“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 you’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.”
“Thank you for being prompt.”
Montez ignored her pleading expression, secured her arms to the table, and stepped back. He turned on the overhead spot and admired his handiwork. Perfect.
“Thirty seconds.”
“I’m typing the address.”
“Very good, Mr. Dalton. You’re doing well.”
Montez knew what Duane Dalton would see once he viewed the streaming image coming from the camcorder. The mother of his children, naked, bloody, and strapped to a torture table. He hadn’t made her incisions especially deep, but they looked adequately shocking.
He waited, tapping a finger on the handset.
Dalton’s shout distorted the tiny speaker. “You sick son of a bitch! What the hell are you doing to her?”
Montez approached the laptop’s Webcam, presented the stun gun, then plunged it into an open cut on Nichole’s torso. Her scream drowned out the electrical crackle. She whipped her head back and forth in agony.
“Stop! Okay. Okay. You’re asking the questions.”
“Your momentary lapse in concentration is understandable, given what you’re seeing. But after your next outburst, it will be much worse. I hope you can appreciate the seriousness of her situation?”
“Please don’t hurt her again.”
“Do you know who I am?”
“I have my suspicions.”
“Please, do share.”
“Colonel Montez de Oca.”
“Retired.”
No response. In the background, Nichole Dalton cried.
“Were you aware there was going to be an attempt on my life?”
No answer.
He gave the woman another jolt. She screamed louder.
“Wait! Okay. Yes, I knew.”
“You see? We can have an honest conversation. All it takes is the proper motivation on your part.”
Montez unfolded a white sheet and draped it over the woman. Red splotches began forming above the cuts on her torso.
“My colleagues have expressed interest in coming in here and meeting your ex-wife. I haven’t allowed them to. Yet.” He held a box of condoms up to the camera. “I have a week’s supply for all six of my men. I trust that such a prolonged interaction won’t become necessary?”
“No, it absolutely won’t.”
“I have no interest in you, Mr. Dalton, or your ex-wife. My sights are… let’s just say they’re above your pay grade.” He held two small photographs up to the Webcam. “I’m sure it’s difficult to see the mother of your daughters in such a horrible situation.”
“Please, leave them out of this. They’re only children.”
“That depends entirely on you, Mr. Dalton. My men have also expressed interest in meeting them as well.” He turned to his left and snapped a finger. Arturo, his right-hand man, dragged two chairs from the shadows and placed them next to the table. Two more men, each with a blindfolded and gagged young girl, hauled them into the chairs and held them in place by their shoulders. Both were crying and shuddering with fear.
“Please, I’m begging you. Leave them out of this.”
“I see no reason to indulge my men as long as you cooperate.”
Nichole managed to stop crying long enough to say, “I’m here, babies. Mommy’s here.”
He snapped his finger again and Arturo covered her mouth with duct tape and blindfolded her.
“Please don’t hurt them. I’ll do what ever you want.”
“I’m prepared to give Nichole an injection of morphine. Would you like me to do that?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not without compassion, Mr. Dalton.” He stabbed a needle into a patch of undamaged skin and depressed the plunger.
Nichole groaned through the tape covering her mouth.
He lowered his voice and leaned over her. “This won’t act as quickly as an intravenous injection, but in a few minutes you should feel better.” He placed the syringe on the table and leaned into the camera. “Mr. Dalton, you and I are now going to discuss our situation. I trust our conversation will remain confidential?”
“Yes.”
“Do I need to remind you what will happen otherwise?”
“No.”
He inserted a thumb drive and opened the record program on his laptop computer. “Very good. Shall we begin?”
Chapter 11
After a fuel stop and head call in Seligman, Nathan and Harvey were on their way to Page, Arizona, near the Utah border. In Page, they topped off the Bell’s tanks and resumed their flight. Passing beneath them was some of the most beautiful territory Nathan had ever seen. The reddish-orange rock formations seemed random and yet master-planned. Truly God’s country, but a nasty place to lose an engine and crash-nothing a spatula couldn’t clean up.
After passing over the huge, concrete monolith of Glen Canyon Dam, they snaked their way up Lake Powell, staying close to its centerline. On both shorelines, dozens of narrow bays snaked their way out from the lake’s main body. Party barges and waterskiing boats occupied most of them.