My King The President (15 page)

“Yes. So was Dr. Zinman.”

“She told me she was a nurse.”

Barnes laughed. “Basic psychology. People coming out of shock react better to nurses than doctors. Mavis was trained at John Hopkins. She’s been on our team for three years.” His face grew serious. “Now, about what happened, there’s the good news and the bad news.”

“I want to know about my father. Where is he?”

“We think he’s safe, or at least, we don’t know he isn’t. We didn’t find him. That’s the good news. The bad news, I’m sorry to say, is that one of your friends didn’t make it.”

“He’s at a hospital in Knoxville, Tennessee. Took a bullet in the left upper thigh. He might walk with a limp for a few months, but he’s going to be fine.”

“And you didn’t see my father at all?”

“No. We found the cave he had rigged, but no sign of him anywhere. We’re still looking.”

I breathed a little easier. Cal Willard knew those woods as well as the Indians who had first lived there. They hadn’t found his body, so he must have gotten away somehow. “The cabin’s gone isn’t it?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“What the hell happened?”

“We are still trying to put it together. Mr. Tyson told us you had wired everything up for one man. No way you could have stopped a small army.”

“A small
what
?”

“There were at least six men. Maybe more. A squad of expert paramilitary types.”

“You’re saying they were—like a private military force? Do you think Hemiola has his own commando team?”

“Frye doesn’t think it was him. We don’t know who they were, except that they were heavily armed, and knew what they were doing. We think maybe a couple of them were hit, too. Your friend Suggs obviously put up quite a fight, but they took their casualties with them. Our forensic people are still there checking blood samples. So is the boss, but he should be back—”

“Look who’s here.” Dr. Mavis Zinman led a very pale Liz into the kitchen. “And says she could eat two horses.”

Liz had several scratches on her face and neck, but looked to be pretty much together otherwise. Mavis had probably helped her with the fresh makeup she had on. The blue robe Liz was wearing, identical to mine and cinched tightly at the waist, didn’t detract one iota from the rest of her either. She gave me a weak smile. I got up, hugged her, and whispered, “We made it, Liz. We’re okay.”

“I feel like I’ve been pushed through a garbage disposal. Everything hurts, but Mavis says I don’t have anything broken.”

I hugged her tighter, and released her slowly. “Try to eat something. The food in this resort is wonderful, and the price is right, too.”

Liz didn’t need to be told twice. She ate eggs, bacon, and toast as fast as Mavis could cook it. Finally, she pushed herself away from the table with a very loud, most unladylike belch, and said. “I think I’m gonna live, cholesterol or not. Thanks, that was terrific. What time is it anyway? I mean, what day is it?”

Barnes gently told her a somewhat abridged version of what he’d told me. Liz never stopped him. A few tears appeared on her cheeks when he mentioned Pete’s death, and finally, I asked, “Look, you guys, do you mind if Liz and I take a little walk outside? I promise we’ll just walk around the house a couple times. We couldn’t get very far with no shoes and no clothes anyway, could we?”

Barnes and Mavis Zinman exchanged glances. Barnes looked at me and smiled. “No. That’ll be fine, but wait till I put the dogs up.”

I watched through the glass pane of the back door while he walked outside and reached into his pocket for some kind of whistle, which he blew into. I couldn’t hear it, but three huge Dobermans came tearing around the corner of the house, and froze two feet away from him. Barnes walked to a small outbuilding I thought was a storage shed, unlocked it, and blew the whistle again. The dogs trooped inside like chastised children. Barnes closed and locked the door. He saw me standing at the back door and yelled, “Okay, it’s safe now.”

I took Liz by the hand and walked out, down the steps to the freshly mowed yard. As soon as we were twenty feet away from the back door, I put my arm around her waist, and led her around the left corner of the house. I had no doubt Barnes and Mavis would be watching us, but I thought if we were far enough away from the main building, they wouldn’t be able to hear what we talked about. We circled the large, slag-stone house. For the first ten minutes or so, I didn’t say anything. Neither did Liz. The November air was quite cool on my bare legs, and the ground felt hard under my feet.

On the second time around, I spoke softly, “Liz, don’t look at me, just look straight ahead while we walk. I’ve noticed several things. First, this house-prison was well chosen. No telling how far we are from another one, or any town. Could be in any direction, too. There’s no telephone wire to the house either. If there are phones inside, they must be hooked up to underground cable. I think we must be somewhere north of Washington. This old house has a basement. I also noticed a pole behind that shed where the dogs are. There’s a satellite dish on top of it, but there’s a separate antenna, too. Have you noticed any TV sets?”

She shook her head. “There isn’t one in my room, and I didn’t see one in the kitchen.”

“Right. I think that shed serves more purposes than a doghouse. Anyway, there’s also a small airport—or at least a private airstrip—south of here about five, maybe ten miles away. All the time we were eating, through the kitchen window I could see a small plane come up, circle, and go down. Obviously some pilot practicing his touch and goes. There are some woods between, but I can’t tell how deep they are. In any case, we’ve got to get away from here, and that airstrip is our ticket.”

Liz stopped. Looked up at me so earnestly I could have cried. “Jeb, I’d follow you into hell itself. I already have, but how are we going to get away from Barnes and his dogs and that disgusting nurse?”

“Disgusting? Why do you say that?”

“I woke up with her washing me. And I mean all over, Jeb, and taking her time doing it.”

“So. Dr. Zinman likes girls as much as boys.” I told Liz how she had awakened me similarly. A budding idea was also forming in my mind. “Liz, I think I know a way for us to get out of here. We may get separated, or not allowed to talk to each other, but no matter what happens, when we are together, play along with me, okay? Even if it seems really weird. Crazy.”

“No, Jeb. We don’t know where he is. I know one thing, though, he isn’t anywhere within twenty miles of where that cabin was.” For the first time since I had met Thurmond Frye at Juarez, I thought I saw a speck of compassion in his gray eyes when he added, “I’m sorry, Jeb, but I have a gut feeling that those mercenaries may have taken him with them.”

Until Frye said that, I hadn’t thought things could get much worse.

I was wrong again. They just had.

Chapter 14

Dinner that night was a somber affair. Except to eat, Liz never opened her mouth during the entire meal which was prepared this time by Jason Barnes, from supplies and groceries Frye had brought. Mavis was also silent, and Barnes didn’t say anything more than “Would you like more of this or that?” Thurmond Frye did almost all the talking; going over in detail what Barnes had told us earlier. “Tracks we found indicated nine men. They must have been wearing night vision goggles. We also found brass and shell casings for M16’s, M60’s, and at least one S.A.W.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Shoulder fired anti-tank weapon. Probably laser guided. That’s what took out the vehicles and most of the cabin. We found grenade fragments and evidence of C4 plastique as well. They were effectively armed. No question about it.”

Barnes did his thing with the Dobermans again, and Frye and I sat down on the bare front porch steps. Frye had not brought any clothes for either Liz or me, and I soon realized the warm southwest wind had long gone into hibernation for the season. Its northwest cousin had taken up the baton and was already proving it meant business during a winter, which was already in the wings, waiting for its cue. I was soon shivering, but Frye didn’t notice.

“We’re hoping to keep the raid out of the press, Jeb. Calling it an accidental butane explosion and fire. I hope I’m wrong about your father, but you only have yourself to blame. Damn it, man, I warned you to stay out of my business.”

“You’re going to lance the boil, I take it.”

“By keeping you here for a while. The girl, too. It’s for your own good. I’ve got a lot of work to do, which now includes the added complication of trying to find out who wants you so dead.”

New frustration welled up inside me. “It’s the diaries, Thurmond. I
know
who wants me dead.”

Frustration was speedily morphing into fresh anger.
I was right. Dr. Mavis and her needles!
“Judge Koontz is the man behind all this. You know it and I know it. Why the hell aren’t you going after him? Another thing. How did you know just when to bring that helicopter over the cabin?”

Frye continued to stare into his coffee mug. Finally,
finally
, something began to ooze like oil into the pile of sawdust that was my brain. “Wait a minute. Wait just-a-fucking-minute! You
knew
those paramilitary guys were coming, didn’t you? You were using me. Using all of us as live bait! Nobody knew I’d taken Liz to Chapel Hill, and only Cal knew I was going to pick her up. How—?”

“Your father’s car, Jeb. We’ve had a pretty sophisticated homing device in it since day one. I’ve known your movements since you left the Mayflower garage. Now, please hear what I’m saying for once. I sympathize with you, whether you believe it or not. I know what it’s like to lose people. Damn it, I lost a good man down there, too.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. Give us a little credit, old friend. We had an agent on the ground next to your father’s property. He warned us, but about five minutes too late. It was his flares you saw. He’d hoped to blind the raiders with them, but all we accomplished was to spot your raft in the river. Listen, Jeb, I’m only going to say this once. I’ve got a team working hard with Captain Kemp on the Hemiola thing, but I’m personally working on something far beyond McCarty’s insane act. Have been for some time. Something I wouldn’t tell you about even if I could, involving national security. Sure, I used you. I’ve got a leak in our shop, and I’m pretty close now to finding out who it is, thanks to you, but I can’t afford to have you running all over the country any more messing things up. Don’t even think about asking me about Koontz, or anything else. Just enjoy your vacation here for a while, and don’t try anything stupid. We’ll find your dad, too, trust me.”

Trust you? If you had to pee, I wouldn’t trust you to find your own pecker.
“Okay, you’ve made your point. I’ll behave, but we would like some clothes to wear. And shoes.”

Frye sighed. Stood. “I’ll see what I can do. I have to leave now. I’ll try to be back tomorrow. You and Liz will be safe here. Be just a bit patient with us.”

“I’ll try. Mind if I stay out here a while longer?”

He nodded, then went inside. A few minutes later he reappeared, carrying the briefcase he’d arrived with, scowled at me one last time, and got in his car and drove down the two-rut lane. I watched his taillights until they were out of sight, and took a deep breath. With no legal pad or pencil, I had to formulate my rip sheet in my head, which, thanks to the chilly northwesterly, was clear as the night sky, and just as full of the unknown.

But I was not the only one. There were still a few things Thurmond Frye didn’t know. One, he didn’t know I had gone to Florida. He knew Cal and I had taken the Chevy to the hospital at Bethesda, all right, but he didn’t know I took Walt’s car to see Sergeant Mackenzie’s wife at Reilly’s place. He might not know about Betty at all. Also, if there was a mole high up in the FBI leaking information to Koontz, the Judge would have also known I wasn’t dead, also knew as much as Frye did about my moves, and had plenty of time to set his traps.

More problems:

One: If Hemiola didn’t kill Jean Tyndall (There was no “calling card” or signature) who did? Who else does Koontz’s dirty work? Does he also have control over some far right paramilitary group?

Two: Is Frye lying? Setting me up for some in-house killers? I mean, Barnes and Mavis could wax us and who would ever know?

Three: Did Cancelossi lie to me after all? Is he the man at the end of Koontz’s long arm?

My stomach began to knot up again. I was no closer to knowing anything for certain than I was before. Plus, the expert attack on the cabin had shifted my priorities, big time. The conspiracy or conspiracies didn’t concern me so much any more.