Forced to Kill nm-2 Read online

  “SAC Simpson,” Thorny said, “the pleasure’s been mine. Great work on the NCIC search. Sharp thinking.”

  “Thank you, General,” she said. “Nathan, I’ll call you with anything new. Have a safe flight.”

  Nathan ended the call.

  “Make sure you copy my office on that police report when Simpson sends it to you. If Montez or his goons killed my Marine, I want that Nicaraguan’s skin hanging on my wall.”

  Nathan looked away. So much for capturing Montez alive to track down MIAs.

  Harv executed an illegal U-turn and reentered traffic.

  When Thorny spoke, he sounded calmer. “Nate, I know you’re worried about leaks, but at the pay grades we’re talking about, I highly doubt Montez has any way to find out what we’re doing. I think we’ll be okay.”

  He wasn’t sure he was in agreement, but he didn’t see a better way to proceed.

  “I’ll call the secretary of the navy once I’m airborne and ask him to call the NSA’s director,” Thorny said. “Since there won’t be any real way to keep this under wraps at that point, I’ll also ask him to call CIA Director Rebecca Cantrell. And since both of them report to the Director of National Intelligence, it’s a good bet the DNI will become involved. And you know who the DNI reports to.”

  Nathan did.

  Chapter 8

  Nichole Dalton opened her eyes and tried to focus.

  She couldn’t see anything.

  Total blackness.

  What happened? The last thing she remembered was being attacked. A man had been shot trying to help her. She got loose and ran away, but they caught her and dragged her into a van. She remembered a horrible chemical smell, like rubbing alcohol. No, not alcohol. Ether. They’d used ether on her. She couldn’t remember anything after that.

  She tried to sit up, but couldn’t move her arms or legs. A cold chill raked her body when she realized she was completely naked and strapped to some kind of metal table. Bound and naked! She jerked her arms in a frantic test of her bonds, but they wouldn’t budge. Same with her feet. She tested the straps again, much harder, and felt her skin burn from the friction. Craning her head, she looked left and right, but found only blackness. Her daughters! Where were her daughters? Did they kidnap them too?

  Full-blown panic seized her.

  She turned her head toward the sound of a door opening. A few seconds later, it closed with a bang. The reverberating echo meant this had to be a fairly large room. The sudden squeal of wheels terrified her. It was a hideous sound, like fingernails on a chalkboard, only worse.

  “Who’s there?” Her voice cracked and she hated how weak it sounded.

  The squealing got louder.

  “Who’s there?”

  Nothing, just the increasing screech of wheels. A chill raked her again, not from the cold, but from that hideous sound.

  She began jerking her body in a frantic attempt to break free. Tears flew as she whipped her head back and forth in frustration and fear.

  “Someone help me!” she screamed.

  The squealing got louder by the second.

  “Please, someone help me!”

  The squealing ended. Then slow footsteps. Unconsciously, she held her breath.

  Directly above, a floodlight snapped on. The stab of pain shot through her skull. She squinted against the blinding intrusion, looked down the length of her body, and froze. Mounted on a tripod, a video camera loomed, its red eye unblinking.

  A face appeared above her, eclipsing the bulb. A man’s face. Hispanic. Black, braided ponytail. Smiling. Empty eyes swept over her breasts. The smile widened. A hand caressed her cheek. She jerked away from the touch. The smile faded, replaced by a frown.

  “Who are you? What do you want from me?”

  The hand grabbed a handful of her hair and jerked her head off the table. The smile vanished.

  “I am asking the questions. Understood?”

  “Please.…”

  “Understood?”

  “I don’t know anything.”

  He slammed her head onto the metal surface and hauled it back up.

  “Understood?”

  “Why are you doing this? I don’t know anything!” It was true, she didn’t. The NSA never told her anything. All she did was translate phone calls. Boring phone calls.

  Another slam. Her vision grayed, then winked out for a few seconds.

  “Understood?”

  “Yes.”

  “Very good.” The hand gently lowered her head back to the table, but this time a small pillow cushioned it.

  “Better? We’re going to work on a positive and negative reward system. When you cooperate, you’ll be rewarded. When you don’t, you’ll be punished. Are you thirsty?”

  A straw touched her lips and she took it into her mouth. She pulled cool water, swallowing as much as she could before it was withdrawn.

  “Better?”

  “My daughters.”

  “You are concerned for them, as you should be. They are unharmed. For now.”

  “Please don’t hurt them. Please, I’ll do anything you ask. Anything.”

  He leaned in close and whispered, “Yes, I know you will.” Then he stood erect. “My name is Colonel Montez de Oca, and over the next few days we’re going to become close friends.”

  She felt a clank-like jolt from under the table. The next thing she felt was the entire table being tilted upright. It stopped at a 45-degree angle and another clank locked it in place. The video camera’s lens loomed large and black. Then the hideous squealing of wheels started again. A table came into view, draped by a white sheet marred with brown stains. Dried blood? She closed her eyes and willed herself to wake up.

  This can’t be happening.

  Half of the table held all kinds of surgical instruments in neat rows, the other half hosted household tools. Pliers. Tin snips. Vice grips. Chisels. Wood files. An ice pick. Her eyes locked onto the box of condoms. Tears began flowing again and she hated herself for being weak. How could this be happening? Why was she here? She didn’t know anything. She tried to recall anything she’d heard that could be considered secret.

  He stepped into the light and reached toward her.

  She flinched and tried to withdraw.

  Smiling, he slipped his hand under the table and unlatched something. She watched in horror as a stirrup locked into place. He grabbed her ankle in a firm, painful grip and unbound her leg with his free hand. He forced her foot into the stirrup, and rebound her ankle to the heel of the stirrup with a thick leather strap. He repeated the process on her left leg. Next, he swiveled her bent legs out from the table and locked the stirrups in place. She ended up in a horrifying position, completely open and vulnerable.

  Oh no. Please no, not this.

  “Shall we begin?” He made a mock frown. “I’m afraid I forgot to bring flowers.”

  She couldn’t stop crying. She was about to be tortured for information she didn’t have. It was so unfair. So brutally unfair. A sickening wave of nausea overpowered her. She turned her head just in time. Some of the vomit remained on her chest.

  “I’m terribly sorry about that. Here, let me clean you up.”He wiped her mouth and breasts with a damp cloth. “You can relax a little, Ms. Dalton. I have no plans to rape you. I find rape a vulgar and offensive act. The position you’re in, it’s… how do I word this? Designed to create maximum insecurity. It’s especially effective on men, probably because they’ve never been in this position. Sadly, I wish I could say this won’t be painful, but that would be lie and I think we should be honest with each other.”

  “Please. I don’t know anything!”

  “My dearest Nichole, how charmingly arrogant. What makes you think this has anything to do with you?”

  Chapter 9

  Nathan and Harvey lifted off from Montgomery Field just after 1300 hours and flew due east to avoid entering MCAS Miramar’s airspace. With a little luck, they’d be landing at Bullfrog Basin Airfield by 1900.

&
nbsp; “We’re at a distinct disadvantage,” Harv said. “We can’t initiate a full-blown pursuit using dozens of federal agents without spooking him into deep hiding, and we probably won’t find him without using dozens of agents. We’re damned if we do and damned if we don’t.”

  “The key to finding him is in here.” Nathan lifted his hand off the collective for a split second and pointed at his flight helmet. “We just have to dig it out.”

  “That could be dangerous.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “You aren’t seriously considering Holly’s hypnosis idea, are you?”

  “Actually, I am. If the question’s whether it’s worth the risk, then I’d have to say yes. I really hate the idea of the woman and her little girls in Montez’s possession.”

  “Yeah, me too. Who else is at risk? Montez will keep torturing and killing for decades if we don’t stop him. Apparently he loves his work too much to quit.”

  “Whatever he’s up to, the stakes are high. He wouldn’t involve himself in a trivial operation. I’ll bet he’s being paid a bundle.”

  A telephone tone interrupted them. Harv patched it through the NavCom. He pressed the transmit trigger on his cyclic control. “Hello.”

  “Harvey? It’s Holly.”

  “Hi, Holly. Nathan and I are on our way out to Lake Powell.”

  “Just wanted to let you know that through my counterpart in Salt Lake, I’ve arranged for your transportation and lodging at Bullfrog Bay.”

  “You didn’t have to do that,” Nathan said.

  “It’s no trouble at all. A special agent from our Monticello resident office will meet you at the airstrip. Can you write his cell number down?”

  Harv noted the phone number on the aeronautical chart.

  “Give him a call about an hour and fifteen minutes before you land. That will give him plenty of time to get there. I also have some basic info from the Kane County Sheriff’s Department. They handled the initial nine-one-one call and then called the federal park service to arrange the divers who recovered Kramer’s body. It was held at the marina until transported to Kanab. From there, it went to Salt Lake’s ME. The autopsy should be complete any time now.”

  “What has local law enforcement been doing to investigate around the lake?” Nathan asked.

  “About what you’d expect. They’re looking for eyewitnesses and trying to figure out what boat the killers used. Apparently no boats were reported stolen or missing over the last week or so. Boat rentals are all checking out as legit so far. There was one odd report, though. A local claimed someone stole his houseboat on the night in question, then returned it. Since no evidence of theft could be found, the sheriff’s department didn’t pursue it. Apparently, the boat owner is known in the area as being somewhat of a troublemaker. The deputy sheriff told our local agent that this kind of thing happens all the time. It’s the equivalent of houseboat joyriding. Most of the time it’s drunk high school or college kids.”

  “The timing sounds about right.”

  “I have the owner’s contact info if you want to talk to him. I’m looking at the report. The deputy referred to him as a quote, ‘cantankerous old cuss.’”

  “My kind of guy.”

  “Apparently he lives on his boat. Moves it around a lot.”

  “We definitely want to talk to him. Will our local FBI agent play along with my special way of communicating if this cantankerous old cuss isn’t nice to us?”

  “Nothing rough, okay?”

  “I promise, nothing rough. Do you think Director Lansing will catch wind of what we’re doing?”

  “Probably. He’ll at least be briefed on the Kramer case.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “We have Legats all over the world.”

  “Legats?”

  “Legal attache offices. The FBI has them in every major embassy, including Budapest. I can’t imagine he wouldn’t have official word on Kramer’s murder by now.”

  He looked at Harv. “If Lansing finds out we’re involved, I doubt he’ll be real happy about it.”

  “He definitely won’t.”

  “Will you be okay? We can handle things from here on.”

  “I’ll be okay. You’ve got Grangeland on your ops team when you need her.”

  Special Agent Mary Grangeland was a pro’s pro, and she’d helped them in the Bridgestone case. She’d also nearly paid the ultimate price.

  “Are you sure about this?”

  “Yes, absolutely.”

  “All right, then. Thanks. And thank Grangeland for us too.”

  “Will do. When will you be arriving in Bullfrog?”

  “Around nineteen-hundred.”

  A call-waiting tone interrupted them. “Holly,” Harv said. “We’ve got another call coming in. We’d better take it. It could be General Hawthorne.”

  “No problem. Have a safe flight.”

  “Will do, thanks again.”

  Harv brought the call in.

  It was Thorny. “You boys on your way?”

  “Yes. You?”

  “We’re still a few minutes away from our takeoff roll.”

  “We just heard from Holly,” Nathan said and brought Thorny up to speed.

  “I made the call to the secretary of the navy. I’m waiting for a return call.”

  “Thanks, General. Let’s see where that leads us.”

  “Make sure Holly coordinates her efforts with Major Halliday. We don’t want to duplicate work.”

  “Sounds good. Harv and I will look around at Bullfrog and report back to you by tomorrow evening at the latest. Hopefully, you’ll have something by then.”

  “If I hear anything sooner, I’ll call you right away.”

  “Have a safe flight, General.”

  “You too.”

  Harv ended the call.

  “This Hungarian clean coal business is still our only real lead so far,” Nathan said. “I’m trying like hell to see how it makes sense. I guess the stakes are high enough, at least in financial terms. Once we know what Kramer’s role was, things may start to add up.” He looked down at the sleepy community of Julian a few miles to the south. “It just doesn’t seem like Montez’s cup of tea, getting involved with Hungarian business interests. Wrong hemisphere, for one thing. And the coal industry?”

  “Like you said, the money’s big.”

  The images of Nichole Dalton and her daughters returned. He shook his head. “Montez told me many times he’d interrogated children. I hate thinking about it. He’ll use them like pawns to his advantage. If their mother knows anything, she’ll talk.”

  “We’re gonna nail him to a wall. Don’t lose sight of that. Also, it’s still possible that Nichole Dalton’s kidnapping isn’t connected to Kramer.”

  He didn’t respond.

  “Yeah, I think Montez did it too,” Harv said.

  “He’s many things, but stupid isn’t one of them. Dumping a body in Lake Powell seems like a pooch screw. It’s out of character. Why risk it? There’s thousands of square miles of empty real estate in every direction out there.”

  “I think it’s fair to assume he didn’t think he would be seen. It was the dead of night. The lake’s in total darkness. It was just dumb luck there happened to be campers in the area. More than that. They happened to be awake at the time, heard the boat, had a clear line of sight, and had night vision equipment. You have to admit, the odds are pretty low anyone would see it happen. The campers could’ve been on the opposite shore and not seen what happened. There’s a million what-ifs.”

  “I suppose you’re right, but it sure seems like more risk than he needed to take. I mean, if you want to be certain you aren’t seen losing a body, there are surefire ways to do it.”

  “Yeah,” Harvey agreed. “We should know.”

  Chapter 10

  Montez spoke softly and with only a slight accent. “Do you have your line straight?”

  Nichole Dalton nodded.

  “Good, try to relax. I know yo
u’re in pain. Make the call and put it on speaker, please. Soon this will be over.”

  Montez handed her the phone and stepped back. He’d freed her hands, but her body remained bound to the table. She wasn’t going anywhere.

  The chirping ring tone indicated a successful connection.

  “Increase the volume, please.”

  She obeyed.

  He smiled at the voice on the other end. Glorious.

  “Nichole. Where are you? Where are the girls? The State Department said you’ve been kidnapped. I’ve been trying to call you for hours.”

  “Duane, we’re in trouble.”

  “What can you see? What kind of sounds can you hear in the background?”

  Montez stepped forward and took the phone from her. “Did you know Nichole works out for an hour everyday? She does it to keep her body in shape for her new boyfriend. I can personally attest to this fact.”

  “Who the hell is this?”

  “I’m asking the questions, not you, Mr. Dalton.”

  No reply.

  “Are you still there?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m afraid your lapdog, Mr. Kramer, is no longer with us. Fortunately for me, we had a little chat before he… departed. Your ex-wife seems quite eager to cooperate. She graciously supplied your telephone number.”

  “What do you want?”

  He reached out and bent Nichole’s little toe the wrong direction. It strained and broke. She screamed.

  “Okay. Please don’t hurt her again. My daughters.…”

  “Was that a question?”

  “No!” he yelled.

  “Their future depends entirely on you, Mr. Dalton. Do have access to the Internet?”

  “Yes.”

  “I want you to go to the following Web site.” He provided a numbered Internet address. “Did you get that?”

  “Yes.”

  “You have sixty seconds. Let me know when you’re online.” He turned toward Nichole. “Mr. Dalton sounds concerned for your safety. Perhaps this will be over as soon as we hoped.” He knew Dalton heard the comment. “You have forty-five seconds.”

  “I’m logging on right now.”