She came over to me. As she approached, I took off the life jacket and let it drop to the floor. She ripped off the pouch, wrenching my shoulder, and tossed it to her husband. Then she patted me down very thoroughly. When she turned and shook her head, he stalked forward.
“Where is it?”
No more flippancy. No more pushing his buttons. I could tell his fury was on the verge of exploding. “I left it on the rocks.”
“Why?”
“Because I was afraid you might search me.”
In a blur, his free hand shot out and grabbed me by the hair. He yanked back so hard my back arched. I bit my lip to stop from crying out.
“No!” Mom yelled. “Don’t hurt her.”
He bent over me, his face no more than an inch from mine. “What happened to my men in Cathedral Valley? And don’t give me some story about them being frightened of the pouch.”
I could smell cigarettes and liquor on his breath. “Once you were gone, the pouch made their phone go dead. Rick was hiding behind a sand dune with a rifle. They surrendered without a struggle, and the FBI took them away.”
“So the whole thing was a trap?”
“Yes.”
“And Raul and Lew?”
“We led them into the canyon long enough to let the FBI move in behind us. It was really quite simple, actually.”
He let me go, but as I straightened, his hand flashed again. The back of his hand caught me full across the right cheek. I screamed, and staggered back, reeling from the blow. The thought flashed across my mind that if he wore a ring, I would have a scar like Monique.
Rick leaped to his feet and charged, fists swinging. Calm as a summer morning, El Cobra raised his pistol and fired. Rick went down like a scythe had cut his legs out from under him, clutching at his left thigh. I screamed. Mom screamed. Cody screamed.
El Cobra was back on me, like a pouncing wolf. Again he grabbed me by the hair, yanking my head back hard. “Stop fighting me, or the next one goes into his heart,” he hissed.
“Okay. Okay,” I cried. “Don’t shoot him.”
Mom rushed out from behind the table and dropped to her knees beside Rick, who was writhing on the floor, holding his leg and moaning in pain.
“Stay away from him,” El Cobra shouted at her, raising the pistol again.
I kicked out at him with all my strength. He stepped aside and laughed as I missed him, then yanked even harder on my hair until I was bent backward. “I’m not playing, Mrs. McAllister. Get back. Now!”
Cody was sobbing, begging her to come back. She did lean back, but she stayed on her knees beside Rick. She looked up at her captor, eyes calm, face expressionless, staring at him, daring him to fire.
He was breathing heavily and, from my position, I could see his finger twitching on the trigger. But gradually, sanity returned. He lowered the pistol and looked over his shoulder at his wife. “Get her the medical kit. See if you can stop the kid’s blubbering.”
He turned back to me. Hauling me back up until only my neck was bent backward, he glared at me, eyes seething. He leaned in until our faces were nearly touching. His grin was feral, evil, more horrible than anything I could imagine. I went totally cold. And then he kissed me. It was not a kiss of passion. It was a kiss of domination—hard, brutal, crushing my lips against his teeth. When he finished, he let me go and gave me a hard shove. I nearly stumbled as I fell away from him.
“Now, chiquita,” he said, handing me the radio, breathing hard. “Now, we’re going to make a call to your friends in the FBI.”
Part Eleven: Fini
Chapter 76
“Clay Pigeon, this is Bright Star Two. Over.”
“Yeah, Danni. We’re here. What’s up?”
El Cobra yanked the radio from my hand and shoved me away. “I’ll tell you what’s up, señor FBI man,” he screamed into the radio.
I ran to Rick and dropped down beside him, clutching tightly to one of his hands. I was crying, sick at heart. The wound was in his upper left thigh, off to the right of center. Mom had her hand clamped over the wound but blood still oozed out from between her fingers. Rick looked up at me as I took his hand and managed a wan smile.
As El Cobra continued screaming orders into the radio, Eileen returned with a white tin box with a red cross painted on it and a pair of scissors. She knelt down beside us and began cutting up Rick’s pant leg. I lifted my head and started paying attention to what was going on over the radio.
El Cobra had finally stopped screaming and released the transmit button.
Clay came on immediately. “Is everyone all right?”
“Everyone except the boyfriend,” he hissed. “I shot him.”
I heard Dad cry out in the background. “Danni!”
“That’s right, Luke,” Armando screeched. “Call for your little girl, because she is in grave danger. As are you.”
“Am I talking to the man they call El Cobra?” Clay asked. He was trying to sound calm, but it was clear he was deeply shaken.
“I am not the man they call El Cobra. I am El Cobra! And you are about to see the cobra strike.” Drops of spittle sprayed from his mouth as he shrieked into the radio. “Do you understand me? I will kill them all, one by one, and let you and the father and the grandfather listen to their screams as they die. ¿Comprendes?”
For several seconds, there was no response. Then Clay quietly asked, “What do you want us to do?”
“We heard your conversation with Danni, señor. Every word of it. I know your plans. I know how many men you have. So here is exactly what you will do. I hope you and your agents are taking notes because I am only going to say this once.”
“I’m listening.”
“You will pull back immediately,” he spat. “If I hear one shot fired, see one head poke up, hear the whisper of one boat engine, or see one aircraft within five miles of this position, I will open fire on the family. Tell them, señor. Tell them to back off.”
“You heard the man,” Clay said. “Pull back to your original positions and wait for pickup. Marty?”
“I’m here, boss,” said a deep voice.
“Call Salt Lake. Have them contact the airport at Bullfrog. We need the airspace over this part of the lake totally cleared.”
“Ten-four.” Brief pause. “Good luck.” Then he clicked off.
El Cobra was back on immediately, but he was calmer. “That’s better. Second. You and the men with you will, this very moment, surrender your weapons to the four men of mine that you hold captive. You will also give them back their satellite phones and have them call me immediately to confirm this is so.”
Almost immediately, a cell phone rang. El Cobra snatched it up. “¿Sí?” He listened for a couple of moments, then started firing off questions in Spanish. He kept nodding, so I assumed he was hearing what he wanted to hear.
By this time, Eileen had cut away the rest of Rick’s pant leg. When she pulled the fabric back, I gagged and nearly fainted. There was blood all up and down his leg, and the hole where the bullet had entered showed raw flesh inside of it.
“I’ve always had that effect on girls,” he croaked.
I laid my cheek against his. “I’m so sorry, Rick. It’s my fault. It’s all my fault. I’m so sorry.”
“There you go again, taking all the credit for yourself.”
He raised his head a little, grimacing with pain, until his mouth was near my ear. “Did you hear it?”
I reared back. “Hear what?”
“Your grandfather’s voice.”
“You heard it too?” I asked, astonished.
He began quoting softly. “Angelique. Monique. Pierre. King David. Aron Ralston.”
I could scarcely believe it. He had heard. I started to straighten, but he pulled me back. “And Yogi Berra.”
My eyes widened. Yogi Berra? The famous baseball player? For a moment, I wondered if Rick was in shock. I looked down at him to see if he was joking, but he nodded vigorously at me. And then I understood.
Dad quoted Yogi Berra all the time. Things like “The future ain’t what it used to be,” and “When you come to a fork in the road, take it.” But the one he quoted more than any other, especially when things looked bleak, was this classic: “It ain’t over ’til it’s over.”
I sat back on my heels. I wanted to lay my hand on Rick’s cheek, bend down and kiss him, lay down beside him and hold him. But instead I slowly nodded. “Thank you,” I said. “I understand.” I got to my feet.
“Don’t talk, “ Eileen said to him. She looked at Mom. “There is no exit wound. The bullet is lodged somewhere inside his leg.” She looked down at Rick, and I thought I actually saw sympathy in her eyes. “We have to bandage your wound. It’s going to hurt very badly.” She straightened. “Armando, we have to get him to a doctor.”
He hooted in disgust. “Oh yeah, that one’s high on my priority list.” He immediately went back to speaking Spanish into the telephone. Finally he said, “muy bien,” then switched to English and spoke into the radio.
“Okay, señor. My men are in charge. Do not try anything foolish.”
“We are not fools,” Clay said.
“Bueno. That is muy importante if you want anyone to come out of this alive.” He released the transmit button and walked to the table where he sat the phone and the radio down beside the pouch. Then he looked to the nearest guard. “Get everyone in here. ¡Pronto!”
As the man rushed out and started hollering, El Cobra turned to us. Mom and Eileen were wrapping Rick’s leg. He grunted softly each time they moved him. Beads of sweat stood out on his forehead, and there were tears in his eyes.
Mellower now that he was back in control, El Cobra came over and watched for a moment. Then he reached down and grabbed Mom by the elbow. “Up. Eileen will finish.”
She jerked her arm away angrily. “You’re a monster.”
“No,” he said thoughtfully, “actually, I’m a snake.” Then he pulled hard, dragging her to her feet. She cried out in pain. “I told you to get up,” he snarled.
I leaped forward. “Leave her alone!”
“Be patient, chiquita. I’m coming back for you.”
As he started to herd Mom back to her seat, I went after him, hands up like claws. Quick as a cat, he spun around, and I had the barrel of his pistol pointing at my nose, no more than six inches away.
“Don’t!” he yelled.
But I was swept up in an emotion I had never experienced before—pure, undiluted rage. I spun around, and, before he could stop me, I was to the table. I snatched up the pouch, clutching it tightly against my chest with both hands. I dropped into a crouch as he came after me lunging for the pouch. He stumbled over my feet, and we both went down. We sprang back up to face each other, panting heavily. His smile was a horrible grimace.
“Give me the pouch,” he said, his chest heaving.
“Come and get it,” I hissed.
He spun around and took two steps to where Rick was on the floor. With a swipe of his hand, he knocked Eileen away. Then he leveled the pistol at Rick’s head. The sound of him cocking the hammer was like an explosion going off in the room. “Give me the pouch or he dies.”
He’s going to kill him anyway. I remembered what I had said to Rick earlier: You’re a liability. You’re excess baggage.
Grabbing the pouch in both hands, I held it out in front of me. One word burst from my mouth, and I shouted it with all the force in my lungs. “Stop!”
An invisible force slammed into him. The pistol fired as it was knocked away, the bullet hitting the wall. He went flying—literally flying—backward. He hit one of the chairs and flipped backward onto the floor.
Eileen screamed and ran to him in three steps. She dropped down beside him, helping him get up. He was dazed, momentarily disoriented.
He wasn’t the only one. My hands were tingling like I had stuck them in a wall socket. The pouch felt hot to the touch, and I dropped it where I stood. I backed up a step, then another.
Eileen helped El Cobra to his feet. He looked at me as if he wasn’t sure who I was. Then, with an animal roar, he came at me again. This time I said nothing, but scooped up the pouch and flung it at him, flat like a Frisbee. The rope strap was flying out behind it, and it caught him squarely in the chest. There was a great whoosh. He dropped to his knees, eyes bulging, frantically gasping for air. Eileen started for him again, but when she saw me coming at him, she threw her hands in front of her face and screamed.
I snatched up the pouch, then crouched down so that I was looking directly into his eyes. He was still gasping desperately for air. His face was turning purple. I leaned in. “I will go with you. I will give you the pouch. I will teach you how to use it.” I slapped him across the face. That broke things loose and he gulped in air like a drowning man. “But if you try to kill anyone, or hurt them in any way, or if you touch me again, you will die. Do you understand me, El Cobra? You! Will! Die!”
Chapter 77
From where Mom, Cody, and I were sitting at the dining table, we could look out the window onto the lake. When we heard the sound of motors, we turned and watched three motorboats approaching. Rick was stretched out on the bench, his head in my lap. He started to get up, but I pushed him down again. “It’s all right, Rick. It’s Dad and Grandpère. They’re here.”
He fell back, his breath coming in quick, shallow bursts.
“Is the pain terrible?” I asked softly.
He shook his head. “Actually, it’s going numb.”
“You lie!” I said.
He didn’t deny it.
El Cobra got up and went out on deck, pistol in hand. I could hear the guards above us moving around on the roof and assumed their rifles were pointed at the incoming boats. Dad was driving the first boat. Grandpère and Clay were beside him. They each had a man with a rifle trained on them. In the second boat there were four men, all dressed as park rangers. Two were seated, cuffed hands clasped on top of their heads. Clay’s agents, I assumed. One of the original “rangers” drove the boat; the second kept guard with his rifle.
The final boat had only one man at the helm. They all cut their motors and glided into the beach, one alongside the other. We saw them get out of the boats one by one. El Cobra’s men came down off the roof and swarmed around them. The four agents were marched over to one of the tents and forced to sit down back-to-back before being handcuffed together. Dad, Grandpère, and Clay were shoved roughly toward the gangplank. I could see they’d been cuffed too, with nylon cuffs like the ones I had been secured with. Moments later, we were all together in the houseboat’s main room.
Dad gave a cry and started for Mom, but El Cobra leaped in front of him and stiff-armed him, hard. Dad crashed against the wall and nearly went down.
“Stay over there,” El Cobra barked. “You’ll have your reunion soon enough.”
The guards lined up Dad, Grandpère, and Clay along the front bulkhead, then stepped back a few paces. Their rifles never wavered.
Barking orders like a drill sergeant, Armando sent Eileen back to the bedroom to pack, and ordered the men who were not standing guard inside, to pack up and prepare to leave.
Then, with a grim smile, El Cobra turned to us. “At last, we are all together.”
He took out his satellite phone and dialed a number quickly. Then he held up a finger at us. “Un momento.” We heard the faint, tinny sound of someone’s voice answer, and he began speaking. My mind translated his words effortlessly. He was calling for a helicopter to meet him in one hour at the airport at Hall’s Crossing. That was not good.
Hall’s Crossing was across the lake from Bullfrog Marina, but was much smaller, with only a small marina, some campgrounds, the ferry ramp, a service station, and tiny convenience store.
El Cobra paused, listening to a question, then started speaking again. As my mind translated, my insides twisted into a tight knot. He had evidently been asked how many people he was bringing with him. His answer? Three. Himself. Eileen. And a sixteen-year-old g
irl.
Ten minutes later, satisfied with how the loading of the boats was going, El Cobra came back inside, Eileen at his side. He was all business.
“This is how it’s going to work.”
Every eye was turned to him. “First of all, señor FBI man. You will make another call to Salt Lake, and you will tell them that the four men they hold in jail at the moment are to be released no later than tomorrow morning.”
“I’m not sure they will—” As Armando’s head came up, eyes like cold steel, Clay changed his mind. “I will do my best.”
“Oh, you will do much better than that,” came the cold answer. Then he turned to Dad and Grandpère. “Though there have been many efforts to thwart our plan, we now return to it—only we’re going to move things up a bit. Luke, you will call your Canadian contacts and tell them that due to a family emergency, the closing must be tomorrow afternoon.”
Dad frowned. “I’m not sure all the documents can be ready that soon. Besides, it’s Sunday and—”
His eyes went hard. “You’re depositing twenty million dollars. I think the bank will accommodate you. You will be there when the bank opens, and you will make this happen, is that clear?”
“Yes.”
“Good. You and Grandpa here will go with your two escorts in one boat. They will take you back to Bullfrog where you will pick up your vehicle and leave immediately for Salt Lake City. That will get you there tonight so you can be at the bank when it opens tomorrow morning. And by the way, you will leave your phone on at all times so we can track your every movement. If it were to be turned off . . .” He shrugged, a simple gesture, but filled with terrible menace.
“What about my family?”
“Since it is your family which has complicated everything, we shall simplify things.”
That sent a shiver of fear through me.
“What do you mean, simplify?” Mom asked.
“You and Cody will stay on the houseboat. I’ll be taking Danni with me.”
“No!”
He went right on. “The rest of my men will be taking the other boats and dispersing themselves as quickly as possible so they can be in Salt Lake by tomorrow afternoon. That will leave you two here safely in the hands of the FBI.”