The Assassin's Wife

by Roger Weston

  Meg and John arrived in Vancouver BC with the help of some friendly crab fishermen. They had said good-bye to Forgerty and thanked him for his help. He had said that he would notify the Coast Guard of the activities and location of the Sturgeon. Meg was sure that would put an end to the Harding Corporation and now she hoped she could put all this madness behind her. They checked into the Pan-Pacific hotel under aliases. She wasn’t ready to let her guard down completely and really wouldn’t feel safe until she saw Carl’s name slapped all across the newspapers with his head hung in disgrace. In a few days, her wounds would heal and she could begin her new life.

  She and Lomax planned to drive back to Washington State in a day or two to pick up the cash she had put in the storage, but tonight they were going to go have a nice dinner in English Bay, in disguise of course. She wasn’t quite ready to put those away yet either. She decided to send an email to Sikes to let him know that they had found out who was behind Harding and that they had the evidence they needed to put the man behind bars and wouldn’t need his help anymore. When she checked the email account, she found an update from him. He said that he had dug up more information for her. He said that she should contact a man named Michael Dillinger who lived in Hells Canyon, Idaho. He might be able to help her. He was hiding from the same people who were after her. Sikes also mentioned that he had left her a package in Riggins, Idaho, with more details about Mr. Dillinger.

  Meg deleted the email and slammed the laptop shut. “Oh, I’m so glad I won’t have to deal with him anymore. I’m so ready for dinner.”

  CHAPTER 51

  Carl was in his stateroom packing his bags. He was angry over the turn of events, but the ship repairs were nothing that money couldn’t solve within a week. The engineers were already working overtime. Thanks to the RPG that detonated in the wheelhouse, some of the electronic equipment was no longer functioning properly, but a Navy ship was on the way and would tow them to Adak Island for repairs. Having the president for a cousin had major benefits. Despite the best efforts of Meg Coles and her mercenary friends, Carl would still receive the Nobel Peace Prize next year. Nothing could stop that.

  Carl called the captain, who was presently in the wheelhouse even though the ship was adrift. “How close are they?”

  “The radar’s shot, but I’ve got a visual on the helicopter.”

  “Have you cleared the pad?”

  “Yes, we moved Meg’s helicopter with the heavy-lift derrick.”

  “I’m heading out there now. Keep me posted on the repairs. I want the Sturgeon back over the drop site ASAP.”

  “Will do.”

  Carl hung up and smiled. Now it was time to go. Normally, he dreaded visiting the president, but this time was different. He was never one to let a good disaster go to waste, and he figured he could land more government subsidies for Environmental Solutions, including a black fund for beefed-up security precautions and a major grant for research and development. In addition, there were boatloads of stimulus money still floating around, and he planned to get his hands on some because the president would benefit as much as he would from a second ship that would allow Environmental Solutions to double capacity. His final victory would be fast-tracking a handful of leases he’d been working on in Nevada, not far from Yucca Mountain.

  “Thank you, Meg Coles,” he said, as he stepped out of his office and locked the door.

  CHAPTER 52

  The next day, Meg and John packed up and headed back to Idaho. John drove as they passed through Kelowna, BC, the “Palm Springs of Canada”, where they stopped for lunch. They continued down through the Idaho panhandle. Outside of Sandpoint, Idaho, Meg saw her face illuminated on a digital billboard. Her name flashed next to an America’s Most Wanted logo. It said she was armed and dangerous. Below was a phone number in big red numbers.

  Meg could feel the air grow thick around her. Her heart began to race. She stared at the billboard. Her first thought was that they should turn around and head back to Canada. She was afraid that anybody they saw would be able to identify her, but then she remembered that she wore curly gold hair, that her stage make-up had changed the look of her eyes and the shade of her skin, that she wore narrow glasses. Thank God she had decided to wear her disguise.

  Meg looked back and was riveted by the billboard.

  It said the government was offering a $500,000 reward for any information leading to her capture. The government? Neil had said the government would make her disappear. Wasn’t he just saying that to get her to come with him? She remembered that Carl had claimed that he had the backing of the president. But she thought he was just bluffing, and now that he was caught, her problems would be over.

  Meg looked over at Lomax and grabbed his arm. “Where did Sikes say he left the information on the man who lived in Hells Canyon?”

  CHAPTER 53

  Near Lewiston, Idaho

  At a restricted government marksmanship firing range, Marcel opened the trunk of his car and glanced over at Jose, who was dissembling his sniper rifle and placing the parts in his briefcase. Marcel scowled. He didn’t like Jose.

  They had just gotten back from California, where they’d caught up with Tom Sikes on his way to Mexico. Sikes admitted that he’d directed Meg to Hells Canyon in search of Michael Dillinger. Unfortunately, Sikes never did make it to his retirement destination. Marcel made sure of that.

  When Marcel’s secure cell phone rang, he answered it promptly. “Yeah.”

  “I’m coming to Idaho,” Carl said. “I want that woman gone!”

  CHAPTER 54

  Meg and John drove until they got to Riggins, Idaho. They pulled over at a lookout point for The River of No Return. Swirling down below was the most untamed river in America. Once a person got on it, there was only one way out, hundreds of miles away over class five rapids. Under a rock on the other side of the guard rail, Meg found a manila envelope addressed to Dorothy Myers. It was the gift from Sikes. She had remembered where he said he’d hidden it. Sitting at the lookout, she read the file on Michael Dillinger.

  According to Sikes, at one time Dillinger was a brilliant businessman who had contacts all over the world. He was a master of human nature and could quickly size up a person. He knew how to pinpoint what other people wanted, and he would gain their loyalty by showing them how to get it. He had met thousands of people, and he remembered key details about all of them—their desires, their weaknesses, their preferences, and their connections. It was said that he was an icon of exclusive clubs in Washington D.C. and São Paulo, Brazil. He’d also run a super-secret US government agency called RUMAN until a controversy erupted and he was fired.

  He spent most of his time in Sao Paulo. The city was a spy’s paradise—and Michael Dillinger was the grandmaster. His contacts reached into every ethnic group, and it was said that his parties were never forgotten. Guests often raved that the variety of foods at these gatherings exceeded the offerings of any pleasure cruise ship. The cost of these weekly parties averaged $50,000, and RUMAN, who was under contract to recruit for the CIA, had only budgeted or paid for the first $10,000. Dillinger paid for the rest with profits from business deals. He once told a guest that the parties paid for themselves many times over.

  His guests were drawn from all quarters, and with São Paulo being the 19th richest city in the world and home to 30,000 millionaires, Dillinger estimated that more big deals originated at his parties than any other social event in the world.

  His famous parties were often held at his huge estate in São Paulo. Some of the world’s top musicians had performed, but the media was always kept out. Hundreds of people would show up, and Dillinger would try to talk to every single one of them, even if it was only just a few words. He was loved because he was a master of making others feel important. He rarely said a word about himself, but knew many details about every guest—how many children they had, birthdays, business interests, personal interests, weaknesses.

  He employed a staff whose sole functi
on was to maintain communications with his contacts, sending out holiday cards, condolences, congratulations. He did favors for everyone, and many felt indebted to him. When payback time came, if it came, he was rarely turned down. He commanded loyalty from his many friends, and self interest always prevailed against his thousands of contacts. He was called one of the most powerful people in the world.

  Meg was amazed that a person with so much power and who lived for money and social events now felt that he had to hide out in the remote wilderness of Idaho. Who were these people that he was running from? Didn’t Sikes say that he was hiding from the same people that were after her? In Sikes’ envelope, she also found a map of Hells Canyon and a circle around Dillinger’s location. His property was eighty miles into the wilderness by river. The land was mountainous and rugged. There was nothing up there. Meg wondered if Sikes had run out of leads and was sending her off into the unknown to get lost. She hoped not.

  CHAPTER 55

  Marcel pulled the Fleetwood American Revolution RV over on the side of a country road outside of Lewiston, Idaho. It was a quiet rural road and he hadn’t passed any other cars. He was in the middle of the national forest, and he took in the woods all around him. The wilds of Idaho were vast and unspoiled. Some day, he would come back when he had time. For now, he didn’t have time to enjoy and appreciate the natural world, so he would become a part of it. He would be a part of the age-old pattern of survival of the fittest. He would terminate Meg Coles in the same way that a wolf took down a deer.

  He spread a map out on the table of the RV. He checked his watch when he heard a distant hum. In less than a minute, two police cars swung into view half a mile down with their lights flashing. The cars blocked the way, creating a road block. Half a mile down in the opposite direction, two other cop cars pulled over on the shoulder of the road. After three black Suburbans with tinted windows sped past the second pair, the two cop cars eased onto the road behind them, again blocking the way. Marcel’s blood rushed. Even though he knew what was going on, he feared a double-cross.

  The three Suburbans screeched to a halt. Four secret service agents spilled out of the lead vehicle.

  They entered the RV and one of them said, “Stand up and put your hands on the table.”

  Marcel obeyed as they searched him. “My tools are stored in the hold,” he said, referring to his weapons. “Keys are in the ignition.”

  “Alright, you’re clear,” the man said, nodding at another agent who looked exhausted. Marcel peered out the window and saw a man standing by the RV’s hold, and Marcel realized he was inspecting his tools. Two other agents also stood by the RV.

  A man in reflector sunglasses walked over to one of the black Suburbans and opened a door. The president of the United States stepped out and walked over to the RV and entered. Carl followed.

  Marcel stood up as the door to the RV opened. He had never seen the President up close up before. She was an attractive woman with brown hair, but looked much older in person.

  “You understand how desperate this threat is,” the president said. She sat down at the RV table. Carl sat across from her. Marcel remained standing.

  “Yes,” Marcel responded.

  “I need the Cole’s case closed immediately. I will triple your fee if you put an end to Meg before the week is over. If you succeed, you and Jose will split $3 million cash. In addition, Carl here is willing to give you a bonus of fifty thousand shares in Environmental Solutions if you get this job done.”

  “This is your golden opportunity,” the president said to Marcel. “Meg Coles must not get out of Hells Canyon alive. I want her body.”

  Marcel looked over at Carl, then at the President, “Don’t worry about it. She’s trapped. She won’t get out of that canyon alive. I have several boat crews gearing up now. Let me show you.”

  Marcel pointed to the map on the table. “There are few roads into the canyon. This is the old Circle C ranch on the Idaho side at Pittsburg Landing. It’s accessed by a single lane gravel road that comes in from White Bird. Most of the river traffic launches from here. My men are on their way there now.” Marcel began pointing to spots on the map where he’d drawn circles with his pen. “A private road leads into Hitchcock Ranch. Three miles of public road comes into the canyon out of Oregon at Duck Bar here. I’ll have a team working the stretch. Over here there’s a permit station at Cache Creek with a rarely-used private road. I’ve had the station evacuated by helicopter so there’s no interference. Meg Coles will have to use one of these exits. Regardless of which she chooses, death will be waiting. It’s just a matter of time.”

  “I don’t have time, damn it.” The president pointed a manicured finger at him. “I need her dead now.”

  Marcel looked at Carl, then the president, “We’ll nail her. I’ll have several jet boats combing the river by morning, and if they don’t get her I have helicopters ready to search and destroy. A ferret couldn’t weasel its way out of Hells Canyon.”

  CHAPTER 56

  At Hell’s Gate State Park, Meg hired Bob Wagner, one of a small group of river boat guides. He had long brown hair and wore black sunglasses. He wore no shirt and no shoes. She and Lomax found him sunning on the dock beside his boat reading Shakespeare’s King Lear.

  “You the mail boat driver?” Meg said. Sikes had recommended him.

  Wagner looked up at her, frowning as if disappointed at the interruption.

  “I want to hire you to take us upriver.”

  Wagner nodded. “Come back in an hour. If I get some more people, we’ll go.”

  “Now,” Meg said. “I’ll pay whatever you normally bring in for a full boat. I want a private tour.”

  Wagner was quiet for a moment. “And where do you want to go?”

  “We’re visiting an old friend, Michael Dillinger. Since you drive the mail boat, I figured you’d know everyone and know how to get to his ranch.”

  Wagner looked at her carefully. “Never heard of him.”

  “He’s in his mid sixties,” Meg said. “Showed up here a couple of years ago. You know someone like that?”

  Wagner shrugged. “It’s a small community up there. What if I do? It sounds like Mr. Dillinger likes his privacy.”

  “I’ll pay you five thousand for the trip,” Meg said. “Not bad for a day’s work.”

  “Money?” Wagner looked insulted. “You think that’s the only issue? I said the man obviously wants to be left alone. Who are you anyway, cops?”

  “Of course not. We’re old friends.”

  Wagner was silent. He closed his volume of Shakespeare. “Alright,” he said, “I’ll take you there, but I want ten thousand because frankly I don’t think Dillinger is going to be happy with me for interrupting his solitude.”

  “For a run up the river you want ten thousand?”

  “Like I said, it’s not about the money. It’s about you disturbing a man who doesn’t like to be disturbed.”

  “Fine,” Meg said. “We need to leave immediately.”

  Wagner stood up. He was lean and tan. “Okay, but let me tell you something, lady. Once we’re on the river, it’s my boat and my world and I’ll tell you how things are. You may be paying, but I don’t work for you.” He looked at the hills that surrounded them, partly shadowed and partly lit with a slice of sunshine. “It’s getting late. If we leave now, we’ll have to camp and finish the journey in the morning.”

  “We’re prepared.”

  Wagner rolled up his boat’s canvases to let them in.

  The jet boat was a twenty-foot aluminum river runner with the seats bolted to the floor. As the boat pulled away from the dock, Meg sat and took in the sights. The Snake River was broad and smooth, surrounded by bald purple hills. As they motored upriver she thought about Dillinger. He was a man who once maintained a network of thousands of contacts all over the world, yet he now lived isolated eighty miles into the wilderness.

  Despite the incongruity, Meg could understand his motivation. A person in the wil
d could not be tracked by billboards and news broadcasts. Meg felt relieved that she too was going where there were few people.

  CHAPTER 57

  Marcel looked at the brown road sign up ahead. White Bird, Idaho. The middle of nowhere. It wouldn’t be long.

  He turned on a single lane gravel road that led to the old Circle C ranch at Pittsburg Landing. He was almost there. Marcel looked over at Jose. “She may get in the canyon, but she’ll never come out.”

  Jose smiled.

  CHAPTER 58

  Snake River

  Wagner gunned the jet boat. The rapids threw the boat left and right. Spray pounded the windshield. In places, the bottom of the canyon spread out for a mile or more, and a few lonely-looking ranches occupied rare benches that were miles apart. Above the benches, the canyon face climbed steeply upward in a series of massive terraces covered in bunch grass. As Meg considered the stark isolation of these ranches, she realized that she would have to find a place like this somewhere, a place where no one could ever find her. Would she ever know another day of safety? Even Dillinger wasn’t safe out here. Maybe it would be better if they found her and killed her. Liars filled the world and because of them her life as she knew it was over anyway. She looked up at the canyon walls.

  Great black cliffs rose vertically from the water. Meg lost her balance and fell backwards trying to look for the top while the boat scaled a set of mild rapids. Holding on tighter, she kept looking for the ridge. She couldn’t find it, so she fixed her eyes on the massive boulders along the river banks for awhile. Then she got out the information she had received from Sikes about Dillinger just hours before.