrol car will go first. You second. I’ll bring up the rear.”
He turned to Blake. “Do you have nylon strap handcuffs?”
Her eyes flicked to me, then away. “Yes. There are four sets in a bag in the trunk.”
“Get two pair, Lew. Cuff the girl, hands in front. Hold off on the kid until he’s no longer driving.” As Lew started moving, he called after him. “And once Danni is secure, look in the truck. She had a rifle. Ramirez may have one too. Make sure the truck is clean.”
As Lew jumped into action, Doc motioned to Blake with his pistol. She got back into her car. He reached across her, grabbed the microphone from its hook, and ripped it hard, snapping the coiled wire. He then leaned farther in and took her satellite phone. He looked at it suspiciously. “Satellite phones are now issued to the UHP?”
I jerked up, resisting the urge to look at her, to warn her not to say anything about Clay. But I had underestimated her. Without a moment’s hesitation, she said, “Some places out here are so remote they can’t even reach us by radio.”
That seemed to satisfy him, and I resumed breathing. Lew was back in a minute and cuffed me. “I’m going to leave these loose enough that they don’t bite into your flesh,” he said, “but mess with me, and I’ll pull ’em so tight your fingers will turn blue. Understand?”
“Yes.”
He grabbed my elbow and steered me into the back of the patrol car, slamming the door behind me. Moments later, he emerged from our truck holding up both of our rifles for Doc to see. “The little bees have stingers,” he chortled.
Doc looked at Rick. “We’re going to ditch your truck and the ATV, but not here. In the meantime, you’ll stay exactly four car lengths behind the patrol car. I think you understand what will happen to Danni if you decide to be a hero.”
“I do.”
“Then let’s go. Officer, hold your speed at exactly sixty-five miles an hour. We’ll be stopping at the turnoff to Ticaboo and Bullfrog and waiting for some company there.”
So El Cobra had already told them help was on the way. That was a major complication. Leprechaun Canyon was two miles beyond that junction. We absolutely could not stop at that junction.
Doc was still talking to Blake. “Sorry you had to get involved in this, but behave yourself and all you’ll have is a long walk in the desert. Otherwise . . .”
“I understand.”
He looked more closely at Rick’s belt, and then yanked the radio from it. He waved it at Lew. “See if the girl’s got one too. If so, get it.”
“Right,” Gordo called. He got in the backseat, leaned over and took my radio, then sat back and put on his seat belt. He turned to me, laughing. “Buckle up, sweetheart. Don’t you know riding in a car without seat belts is dangerous?”
I held up my hands, reminding him they were cuffed. Bad mistake.
Grinning wickedly, he undid his seat belt and leaned across me, his face inches from my own. His eyes never left mine as he fastened my seat belt. Still very close to me, he pursed his lips as if he were about to kiss me.
A shudder ran completely up and down my body.
He roared with laughter and moved away from me, fastening his own seat belt. “Ah, señorita,” he crowed. “It is a great day, no?”
Thirty seconds later, our little convoy was underway.
Chapter 63
Lew, or Gordo, was in a good mood. He sat directly behind Officer Blake, humming some nameless tune to himself, and glancing at me and grinning.
“What’s so funny?” I finally snapped.
“You.”
“You must be easily amused.”
“Little Wonder Girl, waving her wand around, shooting lightning bolts from her fingertips. You even had El Cobra on the run there for a while. Now look at you. Take that pouch away, and you’re just a skinny little kid, no different than anyone else.”
“I’m skinnier than you, that’s for sure.”
He patted the roundness of his belly. “But not nearly as jolly, no?” His stomach jiggled as he laughed loudly.
“Where are you taking us?”
He laughed again. “No comprendes.”
“Where’s my mother?”
“No comprendes, señorita.” He leaned forward and poked Officer Blake’s arm. “She’s a funny one, no?”
I looked out the window, despair filling my throat with bitterness. If only Clay had let things be and not told Blake to warn us that the plan was aborted. Okay, so it was nice that he was concerned about our safety, but that wasn’t the only issue here. What had just happened probably created a much greater danger.
Stop it! I told myself. Save the “poor me” routine for later. If you insist on worrying, worry about Rick and Officer Blake. You know El Cobra’s not going to have Doc bring them out to the houseboat. You will be fine, at least until Tuesday, but they’re nothing but excess baggage.
Another shudder started, but I shook it off. I was angry with myself, and it felt good. Get back on task, Danni. Time’s running out. If your great-grandmother were here right now, you know what she would say: “Never give up.”
I could see the top of Officer Blake’s forehead in the rearview mirror. What was she thinking? Did she know how much danger she was in? Was she waiting for me to do something? And what about Rick? Was he back there vowing to himself that he would never again be sucked into something involving Danni McAllister?
Maybe he was making another list right now: “Stupid Things Danni Has Done.” Number one: Her stupid obsession with pushing the speed limit. Number two: Assuming that once invisible, always invisible. Number three: Coming to our house and dragging my family into all this. Number four: Writing on a woman’s windshield to try to get her to go faster. Number five: Picking a fight with the guy in the red truck.
I sighed heavily. Number six: Thinking you could make everything go exactly as you planned today and—
Oh, stop it, McAllister. Give me a break.
Then another thought came, and my eyes flew wide open. What about that sports car? Similar scenario, right? You have a woman in a car, and you want to say something to her, but you can’t talk to her directly. So . . .
I glanced at Gordo. His eyes were focused straight ahead. He was alert but bored. I sat up stra
ighter in my seat, drawing his attention. His head swung around, eyes wary.
“Ow!” I moaned. “These cuffs are killing me. Can’t you loosen them up a little?”
“I am sorry, señorita,” he said, his voice dripping with phony concern, “nylon handcuffs don’t have keys. They have to be cut off. Do you really want me to get my knife out?”
I looked away. He relaxed and went back to humming. After a moment, I looked at the rearview mirror again. It had worked. By sitting up straight, I was tall enough that I could see Officer Blake’s eyes. She was looking at me. She seemed relieved to finally be doing so.
I glanced at Gordo. Could he see her too? No. He could see the mirror, but not her in it. Wrong angle.
I dropped my hands into my lap, then, when I was sure he was paying no attention to me, I felt along my waist, touching the extra thickness of the pouch—the real pouch—beneath. I thought of Grandpère searching in the forest for a downed pilot. I thought of Great-Grandmother Monique inside the Gestapo headquarters in Paris. I felt my confidence surge. What was a fat guy with bad breath compared to that?
I pinched a corner of the fabric between my thumb and forefinger and focused intently on the mirror. I nearly shouted aloud when I saw the first white letters appear. Yes! For some reason, this time the words were written in upper and lowercase letters, not all caps.
Officer Blake. This is Danni. If you can read this, blink once.
Instead of blinking, she physically jerked, her eyes startled and frightened.
I released my grip on the pouch. The writing faded away.
Gordo shot forward, his pistol jerking up. “Something the matter, baby?”
She tensed, then shook her head quickly. “No. I . . . I’m not sure what it was. Maybe a pinched nerve or something.”
“Well,” he growled, “just remember, if you get jumpy then I get grumpy.” He hooted aloud, delighted with his play on words. I wondered if he and Doc had enjoyed a bottle of tequila in their Explorer. He was certainly having a good time.
I squeezed the pouch again.
Can’t explain. Can you read this? Blink once for yes, twice for no.
Which was stupid, really. If she couldn’t read it, how would she know to blink twice? But though she was looking very bewildered, her eyes blinked once.
Good. Did the FBI tell you about the Irish Canyons?
One blink.
Just east of the junction of Utah Highways 276 and 95, Highway 95 enters a long, red-rock canyon known as the North Wash. Eventually it drains into Lake Powell, not far from Hite Marina. Running off from that canyon is a series of other canyons, all feeding into the wash. Three of the more spectacular slot canyons are known as the Irish Canyons because they all have Irish names—Shillelagh, Blarney, and Leprechaun Canyons. That was where Rick and I had decided the second stage of our plan would take place.
As I watched the mirror, I was totally blown away when my message faded out and another appeared, this time in all caps.
YES. HE SAID WE’RE GOING TO LEPRECHAUN CANYON. RIGHT?
She could communicate back to me? That was seriously amazing.
Yes. It’s critical we get there.
One blink, then HOW, IF WE’RE FORCED TO STOP AT JUNCTION?
Still working on that.
GIVE ME SOME WARNING?
Yes. How far to the junction?
Nothing for a few moments, then FIVE TO SIX MINUTES.
Great. Leprechaun is close.
I KNOW IT WELL.
Will distract Gordo. Don’t stop at the junction! Turn off at Leprechaun parking area.
One blink. Long pause, then ARE YOU SURE?
I blinked back at her twice. Not in any way. Just be ready.
After another long pause, she blinked once.
I jumped as Lew’s elbow dug into my left arm. “You praying?”
Not sure what he meant, I gave him a blank look.
There was a wicked grin. “I can see your lips moving. May as well admit it.”
That jolted me. Had I been so engrossed in my conversation with Officer Blake that I was actually forming the words silently? Evidently so.
“I’m praying for your soul,” I finally said. “I’m asking God to have mercy on you and not leave you in hell for more than ten thousand years.”
There was a short bark of laughter, but not before I caught the look of fear that flickered in his eyes.
As we passed mile marker 25, I cleared my throat. “Officer Blake, I’m thirsty. Do you have any water?” I had seen a bottle of water in the cup holder by her seat.
“I do.” She turned to look at Gordo. “May I?”
He thought about it for a moment, then switched the pistol to his left hand. He reached over the seat and grabbed the bottle. Clamping it between his legs, he twisted off the cap. He looked at me for a moment, amusement dancing in his eyes. Then he lifted the bottle and took a long swig. “Ah,” he said, as he finished. Then he peered more closely at the top of the bottle. “Oh, dear. It looks like I spilled a little.”
His grin was a horrible grimace. He brought the bottle to his mouth and, with exaggerated care, ran his tongue all the way around the edge. “There you go, señorita. Still thirsty?”
I was close to gagging, but I held his gaze. This might be the opportunity I needed. I swallowed hard, then nodded.
No!
I drew back, surprised by the sharpness of the voice in my head.
“What’s the matter, chiquita? Weak stomach?”
Refuse him. Goad him. Make him angry.
“Better a weak stomach than a weak brain, Gordo.”
His eyes narrowed dangerously. “Watch your tongue, little one.”
“Or what? You’ll breathe on me and make me throw up?”
He jammed the pistol between his legs, switched the bottle to his left hand, and grabbed me by the neck. He yanked me toward him and forced the bottle up against my teeth, pressing so hard that I felt the plastic cut my lip. “Drink it!” he yelled.
Blake turned to see what was happening.
“Unless you want a bullet in the head,” he screamed, “keep your eyes forward.”
I was fighting him like a wildcat—kicking at his shins, jerking my head back and forth, trying to punch him with my cuffed hands. But his grip on my neck tightened. Pain shot down my back and arms. I screamed.
He laughed. I surrendered, going totally limp in one instant. It startled him, then he gave a cry of triumph. He took my face in both of his hands and this time when he leaned in, it wasn’t the bottle he was going to press to my lips.
Now!
My hands shot forward and I grabbed the pistol from between his legs.
Startled, he fell back, trying to block my hands. Too late. Clutching the gun tightly in both hands, I pointed the pistol directly at his nose. “Move back! Move back!”
He didn’t just move back. He literally fell back, pressing himself against the opposite door.
“Are we to the junction yet?” I yelled at Blake.
“Just ahead.”
“Don’t stop!”
We blew through it at sixty-five miles an hour. Instantly, the radio popped. “Lew! Stop! We’re stopping here.”
Using both of my thumbs, I cocked the hammer. “Take out the radio and hand it to Officer Blake,” I hissed. “Now!”
He did so, his eyes glazed with shock.
“Tell him this pig just tried to kiss me. That’s why we missed the turnoff.”
She took the radio and clicked it. “This is Officer Blake.”
“What’s going on?”
“Your man just tried to kiss Miss McAllister. She has his pistol pointed at his head.”
“What? Lew, are you there?”
I said to Lew, “Tell your friend what you tried to do. Or I’ll shoot you right now.”
Officer Blake held down the transmitter button, and Gordo barked out a couple of sentences in Spanish, none of which I understood.
“Danni?” Doc said. “I
apologize for my associate. You’re right. He is a pig. But put down the gun. Otherwise I press one button on the phone and your mother and little brother will die.”
“I know that. I’ll surrender the pistol, but you tell this animal to stay away from me.”
There was another burst of Spanish, this time from Doc. A very subdued Gordo kept nodding and saying, “Sí. Sí. Sí.”
“All right. Give Lew back the gun.”
“No way,” I shouted. Turning, I rolled down the window and threw away the pistol.
There was a screech of tires. Behind us, Rick had swerved sharply to miss the pistol coming at him. I turned and saw it still bouncing as the Explorer swerved as well.
“There’s your pistol,” I shouted into the radio.
“Stop the car,” Doc yelled. “I’m coming up.”
“Not until you promise to get this creep out of here.”
“Officer Blake, stop the car. Now!”
“I can’t do that, sir,” she said, “not until we have your assurance that Danni will not be harmed.”
I waved at Blake to get her attention. When she looked back, I mouthed, How much farther?
Half a mile, she mouthed back.
“You have my word,” Doc shouted over the radio. “Now stop the car or I will.”
When Blake pressed the button to answer, Lew screamed, “Raul, they’re up to something.”
I kicked at him, catching him in the knees. His hands formed into claws, but as he lunged at me, he stopped then dropped his hands again. I don’t know what Doc had said to him, but it must have been pretty serious. He sat back, breathing hard, watching me with baleful eyes. Then he turned to Blake. “If you do not stop the car now, it will go very badly for you.”
Intervene! cried the voice in my head.
Intervene? What did that mean?
Remember the red truck.
I pinched Le Gardien hard. As I did so, the patrol car’s engine coughed, and the whole car shuddered. It coughed again, making that same horrible grinding sound the red truck had made on the on-ramp.
Seeing that Blake was absorbed in dealing with this new crisis, Lew snatched the radio from her hand. He pressed the transmit button. “Raul! Something’s wrong with the engine. We’re stopping.”