“I’m sorry, Ben. You must be at your wit’s end,” she said in a quiet voice. “You really love her, don’t you?” He looked up, surprised at her directness, and nodded. “You know, after your wife, Jenny, died, I thought of you often.” She paused, and Ben started to say he appreciated her thoughts, but Jackie continued. “No, I didn’t think of your sorrow. I thought if I waited a year, maybe two, that we could get together. Then, only a few months after Jenny died, Deidre came along. I saw you change almost immediately, and I was sure you were making a big mistake. It was too soon, I believed.” Ben was beginning to feel uncomfortable, but he didn’t know what to say.
Jackie fiddled with a hangnail on her thumb and didn’t look at Ben. “I really expected you to come to your senses and ditch her when you were thinking more clearly. Then I’d planned to move in.” She chuckled a little. “But it didn’t happen. I saw her demanding nothing from you, saw her meeting your needs with no strings attached, and I knew I had lost.” Ben looked at her and saw a tear roll down her cheek. “She got what I wanted.” Jackie squared her shoulders and smiled at Ben. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I guess I wanted you to know how I felt, but I’m going to tell you straight out, I’m happy for you, that you got what you needed. I hope with every bone of my body that you get Deidre back. She’s been wonderful for you and your daughters, but I want you to remember, I’ll be here to help you pick up the pieces if you should need me.”
Ben looked at her and was saddened by the confession she had just made. “Thanks, Jackie. It was difficult for you to tell me this, I know. I’ll remember your offer. I will.” Jackie almost ran from the room, and Ben was left sitting, alone.
Chapter Forty-Five
It seemed Ben had slept only minutes, propped up by a couple of throw pillows on the corner of the sofa. Someone was shaking his shoulder, and confused, he almost called out Deidre’s name. It took a few seconds to clear the cobwebs from his sleep-deprived mind and focus on reality. The hand belonged to Director Benton.
“Wake up, Ben. It’s three thirty, and Major Jensen is moving out at four sharp. You don’t want to be left behind.” Ben rubbed his eyes and shook his head to come fully awake and regained his bearings enough to stand up. He groped his way to the kitchen and poured himself a large mug of black coffee that scalded his mouth with the first slurp. He was wide awake now. He went to his study, opened his gun cabinet, and removed his service sidearm, a nine-millimeter Glock.
The heft of the weapon felt good in his hand, comfortable, and he removed its clip, worked the action to make sure there wasn’t a bullet in its chamber, and slid the clip back in, hearing the click when it seated. He put two additional loaded clips in his pocket, and the thought crossed his mind, If thirty shots aren’t enough, it’ll be too late anyway. He gulped the rest of the black coffee, laced on his field boots, and stepped outside. The coolness of the early-morning calm contrasted with what he was feeling in his guts. The major and his warrant officers were conversing in a group, and Ben moved near them, not pushing his way into the knot but hovering on its perimeter.
“Ben,” Major Jensen greeted him. “This is Warrant Officer Jameson. You’ll be attached to his group, the one in the center lane of low grounds we’ll be using as our routes. It’s time for you to make the last call to your wife to try and get her exact location. Let’s step over here.” He placed his hand on Ben’s elbow and steered him to the porch. Ben brought up the favorites list on his phone, tapped Deidre’s name, and heard the phone ringing. By the fifth ring he was getting agitated, and he fully expected to be connected to her answering machine by the seventh. On the sixth, a groggy voice answered. “Why, Ben, I thought you had given up on seeing your wife again. I suppose you want to talk to her, make sure she’s still alive.”
Ben couldn’t disguise the anger in his voice. “What do you think? Let me hear her voice.” In the background he heard shuffling sounds and muddled voices, then what he wanted to hear.
“Ben,” Deidre croaked. “Ben, I’m still here. Are the girls okay?” He couldn’t believe she was thinking of them.
“Yeah, yeah they are. Now listen to me and answer with only yes or no. Do you understand?”
Deidre answered, “Yes.”
“Are you next to a wall?”
“Yes.”
“Are you in a corner?”
“Yes.”
“Can you tell me which one?”
“No.”
“Is it opposite the door?”
“Yes.”
Ben heard the sound of a tussle on the other phone, and Captain Blake’s voice came on. “Passing information, were you? That’s okay with us, to a point. Come and get her, now that you know she’s alive. We’re waiting.” The line went dead.
Ben glanced at Major Jensen. “She’s alive but sounded like she’s been through the wringer, sounded really weak. She was able to let me know she’s in one of two corners of the room—on the back side from the door. If they hold her at the present position, we can blow a hole in either side or the back, if the charges aren’t too big and if they’re placed in the center of the wall.” The major nodded and went back to his planning group, leaving Ben standing alone. He thought, It might work if they don’t move her.
“Ben, we’re set here,” Jameson called to him. “You lead us to the river. From there, our fire teams will fan out, each moving up their assigned route.”
The trail was familiar, and Ben felt more at ease now that they were moving. An unusual calm descended on him as he realized that in two hours Deidre’s ordeal might come to an end. He refused to let the alternative outcome enter his mind. By the time they reached his family’s picnic area, everyone was warmed up from the pace and ready to do their job. Using hand signals, Jameson motioned for the fire team leaders to go to their particular areas. At exactly 0420 they began moving on the militia’s compound. Ben followed the four-member group to which he had been assigned.
Ben had warned them in the pre-operation briefing that the first many yards along the river bank would be particularly tough going. The rivers in northeastern Minnesota are bordered by dense thickets of tag alder, a tree-like shrub that tends to grow in tangled clumps. Mixed in are high bush cranberry bushes that reach a height of ten to fifteen feet, but the worst impediment to passage are the scattered stands of hawthorn with stout one-inch thorns protruding from their branches, thorns sharp enough that they can be pushed completely through the fleshy part of a hand. The Knife River was no exception, and travel through the thick hedge of vegetation was difficult in daylight, let alone the blackness of night. Fortunately, the moon was still high in the sky, affording a bit of light. In front of him, one member of the fire team cursed under his breath as a bramble snagged his skin and rasped away a layer.
After ten minutes of arduous travel through the tangle, the team broke into the open ground of the ridge. The plan called for them to use its more open terrain until they were closer to the compound, then drop down to the low ground to their left and follow the creek that ran behind the building they were sure held Deidre. From that time on, Ben would stay behind in the cover of the trees while Fire Team B, his group, executed the rescue.
The team was good, he thought. All he heard was the swish of ferns brushing past their legs and an occasional light snap as a twig was crushed underfoot. Had he not known they were there, Ben might have thought he was alone. In the distance he heard the peaceful hoot of an owl, and once, he heard a small animal scurry off to the side, a fox perhaps. The air wasn’t warm, wasn’t cold. It was late August, the time of year when the early morning hours held a hint of autumn but not the threat of frost that would come later in September. Under normal circumstances, Ben would have been in his glory, but this night, he was on a mission.
Jameson stopped the group with an almost inaudible signal, and everyone, including Ben, gathered a
round him. He whispered, “We are almost to the spot where Ben said a landmine was located. We’ll go around it and come up on the ridge on the other side. If I’m not mistaken, we’re still over four hundred yards from our objective. Am I right?” He looked at Ben, and Ben nodded. “Okay, single file and pick up your feet. We’re getting close enough that I don’t want any more noise than necessary.” The group followed the team leader, Ben taking up the rear.
After coming back up onto the ridge, Fire Team B paused, and Ben checked his watch: 6:10 a.m., 0610 hours. Twenty minutes until the action would begin. He felt the grip of apprehension take hold of him, and he knew the decision for him to not be directly involved in the action was right. He was much too closely involved to make the necessary split-second decisions and was almost frozen with fear, not for himself, but for Deidre. A hundred yards closer to their objective, they crept down to the stream below the ridge.
Because of the trees and dense foliage, none of the team could see what was happening in the east, but the sky was beginning to lighten. In ten minutes it would be turning a faint pink, followed by the rose-colored edge of the sun breaking the horizon. Animals were already sensing the change, and to his right, Ben heard the erratic shuffle of dry leaves as a squirrel took a few hops, stopped to listen for danger, and then continued making its way to a stand of hazelnut brush laden with a husk-covered bounty.
Somewhere above him, he heard the hammering of a downy woodpecker. It beat out a rhythm, followed by the flutter of its wings as it flew to another tree. Not far from his head, he heard the scratch of a small creature moving down the tree, and in the dim light, Ben made out the inverted shape of a nuthatch moving down a tree trunk as it searched for a meal hidden in the bark’s cracks and crevices. In the distance, a blue jay croaked its raucous call. For an instant, the forest went silent only to erupt in more sounds a second later. He checked his watch again, 6:24.
Ben had a fleeting moment of panic, wondering if the other groups had gotten lost. He hadn’t heard a sound except for the light footsteps of his own team since they split up at the river. For an instant, he panicked, and then became acutely aware of what the word faith meant: faith in the other teams’ abilities, faith in his own team’s training, faith that he would be holding Deidre in just minutes. Then his faith faltered, and panic set in worse than before. She had to be okay, he told himself.
*****
Huddled in her corner, the blanket pulled up around her face and her knees curled to her chest, Deidre had no sense of time. She dozed fitfully, her mind wracked with dreams that seemed all too real. Every time she dozed off, another series of terrifying scenarios would build until she jolted awake. With a spasm, she kicked her legs at a nonexistent adversary and readied herself for a fight until she realized there was no adversary to be fought.
The building in which she was being held had no windows and only one door. She had been left alone, but as she looked across the room at that one exit, she knew there had to be at least one guard posted outside. The thought never crossed her mind to sneak across the room and try the doorknob. Even if she had thought of doing it, she wouldn’t have, fearing reprisal. She shifted her position and felt a sharp jab of pain in her neck. It was enough to cause her to call out, and she remembered the last time Ben called.
She had heard a sound at the door, before it swung inward. Captain Blake had strode over to her, and Deidre pulled the blanket higher around her chin, waiting to be dragged back to the chair. Her cell phone was in Blake’s hand, and he had thrust it at her, a sneer of victory on his face. “For you.”
Deidre had tried to speak, but all that came out through her dried lips and parched vocal chords was a croak. She swallowed hard, trying to force some lubricating spit to form and tried again. “Ben. I’m still here. Are the girls okay?” Considering her condition and situation, she had realized that was a totally inane question, but that was the first thing to come to her mind. Then she had heard Ben say to answer his questions with only “yes” or “no.”
Yes, she understood him. Yes, she was still against a wall. Yes, she was still in a corner. No, she couldn’t say which one. Yes, it was across the room from the door. At that instant Blake had grabbed the phone from her and shut it down.
“What was that about, some kind of code?” Deidre had looked at him defiantly through her open eye and said nothing. He took a kick at her out of frustration and she felt his boot crash into her ribs. Then he stalked out of the room, slamming the door as he left and leaving her more bruised than before. At that moment, Deidre doubted she was going to make it out alive.
For the moment she tried to move to be more comfortable, this time favoring her left side where Blake’s boot had struck her, and she dozed off again. She had no idea how long she dreamed, but when she woke, she winced when she tried to move. Her side ached, her legs were so stiff she had to force them straight, and her face throbbed. The building was as silent as a tomb, and Deidre thought maybe that was appropriate. She heard some faint sounds and strained her ears to make out if she was imagining or if they really existed. At first she heard a faint tapping like a Morse Code, dot-dit-dit-dot-dot and for a second imagined someone was trying to communicate with her, then realized it was probably the sound of a woodpecker, possibly beating on the eaves of the building.
As she was listening to the bird beating his brains out, she heard something scurrying across the roof. It stopped, and Deidre heard the chatter of a red squirrel. She visualized the little rodent sitting on its hind legs and scolding the guard outside the door. Ever so faintly, she thought she heard the warning cry of a blue jay, “Thief!” and she remembered the Native American tale of how Mother Nature had cursed him with that call, because he stole from other birds.
Wishing she could be outside, watching the animals, Deidre realized she knew what time of day it was—daybreak, those few moments when the woods came alive after the silence of night. She smiled and her face felt sore, stiff, and not her own, but she could take a pretty close guess at the time, six o’clock in the morning. It would be daylight soon, and she wondered if she would live to see another sunrise.
Chapter Forty-Six
Ben looked at his watch for the fifth time in five minutes. 6:29 a.m. Before he could think, One more minute, the morning tranquility of the forest was shattered. His watch had been a minute slow, or else a fire team coming in from the road had gotten ahead of the game. A volley of shots rang out, and he was aware of the members of Fire Team B crabbing their way up the steep rise to the side of the blockhouse where Deidre was. He watched as they disappeared into the grayness of the early morning light, and then he was alone.
*****
Just as Deidre believed she had discovered a shred of reality with the bird sounds outside and the movement of an animal, the peace was shattered by a volley of gunfire answered by the rattle of a machine gun, as well as the retort of assault rifles. Captain Blake and another man, who by his uniform she believed to be an officer as well, rushed into the room. As the second man stooped and fumbled for something on the floor, Blake roughly grabbed Deidre’s arm and jerked her to her feet. The second officer lifted a steel ring in the floor, opening a trapdoor that Deidre hadn’t noticed. She was shoved toward it, and Blake whispered in a sinister voice, “There’s a ladder. I’m going down first, you follow,” he jabbed his finger at her. “And you come last,” he said to his subordinate.
In seconds, Blake had disappeared into the blackness of the hole, and as instructed, Deidre followed. She felt particles of something shower down on her head when the last man came after them, and for a second, all light vanished when she heard the trapdoor slam shut. There was a metallic scraping sound, and it registered in Deidre’s consciousness that the door was being bolted from below. Before the blackness of the dank-smelling tunnel closed in on her, Blake turned on a flashlight and shined it in her eyes. At the bottom of the ladder was just enoug
h room for the three of them to stand and maneuver, and Deidre felt herself pulled forward and then pushed from behind. She was leading the parade to somewhere.
Before she took two steps, the ground and surrounding walls of the tunnel shook and more dust and dirt filtered into her hair. Almost simultaneously, Deidre heard the sound of a blast and then silence. Whoever was behind her gave a shove and she moved forward.
After stumbling along for more steps than she could count, Deidre saw that the tunnel ended in what looked like a solid wall, and as they approached it, she could see that it was a heavy, bolted door. Blake reached around her and slid the lock back. He pushed on the door with one hand, and it wiggled, but didn’t open. He pushed again and made a little progress. The second man, who hadn’t spoken or been addressed by name, stepped in front of them and leaned into it with his shoulder. Deidre heard something like branches breaking and a tree falling. Blake shoved her through the opening so forcefully she stumbled and almost fell. She sensed him right behind her, and then he grunted, and his sensed presence disappeared.
Deidre stumbled forward and heard someone say, “Don’t move an inch, you bastard.”
*****
The gunfire continued, and Ben could discern that it was coming from two locations. He could also make out those shots that were being returned from the militia. They were less sharp, because they were outgoing. Then the louder and more rhythmic pounding of a large-caliber automatic weapon cut loose. Ben experienced a momentary sense of hopelessness when he heard the sounds of war.
Fire Team B and Ben had stopped near a rock outcrop before moving in on their rescue mission, hunkering down to await the distracting fire of one of the decoy fire teams. During those minutes they waited, Ben had surveyed the spot and noticed that next to the rock outcrop a dead fir tree lay at an unusual angle. Something about it didn’t look natural. After the fire team headed toward the camp, Ben stayed crouched down next to the outcrop partially hidden by the dead tree. He flinched and then hunkered lower when an explosion ripped through the bedlam, and for an instant, there was silence, as though everyone and everything had been stunned. During that brief lull, he heard a sound like metal on metal coming from beside the rock he sheltered behind. The tree moved ever so slightly. He stepped closer to the rock shelf protruding from the ground and held his breath.
Preying in Two Harbors Page 25
