I shrugged. “My overnight bag. You?”
“Maybe just the gym bag.”
Several seconds ticked by in silence. “Rick?”
“You don’t have to say it, Danni. We were both pretty stressed out there at Leprechaun. Let’s just focus on what happens now.”
There was so much I wanted to say, so much that needed to be said, but he was right. Now wasn’t the time. I reached for the door handle just as my phone chimed. Another new text message. I drew in a quick breath. No name, no number.
“Your grandfather?”
I nodded. He must have gotten access to a phone somehow. I scooted over in the seat and held out the phone so we could read the message together.
DANNI & RICK. THE CRITICAL HOUR HAS ARRIVED. BUT YOU ARE NOT ALONE. OUR THOUGHTS AND PRAYERS ARE WITH YOU EVERY MOMENT.
“I hope so,” I whispered.
THERE ARE SOME THINGS YOU MUST REMEMBER.
“You are unique,” I intoned. “There is purpose to your life. You are free to choose.” I knew it would be the Four Remembers. He had given them to me for times like this, so I fully expected him to remind me of them again.
I was wrong.
1. IF GRANDMÈRE MONIQUE WERE HERE, SHE WOULD PUT HER ARMS AROUND YOU AND TELL YOU HOW PROUD SHE IS OF YOU.
Tears filled my eyes and I had to swipe at them with the back of my hand so I could continue reading. Into my mind came the image of Monique LaRoche walking into the deserted Gestapo headquarters, crying out to God not to abandon her. And strangely, that mental image immediately brought a sense of peace to my heart.
2. I SENSE MUCH CONTENTION BETWEEN THE TWO OF YOU. YOU MUST PUT IT FROM YOU NOW! CONTENTION ROBS YOU OF THE POWER OF DISCERNMENT. YOU MUST BE UNITED IF YOU ARE TO SUCCEED.
We looked at each other. Rick nodded soberly. He slid a little closer. I laid my head against his shoulder.
3. THE POUCH IS A TOOL TO BE TRUSTED, NOT A WAND TO MAKE THE WORLD CONFORM TO YOUR WILL.
Ouch! I looked up at Rick, but he was concentrating on the screen.
4. “A WOMAN USES HER INTELLIGENCE TO FIND REASONS TO SUPPORT HER INTUITION.”—GILBERT K. CHESTERTON.
“Who’s that?” Rick asked.
“I have no idea.” I read the quote again, softly and more slowly. “‘A woman uses her intelligence to find reasons to support her intuition.’” My shoulders lifted and fell. “That’s me. My mind can think up a thousand reasons why I should do what my heart has already decided to do.”
“Wait,” Rick said. “I don’t think that’s a chastisement. I think he’s reminding you that you have a great gift of intuition, Danni. I think he’s saying, ‘Trust it. But be wise too. Use your mind along with your heart.’”
I looked at Rick in wonder. I wanted to throw my arms around him for sharing that insight, for expressing his trust in me. “Thank you,” I said.
5. THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN INTELLIGENCE AND STUPIDITY IS . . .
The answer came in the next message. We both leaned in, watching the screen closely.
THERE IS A LIMIT TO INTELLIGENCE.—Grandpère
“Oh, Grandpère,” I cried out, laughing. “I love you so much. Thank you. I hear you.” I looked at Rick. “I can’t believe it. It’s like he was sitting there listening to us argue. Listening to me say how I was going to do everything.”
I was trying to put on a brave face, but down deep, it hurt. Was that what Grandpère thought? That I had been incredibly stupid? That I still was being incredibly stupid?
“Call Clay,” I said. “Tell him I’ll do whatever he thinks is best.”
Rick turned in surprise. “What?”
“You heard me.”
Turning to face me, Rick took me by both shoulders. “You did it again. Why do you think your grandfather is talking only to you, Danni? Put those two sayings together, and I think you’ll understand what he’s trying to tell us. It’s good to have feelings, to trust in them, but we have to be intelligent about it. Not do something stupid, which is something we all do.”
“Like saying I should do this alone?” I murmured.
He shook his head. “Like saying all you cared about was yourself.”
We laughed together and it felt so good. As the sound died away, we were looking deep into each other’s eyes. I started to lean in toward him. He responded. Then, suddenly he pulled back and turned to look out the window.
To say I was disappointed would be an understatement. But the moment he moved away from me, I remembered something I had shared with Rick about a month ago. I’d been in the cafeteria with a bunch of my friends, including Lisa Cole. She and Jaren Abbott had been dating for almost a year, and everybody knew they made out a lot. Some of the other girls were a little envious and were asking her questions about it. You know, things like, was he a good kisser and did she always keep her eyes closed? Lisa was basking in the attention, but then she got kind of wistful and said, “Jaren and I used to talk a lot when we first started dating. Now all we do is make out.”
As I watched Rick out of the corner of my eye, I wondered if he was remembering that too. Had he thought I was putting him on notice when I told him that? I hadn’t meant it that way. I’d shared it with him because we were friends.
So what was going through his mind now? I knew what was going through mine. One part of me wanted him to kiss me so badly that I could hardly stand it. After our battle royal a few hours before, this seemed like a perfect way to make up.
I realized our friendship had changed significantly over the past few days. This crisis had brought us closer together, and the shared stress of dealing with El Cobra had actually deepened the bonds of our trust. I wasn’t sure we could have had that argument a week ago. But now, we felt confident enough in our friendship that we could say what we were feeling. We could be totally honest with each other, even if it hurt like fury. It wasn’t the sweetness of a kiss that had brought that about. It was heat of the fire.
So, if we started kissing now, would things change between us? I didn’t want that. I loved being with Rick because I could be completely and totally me with him. He knew me for what I was and still liked me. And that was a wonder.
Then another thought hit me pretty hard. Just a moment ago, all he and I were thinking about was kissing for the second time. Yet we were minutes away from surrendering ourselves to a vicious criminal. In a few hours, we could be facing a confrontation that might turn deadly. My family was being held hostage, and it was possible I might never see some of them again. And all I could think about was if Rick was going to kiss me?
I guess that was the answer to my question. In sudden gratitude, I reached out and rubbed his arm for a moment. “Thanks, Rick.”
“For what?”
“For being you.” Then, embarrassed, I looked at my watch. “It’s seven ten. Should we go?”
He nodded and we both reached for the door handles. But at that moment my phone chimed. We looked down. The screen was filled with two more paragraphs.
AS DAVID DID MANY CENTURIES AGO, YOU GO NOW TO MEET YOUR OWN GOLIATH. THE BIBLE SAYS THAT DAVID CALLED TO GOLIATH AND SAID: “THOU COMEST TO ME WITH A SWORD, AND WITH A SPEAR, AND WITH A SHIELD: BUT I COME TO THEE IN THE NAME OF THE LORD GOD OF HOSTS. THE BATTLE IS THE LORD’S, AND HE WILL GIVE YOU INTO OUR HANDS.”
MUCH LOVE,
GRANDPÈRE
My hand withdrew from the door handle. I slipped the pouch over my shoulder, then took Rick’s hand. I bowed my head and closed my eyes. He did the same. “O Dieu, ne nous abandonne pas maintenant.” O God, do not abandon us now.
“Amen,” Rick murmured.
When we both looked up again, I said, “I’m ready. Let’s go.”
Chapter 70
El Cobra and Eileen were waiting for us off to one side of the restrooms. She was beautiful—petite, with deep auburn hair that glowed in the evening light, and eyes so green they were almost startling. She was dressed in black slacks and a tailored turquoise blouse. Half a dozen gold bracelets dangled on one
wrist, and more gold was around her throat.
When they saw us coming, El Cobra jerked his head for us to follow, and we fell in behind them, moving through the cars until we came to the very last row of the parking lot. They stopped at a white Lexus with Arizona plates.
He motioned us to move around to the far side of the vehicle, putting us farther out of sight.
“Eileen,” he said. “Search her. Make sure she’s not wearing a wire.” He looked at Rick. “Hands on the car. Spread your legs.” Very quickly and very professionally we were both searched. Eileen tried to remove the pouch from my shoulder, but I grabbed it and held on. She looked to El Cobra, but he shook his head and she let go.
“You two. In the backseat. Stay apart.”
Eileen produced a pistol, holding it down low so it couldn’t be seen by anyone but us. She waved it at us, and we got into the car as El Cobra took our bags from the truck. He went through Rick’s bag thoroughly, then turned to mine.
I clutched the pouch and held my breath. Blind his eyes to the radios. Please, not the radios.
He pawed through the contents of my bag then zipped it up. Satisfied, he threw both bags in the back. “All right, let’s go.”
Rick and I looked at each other, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
We drove around and parked at the marina parking lot. They made us get our bags and walk ahead of them toward the slips. It was obvious that El Cobra liked nice things. The Lexus. The Rolex. Gold necklaces and bracelets. A sleek, expensive speedboat that looked like it could do fifty or sixty miles an hour on the open water.
Eileen took the front seat opposite the steering wheel, still keeping the pistol low and pointed directly at us. She reached over to the driver’s console and pushed a button. The engine sprang to life, settling immediately into a low rumble that resonated with the promise of power.
“You next, chiquita,” El Cobra said. He took my bag and tossed it in the back. He offered his hand, but I ignored it, hopping lightly down into the boat. El Cobra turned to Rick. “Sorry, kid. This is where we part company.”
“No!” I cried. “You promised.”
He whirled, eyes flashing with anger. “I promised you nothing. He stays here.” He swung back to Rick. “And if you make any attempt to contact the authorities, your girlfriend will die. ¿Comprendes?”
Rick said nothing. I leaped to my feet. “If he doesn’t go, we don’t go.” I thought of the driver in the pickup. I remembered the highway patrol car. I closed my eyes. Instantly, the boat’s motor died.
Surprised, Eileen pressed the starter button again. The engine ground loudly, as if someone had dropped something into its gears.
“Stop!” El Cobra yelled. He hopped down into the boat and pushed her aside. “Watch them,” he barked. He tried starting it again, pulling on the choke. The grinding sounded worse. He glared at me.
My chin came up and my jaw set. “If Rick doesn’t go, we don’t go.”
Muttering under his breath, he looked up. “Get in.”
As soon as Rick was beside me, El Cobra tried the engine again; it roared into life, smooth as silk. Eileen stared at me with what I thought looked like open fear. I gave her my best “don’t mess with me” smile and sat down.
El Cobra cast off the lines, and we pulled away from the slip.
Five minutes later, we were out in the bay. El Cobra shoved the throttles forward, throwing us back in our seats, and in moments we were skimming across the water like a launched torpedo.
As we raced across the bay and entered the gorge of the Colorado River, Rick and I said nothing. Eileen stood beside El Cobra, and they spoke Spanish back and forth. Rick, who spoke fluent Spanish, watched them but said nothing.
After another few minutes, Eileen came back and sat in the seat across from us. She studied us for what seemed like a full minute—mostly focusing on me—before she spoke. “I think you have put an enchantment on my husband,” she said abruptly.
Husband? That was a surprise.
“I’m not an enchantress,” I said.
“A witch, then?”
“Depends in what sense you mean the word.”
The humor went right past her.
“May I see this pouch of yours, if I promise to give it back?” The last was said with a sneer. She didn’t like me. That was all right. I was having trouble warming up to her too. I found it hard to believe that these two were husband and wife. They were so different. I guessed she was Irish. What I had thought was a British accent had a different lilt to it, which fit with the auburn hair and green eyes. How in the world had these two ever become a match?
With a shrug, I removed the pouch from my shoulder and handed it to her.
She unbuttoned the flap, opened the pouch, and gave it a thorough examination. She even ran her fingers along the inside seams to make sure it was empty.
“There is nothing here,” she said, closing it up and handing it back. I didn’t take it; I just watched her steadily. Then her eyes widened, and she jerked back, feeling the fabric with her thumbs. There was now a flat lump beneath the fabric.
She turned. “Armando. There’s something inside now.”
Ah, so El Cobra had a name. That was good. Armando didn’t seem quite so ominous as El Cobra.
“Open it,” he commanded.
She was clearly fearful, but she tentatively drew back the flap and reached inside. It was another bank packet, but instead of a stack of money, the stack of paper was multicolored, like abstract art. I looked more closely, then gave an “oh” of delight. It was strips of newspaper cut from the Sunday comics.
Eileen was staring. Armando was staring. I was trying to keep from laughing out loud. This was almost as good as the bobble-headed Cobra Pequeño. I saw Rick trying to hold back a smile too.
She erupted, cursing in English at me. “You would make a fool of me?” she cried and flung the packet at my face.
My hand shot up and snatched it out of the air. Beside me, Rick was warning me with his eyes: “Don’t mess with this one.”
But I wasn’t messing around. Both of these two needed to know that I wielded a force to be reckoned with. I wanted them to be afraid of the pouch. No, I needed them to be afraid of the pouch. I held the packet in front of me, then passed the flat of my hand over it, like magicians do.
“Oooh,” I said in a spooky voice, “behold the enchantress at work.”
It was Rick’s gasp that brought me out of it. He was gaping at the packet. I looked down to see why, then jerked back. The comics were gone. Green bills had replaced them. I stared in disbelief, then looked up.
Eileen’s eyes were like saucers. She leaped forward and snatched the packet out of my hand. Ripping off the packet wrapper like a madwoman, she spread out the bills in her hand. It wasn’t hundred dollar bills this time. It was thousand dollar bills!
“How much?” Armando shouted in glee, glancing back at her.
She waved the bills in front of his nose. “Twenty thousand dollars!” she cried. “Twenty thousand!” She whirled back to me. “Make some more!”
I folded my arms. “We’ll see,” I said. I looked up at Armando. “We’ll see tomorrow.”
As we turned into Iceberg Canyon, I immediately saw where the canyon began to narrow. Two men were in a small powerboat and dressed in ranger uniforms. One was smoking a cigarette; the other rested a hand on his pistol. I poked Rick, then pointed. “There are two we didn’t count,” I whispered.
He stared at them as we went by, then nodded. “How many more surprises are there?”
I had no answer.
The houseboat was three or four miles up the canyon, clear of the main channel. It was anchored on a small, narrow strip of sand that quickly gave way to sheer rock walls on either side. I could see two domed tents on the sand and a blackened fire pit.
My eyes lifted. The cliffs were so high I had to tip my head back to see the sky. I tried to picture men rappelling down from that height and found the thought dizzying.
/> The canyon was as spectacular as I remembered. And the air was noticeably cooler. I guessed it was because the canyon was so narrow that it didn’t get as much sunlight during the day and so the water was colder than other parts of the lake. Mom had been right.
As we came into sight of the houseboat, I saw figures standing on deck. Two of them immediately began to wave wildly. I found myself swallowing hard to try to deal with the lump which had lodged in my throat, and brushing away the tears which had filled my eyes. This would be the first time I had seen my mother since Tuesday night—which now seemed like years ago—and I was suddenly overwhelmed with a desire to hold her very, very close for a very, very long time.
Chapter 71
Iceberg Canyon, Glen Canyon National Recreation Area
Sunday, June 19, 2011
I couldn’t see my watch, but I guessed it was well past midnight.
After a light supper, Armando gave orders for rearranging the sleeping quarters. This was a large, luxurious houseboat with five bedrooms and three baths. He put me in with my mom, and Rick and Cody bunked together. He and Eileen would stay in the master suite, of course. Since he made all of the men sleep outside, either on top of the houseboat where they took turns standing guard, or in the tent on the beach, that left two bedrooms empty. I wondered if he was holding those for Dad and Grandpère. I felt a warm spot in my heart when I realized that Doc and Gordo would be sleeping on a bunk in a jail cell tonight.
Though I was exhausted—it had been a long and full day—sleep was far from me. I slid close to Mom so I could whisper into her ear without being overheard. I told her everything that had happened since Cody and I had fled into the night. She listened carefully, murmuring her approval from time or time, or making sounds of concern. But the only questions she asked me were about the FBI and what they planned to do. I stalled a little on that, saying we hadn’t decided yet.
When I was through, I moved back onto my side of the bed and turned on my side, facing her. The houseboat was quiet except for the murmur of voices from the two guards up top. Moonlight filtered through the small window and the thin drapes, allowing me to see Mom’s face clearly. She was on her back, staring up at the ceiling.