Linder left the SUV, picked up a toolbox from the cargo bed, and approached one of the school’s twin back exits. There he went to work pretending to scrape excess caulking from around the doors’ heavy glass panels. Within a minute or two, a woman in high heels and a business suit opened the door from inside, stepped around Linder to leave the building, and paid him no attention at all as he caught the open door and slipped inside.
Upon entering, he scanned the empty halls for surveillance cameras and fire alarms. Finding none of the former but one of the latter located within easy reach, Linder approached the fire alarm and pulled hard. Though the electronic siren nearly deafened him, he stood aside in the corridor and waited for students and teachers to stop work, leave their classrooms and march toward the exits.
The luck he had hoped for arrived before long in the form of Caroline Kendall’s seventh grade math class. Linder waited for Caroline to pass, then stepped in just behind her and shouted directly into her ear above the din.
“It’s me, Tom,” he said. “Keep walking next to me. Something’s happened to your mother and she needs your help. There’s no time to ask permission to leave. I can explain later. When we get outside, follow five paces behind me, and then get in the SUV beside me. Please, Caroline, trust me just this one time.”
Jay pulled up the moment Linder reached the curb and both he and Caroline made such a smooth departure that nobody in the milling crowd seemed to notice them. When they rounded the corner in front of the school, the shaven-headed driver in the government sedan was still fast asleep.
Once past the sedan, Linder turned to Caroline with a solemn face.
“Is my mom hurt?” Caroline asked at once.
“It’s nothing medical, but it’s just as serious,” he began. “You see, federal agents showed up at the sheriff’s office this morning asking about your mother and you. They went to Mrs. Unger’s, too, but she sent them away empty-handed. I tried to reach your mother before she left for work but we got there too late. We have to assume the agents have found her by now.”
Caroline looked too dazed to speak. Linder continued.
“Now that Kamas revolt has been crushed, the government is rounding up everybody on their watch list. Your mother’s name is on that list, along with yours and mine and Jay’s. By the way, Jay’s the one driving. He and I work together at the vitamin factory.”
“Hi, Caroline,” Jay called out from the driver’s seat. “Sorry for putting you on the spot.”
“Hi,” she replied warily.
“Anyway, Jay and I are heading east to find a way out of the country,” Linder went on. “I’ve got an idea to escape to Europe through the Great Lakes the way you and your mother did. If that doesn’t work, I have friends and relatives who might be able to take care of us until we find another way out. The question is this: will you come with us or would you rather have us take you back to school to face the future here with your mother? I know it’s a lot to ask of someone your age, but after thinking about our conversation last night, I wanted to offer you the choice. We don’t have much time, so you’ll need to decide pretty quickly...”
He waited for Caroline to answer. When she did, her composure surprised him.
“I like you, Tom, but how do I know you are telling me the truth?” she asked, looking him straight in the eye.
Linder gave an amused laugh but cut it short when Jay shot him a reproving look.
“Okay, that’s a fair question,” he said, trying to think of a persuasive answer. “Let’s see. If you’re not sure you believe me, how about if we call Mrs. Unger? Would that help?”
Caroline nodded. “Yes, let’s do that,” she answered.
“What if they have your landlady’s phones tapped?” Jay cautioned.
“We might still be okay if we call from a pay phone and keep the call short,” Linder mused.
“There’s a pay phone by the gas station at Silver Creek Junction, if that helps,” Jay offered.
“Good, that’s not far,” Linder replied. “Now, Caroline,” he went on, “when you get on the line with Mrs. Unger, it’s important to ask your question as quickly as you can and then get off once you have her answer. If you stay on too long or say too much, State Security might be able to find us. Do you think you can do that?”
“I think so,” the girl replied.
Before long, they pulled up behind the gas station and Linder led Caroline to the phone. Jay remained in the SUV and watched anxiously through the window.
Sharon Unger picked up on the second ring.
“Hi, Mrs. Unger. It’s me, Caroline,” the girl began. “I’m calling from the school infirmary because I have a fever and the nurse wants to send me home. But when I called Mom at work, they said she left with some men from the government and I could tell from her voice that she was pretty worried about it. Can you tell me—did any government men come to your house looking for us? Cause if they did, I know another place where I’ll be safe and I’ll go there instead. Please, Mrs. U., I need you to tell me the truth, please.”
Linder could hear the anguished sigh on the other end of the line.
“Oh, you poor creature, I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you about it before. Yes, they did come this morning. So, no, don’t come back here. Stay right where you are and...”
“I need to ask one more question, Mrs. U. Is the reason you let me stay with you last night because my mother was drunk? Please, I need to know the truth.”
A long pause followed.
“I’m afraid so, kitten.”
“Don’t worry, Mrs. U. I’ll be fine,” Caroline replied, then quickly hung up.
With a quavering voice, she asked Linder, “You were there with her. Did you see her...that way?
Linder nodded.
“And you left her like that?” she pressed.
“I learned a long time ago not to stay where I’m not wanted,” he replied with a sorrow he could not hide.
“Then take me with you,” she announced. “I can’t bear it, either.”
* * *
Patricia Kendall opened her eyes and felt as if they had nearly dried shut. When she tried to raise her head from the pillow, her temples throbbed as if she had been clubbed. Off in the distance, she thought she heard knocking and a voice that resembled Warren’s, but the concentration it demanded made her nauseous. So she buried her head in the pillow and went back to sleep.
The next time she awoke, the knocking at the door was louder and the sunlight at the curtained window brighter, but her headache had subsided. Still groggy, she rolled onto her back and cast the pillow aside. But when she heard footsteps on the parquet floor leading to her bedroom, her head cleared almost at once, and she became fully alert to every sight and sound around her.
“Who is it?” she called out.
No answer.
“I can hear you,” she continued. “Who’s there?”
There was a measured rap at the bedroom door. Patricia held her breath as the door slowly opened. A moment later she let out a surprised gasp upon finding Roger Kendall standing at the threshold.
At first, the shock of seeing her husband made her reconsider whether she was truly awake or hallucinating from too much gin, or perhaps the sudden lack of it. But her pounding headache, dry eyes, woolly mouth, and the room’s stale air convinced her that this was no dream. She glanced at the window one more time until the sun’s glare hurt her eyes.
Roger’s gaunt frame and pallid, drawn, and leathery face shocked her. His blue eyes, once his most attractive feature, had turned watery, and held the haunted look of a beaten man. The veneer of civilization had peeled away and his self-assured, lawyerly smile had been replaced by a brutish leer. This was no longer the Roger she knew.
“Hello, Patricia,” he greeted her as he stepped forward and pulled aside the curtains to let in the sunlight.
As he sat beside her on the bed and reached for her hand, she recoiled. The new Roger, twisted and broken by his time in the Yukon, e
voked both pity and fear. While she pitied him for his suffering and loss, she feared even more what he might be capable of doing, now that he had returned from the outer limits of survival. Was he here of his own accord or had he been directed to find her?
Still confused and disoriented at his appearance in her house, having counted Roger dead for a second time, suddenly Patricia remembered the letter she had written to him two nights before, still tucked in the borrowed book on the kitchen counter. In that moment, she felt a mounting tension between her spousal loyalty toward Roger, tinged with compassion for him, and her natural instinct to protect herself and her daughter. While it seemed clear that she must break free from Roger once and for all, she hesitated without quite knowing why.
“Sorry to barge in on you like this. It must come as quite a shock,” Roger spoke on as he stepped away from the window.
“Your postcard said you were at Kamas,” she replied in a low monotone. “I heard very few survived there.”
Roger gave a dismissive laugh that showed stained and broken teeth.
“There was a prisoner exchange. They let a handful of us leave before the attack. So, it seems State Security hasn’t given up on you and me quite yet. How about that?” he added with a smirk. “But first things first. Let’s make some coffee, shall we? Do you have any in the house?”
Patricia pulled herself up in bed and sat with her back to the bedstead, putting some distance between her and her husband.
“I’ll make some for you,” she replied. She slid out of bed on the side opposite Roger as he cast a knowing glance at the empty gin bottle on the floor. “I’ll be back in a jiffy,” she added, and slipped into the bathroom. She emerged a minute or two later wearing a wrapper and looking as fresh as she could manage.
Once in the kitchen, she dropped the borrowed book into her handbag while her husband’s head was turned and measured out a teaspoon of instant coffee into each of two mugs while water heated on the stove. Though Roger took a seat at the kitchen table, Patricia remained standing by the stove.
“The men who brought me here told me a little of what you and Caroline have been through while I was away,” he remarked. “I can’t blame you for being less than thrilled at seeing me. Tell me, did any of my letters get through?”
“Not a one,” she answered.
“Nor yours. And has anyone told you where I was sent before Kamas?”
“Not a word.”
“All right, then, I’ll get to the point,” Roger continued. “In January, I was dying a slow death in a camp hospital in the northern Yukon, when suddenly one morning someone stuck an IV in my arm and a feeding tube up my nose. The next thing I knew, I was on a medevac flight to the regional hospital in Yellowknife.
“A few weeks later, when I recovered enough to hold a conversation, I received a visit from my old interrogator, a fair-haired snake-in-the-grass who went by the name of Dennis. According to Dennis, State Security had located a trust account that your father opened at a Swiss bank and wanted you and Caroline, as the trust’s sole beneficiaries, to appear in Basel to claim the funds. It seems they had already filed suit in the Swiss courts on your behalf but couldn’t take it any further without a personal appearance. And because you had already refused, they offered to release me if I could persuade you to reconsider.”
Patricia Kendall recognized the tension behind her husband’s glib smile and felt her blood run cold at seeing how completely Roger had fallen into step with the DSS’s objectives. Mercifully, the whistle of the teakettle interrupted her thoughts.
“What else did they offer you, Roger?” she asked without emotion as she poured hot water into Roger’s mug. When it was filled, her husband reached out to take it from her hand. Instead, she set it before him on the table.
“If you and Caroline agree to appear in Basel and make whatever claims the government tells you to make, they’ll pay you a ten percent finder’s fee of whatever they recover from your father’s accounts under the tax fraud provisions of the Internal Revenue Code. On top of that, they’ll let the three of us stay overseas with no further pursuit by the DSS.”
Now Patricia filled her own mug, leaving it on the counter to cool.
“Ten percent?” she replied coldly. “How generous they are with my father’s money.”
“I understand, Patricia, but there’s more to their offer than just money,” Roger urged. “Our passports would be reinstated and we would each have a multiple entry and exit visa to come and go from the States if we wanted. Depending on our level of cooperation, they might even vacate our convictions and restore our civil rights so that I could qualify for a license to do business in America again.”
“And if we refuse?”
Roger’s eyes turned hard. “Then, if you’re lucky, you and Caroline will spend the rest of your lives in this flyspeck of a town, or in another labor camp. And I’ll be on the next transport back to the Yukon with what’s left of the Kamas rebels. You see, unless we help the DSS help themselves to your father’s money, they have absolutely no use for us.”
For a brief moment, still dazed by Roger’s appearance and the terms of his offer, Patricia wavered and reached for her mug to take a sip. But when she gazed into Roger’s hollow yellow eyes she knew that, in a land where the government had the power to separate husband from wife in more ways than by divorce, the man before her was no longer her husband. He had come to Coalville not to liberate her, but to save himself and curry favor with his tormentors at her expense. Though tempted by the promise of release, her intuition told her not to trust Roger, just as it had once warned her not to accompany him to Beirut.
“All right, if what you say is true, then time would be on our side, wouldn’t it?” she challenged. “Until I show up in court, their case goes nowhere and the government gets nothing, am I right? So why not bide our time and see if they sweeten their offer?”
“Because these people are utterly ruthless, Patricia,” Roger answered, his eyes wide with fear. “If you don’t do exactly what they want, they’ll send you back behind the wire and put their offer to Caroline next. If she refuses, you’ll both be put through bloody hell until you give in or die.”
“Already been there,” she replied doggedly.
“That’s exactly my point,” he argued. “Why risk subjecting yourselves to all that again? Why not let them have the damned money while we seize the chance to go free? After all, it was never your money and most of it wasn’t your father’s, either. Hell, the lion’s share of it was looted from the downtown banks.”
“That is simply not true,” Patricia bristled. “Father always kept the family’s trusts segregated from the Movement’s funds. The Eaton trusts have been handed down to benefit future generations. The government has no right to them, nor do I have a right to give them away. If Caroline or I don’t come forward to claim our portion, the trustees will seek out beneficiaries from other branches of the family.”
“Don’t be pigheaded, Patricia,” Roger persisted. “How could any sum of money be worth condemning Caroline to captivity?”
Ever the litigator, Roger came up with one new argument after another, playing artfully on his wife’s conflicted feelings. At last, she agreed to accompany him to the courthouse in Heber for a brief meeting, solely to verify the terms of the government’s offer, and more for Caroline’s sake than for her own.
“We can stop for breakfast on the way, if you like, or have a nice lunch in Heber afterward,” he offered cheerily once she had agreed. “The DSS even lent me one of their cars to use, now that I’m out on parole like you and Caroline.”
Despite her misgivings about Roger’s motives and her deep distrust of the DSS, Patricia changed clothes for the trip to Heber, intending to return long before the time came to pick up Caroline from school. When she called in sick at work, her boss seemed unusually nervous and acted as if he had been expecting her call. The DSS must have already spoken to him, she thought.
Roger and Patricia had nearly re
ached Silver Creek Junction in his government sedan before either of them spoke.
“So tell me, how have you and Caroline been getting along in Coalville since your release?” he asked to break the silence.
“We’re adjusting,” she answered guardedly. “Caroline is doing well in school. And I have a job that pays enough to keep a roof over our heads.”
“Glad to hear that. And how do you find the natives here?”
“Nice enough,” she answered. “They’ve been decent to us.”
“By any chance, have you come across anyone you knew from before?” he asked next.
She shook her head and murmured a no.
“Any visitors come through town looking for you?” he persisted.
“No, why?” she answered.
“I had the most extraordinary experience in the camp hospital,” he replied. “I met another prisoner from Cleveland who claimed to know you.”
Patricia sensed that Roger was watching her closely for a reaction but she offered none.
“When I met him,” he continued, “I thought I was going to die within days and asked him to find you and help you and Caroline if he ever got out. A few months later, the man escaped. I always wondered if he kept his promise.”
“What was his name?” Patricia asked.
“Linder. Warren Linder,” he answered.
Patricia swallowed hard.
“I knew a Warren Linder when I was a girl but I’m sure I haven’t seen him here,” she declared under Roger’s watchful gaze.
“Have you come across someone by the name of Horvath?
“Well, as a matter of fact, yes,” she replied after a pause. “A man by that name helped us find a new place to stay when we had trouble with our landlord. Why do you ask?”
“Nice try, Patricia, but it’s written all over our face. Linder and Horvath are the same man and you know it,” he accused.
Patricia did her best to remain expressionless.
Exile Hunter Page 46
