“Don’t worry,” Harv said. “I’m sure she’s not calling it off.”
“We’ll find out soon enough.”
Chapter 3
Holly heard the helicopter before she saw it. 2:25 am. Nathan had called it pretty close. Its rotor noise careened off the surrounding hangars as the ship passed directly over her sedan and settled onto the tarmac a hundred yards distant. It took them several minutes to complete the engine shutdown. After the main rotor stopped, they climbed out, removed their flight helmets, and stretched. She watched Nathan give the helicopter a pat on the fuselage before starting over. Using her cane, she limped toward them. A pang of guilt raked her for asking him to drop everything and fly up here, but it had to happen this way. Still, as Nathan approached, everything she’d planned to say suddenly felt wrong.
“Hi, Holly.”
She started forward, but stopped.
“Well,” Harvey said, taking her cane, “don’t just stand there, hug each other.”
They did, for a long moment. When she let go, Nathan asked, “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”
“I’ll show you.”
They followed her to the sedan. Nathan climbed into the passenger’s seat while Harvey slid into the back. She turned on the dome light and removed a manila envelope from her briefcase.
She hesitated. “Nathan, I don’t… I guess I don’t know how to do this any other way. I’m sorry.” She pulled an 8x10 photograph from the envelope and held it under the light.
Harvey leaned forward to see. “Son of a bitch! Where the hell did you get that?”
Nathan didn’t move. He looked frozen—paralyzed, almost.
She realized he was paralyzed. Caught in a horrible memory from an earlier time. Another world. A world of pain and humiliation.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
He opened the door and walked into the darkness.
Harvey put a hand on her shoulder. “Let him go.”
“Harvey, I didn’t want—”
“Where did that photo come from?”
“From the Bureau. It was circulated to all our field and resident offices because it has the characteristics of a serial.”
“A serial murderer?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Two days ago.”
“Where?”
“Utah. Some Australian exchange students were camping in a remote area of Lake Powell a few miles from Bullfrog Bay when they heard a houseboat. One of them had a cheap night vision scope, but it was good enough to see what looked like a body being dumped in the water. It was the middle of the night, around one-thirty am. They called nine-one-one and reported it. At daybreak, the federal park service sent divers down and found the body. It had been wrapped in chain-link fencing.”
Harv took it all in, then reached out to touch her arm. “You did the right thing calling us, Holly. But it has to stop here. You can’t tell anyone Nathan has the same markings on his body. His life depends on it.”
“You think the murderer is Nathan’s interrogator from Nicaragua?”
“No doubt about it. It’s his unique signature. As far as we know, Nathan’s the only person on the planet to survive Montez de Oca, and I intend to keep it that way.”
Chapter 4
With a sickening twist of his stomach, Nathan felt a dark force stir. No! Not here. Not in front of Holly. He couldn’t let it happen. She must never see that part of him. He left the sedan and walked toward the hangars. He pulled his cell and keyed a memorized number.
An older man’s voice answered. “I haven’t had my coffee yet. This had better be damned important.”
“It’s echo five.”
Nathan knew he’d have General Robert “Thorny” Hawthorne’s full attention now. Echo five was his old code designation from his covert missions in Nicaragua. Back then, General Hawthorne had been his commanding officer. Thorny had since risen to the position of commandant of the Marine Corps. Nathan’s successful missions in Nicaragua had helped boost Thorny’s career by a star. There were unspoken debts in play—in both directions—neither of which would be mentioned.
“Well, echo five, something tells me I’m not going to like this call.”
“An old friend of ours from Central America has surfaced. A body was discovered with signature markings.”
Thorny didn’t respond.
“You still there?” Nathan asked.
“Yes.”
“Containment may be impossible.”
“We need to meet.”
“Agreed.”
“Today,” Thorny said. “I’ll move my appointment up with Lieutenant General Pearson, MarForPac’s CO. He won’t like the change of plans, but he’s a good man. He’ll deal with it. I’ll come to you. You know where.”
“Yes.”
“I’ll call you from the air with an exact ETA. Count on around twelve-hundred.”
Nathan ran the calculation in his head. They’d have to leave Sac Exec by no later than 0700 hours. They weren’t getting much sleep tonight, if any. “We’ll be there, echo four and me.”
“You’re both invisible.”
“Understood.”
“Twelve-hundred.”
Nathan looked toward Holly’s sedan. No doubt she and Harv would be talking about him, and understandably she’d be feeling some apprehension—probably more than some. His own apprehension reached much deeper. He didn’t know how this development would affect him, and he desperately wanted to avoid slipping back into the fractured state that had nearly driven him to suicide. He’d moved past that years ago. Had it not been for Harv’s unyielding friendship, he would have ended his life. Harv had given him purpose. Started their security company. Invested their money. Protected him. He owed Harv more than he could ever repay in ten lifetimes.
He closed his eyes. It was one thing to be tortured in private, but publicly? In front of women and children? For days on end? Juan Montez de Oca had been especially twisted in his methods. He’d gathered dozens of local villagers to witness the interrogations. One day, while Montez watched with casual indifference, one of the mercenaries who fancied himself an expert with a bullwhip had demonstrated his skills. During the unthinkable pain and blood loss, Nathan had discovered a dark side of himself, a savage part of his psyche that he’d come to call the other, for lack of a better term. This hate-filled personality had made it possible for him to cope with the pain and humiliation of being brutalized in front of an entire village, including women and children who’d been openly sobbing. Nearing death, Nathan had lost count at twenty-eight lashes.
Now, fourteen years later, he felt an uncontrollable impulse to scream into the night until his throat bled.
No. I won’t do it. It’s not who I am anymore.
Nathan relaxed his hands and slowed his breathing.
He couldn’t allow Montez to ruin his life, his friendship with Harv, and everything he’d developed with Holly. He’d imagined going after Montez many times, but never tried. As far as they knew, Montez had dropped off the face of the Earth more than a decade ago, apparently exiled from his own country, never to be heard from again.
But if Holly’s photo was authentic, Montez had returned. And not only returned, he’d become active again, torturing and killing another victim—and probably more than one.
Nathan couldn’t turn his back on this, but going after Montez involved considerable risk. He knew Harv would demand to be part of any operation against Montez. Could he risk that? Harv had a wife and two sons.
One thing was certain, Montez couldn’t be allowed to operate like this again. On that, he and Harv would strongly agree. So be it. But first things first. Montez had to be found.
***
Holly looked toward the hangars. “How long will he be out there?”
“If he were by himself,” Harv said, “it could be hours. But he won’t keep us waiting that long. He’s going through all kinds of scenarios in his head right now. If-then scenarios. If thi
s happens, I’ll do this. I’d also be willing to bet he’s making a phone call.”
“To whom?”
“General Hawthorne.”
“The Marine Corps commandant?”
“Yes, our old CO. He helped us with the Bridgestone case, looked into the DOD records for us.”
Holly remembered. “What can you tell me about Nicaragua? The man who did this.”
Harv sighed. “We called him Monty Goose, but his full name is Colonel Juan Montez de Oca. Oca means “goose” in Spanish. Nathan made up the nickname to antagonize him. Montez hated it.”
“Why would Nathan want to anger his interrogator?”
“Despite the physical pain, interrogation is a mind game more than anything else. A strong-willed victim can turn the situation around on his tormentor, but it usually comes at a very high price.”
“Are you saying Nathan purposely made it harder on himself?”
Harvey joined her in the front seat. “What I’m saying is, he could have made it easier, but didn’t.”
“Montez didn’t break him?”
“Not entirely. Nathan kept changing his story. Montez never learned the real truth, or even extracted Nathan’s real name. Even if he had, he couldn’t have verified anything. We were off the books. No paper at all. So in a sense, Nathan broke Montez, not the reverse. At the end, he was torturing Nathan purely out of frustration and anger.”
“I can’t imagine what he went through.”
“Few people can. Nathan is the ultimate unsung hero who will never, ever, be publicly acknowledged for his sacrifice to his country. He is the finest, most honorable man I’ve ever known. I’d give my life for him, and he’d do the same for me. And you.”
Holly thought back to the first time he’d spent the night at her house. Nathan had insisted on sleeping on the floor. That was odd enough. Then came his horrible dream. The way he’d jumped off the floor when she’d yelled his name. The expression of rage in his eyes and the paralyzing sense of danger she’d felt. Almost as though he’d been someone else for a few seconds.
Something else.…
Chapter 5
Nathan walked back to Holly’s sedan. The longer he stayed out here, the more it would worry her. To avoid startling them, he approached from the front of the vehicle, then came around to the passenger’s side and climbed into the backseat.
“I trust my absence hasn’t spooked either of you irreparably?”
Holly turned in the front seat to face him, concern in her eyes. “You okay?”
“I needed to clear my head. Sorry.”
“You’ve got nothing to apologize for. What you went through.…”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not okay.”
He forced a smile. “Can’t say I like it much. We’re pressed for time, but let’s grab a bite. Anyone hungry?”
“There’s an all-night coffee shop about a mile from here,” Holly said.
Harv climbed out. “I’m gonna lock her up and grab our bags. Be right back.”
Nathan stayed in the backseat and an uneasy silence ensued. He knew she didn’t want to break it, so he spoke first. “You look great, Holly.”
“I don’t feel great. I’ve gained ten pounds since the bombing. It’s this damned cane. I can’t exercise like I used to.”
“You look fine.”
“I’ve really missed you.”
“Me too.”
“Will you stay with me tonight? Harvey too. I mean—”
“I know what you mean. No problem.”
“You going to sleep on the floor?”
“I like sleeping on the floor.”
“You’re the most unusual man I’ve ever met.”
“You don’t get out much.”
“Is Harvey a light sleeper?”
“I’m afraid so. The man can sleep with his eyes open. It’s the damnedest thing you ever saw.”
“I’d like to sleep next to you tonight, even if it’s on the floor.”
“You can’t.”
“I’m willing to risk it.”
He took her hand. “But I’m not.”
“Think I’ll ever be able to?”
“Probably not. I’ll never lead a normal life, Holly. Montez stole that from me. All I can do is be the best person I can to you.”
“You’re one of the kindest men I’ve ever known.”
He nodded toward the helicopter.
“Is he coming?”
“Harv knows the score. Don’t worry about him, and don’t let him insist on staying in a hotel tonight.”
“I won’t.”
Harv placed the bags on the seat next to him and slid into the front. “We’re good to go. Listen, you two should be alone tonight. I don’t mind roughing it at the Hyatt again.”
Holly smiled at him in the rearview mirror. “I’ve got a spare bedroom. It’s no trouble at all.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, absolutely.”
***
The all-night diner featured an aeronautical theme. Model airplanes of all shapes and eras hung from the ceiling. Wooden propellers and memorabilia adorned the walls. As always, Nathan was amazed at Harv’s ability to eat an inordinate amount of food.
Holly filled Nathan in on what she’d already told Harvey.
“Do you have an ID on the body?”
“Yes, his name is Arthur Kramer. His fingerprints were identified quickly. He was an American attaché assigned to the U.S. embassy in Hungary.”
“Hungary?” Harv asked. “What kind of attaché?”
“A commercial attaché—basically, a person whose job it is to promote American businesses in foreign countries. Apparently, he was part of a joint task force involving the U.S. and the Hungarian government to pursue clean coal technology. He had ties with a consulting firm called Energy Solutions, Incorporated. The group’s focus was on a huge reserve of lignite discovered in an open pit mine near the Mantra power plant.”
“How big a reserve are we talking about?” Nathan asked.
“Half a billion short tons.”
“What does that number mean?”
“I’m not sure, but the case notes say that because of this mine, Hungary could become a major exporter of lignite to other Eastern Bloc countries.”
Harv asked, “What kind of money’s involved with something like this?”
“Hundreds of millions of euros, maybe billions,” Holly said. “I’m obviously no expert, so I did a little research before coming to meet you. Most experts believe clean coal technology won’t be commercially viable on a large scale until the year 2025. In a nutshell, it involves two processes. The first is chemically washing the coal to remove undesirable minerals and impurities, and the second is treating the emissions. Steam would be used to remove sulfur dioxide, but that still leaves the problem of capturing and storing enormous amounts of carbon dioxide gas in solid form. Essentially, dry ice. Many environmental experts believe it just trades one evil for another. They’re worried all the carbon dioxide will be released into the atmosphere someday.”
“So Montez tortures and kills a clean coal consultant?” Harv asked. “That sure doesn’t sound like his usual MO.”
“More shocking,” Nathan added, “is the fact that he’s working inside the United States. Think about it. The man’s a murder and torture machine. We could be looking at dozens more victims in the months ahead. Hundreds, maybe. It’s obvious he loves his work too much to stop. And how are we supposed to find him? He’s not the type to leave traces of his whereabouts behind. Or witnesses, for that matter.”
“Is there anything you can remember from your time with him,” Holly asked, “that might give us a starting point?”
“I’ve been racking my brain since you showed me the photograph. I can’t think of anything. He didn’t talk about himself much, and truth be told, I was a little distracted at the time.”
“A bit,” Harv added.
“Have you considered hypnosis?” she
asked.
“Yes.”
“Are you sure you want to drag that pond?” Harv asked.
“Let’s keep it as a fallback plan. I called Thorny. He cleared his calendar to come out here.”
“That doesn’t give us much shuteye before our flight back.”
“He also wants us invisible from now on.”
“Not an easy task.” Harv sighed and pushed back in his chair. “I’ve got a meeting with a Ford engineer tomorrow on our armored SUV line.”
“We don’t need to totally disappear, he just wants us under the radar for a spell.”
“I guess Lewey can take the meeting.” Harv said. “He’s up to speed.”
“Good, because we’re flying out to Utah.”
“So much for staying under the radar,” Harv said.
“You don’t have to go out there in person. I’m sure I can get you photos.”
“Holly, I appreciate the offer, but doesn’t it seem strange the body was dumped in Lake Powell? Wouldn’t it have been a whole lot easier just to bury it somewhere? And why Utah? I know Montez. He’s lazy. His henchmen do all the heavy lifting. I’d be willing to bet our security company that Arthur Kramer was interrogated at or near the lake.”
“Let’s not place that bet,” Harv said.
Nathan looked at Holly. “You could really help us by figuring out what Kramer’s work involved.”
“I’ve already got Henning looking into Kramer’s background in depth. I told him to keep everything he does confidential.”
“How’s Henning doing, by the way?” asked Nathan.
“He’s doing great. He thinks you guys are superheroes in disguise.”
Nathan smiled at that. It was a far cry from his first encounter with Special Agent Bruce Henning during the Bridgestone case.
“Seriously, though,” he said, “there’s got to be a reason Montez chose to dump a weighted body in a tourist-ridden lake. There’s a million safer places to dispose of a body out there. Also, I want to know if Kramer owns property in the area or was just on vacation. Was he staying in a motel or cabin? Or maybe a rented condo?”
Forced to Kill Page 3
