The 22nd Secret Page 17

  “You ready, Pam?”

  Pam noticed the concern in Henry’s voice. It was the only time she could remember he didn’t call her Patty.

  “No, not really. Do I have a choice?”

  “You okay? You sure you want to go ahead with this? I can turn around and try and out run them.”

  Pam wanted to ask Henry to turn around and take her back to Jim. But she knew what she had to do was more important than her personal desires. It was more important than her or Henry’s life, more important than anything any human had done this century. She forced herself to focus on the job ahead and nothing else.

  “Let’s go,” she said as she opened the door. Henry checked his watch. It was 12:35. He signaled Tom and opened his door. He quickly caught up to Patty as they walked through the deep snow toward the waiting Chinese.

  “Patty.” It was Ben’s voice coming from the man running in slow motion through the knee-deep snow toward them.

  “Ben,” Patty said, struggling to run to Ben’s open arms through the deep snow. Patty had to stay focused. She was Ben’s fiancée.

  They met and Ben lifted Patty off the ground in his arms. They embraced and passionately kissed each other.

  “Oh, thank God you’re all right,” said Ben. “I was so worried.” He set Patty down and continued to hold her. Patty cried from the relief of being back in Ben’s protective arms, but it was all too much. The horror of it all struck her. She cried at the thought of finding and losing Jim all within a day and a half, and the fact she had reached the point of no return. She knew she was going to China and would probably never leave, at least not alive.

  “Come on, Patty. We’ve got a plane to catch in Anchorage. We’ve got to hurry.” Ben held Patty around the shoulder as they ran toward the cat. They struggled to stay balanced as they lifted their legs high above the deep snow with each step. The driver had gotten in and started the cat when he saw them running toward it. He accelerated as soon as they were safely inside. Patty looked out the window at Henry facing the two remaining Chinese. She turned her head away.

  “You look worried,” said Ben. “Is everything okay?”

  “The last few days have been horrible. Ben, you don’t know what I’ve been through.”

  She laid her head on his shoulder and he put his arm around her and held her close. “I’ll be okay. At least I’m with you now."

  “I know what you need,” Ben said giving Patty a squeeze. “You’ll feel better tonight.”

  She knew he was talking about sex. The thought repulsed her.

  Henry stood motionlessly ten yards away from the two Chinese men as Ben and Patty’s cat disappeared into the forest. He waited with his hands in the big pockets of his parka for the slightest movement. They waited for him to turn and walk back to his cat. The standoff ended when one of the Chinese men gave in. As he reached into his coat, Henry pulled his hands out of his pockets and raised his nine-millimeter in his right hand. He steadied it with his left and pulled the trigger, hitting the man in the middle of his forehead. At almost the same instant, the other Chinese man had pulled his pistol out from under his coat and leveled it at Henry’s chest. Henry turned, aimed, and got off another shot directly at the center of the other man’s forehead at the same instant the Chinese had got his shot off. All three men fell backwards from the force of the bullets simultaneously. The entire sequence took no more than a second. Henry held on to consciousness long enough to pray for Pam’s success. He died as the snow fell on his motionless open eyes.

  Bill brought the cat to a stop just before crossing a short bridge over a deep ravine.

  “What’s wrong?” Tom asked.

  “I’m going to check this bridge before we cross it.” Bill said as he got out of the cat. Tom got out after him and followed him to the edge of the ravine. “Damn look at that,” he said over the sound of the idling cat.

  “What?” Tom asked.

  “There.” Bill pointed to the base of the bridge and looked at a bare slope on the other side of the ravine. “Snow slide came down that slope and piled up a bunch of snow and debris against the base of this bridge. See?” Bill pointed to the middle wooden bridge support. Tom only saw it after Bill pointed it out.

  “Knocked that middle trestle off its base. Damn, Mitchell’s going to be pissed.” Bill headed back to the cat with Tom trailing right behind. Bill looked at his watch when he got back into the cat. “Well, I’m not going to be able to get you to Mitchell’s by 1:00 that’s for sure. I can’t risk taking the cat over that bridge. Might bring the whole thing down. Mitchell’s going to be real mad. He told those Department of the Interior jerks if they let them log that slope someday a slide would come down here and take out this bridge. It’s an old narrow gauge railroad bridge, decked over for use by vehicles. Said he’d sue the lodging company too and I bet he will.”

  “What now, Sheriff?” Tom asked.

  “We could snowshoe the last ten miles. The bridge would probably hold up the weight of a man, but I’m assuming you three don’t have any experience with snowshoes. Even if you did, that would take say at least four hours and in four hours I can double back an hour or so and take a different road to Mitchell’s. Not used much, but it doesn’t have any bridges. Either way you’re looking at getting there, say 4:00.”

  “Okay, if that’s our only option lets get moving.” Tom said.

  “Right, I’ll radio Jim to tell him about the delay. He is going to be pissed about this bridge.” Bill began backing the cat down the road to a place he could turn around.

  Tom thought Mitchell’s misfortune was a very fortunate bit of luck for him. He was worried how he could delay the inevitable confrontation with Mitchell until Ben and Patty’s plane departed at about 6:00. This was very fortunate. Timing was everything and he had just been given the four precious hours he needed to make everything fit. He checked his watch occasionally, knowing Bill would expect concern about the delay. At 12:35 he received Henry’s signal. Patty was in the hands of the Chinese. He hoped his friend Hank had made it out of there.

  Ben and Patty arrived back at the waiting Suburban at 4:30. They were driven to the hotel, where they changed into business attire and proceeded to the airport to board their flight with Chinese diplomatic passports. As they sat in their first-class seats, they didn’t notice the passenger with an American diplomatic passport sitting in the crowded first-class section. Robert Chan was a young economist assigned to the American Embassy in Beijing. He was also Henry Lo’s son and number eight of the small group. As the Korean Jet climbed to cruising altitude over international waters, he looked at his watch. He signaled Tom at 6:20. The Chinese had successfully gotten Patty and her computer disks out of the United States moments ahead of Tom’s orders to check all outgoing flights and the Coast Guard’s boarding of the Chinese research vessel as it steamed away from Alaska into international waters.

  The storm had made the alternative route to Mitchell’s unexpectedly difficult. Bill radioed ahead to Mitchell as he approached the lodge at 4:15 to get his coat and gloves and wait out front for them so they would not waste any more time. Walker climbed into the backseat and sat between Niemer and Gonzo when Jim got in.

  “Which way?” Bill asked as he gunned the engine heading to the west, toward the crash site.

  “Due west. The other side of Columbine meadows,” Jim answered.

  “That’s Walker, and Mark Niemer and Bill Gonzo with the FAA.” Bill said gesturing toward the three men in the back seat.

  “Tom Walker.” Tom extended his hand and shook Mitchell’s. “How far are we away from the crash?” The weather had cleared and as the men drove toward the west they could see the setting sun fill the western sky with an orange glow.

  “At this speed a half hour, maybe a little longer,” Jim said. “We’ll have to walk the last hundred yards or so. The trees are too thick for this cat.” They passed without detecting the two white figures hidden in the snow and trees just west of the Lodge.

 
“Crow to Stray Dog. Over,” one of the twelve sentries that guarded the team’s camp whispered into his radio.

  “Stray Dog. Over.” Carnes answered. “Guests coming in. Over.”

  “Copy that. Over and out.”

  “Where did you first see the plane?” Walker asked.

  “About here. It flew over real low. Then I think maybe the engine cut out, I’m not sure, but they couldn’t clear the trees on the top of that ridge.” Jim pointed ahead to the trees backlit by the setting sun. Jim retold most of his story by the time they reached Carnes’s base camp of four vehicles, where the meadow ended and the tree-lined ridge that brought down the small plane began.

  Carnes greeted the men and they exchanged handshakes. He and Bill acknowledged their acquaintance before Carnes said “this way,” and led them up the hill through the trees along a well-trodden path through the snow. At the top of the hill, they saw the path cut through the trees by the plane now softened from the way Mitchell had remembered it by several feet of snow. At the base of the hill in the small clearing were three Army mess tents set up in a row lengthwise over the crash site.

  “If you want, now that the snow has stopped, my men can dig out this debris field through the trees. The middle tent is over the actual plane, or at least what’s left of it. The tent closest to us doesn’t really have much, just pieces of the plane. The furthest one has the second body.” The party followed Carnes down the hill.

  “That second body, is it a male or female?” Walker asked.

  “Male,” Carnes said as the group stopped at the bottom of the hill by the first tent.

  “Are you positive about that, Captain?” Tom asked.

  “Well, it was either a male or a female with a dick because that’s about all you can identify.

  “I’ll take this tent,” Niemer said. “You take the far tent and then we’ll both work the plane itself.” The FAA men went to work as Walker, Mitchell, the sheriff and Carnes entered the middle tent.

  It was an eerie site. The plane and the area around it had been dug out of the snow, requiring the men to step down to the level of the snow that had been there when the plane went down. Dim generator-powered lights in all four corners lit the entire tent. Bill and Jim stood by the door of the tent as Carnes showed Tom around the site. Jim was grateful he would not be asked to look at the pilot again. Tom seemed to be especially interested in the luggage and luggage compartment of the plane, and talked at length with Carnes about what was uncovered. Jim wanted to know what they were saying, but couldn’t hear above the constant hum of the generator.

  After what seemed to Jim an unusually long conversation, Tom walked over to Jim.

  “This the way you remember everything.”

  “Yes, I guess so,” Jim said. “I mean, I didn’t take notes.”

  “You saw nothing of the third passenger, a young woman, blond stunningly beautiful?”

  Jim wondered how Tom knew so much about Paula. He hoped his nerves wouldn’t betray him.

  “No, I told you. There were footprints leading away from the crash toward the west. Tom did not tell Jim that, even though Carnes’s team were not forensic scientists, they had managed to uncover a number of footprints – both male and female – and snowmobile tracks near a rock at the far corner of the tent closest to the trees. He also didn’t tell Jim or Bill that he had asked for Carnes to provide a couple of his best men to follow them back to the lodge.

  “Strange. Just doesn’t make sense. Why would she just walk off to nowhere?” Tom asked rhetorically. “Well, I guess that’s all I can do here. Let the FAA guys figure out what happened. You mind if the FAA men and I stay at your lodge. The Army will give us transportation back and forth, so you can get back to Bear Breath, Sheriff. Be only for a couple of days.”

  “No problem,” Jim said. “Glad to have you.” Jim swallowed hard. It was clear Tom knew Paula, which could spell trouble.

  “Good, I’m cold and hungry. Let’s get back to the lodge.” Tom led the men out of the tent.

  The conversation during the drive back to the lodge was pleasant. Jim recounted the history of the lodge and his anger over the bridge damage. Bill noticed they were being followed by one of the Army cats. They disembarked quickly when they got to the lodge, stretching their legs and breathing the fresh air.

  “I want to make sure those Army boys know to bring the FAA men back here when they’re ready,” Tom said. “Go on in. I’ll be right there.”

  Jim and Bill went into the lodge and removed their parkas and gloves. Bill sat in one of the leather chairs by the fireplace while Jim threw some logs on the fire. Tom came in leaving the door open behind him. He quickly walked up to Jim where he stood in front of the fire, grabbed him by the shirt collar, pulled him close to his face and drew his .45. He shoved it hard up to Jim’s throat beneath his chin. The force of Tom pulling on Jim’s shirt and the pistol under his chin made Jim stand on his toes.

  “Where’s the girl?” Before Jim could answer, Tom pointed the gun down at Jim’s foot and squeezed off a round that hit the floor one inch away from Jim’s foot. The shot had not stopped echoing when Bill jumped up out of his chair and ran toward them.

  “Jesus Christ, Walker. You just can’t–” he froze when he heard the two soldiers standing just inside the open door raise their automatic weapons.

  “Kill him if he moves,” Tom gestured toward Bill. Tom shoved his gun just behind Jim’s chin again.

  “Where’s the fucking girl?” Tom lowered the gun a second time and squeezed off another round, hitting the floor between Jim’s feet. This time when he brought the gun up, he pointed it directly at Bill’s chest.

  “Those soldiers won’t, but I will. Tell me where the girl is now or I kill the sheriff.”

  “Tell him, Jim. Christ, even I know you’re lying. She’s a goddamn scientist defecting to the Chinese. If you know where she is, for God’s sake tell him.”

  Tom fired another round that streaked by Bill’s head, exploding the window behind him.

  The soldiers didn’t flinch. Bill looked at Tom with horror.

  “Last Chance, dammit,” said Jim. “She’s at Last Chance.” Tom released his grip on Jim’s shirt and turned toward the door.

  “You know where that is, sheriff?”

  “Yeah sure.”

  “Take me there. I’ll need to use your radio.” Tom looked at his watch. It was 6:45 and the jewels at seven and eight were activated.

  “I need to alert the airports and the Coast Guard. Shit, I hope I’m not too late.”

  Jim overheard Tom talking to the soldiers as he and Bill headed for the door.

  “Don’t let him move,” he said. He turned to Bill. “Sorry about that, Sheriff. I told you I might need your help to get him to talk.”

  One of the soldiers closed the door behind them. Jim slumped into the leather chair he had slept in the first night alone with Paula and wondered what the hell was happening.

  Two days later, Jim was sitting at the conference table in Bill’s office along with his attorney. Bill was also in the room, even though Jim had the right to meet with his attorneys in private. He was scared and wanted his best friend and confidant present. He had been charged with conspiracy to commit treason and had spent the last two days in Bill’s jail. Bill had radioed his office when he was bringing Jim in and arranged for Jim’s attorney, Scott Barrow, to meet Jim when he arrived and was booked. Scott was not a criminal lawyer, and mostly handled business matters for Jim. The three men sat waiting for an attorney sent by the United States Attorney General’s Office.

  After two hours, David Hensel entered the room dressed in a charcoal business suit and carrying a briefcase. The favors he earned for handling matters like this gratis for the Justice Department had made him a very powerful and wealthy Beltway attorney. He sat down and reached across the table to shake Jim’s hand.

  “My name’s David Hensel. Are you Jim Mitchell?”

  “Yes.” Jim shook his hand.

&nbs
p; “And you’re Scott Barrow,” David said as he shook Scott’s hand. “And of course you’re Sheriff Keller. I’ve been assigned by the U.S. Attorney General’s office to help with your defense, Jim. That is, if that’s all right with you, Mr. Barrow.”

  “I’m not a criminal lawyer, let alone an expert on constitutional law. I think my friend Jim needs all the help he can get.”

  “Off the record,” David began. “The government has no desire to pursue your prosecution. I think we can take care of this matter right here today to everyone’s satisfaction.”

  “Go on,” Scott said. “We certainly are interested in resolving this.”

  David opened his briefcase and pulled out two legal documents, each attached to a blue backing. He handed one to Jim and the other to Scott.

  “Before I can do anything, Jim, you have to agree to let me represent you. This is an agreement for me to represent you at no charge. I’ve already signed it.”

  Jim stared at the document lying on the table in front of him while Scott read the one handed to him. “And if he decides to terminate your services?” Scott asked.

  “This is an agreement to terminate my services. I’ve already signed it also. Trust me, Jim. You won’t need it.” Hensel reached into the briefcase and produced two more documents.

  Jim looked awestruck at Scott. It was clear he was in over his head.

  “Jim, if he can get you out of this mess, I say let’s let him,” Scott said as David handed Jim a pen.

  David returned the signed copy of the agreement for services to his briefcase and pulled out three copies of a much larger document. He handed one to Jim and one to Scott. He placed the other on the table in front of him.

  “As your council, I’m going to recommend you sign this plea bargain I have negotiated for you. As you’ll note, Mr. Barrow, it’s already been signed by Judge James Anderson and myself.”

  Scott knew Judge Anderson. He was a federal judge in Anchorage who was to retire at the end of the year.