“Quit playing games. We’re in the middle of a battle. Give me the guns and I’ll make sure you both get out of this alive.”
“This isn’t a game. It’s real—the truth—and do you really think we’re dumb enough to trust you? Now, you shut the hell up or I’ll shoot you. That’s something you can trust.”
“Layla, what’s this about?” says Mia.
“Now it’s Layla, not redskin, squaw, or half-breed. Stay tuned, you might actually learn to how it feels to hear those labels. Here are the rules Mia. You listen until I’m done, then you can do whatever you want. He doesn’t have that option.”
Mia looks at Rolf and nods her head. Rolf folds his arms and stares down at the .45 on the floor.
“Our lesson starts thirty-five years ago. Two guys about our age, Mia, started a partnership in the logging and mining business. Nothing in writing, just a handshake. Want to know their names?”
“Tell me.”
“One went by William Black. He was descended from the Ojibwe Bear Clan. His proper sir-name was Black Bear but he rejected that. The other was a second generation Swede with no money, a lot of ambition and no ethics. Ring a bell?”
“Our fathers were partners?”
“Those two guys were partners. Be patient. I’ll get to the subject of fathers.”
“Where are you going with this?” Rolf stands.
“I think you’ve got a pretty good idea, now sit your ass down.” I squeeze off a shot into the ground at his feet and the sound makes Mia flinch. Sammy doesn’t react and Rolf sits back down.
“The business grew but they drifted apart. The Ojibwe got into booze and gambling and the Swede started a couple of side businesses. He smuggled prescription drugs from Canada and ran a prostitution ring in the lumber camps and the ore docks in Superior Wisconsin.”
“It’s all lies.” Olson springs up again.
Mia puts her hands on Rolf’s shoulders and easies him back down. “Let’s stay put, I want to hear.”
“As the years went by, Olson’s drug dealing and prostitution ring expanded to loan sharking and extortion across Minnesota, Wisconsin and Canada. He laundered the money through his legitimate businesses in Buck Brush Falls. He expanded to international arms trafficking and drug dealing. He led two lives: one as a solid citizen in a small town, the other as a ruthless gangster. William Black suspected but was content to keep his head down and run the lumber business.”
“You’ve got no proof, shouts Rolf.”
I put Gus’s thick envelope on the table. “You didn’t get what you were looking for from the files you stole from our trailer. My father had that information in a safe deposit box. I’ve got copies here, plus some interesting DNA test results my Uncle Gus arranged.”
“DNA?” says Mia.
“About twenty-three years ago the two partners fell in love with the same girl. Her name was Angelia.”
“My mom?”
Suddenly a mortar lands close by. The shrapnel rips through the back of the tent and misses us but the blast knocks us over. My arm twists and the Glock slides across the floor. Mia picks it up and Rolf snatches the file. “Give me the gun, Mia We’ve got to get out of here.”
“Not yet. I want to know the rest. Go on Layla,” says Mia. The table’s blown away. We’re sitting on the ground in a triangle and she’s waving the Glock between me and Rolf. Sammy still stands, calmly pointing the rifle between Rolf and Mia.
“Angelia picks the security of a drug dealer she doesn’t love over the risk of the drunk she loves and marries Olson. A month later, Black finds a destitute Danish immigrant in Duluth, brings her back to the falls and marries her. Gus thinks it was his way of getting even.”
“Your Mom,” says Mia.
“Here’s where it gets painful. When’s your birthday?”
“April 20, why?”
“Because even though Black was married, he continued to have a relationship with Angela. Rolf Olson was in Canada starting a mining operation the summer before you were born—from the end of May until September. Do the math, you’ll—”
“She’s making all this up. I came back several times and—”
“Gus pulled some strings. The passport records show that he was out of the country the whole time. They’re in the file.”
Mia sits frozen. Her face is pale. She still holds the gun but now it’s not pointing between us. It’s leveled at Rolf Olson. “That means he’s not my dad . . . my father was . . . Black?”
“A lie!” yells Rolf.
“You want proof? Gus had a reason for throwing that farewell party. As a lawyer he did a lot of work for the state—made some good friends. One of the waiters was really a buddy from the State Crime Lab. He took DNA samples from the forks and glasses you both used. This asshole is not your dad!”
“That means . . .”
“It means we’re half-sisters, Mia.”
* * *
The fighting has moved closer. Another mortar shakes the ground and I hear the throbbing of automatic weapons. A barrage of bullets rip the top of the tent. Through the open flap, I see the outlines of soldiers in the tree line across the clearing. It’s too dark to tell which side they’re on and it doesn’t really matter—they’re shooting at us.
“Follow me,” shouts Sammy. We become a trio of snakes playing follow the leader, slithering on our belly’s across the clearing, away from the gunfire. Sammy disappears for a minute then waves and shouts from the back door of an abandoned Humvee that’s taken a direct mortar hit, “In here, run!”
I sprint across the opening and jump in. Mia’s not far behind me. Before shutting the door, I look back. There’s no sign of Olson.
Sammy’s in the front seat on lookout and Mia and I are in the back. I want to catch my breath, but I have to finish it. “There’s more, Mia. I have to tell you now because I’m not sure either of us will get out of this alive.”
“Take this, it’s yours.” She hands me the Glock. “Tell me now. We’re as safe here as anywhere else.”
“This will be tough for you to hear. It didn’t stop. When you were about a year old, Olson caught Black and Angelia together. He flew into a rage and shot her. Black tried to stop him but he was too drunk to help.”
“I . . . I was always told she was depressed and killed herself.”
“Dr. Mason, Andy’s dad, owed Olson a lot of money. Olson put him through medical school. He convinced Mason that Black did it and it would be best for everyone if it was recorded as a suicide. Mason got his loan forgiven but couldn’t forgive Black. That’s why he hated him, and until a couple of days ago, me too.”
The noise of the fighting moves north and the mortars stop coming. The battle is shifting and it seems we’re safe for a while. “How do you know all this?” asks Mia.
“From my Uncle’s package. The file Rolf has is only copies. The originals are in a vault back in the falls”
“This is all . . . hard to believe . . . damn hard.”
“Here’s something else to get your brain around. If we live through this battle we’re going to be partners—very rich partners. Black was clever when he was sober. He kept a record of Rolf Olson’s criminal activity, very detailed with dates and names. After your mom was murdered he threatened to make it public and tell the truth about how she died. He forced Olson to sign an agreement to give his two daughters—you and me—all of his legitimate businesses when we reached twenty-one. In return he agreed to keep his mouth shut.
“He told me that the file in your trailer had false information about my mom and he wanted to destroy it to protect her reputation.”
“He was looking for a copy of the agreement and the record of his illegal activity. Black kept them in a safe deposit box, not at the trailer.”
“My dad . . . I mean Olson . . . told me that you, your brother, and your uncle were blackmailing him, threatening to spread false rumors about my mom—that I shouldn’t be nice to you—get my friends to keep their distance—find ways to insul
t you—make fun of Sammy. He made me steal your stuff on the plane because he said you didn’t deserve to be on the trip and he had a plan to have you sent back.”
“One thing you’re good at Mia, you follow directions well.”
I see a flash of light. My ears ring, and I watch feel the Humvee shake. Things keep getting dimmer, like a series of lights being turned off. Before it gets totally dark, I see Sammy climbing out a window and I feel Mia falling on top of me.
Chapter 40
My head’s sunk in slimy mud that tastes like rotten cheese and smells like dead fish. I’m on my side and have to breathe through the corner of my mouth and the one nostril that’s above the gunk. I hear rhythmic dripping and feel cold drops bouncing off my cheek. It hurts, but I force open my right eye, the one above the slime.
It’s dark, not just normal dark, but really dark. I need to sit up but my head throbs and my feet feel like they’re stuck in concrete. I can’t find my hands at first, then realize they’re hooked behind my back.
I hear a voice from somewhere above me. “She’s awake,” it says.
“Still looks out to me. Let’s test her,” says another. I feel a sudden dull pain in my ribs. Someone’s kicked me.
“You with us, girl?” says the first voice. I feel a pair of hands pulling me over. I’m on my back, and use all my will power to open both eyes. A shocking beam of light blinds me and they snap shut.
“Get her on her feet. Careful with the flashlight. We want her to see enough so we don’t have to carry her to the front,” says the second voice.
I feel myself pulled to my feet, fight off the dizziness and open my eyes again. There’s a soldier on each side and both have flashlights. They illuminate the wet floor and close walls of a cave. In the reflected light they look like twins, medium height, long hair, black beards, and scruffy fatigues. They don’t introduce themselves so they’ll be Mr. Right and Mr. Left.
It’s hard to get the word out but finally I manage to croak, “Water.”
“They need her to talk. Give her some,” says Mr. Left.
Mr. Right hands me a canteen. It’s warm and tastes like he filled it from the St. Paul sewer system but I chug it dry. I cough, spit some out, but win the fight to keep the rest down. “Towel,” I croak again, this time clearer.
“High maintenance American women need coddling,” says Mr. Right.
“A Clean face makes it easier for them to look at her,” says Mr. Left. He takes an old rag from his pocket, wets it in a puddle, and wipes most of the mud from my face.
They try to march me toward the front of the cave but I’m dizzy and the leg shackles make me stumble. Mr. Left seems to be in charge. “Take them off.” he says. “She’s not going anywhere.”
Walking’s much easier without shackles and we make good progress. The closer we get to the entrance, the wider and higher becomes the cave, and the less my fear of closed spaces remains. Mr. Left opens a steel door and Mr. Right pushes me through. I lurch forward and fall to the floor and wait a minute for my eyes to adjust to the bright lights before trying to get up. With my hands tied behind my back and my brain still fuzzy, it’s a struggle. A pair of hands helps me, then withdraws. I shake my head, blink hard, and see Olson.
* * *
“Welcome to Jeffrey’s bunker. He’s busy right now but he asked me to greet you.” He wanted to keep you on ice in the back of the cave until he was ready. You’re early but you can stay.” His eyes are cold as death and he’s wearing a closed lip, shark-like smile.
I back against the wall and feel the cool, rough surface of concrete. I see a large table, five chairs, and a satellite-phone on the opposite wall. There are two massive iron doors attached to the cave’s mouth. They’re open and I watch flashes of gunfire light up the darkness and hear the popping sounds of rifle fire and the deeper growls of AK-47 bursts.
“Sit down over there by your new little sister.” says Olson, pointing to a corner next to the opening. I look in the shadow of the iron door and see Mia. She has a dirty bandage wrapped around her head covering her eyes and her arm is in a sling.
I don’t move and Olson turns to the Right and Left twins. “Maybe she can’t hear. Help her out.” They shove me to the corner and slam me down. “One’s blind and the other’s cuffed and may have a concussion. I can handle them. Go help Jeffrey. Tell him we’re waiting in eager anticipation.”
I ignore Olson and turn to Mia. “What happened? You okay?”
“ . . . Hard to hear . . . ears ringing . . . everything echoes . . . sounds far away.”
“We’ve got a few minutes, I’ll answer both your questions,” says Olson. What happened was that the Humvee you were in was hit by a rocket propelled grenade. You’re lucky to be alive. You keep escaping—like a cat with nine lives—but you’ve used them up. To answer your second question, Mia can’t see, has a possible burst eardrum, and a broken arm.”
“Sammy?”
“We couldn’t find his body. If he’s still alive and on the loose. There’s nowhere to hide. We’ll round him up.”
The odds of my surviving the night don’t look too good and I want some more answers. “I need you to answer some questions before you kill me. It’ll give me peace of mind.”
“We’re waiting for Jeffrey to finish his final preparations. Go ahead, ask.”
“My dad—the night he almost killed my mom—he mentioned your name.”
He sits back and closes his eyes. “It started out that he wanted money, he called it an advance on the agreement to give my legitimate businesses to you and Mia. He was drunk and angry. I laughed at him. I tore up my copy and told him no one would believe a worthless drunken Indian over me, a solid citizen and the richest man in the county. I’m glad he died of cancer, saved me the trouble. When I get back I’ll get rid of his snoopy lawyer brother, Augustus, and be in the clear.”
“Why’d you try and keep me from coming?”
“I wanted to separate you from Mia. Take care of both of you at different times. I had it all set up. The two worthless thugs I hired blew it. They were supposed to capture you when you were jogging, then take you to the woods and kill you—make it look like a like a hunting accident—you’d fallen off a tree and shot yourself. I planned on doing Mia later this summer. I have to get rid of you both before you get too far into your twenty-first year. That’s still my plan but I’ve come up with a far more enjoyable way to send you both to the happy hunting ground.”
Mia has her head cocked toward Olson. I don’t think she’s all that deaf. “You getting this?” I ask. She nods his head slightly and I can see her fists clench.
“Why Mia? She’s a model daughter—great student—lots of friends—mover and shaker in the elite sorority—sure bet to get accepted at a prestige MBA school next year.”
“She’s the half-breed, daughter of that no good drunken Indian and my two-timing wife.” He pauses, shakes his head, and continues in a quiet voice. “I loved that woman. She was the best thing that ever happened to me. Then she cheated one me, disgraced me with that drunken redskin. I started with nothing, worked hard for my money. It’s all mine and I’ll keep it. No half-breed squaw gets her hands on it,” he’s now shouting. “Your illegitimate sister was a great cover. She helped me be seen as a model citizen but I don’t need her anymore. When she dies, she’ll be a martyr and I’ll be the grieving father. It will help my image even more.”
Mia gets halfway to her feet but can’t make it all the way. “Hold it,” I say. “You’ve only got one arm and can’t see. I’ve got a few more questions before we figure out what to do with this monster.”
“You’re not going to do anything with me, squaw girl. It’s going to be the other way around. Now ask your questions before I lose patience.”
I can tell he likes having an audience, wants to brag about his secret life. “Okay, why did you leave me at the Lagos airport?”
“Ahmed is head of security there but he makes a lot more money working for me. He was goin
g to dump your body on the Island, blame the gangs for a rape and murder, but you got away—used up one of those nine lives.”
“What was the money I found in your room for?”
“It was laundered—untraceable—cash payment for your life. You stole your own bounty and you can take it to the grave with you.”
“Who’s Arrow?”
He flashes another shark smile. “That’s me, a code name I use when dealing with Jeffrey. He’s not too popular with the main stream Boko Haram and I sell them arms too.”
“You don’t care about those girls or that school do you?”
“Bunch of whiney little Nigerian girls. They’re nothing to me. Giving the school money and flying back and forth to Nigeria is a great cover for my real business.”
“Which is drugs and arms.”
“Smart girl. Jeffrey’s not the only terrorist with money in Africa and they all need guns and drugs.”
The more he talks the angrier I get. I calculate the distance between us. With my hands behind my back I’m limited but I still have my head, teeth, and legs. He’ll shoot me before I can kill him but I can do some major damage first.
Gus taught me the power of self-programming. When I reach five, I’ll make my move. One—wiggle my toes and flex my leg and calf muscles. Two—suck in my gut and tighten my shoulders. Three—tighten my ass and get on the balls of my feet—four relax my neck and take a breath . . . Before I get to five and spring at Olson, Jeffrey walks in. He’s holding hands with Levi. Andy and Tim follow, chained together, herded by Mr. Left. Both have black hoods over their heads.
* * *
Jeffrey’s bunker is crowded. Mia and I stay on the ground in our corner. Tim and Andy are put on two chairs and tied back-to-back in front of the table. Olson, Jeffrey and Levi sit at the table, facing them. Mr. Left has been joined by Mr. Right and they stand, guarding the opening.
Levi has one hand on Jeffrey’s knee and is playing with his beard with the other. God, Levi, when you come out of the closet you do it in a big way! Levi whispers something in Jeffrey’s ear. He smiles, slams the table hard with his fist, and moves across the room to me.
Squaw Girl: A Boxer's Battle for Love Page 23
