Another pause, and his frown deepened. “I don’t know what it means, Mama. I just know that half of these guys are spooked. They’ve heard some of the stories about the pouch and they don’t like it. I say that we—”
He looked up at me as he stopped. “Yes, Mama. I understand.” With a jerk of his head, he backed away from my door and disappeared down the hallway. He spoke to his two lieutenants as they moved away. “She thinks the kid is still inside. She wants the entire castle searched again.” Their voices quickly faded as they moved away. “I don’t care what you think, Raul,” he snapped. “Post a man at every exit. Then we start room by room.”
I heard the cell-block door open and shut, and immediately their voices were cut off. Finally, I dared to breathe again. My legs were so weak, I had to quickly sit down on the cot. “We did it, Rick. We did it.”
“Danni, we have a problem.”
“Only one?”
“Did you see those night-vision goggles?”
“Yes.”
“They work off of infrared light, or what they call a heat signature.”
“So?”
“So, it doesn’t matter if Cody’s invisible or not. They can see him.”
“Great,” Cody cut in. “That’s just great. Danni, I’m coming to you guys now. I’m scared.”
“You can’t yet,” Rick shouted. “The three of them are coming down the hall now. Wait until they go up the stairs. Then get here as fast as you can.”
“Yes,” I cried. “But be careful.”
“Okay. I’ll wait a minute,” Cody said.
“So what do we do now, Rick?” I said. “I mean once Code gets here. There’s no way we’re going to find Mom and Dad with the whole castle buzzing with guards.”
“I think that’s easy. We get out of here and find Clay, then we come back for your folks.”
“And just how do we do that?” I asked.
Rick answered. “Dad has a favorite saying that I think may apply here. It comes from Will Rogers, a famous comedian from the early twentieth century.”
“Go on,” I said slowly, baffled by this sudden, totally irrelevant piece of information.
“This was early in World War I when the German submarines, the U-boats as they called them, were sinking huge numbers of American ships. It was a topic on everyone’s mind. So one night, Rogers told his audience that he had the perfect solution: ‘Just heat up the Atlantic Ocean to the point it gets too hot for anyone to stay in the U-boats.’ Since he appeared to be dead serious, someone raised his hand and asked, ‘And how are we supposed to do that, Mr. Rogers?’”
“Good question,” I noted.
I could almost hear Rick chuckling inside his head. “‘Oh,’ Rogers drawled, ‘I gave you the solution, it’s up to you to work out the details.’”
I openly hooted, which was probably the first time I had laughed in a couple of days. It felt good. “Thanks a lot, buddy. Just the kind of help I was looking for. I guess I’ll—”
“Danni?” It was Cody again.
“Yeah?”
“Just so you know, I’m coming right now. So you and Rick work out the details. I’ll see you in about one minute.”
“No, Cody!” I shouted. “You’ll run right into them. Just a few more minutes, then we’ll bring you in. I promise.”
“Danni’s right, Code,” Rick said. “Hang tight for a few more minutes. We’ll let you know.”
“You’d better,” he said.
PART NINE
Walking with the Dead
CHAPTER 34
I sat for several minutes in complete turmoil. What did we do now? What about Mom and Dad? Did we really just leave them and hope for the best? How soon could Clay get here? How did we get Cody to a safe place? The questions just kept rolling in. If ever there was a time I needed help, especially a clear mind and a certain vision, it was now.
I went back over to the cot, removed Le Gardien from beneath the mattress, sat down, and smoothed it out on my lap. I can’t begin to express how much comfort it gave me to have it back in my hands. I lifted it and pressed it to my cheek.
As I did so, I felt something inside. It wasn’t much, something flat. A paper, maybe, but it was something. Puzzled, I set the pouch back on my lap, undid the wooden button, and opened the flap. I was shocked to see that inside there was a single sheet of paper, folded in half. Wondering if Grandpère had left me another note back at the hotel in Caen, I took it out and unfolded it. As my eyes fell on the ornate letterhead, I suddenly went very still.
Schloss von Dietz, Bern, Switzerland
Dear Danni,
If you are reading this now, then all things went as planned and you have Le Gardien in your possession. How very resourceful of you. But based on what I learned from Armando—El Cobra to you—I expected nothing less. At this moment, Niklas and the boys are probably trying to figure out how you did it, but I had complete confidence in you.
I know you will not believe me, but it was never our intent that anyone in Jean-Henri’s family be physically harmed. I deeply regret that events turned out so differently than we had arranged. The death of your grandfather—a stubborn and foolish old man—was as much a blow to me as it was to you.
Hardly!
Now he is beyond my grasp, and justice cannot be fully achieved.
Whether you believe this or not is completely irrelevant to me. But know this. I will have my revenge, even if it must be on his family. Please believe me when I say that it is useless for you to resist. And it will only prolong the pain and anguish your mother is experiencing now.
So, I have an offer for you. It is a way for you to spare them and yourself even greater suffering. If you agree, you have my solemn word that you and your family will be immediately released the moment the terms of our agreement are met.
Right. As if I would believe that.
I’m sure your petty little mind is thinking that we would never let you go because you know too much. You can be at ease on that point. Niklas and I have already made elaborate plans to simply disappear and take on new identities in a new country. Even our physical appearance shall be altered sufficiently that we will not be recognizable. So we fear not what you and your ridiculous FBI, or our own feeble Interpol, can do. Believe me when I say that with what I inherited from my late husband, and with the millions we have obtained from those who did my family such enormous harm, we have more than enough to live out the rest of our lives in great luxury. You will never hear from us or see us again.
Somehow, I felt that she was speaking the truth. With that kind of money you could make just about anything happen. But what did she want? Then another thought came to me. She had to have written this before we were ever brought up to the library to meet with her. Which meant—I gasped—she wanted me to find the pouch. She set the whole thing up and sucked me in like I was a kid looking for candy. That was why she had showed me where she kept the pouch. Why she left the desk unlocked. Why the door was left open. I was like a little bird following a trail of bread crumbs into the trap. And I thought I was being so clever, so unpredictable.
My mind was racing. She may have been mostly in control, but we had done two things that I was pretty sure she and Niklas had not expected. We had taken out her eyes when we had destroyed the CCTVs. And we had turned Cody invisible. There was no mistaking the urgency in her voice when she thought he was escaping into the trees. It was panic mode there for a while.
And ... one more thought gave me great comfort. She also didn’t know I had called Clay Zabriskie. This is not over yet, my dear Lady Gisela. I looked down and continued reading.
In my pursuit for justice, especially from your grandfather, I decided that the ultimate pain I could inflict on him was to leave all of you destitute and without hope. But then, something happened that offered me more than I had hoped for. I learned that Jean-
Henri LaRoche had this remarkable pouch. That it had been in his family for many generations.
At first, I assumed it was just some silly family tradition. Then you came along and foiled everything we had so carefully planned. I kept asking myself, “How could such a silly, immature girl thwart such an intricate and careful plan?” When I learned that it was not you at all but this magic pouch you possessed, I knew I had the perfect way to punish Jean-Henri. I would end those generations of tradition held sacred by the LaRoche and Chevalier families. What exquisite guilt that would bring on his head! The great and wise Jean-Henri LaRoche, the destroyer of two hundred years of sacred trust. As you would so crudely put it, “How sweet is that?”
I stopped, lifting my head to stare at the walls of my prison. But why allow me to get the pouch back, then? Surely she could have told me all this without putting a note in the pouch and setting it up so I would find it. It didn’t make sense. I shook my head and went on.
Here are the terms of our agreement. You will teach me how to draw upon the full potential of the pouch. Note that I am not asking you to provide me an instruction manual. Your journal has already done that. What I need from you is help in coming to understand its remarkable powers and how to control them. When that is completed, you and your family shall be put in your cells while we disappear. Within twenty-four hours, Interpol will be notified of your whereabouts, and you will be freed.
If, however, you refuse, know this. I will utterly destroy your family. Oh, I won’t kill any of you. That would not serve our purposes. But here is just a taste of what you might expect to follow.
1. Your house back in Hanksville has already been prepped. One call from my mobile phone, and your house, your barns, your equipment—everything will burn to the ground. Also know that your insurance on the house was canceled before you left for New York, so you will receive no compensation for your loss. When you return to your pathetic little dust patch there will be nothing but ashes to greet you.
2. We already have access to your bank accounts. They will be stripped of all funds, and those monies, though they be but a pittance, will be transferred to our Swiss bank in Zurich, leaving you not only homeless but penniless.
3. We have prepared credible evidence that your father is guilty of numerous violations of federal mining laws, including the obtaining of claims through fraudulent means. If he’s very fortunate, he will only lose his mining consultant business. More likely, he’ll spend several years behind bars.
4. Your mother will be accused of selling forged paintings. No gallery will ever touch her work again.
5. And as for you, illicit drugs will be found in the ruins of your home. Cierra Pierce will be given evidence that you and Rick have been sleeping together for years and lied to the nation about it. I am sure your little community will be shocked to the roots of their graying hair.
I share this with you so that you know I can and will utterly destroy your family. I will do to them what your grandfather and others did to me and my family. Your life will become such a living hell that you will long for death. You shall be left with nothing, including that most precious of all gifts—hope.
Again, I knew with absolute certainty that this was not a bluff. It fit the pattern that Louis had described. But something was not right. There was more going on here than met the eye, and I wasn’t sure what it was. As I read the next paragraph, I had my answer.
You may be thinking that you will once again, with the aid of the pouch, be able to thwart my purposes, to defeat us in battle. Well, my foolish girl, look closely at what you have in your hands at this moment. Look closely and weep. Then take care. If you continue to resist, I shall crush you like the worthless insect you are.
—Lady Gisela
“No!”
I leaped off the cot, flinging the letter from me. I grabbed the pouch and began to examine it closely. “No,” I said again, this time in a bare whisper. But it was true. My eyes focused on the embroidered words, Le Gardien, and I saw it instantly. When I first got the duplicate pouch Clay had made for us, I noticed that whoever had stitched in the capital G on Gardien hadn’t gotten it exactly right. The difference was so slight that it hadn’t worried me. I knew El Cobra would never have the two pouches side by side to compare them. But I saw the difference now, and the realization of what Gisela had done hit me in the stomach like a fast-moving freight train.
What I held in my hand was not Le Gardien. It was the duplicate pouch. The pouch that some “fool”—or so we thought—had stolen from our home.
I let the pouch drop to the floor. I was sick. Devastated. Defeated. It was over. I knew it, and I knew that she knew I knew it. I picked up the letter and read the last line again, and then I did what she asked of me. I wept. And the tears were hot and bitter.
“Danni!”
My head snapped up and I looked around wildly, momentarily disoriented. It sounded like Cody was right outside my cell. “Um ... where are you?” I asked.
“I’m hiding. Where do you think I am?”
“Are you all right?” I felt terrible. I had totally forgotten he was waiting for us to call him in.
“No. I’m scared, Danni. How come neither of you were answering me?”
“I ... um, Rick? Are you there?”
Nothing.
“I haven’t been able to get him either, Danni. Not for almost ten minutes now. You guys scared the heck out of me. I couldn’t get him and I couldn’t get you and ...”
“Maybe he fell asleep.” It sounded pretty lame, and we both knew it.
“I’m coming, Danni. I’m not waiting any longer.”
I shook my head, trying to shake off the heaviness that gripped me now. “No, Cody ...” Then I thought about him being alone with Doc and Jean-Claude prowling around and I changed my mind. “Yes. Come now. Hurry. And lie low if you see anyone coming.”
“Got it. Thanks. See you in a minute.”
I immediately called again to Rick. “Hey, man. You there?”
No answer.
“Hey, Rick. Wake up, buddy. Cody’s coming in. I need you.”
Total silence.
A wave of fear swept over me. Where was he? Had he fallen asleep, still on jet lag? It hadn’t been that long ago that we were talking with each other. Could they have come and gotten him without me hearing them? I didn’t think so, but I had been concentrating pretty hard on other things.
“Rick! Please. If you can hear me, please answer.”
The silence was complete. Despair came crashing in. Not now. Not after getting him back. He couldn’t be gone.
“Danni, I see the door to your cell block. All clear so far. I’m coming in.”
Suddenly I had this horrible feeling of danger slam into me. My whole body was tingling, and I started to hyperventilate.
“No, Cody. Stay back.”
“Sorry,” he sang out, this time in real audio. “Too late. I’m here. Just coming up on Rick’s cell. I’ll see if he’s checked out on us and—” He gasped. “Danni! His cell door is open. He’s gone. And there’s blood on the floor. A whole lot of blood.”
“What? No!”
A moment later I heard footsteps and the key card appeared just outside my cell door, floating in the air again. At the same time I heard running footsteps coming down the hall outside our block.
“Quick, Cody. Get in that other cell. Hide in a corner. Don’t lock it behind you. Leave the door as it is now.”
I heard the scuffle of his shoes on cement, and the card retreated back into the hall.
A door banged open with a crash. “Stop right there, kid.” It was a man’s voice, but one I didn’t recognize. “I can see you, so don’t move.” The footsteps started moving closer. The key card suddenly dropped to the floor with a soft clatter. I had no idea if Cody was complying with the guy’s command or not because I couldn’t tell where he w
as any longer.
“He can’t see you,” I cried silently to him. “Hide.”
Again I heard the soft sound of shoes on cement. Then there was a loud, sharp click. Two tiny projectiles flashed across my vision, trailing curls of very thin wire. To my astonishment, they stopped dead in midair. Two things happened at the same instant. Cody screamed in agony, and at the same instant he materialized out of midair right in front of my eyes. It was like his body was being hit by lightning strikes. Violent spasms shook his frame. Then his eyes rolled up, his face contorted, his knees slowly buckled, and he started to fall forward, face-first.
“No!” I screamed as I leaped to the door of my cell.
“No!” Gisela cried as she shot into view from where she must have been hiding nearby, both of her arms outstretched. Cody fell into them. She staggered backwards but managed to lower the twitching, jerking body until it was laid out on the floor. The minute Cody was down, she was on her feet and whirled around. “Who Tasered him?” she yelled. “Who shot him?”
Doc ran up to join her, dropping to one knee beside her. “It was Bruno,” he said. “He saw him through the night goggles.”
A man stepped forward into view. It was Barrel Belly from earlier. He had a Taser pistol in one hand and a nightstick in the other. He was also wearing one of the night-goggle helmets Rick and I had seen earlier. “I thought he was getting away,” he wailed, visibly quaking.
“Idiot!” she raged. “I told you. Not the full charge. Not on the younger ones.”
“Cody!” I screamed it out, gripping the bars and shaking them with all my might.
To Run With the Swift Page 45
