Danger at the Border

by Terri Reed

  She wondered what he was doing right now. Did he know she’d been kidnapped? Or did he believe she was safe and on her way home to Utah?

  Were they still in Washington? She had no idea how long she had been unconscious or how far they’d traveled. The windows in the hangar were too high up the wall for her to see anything but cloudy sky.

  The large bay door of the hangar opened. She could see trees outside but no buildings. Sherman wheeled in, followed by Emil and three other guards from the compound. Her stomach plummeted with dread. Did that mean they would be leaving soon?

  Aaron appeared in the doorway of the jet with a bottle of water in his hand. He moved back inside as Emil wheeled Sherman onto the plane. A few minutes later, Aaron reappeared. He no longer carried the bottle of water. He motioned for two guards to follow him as he stalked toward her.

  She was cornered, trussed up like a turkey on Christmas day, and what little hope she’d been managing to hold on to evaporated. Aaron would kill her now. They were ready to take off; they didn’t need her as insurance anymore. She’d never manage to escape now.

  Sorrow and resignation filled her chest, numbing her mind and her heart. Her chin dropped to her chest.

  Aaron stopped in front of her, his black-and-white tennis shoes in her line of vision. “Pick her up and bring her to the plane.”

  Her head snapped up. “You’re taking me with you?”

  His lip curled with distaste. “Sherman isn’t ready to get rid of you yet.”

  Once again, hope surged. The two guards lifted her off the ground and half carried, half dragged her to the plane, where they unceremoniously dumped her onto one of the plush leather seats. The inside of the jet was luxurious with wood-grain accents, cream-colored leather seats and and thick, dark carpeting.

  Sherman sat in the seat across from her, a blanket covering his legs. No doubt there was a pistol hidden beneath the plaid wool concealing his lower half. His wheelchair had been tucked behind the seat he occupied. He smiled benevolently at her. “Aaron thinks we should dispose of you now.”

  Righting herself as best she could with her hands tied behind her back, she said, “And you disagree.”

  “I do. You hold value.”

  That was encouraging. Now if only there was some way to sabotage the plane so they couldn’t take off.

  Aaron approached from behind her and set a bottle of water in the armrest cup holder. Thirst hit her hard and fast. She couldn’t do anything about it, since her hands were still tied behind her back. “Would you mind untying me so I can drink some water?”

  Sherman inclined his head and lifted the edge of the draped blanket confirming he had a gun aimed at her. She met his gaze and acknowledged his power over her with a nod.

  Obviously satisfied that they understood each other, Sherman dropped the covering back into place. “Aaron, untie Dr. Cleary.”

  Aaron let out a huff conveying his disapproval. From his back pocket, he took out a gnarly switchblade. He popped the blade open with a soft swoosh. She flinched. His mouth curled; obviously he enjoyed scaring her. He yanked her close to slip the knife under the rope and, with one quick flick of his wrist, cut the tie. She brought her arms forward and suppressed a wince as her shoulders protested the mistreatment. She rubbed at the red welts on her wrists; trying to loosen the rope had not been a great idea.

  Aware of Sherman’s gaze on her, she grabbed the water bottle, uncapped it and took several long swigs. The lukewarm water slid down easily, quenching her thirst. “Thank you.”

  “I’m not a monster, Dr. Cleary,” he said.

  She flicked her gaze toward Aaron, who had taken a seat across from them, picking his fingernails with the tip of his switchblade. But she couldn’t say the same about his son.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, bringing her attention back to Sherman.

  “I have a sweet little place in Bhutan,” he replied.

  Aaron made a disgusted noise in his throat. “But she won’t get to see it.”

  His words sliced a ribbon of fear through her. She forced herself to stay focused on Sherman. He was the only one who could control Aaron. She had to find a way to make Sherman see that killing her wasn’t a smart idea. “Bhutan doesn’t have an extradition treaty with the U.S.”

  Sherman smiled. “That is true.”

  “But if you kill me, do you really think they will let you come to their country?”

  “We’ll dump your body out over the ocean,” Aaron chimed in. “They will never know you existed.”

  She refused to look at him despite how much she wanted to scrape her nails over his smug face.

  Sherman pressed his lips together. “Aaron, check with Emil to see how close we are to takeoff.”

  “Fine.” Aaron stood, his head nearly touching the roof.

  She watched him walk toward the cockpit. Emil sat in the pilot’s seat. Apparently, he was a man of many talents.

  “Don’t worry, Dr. Cleary,” Sherman said, drawing her attention. “Killing you isn’t on the agenda.”

  Her heart hammered in her chest. “Then what do you plan to do with me?”

  “There are men who would pay top dollar for a red-haired American woman.”

  Repugnance rippled over her, making her quiver. Sherman was a different kind of monster. Malicious and mean, without a moral compass differentiating right from wrong. “So you’re going to move from illegal drugs to human trafficking?”

  “A man has to make a living.” His shrug conveyed how much he didn’t care.

  Randy had said Sherman had changed, becoming bitter, mean and greedy. This kind of evil was beyond anything she’d ever dealt with. She wished Jeff were here; he’d know how to handle this. He’d protect her from Sherman and his vile intent. But Jeff wasn’t here. She took comfort in knowing he was safe. She would have to figure out a way to escape on her own. “How could you do that to a woman?”

  “Life is cruel, Dr. Cleary,” he stated. “You should understand this by now.”

  He was cruel. She scoffed, “Because you had some bad breaks, you’re going to inflict pain on others.” The man was delusional. “It won’t make you feel better.”

  “After my sweet Katherine’s death, I’ve found very little makes me feel better. And the one thing that took the edge off my pain is being destroyed as we speak. Thanks to you.”

  He blamed her for finding out about his operation. Incredible. He’d been trading in slave labor by keeping all those men captive and forcing them to work. He allowed his son to cultivate and produce toxic drugs that were harming people, and he was mad at her because she and Jeff found out. The man wasn’t in touch with reality. She tightened her hold on the water bottle. The plastic crumpled slightly. She stared at the bottle, remembering the weapon Jeff had made from his empty cylinder container. Had it worked? Would it work now? Could she make a similar weapon and use it to get off this plane?

  “Is there a restroom?” she asked, forcing her voice to stay even so she didn’t betray the loathing she felt for him.

  “Back there.” Sherman tipped his chin toward the rear of the plane.

  Disappointed the lavatory wasn’t near the cockpit, she said, “Would you mind if I used the facilities?”

  “Of course not.”

  She lifted her feet off the floor, showing the rope around her ankles.

  “Aaron!” Sherman called.

  Aaron walked out of the cockpit and stopped beside his father. “Yeah, what?”

  “Untie Dr. Cleary’s feet,” Sherman instructed.

  “Not a good idea,” Aaron said.

  “Just do it, Aaron,” Sherman said.

  Aaron once again took out his switchblade and used it to cut the ties holding her ankles together. Tessa waited until he had the knife tucked away before she stood. Aaron st
iffened. She made a face at him and hurried to the restroom, taking her water bottle with her.

  Once inside, she drank the rest of the water, then blew into the container the way she’d seen Jeff do before recapping the lid and twisting the two ends. A pang of longing hit her. As much as she wished all this hadn’t happened and she was far away from here, she couldn’t ever regret meeting Jeff.

  She remembered the protective way he had shielded her and helped her through this ordeal. The way he would brush back her hair, his fingers lingering on her cheek or jaw. The way he made her feel special, cared for and valued.

  Determination had her squaring her shoulders and forcing back the fear that she’d never see Jeff again. She would do everything in her power to make sure she did, just as she knew he would do everything in his power to find her. She tucked the bottle inside her jacket and splashed tap water on her face. Her pale reflection stared back at her through the mirror.

  “Dear Lord, please show Jeff how to find me. Let me see him again. Please. Help me out of this situation,” she whispered.

  She wanted to bargain with God, tell Him she’d do whatever He wanted if she could only be set free. But she knew bargaining with God wasn’t the way to win His favor. His grace was hers for the asking. She had to trust Him, give every part of her life to Him despite the circumstances. If she couldn’t do that, what good was faith?

  God would expect me to be smart and take action, Jeff had said.

  And so would Tessa. Lifting her chin in resolve and purpose, she went to face her enemy.

  * * *

  Jeff let out a growl of frustration. He stood in the middle of Henry Roscha’s sparse living room. A thorough search of the house had yielded nothing. There was little furniture in the cabin, most of it homemade. A shed on the side of the cabin had also been searched and revealed all the equipment necessary for carpentry but no clues as to where Sherman and Aaron had taken Tessa.

  He had to find her. If anything happened to her...He shut the thought down. He would not go there.

  The dogs had quieted but now were frantically barking again.

  The front door burst open. A white-haired man stood in the doorway with a shotgun aimed at Jeff’s chest. “What are you doing in my home?”

  “Thank you, God,” Jeff murmured while raising his hands. “Are you Henry Roscha?”

  “I am,” Henry said, his eyes narrowed. “You’re that border guy that went off with the fish lady.”

  “I am,” Jeff said. The two tactical team members appeared with their weapons aimed at Henry. He needed Henry’s cooperation. Jeff motioned them back. They kept a distance but both men kept their weapons trained on Henry. “I need your help finding Sherman.”

  “Why should I help you?” Henry’s finger caressed the trigger. “You shot my nephew and left him to die by the stream.”

  Surprised, Jeff vehemently shook his head. “No, that’s not how it went down. Aaron shot Randy.”

  Henry’s lips twisted. “Aaron wouldn’t hurt his own cousin.”

  “You were in Newhalem. Didn’t you talk to Randy?”

  “He was too heavily guarded,” Henry said. “I couldn’t get in to see him before they put him in an ambulance and took him off somewhere.”

  “Listen to me.” Jeff needed this man to understand. “I don’t have time to quibble with you. Randy helped Dr. Cleary and me escape from Sherman’s compound. Aaron shot him. Now Aaron has kidnapped Dr. Cleary. I have to find her before he harms her.” The thought of her hurt or worse tore Jeff up inside.

  “I don’t believe you. Sherman said you gunned down Randy,” Henry shot back.

  “You can ask Randy himself when he gets out of surgery,” Jeff said. “But by then it might be too late for Tessa. Please, we have to find her.” A thread of desperation wound through his voice. “Where would your brother go? Where would he take her?”

  “Why should I help you?”

  “It’s the right thing to do,” Jeff said. Desperation made him add, “Because Randy helped us.”

  For a tense moment, Jeff was afraid Henry wouldn’t relent. Then he slowly removed his finger from the trigger and lowered the shotgun. “I knew one day Sherman and his illegal activities would bring shame to this family.”

  Jeff refrained from pointing out that Henry was guilty of accessory by allowing Sherman to use his dogs and for not turning in his brother. “He’s on the run. Where would he go?”

  “He has property outside of the country. His safety net, he calls it. Some strange-named country with no extradition.”

  “All the airports, shipyards, train yards and roadways are crawling with agents looking for him and Aaron. There has to be a place where he’d lie low until he thought it safe.”

  Henry stroked his chin. “He keeps a jet in a hangar at Mears Field.”

  Jeff’s stomach sank. Fear for Tessa twisted in his heart. Aaron had kidnapped Tessa from Bellingham two hours ago. It would be an hour’s drive to Mears Field from there. But a four-and-a-half-hour drive for Jeff from Glen Lake, since there was no direct route.

  He needed a chopper, fast.

  Because once Sherman’s plane took off, it would be almost impossible to bring them down without causing injury to everyone on board. Including Tessa.

  But it was total supposition on his part that Sherman and Aaron would even bring Tessa on board. What if they killed her before they ever reached the plane?

  All sorts of horrible scenarios played through his head, making his blood boil and fear bubble. Her lifeless body could be lying in a ditch or shallow grave along the highway. It could be days or more before she was found.

  Standing here awfulizing, as his mother would say, wouldn’t help him find Tessa.

  “Take him into custody,” Jeff said to the tact team. While they cuffed Henry, Jeff called Coleman and filled him in. “I need a chopper to take me to Mears Field stat. And call the airport tower and tell them to ground all planes.”

  Not that Jeff expected Sherman to comply. But it might buy Jeff enough time to get there.

  * * *

  Tessa stood in the aisle of the sleek jet, thankful they weren’t in the air yet. She sought to come up with a plausible excuse to move closer to the open door. She held the makeshift weapon she’d made out of the empty water bottle against her side beneath her jacket. Even if she could make it out of the plane, she would still have to contend with the guards on the ground.

  Let’s deal with one obstacle at a time.

  “I’ve never been in an aircraft like this,” she said aloud to Sherman, who was now reading a magazine. “Could I take a peek at the cockpit?”

  He waved a hand, apparently too engrossed in his reading material to bother with her anymore. His overconfidence in her vulnerability worked to her advantage. “Ask Aaron.”

  Her insides twisted with distaste. Aaron barred the open exit. He stood on the metal frame facing outward, talking to one of the guards at the bottom of the ramp. One good shove could send him out of the plane.

  Then what? Sherman had a gun. And she was sure Emil did, as well. But she’d rather die fighting than submissively comply with Sherman. Aaron had underestimated her once. Hopefully, he was arrogant enough to do so again.

  Praying Aaron couldn’t see her in his peripheral vision, she took a cautious step forward and noticed the coatrack full of wooden hangers right next to her. Carefully, she took a hanger off the rod and tested its weight. She could do some damage with it, so she tucked the hanger under her other arm.

  Gathering her courage, she put one hand inside her jacket around the bottle and slipped the homemade weapon closer to the hem so she had better access for when she needed to use it.

  She glanced back to make sure Sherman was still preoccupied. His graying head was bent slightly forward so he could read the magazine on his l
ap.

  Inside the cockpit, Emil had his back to her, as well, while he fiddled with buttons and levers.

  Aaron hadn’t noticed her approach yet. Drawing strength from the adrenaline pumping through her veins, she moved in and rammed into him with her whole body, sending him tumbling completely out the plane door.

  Ignoring Aaron’s surprised shout, she rushed into the cockpit as Emil turned his stunned gaze on her. Aiming the bottle at his face, she quickly loosened the cap. With a pop, the white plastic lid flew off, hitting him between the eyes. He yelped with pain. The distraction gave her time to slam the cockpit door shut and throw the latch. They were locked inside.

  She saw the gun lying on the copilot’s seat. Emil recovered enough to leap for the weapon.

  Using the hanger like a hammer, she pounded on him with all her strength. His hands came up to defend against her blows. While still banging the wooden hanger over his head with both hands, she maneuvered herself into the copilot’s seat and sat on the weapon. She reached beneath her and brought the gun up, aiming at his forehead.

  Bloodied and bruised, he raised his hands in the air.

  Aaron battered on the locked door, cursing and screaming. His palpable anger seeped through the barrier, making the hairs on her arms stand at attention. She was thankful he couldn’t get in. He’d kill her without hesitation.

  “Use the radio and call the authorities,” she instructed Emil, pleased at how calm she sounded, considering she was unsteady inside.

  Emil didn’t move. His gaze slid from her to stare out the plane’s front window. His eyes widened.

  Tessa risked a glance. Men dressed in black with automatic weapons filed inside the hangar. Her hopes rose. Jeff.

  There were shouts. Gunfire. More shouting. Then eerie silence. The minutes stretched. Had the good guys won? Or was her life still in danger from the men outside the cockpit door? And what of Jeff?