He was almost positive the trail would lead straight into their camp, and wondered if it didn’t appear to be a little more used. Then again, he wondered if it was his imagination.
If this is a way to their camp, I would think they’d have someone guarding it, Ben thought, and if they do, I’d be walking right into their trap. That’s what Deidre said, ‘It’s a trap.’ But from what direction should I approach them? He had an idea.
The ridges in Lake County were left by glaciers thousands of years ago, and they tended to run parallel to each other. Between the ridges of glacial till lay lowlands with a rill running their length. It’s wet land, most often covered with the rotting trunks of fallen trees, and everything is moss-covered. The areas between the ridges are brush-choked and difficult to navigate. I doubt if they expect anyone to blunder onto them by coming through the lowland. I’d be surprised if that possibility is even on their radar, he thought as he mulled over the situation.
Ever so slowly Ben moved laterally from the trail, being careful not to leave a trail of disrupted vegetation behind. It took him several minutes to reach the stream running parallel to the ridge he had left. Ben followed it and knew he was getting close. He managed to snake his way under a dead cedar that had tipped so that it almost touched the ground, skirt around a huge erratic boulder left by a glacier, and climb over the bare trunk of a fallen ash tree. He was feeling confident and became careless. A dead limb of a towering white spruce snagged his coat sleeve, and the tinder-dry wood splintered with a sound as loud as a gunshot. Ben froze in his tracks, then sank to a crouch behind a pine stump left by loggers a century ago. He stayed in that position for ten minutes, sure he would hear someone coming to investigate. No one came.
He slowly crept forward, acutely aware that one mistake might be fatal and forced himself to slow his progress, continually checking to be sure no dead wood was in his way. The distant voices became clearer, and he could make out individual words: army, caliber, surprise, war. Ben slowed his rate of advance even more. In fifteen minutes he knew he was in the low area below and behind where Deidre was being held. He crawled to higher ground, then got down on his belly and snaked to the edge of a clearing. Before he could stop himself, he gasped.
In front of him were five buildings, one long and narrow with windows spaced every ten feet near the eaves. It reminded Ben of pictures of army barracks he had seen. The buildings were grouped around what looked like a parade ground, in the center of which was a flag pole with a banner fluttering in the breeze. Ben didn’t recognize the insignia. Another building appeared to be an office cluster. He couldn’t put a finger on why he thought that, but it was his first impression. The third building had a number of vents protruding through the roof, and he could see steam emanating from two of them. He thought he detected the smell of fried food and assumed that structure was a kitchen and mess hall. The fourth structure was smaller, seemingly out of place with the others. It had no windows and only one door. My God, Ben thought, Deidre’s in there. He wanted to run to her but knew it would be suicide. He shifted his attention to the fifth building and decided it was a bunker, probably where they kept explosives and ammunition.
He struggled to get his binoculars out of his jacket pocket, and put them to his eyes. After adjusting the lenses into focus, he began to scan the camp. Where the road entered—he assumed it was the same road he and Deidre had wondered about on their walks—two guards were stationed, and he focused on them. Ben recognized the arms they carried, Barrett REC7 assault rifles. Sweat formed on his forehead as the picture became clearer. Without a doubt, he was on a recon mission for what was to come.
Ben kicked himself for rushing off from home. In his haste he had forgotten to bring a notebook, something that would have been more than valuable, because now he was forced to memorize everything. He counted four more groups of guards on station, and on the backside of the compound a guard tower stood about twenty-five feet above the ground. He identified two guards up there, possibly three, but he couldn’t be sure. Lounging on the parade ground were another dozen men, all dressed in uniforms with insignia on their sleeves. That made twenty-four soldiers—he didn’t know what else to call them—who were visible.
He assumed there were more, probably another group of twelve who had stood guard through the night. It appeared that no one in particular was in charge, and Ben thought there must have been at least another half-dozen men who were acting officers, but where were they? Then, too, others must have been in the mess hall, maybe as many as a half-dozen more.
As he continued his surveillance, two man exited the building he had decided to call the prison. Their uniforms were different, and they had the bearing of superiority. Ben watched the men who were lounging jump to their feet and stand at attention when they passed. He knew he was right in his assumptions. He guessed the number in the group to be about fifty, give or take a few. At any rate, a formidable number.
He took one more look through his binoculars at what he knew in his heart to be Deidre’s prison and slowly backed down to the low ground. Tears welled in his eyes, and he said a silent prayer for her as he made his way back from where he had come. He’d be back. And he prayed, Please God, don’t let us be too late.
Ben’s journey back to his house went much faster. Once he cleared the area of the land mine, he broke into a dogtrot, concentrating on his footing and not much feeling the brush that swatted him in the face as he pushed through it or the bite of deer flies that burrowed into the fringe of hair that escaped from under his cap. It was eleven o’clock when he slammed his way into his kitchen, gasping for breath as he rested his hands on his knees.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
I found the place,” Ben managed to get out while he sucked air. “They have a military outpost set up about a mile or so from here. “Get me a paper and pen so I can sketch things out. Then we have to decide what we’re going to do.”
Megan and Maren were standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the dining room, their eyes wide open and filled with concern. “I’ll get the paper,” Megan volunteered and spun on her heels. Maren could only stand and gape at her father. Ben remembered that he had put his cell phone on airplane mode and that he wouldn’t have received any messages since then. He entered his code, touched the settings icon, and removed the lock symbol. Immediately, a number of messages were downloaded. In the first, Deidre was again bound to the chair, and she looked worse than before. She had dried blood on her lip and chin. Her head hung so her chin rested on her chest, and Ben could see that she was so weak she could barely sit up. In the next frame, a rope had been tied around her neck and pulled taut overhead, forcing her to sit up straight in the chair to avoid being strangled by the noose. Ben felt a sense of panic and rage, but there was nothing he could do. The last picture showed her drinking from a water bottle. Her eyes were closed and her head was tilted back. A rope burn was visible around her neck, and it was obvious her torture was escalating.
A voice message had been left, and when Ben opened it, he discovered it was the same man’s voice from before. “Hello, Agent VanGotten. Your wife is quite photogenic, don’t you think? Well, the next move is yours. If you don’t make a move soon, her condition is sure to worsen. I guess we could say, only you can save her.” The message ended.
Before anyone could stop him, Ben hit redial on his cell, and the call was picked up after the third ring. “Hello, Ben. Glad you called back. I thought for a while that you had abandoned your darling little wife. She is a looker, isn’t she?” Ben lost it.
“You SOB, if your lay another finger on her, I’m going to tear your arms off when I get to you. We know where you are and how many of you there are. Damn it! We’ll be there, so be ready!” Jackie grabbed the phone from his hand and turned it off. Ben realized he had given the enemy information he shouldn’t have. Now they knew they had been observed and would increase their border se
curity. “Sorry,” he said and hung his head, then he began to sob. “We can’t just leave her there.” He looked into the faces of the officers gathered around him. One of the deputies put his hand on Ben’s shoulder but had no words.
Jackie was the first to respond. “Ben, here’s the paper you asked for. Begin by showing us what you saw.” He began to make a rough sketch of the compound, along with his estimates of size and distance.
“I’m guessing she’s being kept here,” he said, pointing at the square on the paper representing the windowless building. Ben continued. “I counted about thirty people I could see, but estimate there might be around fifty. The guards I saw were all equipped with Barrett REC7s, but that’s not the worst of it. On either side of the compound were redoubts housing what looked like Browning fifty-caliber machine guns. They’re set for war.” He shook his head in resignation.
Jackie took him by the shoulders and gave him a jerk. “Don’t you give up. We haven’t started to fight back, and we will. Keep your head up, and trust us. You and Deidre aren’t alone by a damn sight. Just sit tight for a couple of minutes. I’ve got two calls to make.” She stomped out the door, and Ben saw her pacing in the yard, her cell phone to her ear. In a few minutes she returned.
“I just called our boss,” she said, looking Ben square in his eyes. “He’s organizing a SWAT team as we speak, should be here in two hours. He said to notify the state troopers and have them bring their armored vehicle as soon as they can. Right now it’s at headquarters in St. Cloud. I called and they’re on their way. Should take them under three hours to make the trip, because I doubt if they’ll follow the speed limit. While I was making that call, he was on the phone to the governor and will be calling back with good news, I’m expecting.” Jackie had just uttered those words when her phone beeped. She put it to her ear.
“Yes, sir!” they heard her say. “Yes, sir. . . . We’ll be ready . . . Yes, we can use his house for a command post . . . Yes, sir.” Jackie took the phone down from her ear. “The governor has activated a unit of the National Guard out of Duluth. He talked to the commander, who’s in the process of mobilizing his men. The governor will be here in four hours so he will be available to make instant decisions.” She looked at Ben. “Keep the faith. We’ll do all we can. Why don’t you go talk to your daughters? Your pastor visited them until a few minutes ago, but he had a funeral to attend and had to leave. The girls just went back to their room. Go be with them. There’s not much we can do until the big guns get here and we make a plan, but be ready if the group sends another message to you about Deidre. We don’t want to miss it if they do.”
Ben forced himself to climb the stairs and as he walked down the hall past his and Deidre’s bedroom, he was blindsided by a whiff of her perfume. All of his emotions erupted to the surface, and he turned to the source of the smell, sat down on the bed, and buried his face in his wife’s pillow. Silently, he wept until he couldn’t weep any more. Then he made his way to the girls’ room.
Megan was sitting in the window bay, staring off across the neighbor’s hayfield. Maren was lying on her bed, earphones on, listening to some song. Her eyes were closed, but Ben knew she wasn’t sleeping. He touched her foot. “Girls. Can we talk?” Without a word, Maren removed her headset, and Megan came to sit beside him on the bed. “Mom’s in big trouble,” he began. “I won’t lie to you. She’s being psychologically tortured, but not brutalized, at least we don’t think so. I’ll be honest with you, her treatment could escalate to something more brutal. As of right now, the National Guard has been called to help us. The FBI is sending a SWAT team, and the state troopers will be here. Mom’s deputies are here in full force, and we have reinforcements on the way. Even the governor is coming.” He forced a smile. “Get cleaned up. The TV cameras won’t be far behind.”
“Oh, Dad. How can you try to make a joke right now? We’re so worried. Nothing matters but getting Mom home safely.” Megan scolded.
Ben looked at his daughters, and he couldn’t help but notice how grown up they were becoming. “Right now, all I can do is believe this is going to turn out okay.” He closed his arms tighter around them and held on. “It’s going to work out. It has to. I bet neither of you have eaten anything today. Come on down and we’ll grab something from the fridge. Reinforcements will be here by evening, and we don’t know what we’ll be doing then.”
Maren laid her head on her dad’s shoulder. “Do you think . . . do you think, you know. Do you think they’re . . .” She was groping for words, and Ben thought he knew what she was thinking. He finished her sentence. “. . . sexually abusing her? There’s nothing in the photos that make me believe that.” He thought, At least I hope to God they’re not. “Come on, girls, let’s all go downstairs. It will be better to keep busy, and we can use a couple of gofers.”
Three abreast, they squeezed their way down the stairway without falling, and were greeted by everyone in the kitchen. His phone signaled an incoming text message.
Ben’s fingers almost froze as he fumbled with the buttons, but eventually he pressed the right ones and the message opened. It was a video sent via text, and he hurriedly clicked on it. It was a recording of Deidre. She was having a difficult time holding her head up, but Ben noted that the blood had been washed off her face. Through her chapped lips she began to speak, and Ben saw thick spittle begin to form in the corners of her mouth.
“Ben. As you can see, they’re keeping me alive. The heat lamp is brutal, but I’m making it. When are you going to rescue me? I can’t hold out much longer.” Ben saw a flicker of fire in her eyes and her head came up. She shouted as best she could through her dry lips. “Don’t come! It’s a trap!” From out of nowhere a hand swept into the picture, and Ben heard a resounding slap as Deidre’s head jerked to one side, and Ben saw her topple from the chair.
Chapter Forty
Half-dazed from what she had endured, Deidre calculated she’d been held for at least sixteen hours, and her estimate was not far off. Of those sixteen hours, twelve had been spent strapped to a chair under the blaze of the heat lamp, and her face felt as though it were on fire. She knew she had suffered burns as serious as if she’d fallen asleep on a beach while sunbathing. Her lips were dry and cracked, and when she ran her tongue over them, she could detect the salty, metallic taste of blood. She gently touched one side of her face and winced as pain shot up her cheek, and she could feel its puffiness with her finger tips. They had shoved her into her corner again, and she brought her knees up to her chest so she could rest her forehead on them. She wrapped her arms around her legs, curling into a defensive position, trying to block out all that was around her, and drifted off into a confused half-sleep, half-stupor.
It seemed as though she had momentarily closed her eyes when one of the uniformed men kicked her shoe. She instantly jolted awake, confused, wondering where she was. Then reality set in. She was dragged to the chair which she had begun to hate, fear, and accept, all at the same time. There was no wondering what would come next. The pattern was set, and true to form, seconds after she was bound, the light came on. She closed her eyes and dropped her chin to her chest in an attempt to shield herself from the intense rays.
This time, somebody stepped forward but off to the side, and she could see that whoever it was, they were taking a picture of her. It registered in her fuzzy mind that they were using her cell phone. He came a step closer. “We’re going to make a video using your phone,and this time I want you stick to what I tell you to say. Tell him, ‘As you can see, they’re keeping me alive. The heat lamp is brutal, but I’m making it. When are you going to rescue me? I can’t hold out much longer. Please come soon. The captain says he wants to talk with you to negotiate a deal with the FBI. All they want is to be heard. Then we can go home together.’ Can you remember that?” Deidre nodded. “Good, let’s try a rehearsal.” She nodded again and tried to recite his message word for word but only
got most of it right. “That’s okay. You got most of it.”
She saw him fiddle with the phone and signal her to begin. Deidre heard herself talking as though she were eavesdropping on a conversation. “Ben, as you can see, they’re keeping me alive. The heat lamp is brutal, but I’m making it. When are you going to rescue me? I can’t hold out much longer.” Captain Blake stood a little off to the side, a smirk of victory on his face. Suddenly, Deidre went off-script. “Don’t come! It’s a trap!”
The captain thought they had broken her, but he was wrong. He drew his hand back and swung with all his might, hitting her square in the face, and Deidre was knocked off the chair. She lay in a heap on the floor, unable to gather enough strength to get up.
“Stupid!” the captain screamed. “When are you going to learn that you have no way out unless we decide to let you go? That’s the last time you’ll get to hear Ben’s voice. From now on, he’ll see your pictures, but I’ll do the talking. Do you have any idea what you look like? No, of course not. You don’t have a mirror. You’re a mess, and with every hour that goes by, you look worse.” He ordered the light shut off and sat down on the chair that was Deidre’s torment. She lay in a crumpled pile at his feet.
“I’m sure your husband has gathered some officials who will try to decide what to do. They’re probably wondering what they’re up against, and I’ve expected a surveillance copter or plane to fly over. If not that, I’ve expected someone to reconnoiter our position on foot. The lieutenant who carried you to our outpost left a faint trail that could be followed. He even planted a fake landmine to make it look as though we didn’t want anyone observing our position. You see, we want them to know what we have. You’re right, this is a trap, but not for Ben. We fully expect that when word gets out about the land mine, about our armament, about our defense, the National Guard will be called in, and when that happens, the war for the salvation of the United States will have begun.”
Preying in Two Harbors Page 22
