He turned to Clay. “Of course, you will have no means of communicating with your agents. With the wiring removed from the houseboat’s motors, there is also no way to get out of here before tomorrow. Should you somehow surprise me and be rescued sooner than that, I am sure you will not try to further interfere with our activities. Otherwise, this young girl you seem to admire so much will die. And it will not be pretty.”
Clay’s mouth pinched into a tight line. Mom dropped her head in her hands. Cody shot to his feet, fists clenched. “You leave my sister alone!” he cried.
“Sit down, little bantam rooster. Your courage is commendable, and if everyone here does as they are told, you shall be reunited with your sister by tomorrow evening.”
He’s lying. The thought came as clearly as if someone had spoken it. He wasn’t going to let me go. At least not until they were safely out of the country. Which meant they would probably take me with them. I raised my hand.
He looked at me, instantly suspicious.
“What about Rick? He has to see a doctor and get that bullet removed.”
“Sorry, mercy is not on the agenda today.”
I changed tactics. “May I at least change back into my clothes before we leave?” I asked, forcing my voice to stay steady.
He reached down to where my life jacket still lay on the floor. He scooped it up and tossed it to me. “This will be sufficient. I think lavender is a good color on you.” Eileen’s head jerked around, and she glared at him. He laughed. “A very good color on you.”
Grandpère took one step forward. Instantly rifles and pistols snapped up. “I will not let you be alone with my granddaughter.”
El Cobra was incredulous. “Oh? You will not?”
“If you insist on having it your way, no motor will work, no radio will operate, no telephone will have a signal. And you will not meet the aircraft that is coming for you.”
Once again, with that swiftness that had earned him his name, El Cobra leaped forward, his hand a blur. An instant later, he pressed the tip of a knife hard against Grandpère’s throat. The room went totally still. “I don’t like threats, Grandpa.”
Grandpère did not so much as blink. “I think you are not a killer,” Grandpère said through clenched teeth. “But should you choose to thrust in the blade, know this. The moment that happens, police departments all across the state of Utah will be alerted to the situation and will converge on you like an army even as you try to escape. Don’t ask me how that will happen. I don’t know. I just know it will happen. And your grand plan will end here in Iceberg Canyon on this day, and your life will come to an end in an electric chair.”
As I watched this man with the gray hair, gentle face, and kindly eyes in amazement, I also saw in my mind’s eye a little boy standing in a meadow, looking up into the sky. As the screams of a Stuka dive bomber filled the morning air and the German pilot bore down on him, the little boy raised a hand and waved. And a short distance away, his mother exclaimed in soft amazement, “Enchantement.”
Eileen broke in. “You don’t need her, Armando. Not once we have the money. Let it be.”
Grandpère spoke again. “I am not needed at the signing. Mack can handle that by himself. And in case you doubt my word, have one of your men try to start one of the boats. Any one. It doesn’t matter. Or pick up your phone and try to call someone.” He spoke as casually as if he were giving instructions on how to do yard work.
El Cobra lowered the pistol and stepped back. He jerked his head at one of his men who darted outside. A moment later, we heard the starter of the nearest speedboat grinding. It went on and on, but nothing happened. At the same time, Armando snatched up his phone, punched some buttons, then put it to his ear. After a moment, he lowered it again slowly.
Grandpère spoke again. “I only want to ensure my granddaughter’s safety. You have my word that I shall not interfere in any other way.”
“Including no more magic?”
“I don’t believe in magic,” Grandpère replied.
As he stepped back against the wall and El Cobra lowered the pistol, my legs nearly buckled. I had to steady myself on the table. I looked at Grandpère through a blur of tears. “Merci,” I whispered.
He nodded, then smiled. You are not alone, he mouthed back at me.
Chapter 78
When we came through the narrow opening that led out of Iceberg Canyon into the main channel, Armando turned the boat sharply to the right—upstream. As soon as we reached forty miles an hour, he motioned to Eileen to take the wheel.
Grandpère was in the backseat, next to the cover which housed the twin motors. He had tried to sit down by me, but El Cobra wouldn’t let him. He also had refused to let Grandpère wear a life jacket.
“You so much as blink in a way I don’t like and I’ll throw you overboard,” he snarled. “We’ll see how well your magic works underwater.”
Grandpère had said nothing in response, nor had he since. But when I turned to look at him, he smiled at me. He seemed perfectly calm.
Armando picked up the pouch from the driver’s seat, then stepped back and took the seat across from me. I still had my life jacket on, but I also had a towel over my legs. I had said I was cold, which was true. But it wasn’t from the air temperature.
He leaned forward so his face was only a foot or so from mine. He held up the pouch and shook it a little. “Okay, chiquita. It’s time.”
I was ready. I had been thinking about it since we had left the houseboat. “There are a couple of things you have to understand about the pouch.”
“I’m listening.”
“You’ve got to get it out of your head that this is like some magic wand you just point and shoot, or that it works on some kind of rigid formula. The pouch works on what we really desire.”
He cocked his head, giving me a dubious look.
“Somehow, it senses what we want or need, then responds in a way that helps us get that.”
“You wanted to give me a silly doll that looked like me?” he asked, openly skeptical.
“No, I wanted to make you look ridiculous in front of your men.”
He grunted and his eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.
“And it wasn’t my idea to have it produce money, either. What I wanted was to let you know that having the pouch made me something much more than some silly teenager.”
“Well, it did that,” he admitted.
“The pouch determines how things are done. And that’s just it. Often, you cannot predict what it will do. It really surprises me sometimes.”
“I saw as much on your face.”
“One caution. If what we want is foolish, or even wrong, the pouch may not grant it. But sometimes it does, and then it will not be for your good. You’ll reap the reward of your own stupidity, if I may say it that way.” I was strongly tempted to add some quip about stupidity being a natural gift of his, but I didn’t.
“Yes, yes,” he said, brushing that aside. “So do I have to be actually touching it to make it work?”
My nose wrinkled as I considered his question. I quickly thought back over the times when it had worked for me. I couldn’t remember a time when I wasn’t holding it, or when it wasn’t against my body. “I don’t know,” I finally said. “I think so, but I’m not positive.”
“It does not have to be in your hand,” Grandpère spoke up. “But it is helpful, especially when you first begin to use it.”
“All right.” He was eager, almost little boyish. “I know what I want. Make it happen.”
“No,” I said. I wasn’t sure if I could make this work or not. I was in over my head. “You have to make it happen. You’ve got the pouch. Hold it tightly in your hands.”
I noticed that Eileen kept turning to watch what was going on. We were going at least forty-five miles an hour; I hoped she remembered to look forward from time to time.
He held it up, squeezing the seams of the pouch with his fingers. “It’s hot,” he said.
“That’s a good sign. It often generates heat when it’s working.”
“I want it to make gold.”
That took me by surprise. I half-expected he’d ask for more packets of thousand-dollar bills.
“Why not rhodium?” Grandpère asked.
“Rhodium?”
“It’s worth about twice what gold is.”
His eyes were dark with sudden anger. “And so much harder to sell on the open market without calling attention to yourself. Good try, old man. But gold will do.”
I was watching Grandpère’s eyes, and I saw that El Cobra’s answer actually pleased him. I wasn’t sure why.
El Cobra held out the pouch in front of him. “Make gold!” he commanded.
I snorted in disgust. “I told you. You’re not some wizard. You don’t have to shout at it. Just focus on what you want.”
He considered that for a moment, then half closed his eyes. His lips began to move. For several seconds nothing happened. All four of us had our eyes fixed on the pouch. Then suddenly it was ripped from El Cobra’s hand, crashing to the bottom of the boat with a heavy thud. Instantly he was down on his knees, clawing at the flap of the pouch. A moment later, he withdrew a full-sized gold bar, and, with some difficulty, got back to his feet. The gold was a stunning sight. It glowed like he was holding a piece of the sun in his hands.
He set it on the seat behind Eileen. Then, holding on to the wheel with one hand, he swept her up in the other. His expression was one of pure ecstasy. Laughing, she tipped her head back and cried, “Kiss me, you magnificent fool.” Then she turned to us. “How much is it worth?” she cried.
“Current price is roughly fifteen hundred dollars an ounce,” Grandpère said.
“And how much does this weigh?” Armando demanded.
“Twenty-seven point five pounds. Or about four hundred forty ounces,” Grandpère said. “That bar is worth about six hundred and sixty thousand dollars.”
El Cobra was stunned. For a moment I thought he was actually going to cross himself in order to thank God for his good fortune. But he had another idea. In three steps, he was back to the pouch. He picked it up, gripped the edges, and spoke to it like it was a living thing. “Again!”
This time he was ready for the weight. It took maybe ten seconds, then his arms sagged sharply. He ripped back the flap and extracted an identical bar. “One million two,” he shouted at Eileen. He started to set the pouch down when it was ripped from his hands again. This time it hit the cushioned seat and bounced to the floor with a heavy crash. He stared at a third gold bar in wonder. “Two million!” There was a soft grinding sound. Another bar was pushing the other one out of the pouch. He stopped dead, staring at it in disbelief.
I looked at Grandpère. He had that same enigmatic smile on his lips, as though to say, “Be patient, my dear, and you will understand.”
Armando was quickly on his hands and knees, lifting the bars and putting them on the seat across from me. As he took each one out, the end of another one would appear. In a matter of minutes, his face was bathed in sweat, and there were dark stains under his armpits and around his collar. And one after another, as if they were coming off an assembly line, the bars kept appearing.
“Move back,” Armando shouted at me. The boat had three sets of seats. I was in the right middle; Grandpère was directly behind me. I stood up and moved back with him. Armando grabbed the pistol from the seat across from me and waved it at me. “Help me move these bars. Both of you.”
“Are you sure you want us touching the pouch?” Grandpère asked softly.
That startled El Cobra. After a moment, he shook his head and waved us back.
Eileen turned around. “Stop it for a minute, Armando.”
He grabbed the pouch, dumped another bar out, then gripped it around the edges. “Stop!” he exclaimed. And it did.
As Armando began distributing the bars evenly on the seats, I counted quickly. Eleven bars. More than five million dollars. When he was done sorting the bars, he surveyed his work. Satisfied, he touched the pouch again. “More!” he barked. Moments later, another bar clunked on the boat’s bottom.
I looked around. We were in a much wider part of the main channel. Just ahead, on our right, Slick Rock Canyon led off to the south. It was a much smaller canyon, just east of Iceberg. But near its mouth there was a sandbar just off shore. It was about thirty feet long and maybe five or six feet out of the water. It was marked with a shallow water obstacle marker.
“Eileen,” Armando said, pointing. “Over there.”
As she swung the boat to the right and headed for the sandbar, Armando picked up the pistol again and waved it at Grandpère. “You’re getting out, old man. We need the room.”
“I’ll be there in a minute,” Eileen said.
“Out!” Armando shouted. “Now!”
I leaped up. “No! You can’t do that. He doesn’t have a life jacket.”
“It’s all right, Danni,” Grandpère said. And not waiting for another prod, he jumped over the side and started swimming toward the bar in long, even strokes.
“Grandpère! Come back!”
Once Eileen saw that he was going to make it to the sandbar, she veered away and gunned the boat forward again.
“You, chiquita! Sit down. And don’t move.”
Immediately, he went back to work stacking the bars. I kept watching Grandpère anxiously, but then I saw him stand up and wade out of the lake onto the sandbar. He waved to let me know he was all right.
“I told you not to harm anyone,” I said to El Cobra.
He ignored me, but he kept the pistol close at hand. Now that he had the pouch, his confidence—his arrogance—was back in full strength. I watched as the pouch produced another ten bars of gold. They were rapidly approaching what they hoped to get in ransom money. I did a quick calculation. The pouch was producing a new bar about every thirty seconds. A million dollars a minute!
Then suddenly I understood. This was the answer. Now it all made perfect sense.
“El Cobra,” I said, leaning forward.
He lugged another bar in place before he looked up. “What?”
“Forget about the mine sale. Before this day is over, you’ll have five times the ransom. Ten times!”
His teeth showed white in a wicked grin. “Sí, señorita.”
“So let us go. You don’t need another twenty million dollars.”
He hooted in derision. “Everyone needs another twenty million dollars.”
“No, Armando,” Eileen said. “She’s right. There’s too much risk. Let her go and let’s go home.”
“No!” He bent down for another bar.
I lifted my hand and pointed at the pouch. “Stop!” I said.
He spun around, grabbing the pouch and clutching it to his chest. It was a flat, empty, crumpled piece of fabric. He gave an animal howl in pain. “No! More. More! Don’t stop!”
When nothing happened, he grabbed his pistol and came at me, raising it to the level of my eyes.
“That’s your answer to everything, isn’t it?” I said in contempt.
“Make it start again, or I’ll shoot.”
I looked at the bars stacked on the seats ahead of me, thinking that if he shot me, he would lose the twenty million anyway. I decided it wasn’t wise to point that out to him.
He took a step closer. “I mean it, chiquita.”
How ironic. Almost forty million dollars, and it wasn’t enough. Then another thought came like a flash of light. Twenty-one bars at twenty-seven pounds per bar— We now had about five thousand pounds of gold in the boat.
It was like a brilliant light had just been shown in my mind. “All right,” I said. “Have it your way.” I looked at the pouch. “More,” I said quietly.
As Armando’s hands sagged downward with the sudden weight of the next bar, I stood up and rolled over the side.
As I neared the sandbar, Grandpère waded out to me and reached out his hand. I dropped onto the sand be
side him, my chest heaving. Then I looked around. “Are they gone?”
There was a soft chuckle. “No, I wouldn’t say that.” He pointed.
I turned, then drew in a sharp breath. The boat was coming straight for us, but they were still about two hundred yards out in the channel. Eileen was at the wheel, but Armando was beside her, shouting and waving his pistol wildly. I got to my feet, tensing.
His words floated to us over the sound of the motor. “Chiquita. Stop it. Stop the pouch. We’re going to swamp.”
Eileen suddenly left the wheel and bent down. A moment later, there was a flash of gold and a big splash. I wanted to laugh as I saw Armando do the same. “Please, chiquita.” His voice floated to us across the water. He bent down and another bar plopped into the lake and sank to the bottom.
I watched closely as the boat pushed its way slowly toward us. The water was only three or four inches from the top edge of the boat. Then a noise caught my attention.
“Look!” Grandpère called out.
Coming from the opposite direction and rounding a bend in the canyon about half a mile away was a large ski boat. It was coming fast, its front end clear up out of the water. I could see several people inside.
El Cobra turned around to look. The ski boat must have been coming at close to fifty miles an hour because it was closing in on us. A moment later, the roar of the motors abruptly cut off.
The nose of the boat dropped back into the water, sending out a wash of water ahead of it. The driver of the ski boat must have seen Grandpère and me on the sandbar and El Cobra’s boat riding low in the water because it immediately swerved toward us.
Someone stood up and started waving. A woman’s voice carried to us across the water. “Need some help?”
El Cobra spun around. “No!” he screamed. “We’re okay. Go away.”
The ski boat kept coming, but slowly. “You look like you’ve got problems,” a man called.
They were about fifty yards away. Armando was still shouting and trying to wave them off. Suddenly, he raised the pistol in the air and fired it twice. The gunshots echoed off the cliffs with a dull boom.