Carl scrambled back down the cliff while letting out more line. When he reached the arrow, he took a long length of rope out of the duffel bag and attached it to the fishing line above the arrow using a fisherman’s knot. Then he let go of the arrow, moved to the north side of the tree, and pulled the fishing line back over the tree until the attached rope hung from both sides of the trunk.
After detaching the arrow and the fishing line from the rope, Carl tied a bowline loop at one end of the rope and passed the other end of the rope through the eye of the bowline, creating a noose around the trunk of the tree. Carl pulled on the rope until it tightened around the tree, providing a fixed anchor.
Now, using separate pieces of rope, Carl made a sling that looped around his chest and a seat harness that he secured around his waist, under his buttocks, and through his crotch so that it fitted like a diaper. Then he removed from the duffel bag two more pieces of rope that were roughly twice the length of his body. He tied the first piece around the rope that dangled from the tree using a prusik knot and attached a second prusik beneath the first. The prusik was a clever device that could slide up or down the rope when there was no tension on it, but would tighten and not slide when tension was applied. Carl ran the top prusik under his chest sling and attached it to his seat harness. When Carl sat on the seat harness, the tension on the prusik kept the harness secured to the rope. Carl could dangle in space without fear. If Carl put his foot in the loop formed by the lower prusik he could stand up straight and the tension on the lower prusik would keep him from sliding when he was standing. Additionally, when he stood, the upper prusik loosened and he could slide it up the rope as far as he could reach. Carl had created a simple system that allowed him to slide up the rope by alternately standing and sitting. This allowed him to climb up the tree with a minimum of effort because he could rest by sitting or standing.
When Carl reached the tree, he paused below the edge of the cliff, sagged back in his seat harness, and rested. As soon as he regained some of his strength, he peered over the edge. No guards were in sight. Carl hauled himself over the lip of the cliff. He left the rope secured to the tree so that he and Vanessa could rappel down it if they were able to escape, but he covered it with dirt and leaves so a guard would not see it.
Carl had taken two silenced nine-millimeter Glock automatics, ammunition, and a combat knife from the men he’d killed at Ami’s house. The knife was already in a sheath he’d strapped on before the climb. He took the pistols from the duffel bag before concealing the duffel in the underbrush a few yards from the tree.
Carl thought about the task that was facing him. He had to get past the guards and Wingate’s surveillance equipment, break into the mansion, and find Vanessa without getting killed or captured. Then he had to escape with her, which meant that Vanessa would have to rappel to the beach and swim down the coast in choppy seas. The whole thing seemed impossible to pull off.
The next time Vanessa drifted into consciousness a man was standing by the door, watching her, and someone else was sitting beside her bed. It was dark in the room. She closed her eyes. Thinking was such a strain.
A warm hand covered Vanessa’s. She forced her eyes open again. The lights went on and she blinked.
“Thank God you’re safe.”
It took Vanessa a moment to realize that it was her father who had spoken and a moment more for her to remember that she hated him. Anger-triggered adrenaline cleared away most of her drug-induced stupor and she tried to sit up.
The General touched her shoulder. “No, rest, you need your strength.”
“Get your hands off me.”
“Vanessa, I love you. I did what I had to do to protect you.”
“From who, daddy? You’re the only person I’m afraid of.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying. Everything I’ve done has been to help you.”
“Like locking me up in that asylum and keeping me drugged for a year so I couldn’t tell anyone that you ordered Carl to murder Eric Glass?”
She pointed at Sam Cutler, who was watching from the door. “Like having your little spy kidnap me? Tell me daddy, while he was living with me, did Sam give you a blow-by-blow version of how we fucked?”
Vanessa’s words were slurred and lacked force. Even so, the General flinched.
“Carl Rice is an insane killer,” Wingate said. “I have no idea how many people he’s murdered. I had to get you away from him.”
“You have to murder him because he’s the only man alive who can tell the truth about the dirty little secret that can keep you from becoming president.”
Wingate sighed. “He’s delusional, Vanessa. That’s what makes him so convincing. He really believes everything he’s told you. But none of it is true. There was no secret army. I did not arrange for Carl to be drafted, and I never ordered Carl to kill Eric Glass. That was all in Carl’s head, and you believed him because you hate me. But I’ve always loved you, even when you’ve hurt me. Do you have any idea how badly I feel knowing that my daughter believes I’m so evil that I could murder my wife, a woman I loved dearly?”
The General ducked his head, and his voice caught. “I’ve never told you, but there have been nights where I’ve cried myself to sleep because of you, knowing that you…have such a low opinion of me that…”
Wingate shook his head. To Vanessa it appeared that he had been overcome by emotion, and that shocked her. She had never seen her father lose control-not even at her mother’s funeral. It was one of the things that had convinced her that Morris Wingate did not love his wife. Was the General’s display of emotion genuine or manufactured? Everything she believed about her father convinced her that he was faking.
“Are you hungry?” Wingate asked. “I’ll have dinner sent up.” He smiled in an attempt to lighten the conversation. “I have a new chef. He’s French. I stole him away from a four-star restaurant in Los Angeles.”
“It looks like kidnapping is becoming your new hobby.”
“Yes, well you’ve got a few interesting hobbies of your own,” he answered wearily. “You’ve put me in a terrible situation, Vanessa. You’re a wanted criminal. You helped Carl Rice, a multiple murderer, escape from jail. I’m your father and I love you and want to protect you, but I’m also running for my party’s presidential nomination, not to mention the trouble I could get into for harboring a fugitive. What should I do?”
“Your political ambitions are no concern of mine,” Vanessa said.
“I know you don’t believe me, but Rice is a very dangerous man. I had to get you away from him.”
“So, are you going to turn me in?”
“No one knows you’re here, and I’m going to keep it that way. I have plenty of connections worldwide from my government days and Computex. It would be an easy matter for me to get you a new identity, even a new face. You could start over in another country. You’d be safe and I’d make sure you had plenty of money.”
“So that’s it. You want me tucked away in some backwater where I can’t rock the boat.”
“I do not want you in jail because your delusions led you to help a murderer.”
“What do you have planned for Carl?”
“Carl is a problem for the police. They may never catch him. He’s very resourceful. He’s managed to elude capture for years. Maybe his luck will hold out. Did he tell you where he was going, what his plans are?”
“We didn’t know where we were going. We were going to hole up at the cabin where Sam found us and figure out our next move in the morning, after we’d gotten some rest.”
“So you have no idea where he might be?”
“No.”