Deep in thought, Katie lifted her hand to try to tuck a stray strand of hair back into her prayer kapp. But the handcuffs clinking together brought her back to her present surroundings, and she quickly lowered her hand.
“Sorry,” she whispered to Adam. The man sitting next to Timothy glared at her but didn’t say anything.
She licked her dry lips and wished for a drink. How far from home was she? Her thoughts meandered to her little twins, Ruth and Rebekah, and what they were doing right then. Perhaps eating supper, or depending on what time it was, redding up the kitchen after the meal. Jed might be bringing out his big Bible for the after-supper reading of Gott’s Word. Ach, how she longed to be there.
One thing was for sure and for certain. Sarah and Jed were the truest of friends, and Sarah was the closest thing she had to a sister. Friendship like that was a gift from Gott. Her twins may be without her for the moment, but she trusted Sarah and Jed implicitly with her girls. Would she see them again? Ever? Only the Lord knew the answer to that question. Her heart raced at the notion that the end of her life was approaching. It seemed to be a distinct possibility that her twins could be left as orphans.
A thought struck her, shaking clear through to her very soul. The only One who could save anybody was Gott. Sure, she had known this for most of her life, but it was only head knowledge. Now that her life was at risk, and it seemed that Gott was the only One who could save her physically, the notion that Gott was the only One who could save someone spiritually became much more real.
With so much of her efforts and energies directed toward figuring out what had been wrong with her bruder, had she actually accomplished anything? Had she made any progress at all? Maybe it was only Jesus who could save him now. Perhaps it was honestly and truly out of her hands.
A shiver coursed through her at the realization. It had been Jesus all along...the only One who could save Timothy. The only One who could save her or Adam or anybody. Gott was the One who had saved her and guided her and blessed her, but she hadn’t been turning to Him, seeking Him, laying her soul bare as she asked Him for help with her biggest problem. She had prayed plenty, but it had been prayer as a habit, as something that everyone else in the Amish church did. It was a rote practice. It had not been a real conversation with Gott, sprinkled with plenty of quiet in order to listen to His response.
Did Adam have faith? A real faith? She glanced at him, but he seemed lost in thought and didn’t return the look. She thought back over the past couple of days. Sometimes it had seemed that he did, but other times she had thought that he didn’t. Gott, she prayed, help him to know Your love.
Did Adam realize that she loved him, as well? Katie gasped and jerked her head up at the revelation. From the corner of her eye, she saw Adam look at her, but she refused to meet his gaze. Jah, it was true, although she had not realized it until the quiet moments available for reflection. Yes, he was an Englischer. But she was falling in love with him, whether it was wise or not.
The van lurched to a stop, and Little Joe turned from the wheel, a malicious grin on his face. “Everybody out.”
Katie’s heart beat wildly in her chest at the announcement. What fate waited for them outside the van doors?
FOURTEEN
The sun had just dipped below the trees as the doors at the back of the cargo van opened. Katie peered over Timothy’s shoulder for a glimpse of their destination. An eerie glow cast itself over the landscape, and trees loomed large and menacing around the dirt parking lot.
The thug pushed Timothy out first. Katie followed, but she stumbled over the edge of the van and fell toward the ground. Timothy stuck out his bound hands to stop her fall, and she gripped the cold metal of the cuffs, grateful for the help. Adam, still handcuffed to Katie, followed closely behind.
“Move it.” With a gun to her back, the man pushed her and Adam around the van and toward a large, dark building.
The sawmill! Katie gasped to see the ominous structure rise up before her. Jah, she had interpreted her bruder’s message correctly, but that was little comfort as she most likely marched to her death. Of even less comfort was the thought that she would die in the same place as her husband had. She bit her lip to fight back the tears at the irony of it all.
The dark descended rapidly, which meant it was after work hours and no employees would be around to summon help. But it was also Saturday. That meant the mill was closed for the whole next day as well, giving the bad guys a day and a half to carry out their evil deeds at the empty sawmill. There was no hope for employees to return to work to find and rescue them.
Despair gripped her heart like the vise that her bruder had in his woodworking shop. Not only had she not succeeded in saving her bruder, but her death would orphan her twins. Jah, the Amish community would surround her girls with love and provide for their care, but it would not be the same as having a mother and an uncle.
As she stepped slowly across the dirt parking lot, a verse from the Psalms sprang to her mind. I will bless the Lord at all times: His praise shall continually be in my mouth. Ach, mein Gott, help me to praise You, even here and in these circumstances.
Her foot landed on the edge of a dip in the packed dirt, and she wobbled, her ankle twisting down into the hole. With his free hand, Adam grabbed her arm to keep her from tumbling to the ground. In her efforts to right herself, a straight pin from her prayer kapp pricked her in the scalp. Inspiration struck, and she quickly reached up to straighten her kapp.
“I have an idea,” she whispered to Adam, tamping down the feel of a smile flitting around her lips.
He continued to stare at the sawmill, his expression serious, but he nodded so slightly that she could barely see it. It was an agreement that in this, their most desperate hour, she should proceed with whatever her idea was.
She suppressed the smile, eager not to draw attention to herself. Staring straight ahead and with what she wanted to be a somber expression, she removed one of the straight pins used to fasten her kapp into place. Hopefully it would look to an observer like she was simply adjusting her head covering.
Lowering her hand, she tucked the straight pin into one of the creases in her palm, the cold metal of the pin pressing against her flesh. Perhaps at some point in time, she could pick the lock of the handcuffs. Her mind reeled with what she was planning. Normally on a Saturday evening, she would be at home, finishing her pies and redding up her house for visiting on an off Sunday. And yet here, today, she was trying to figure out how to get out of handcuffs and save her life, as well as the life of her bruder and a special agent.
She glanced at Adam, his jaw fixed in grim determination. If she had learned anything about him over the past couple of days, she knew from the set of his eyebrows and the wrinkles in his forehead that he was working hard to formulate a plan. She had no idea what all his training and experience encompassed, but surely he would have some idea how to pick the lock of the handcuffs if she couldn’t make it work.
The pace was slow and steady, but the sawmill loomed large in front of them anyway. Adam walked close by, but not just because they were still handcuffed together. He cleared his throat softly, and as she looked his way, he cast a reassuring look at her, a smile hidden in the crinkles around his eyes.
“It’ll be fine.” He kept his voice so low, she could barely hear him.
She nodded in return. “Jah, Gott is with us.”
Little Joe stepped up from behind them and stuck the barrel of his weapon into Adam’s side. “No talking.”
Adam grunted his defiance and picked up the pace, edging away from the gun, but the thug matched him. The other thug had his weapon on Timothy, and the five of them hurried on toward the sawmill.
The pace was too much for smooth walking though, especially with the unevenness of the ground. Red welts were beginning to mar her skin as the handcuff pulled on her wrist. Subconsciously she began to list the ingredie
nts for a homemade salve that would soothe her skin, if she survived the night. She couldn’t rub her wrist either, or hold it to keep the cold metal of the handcuff away from the skin because she was still tightly holding the straight pin in her free hand. Was there a way to transfer the pin to her other hand?
But then they were at the door, the thug right behind her so that his hot breath blew on the back of her neck, and there was no opportunity.
Little Joe stepped around her to grab the door, and the second thug pressed them into the building. Darkness enveloped the structure, and the gloominess of the interior tried to penetrate to her soul. Katie stumbled over the threshold of the door, the pin jabbing into the flesh of her palm. A cry of pain rose to her lips, but she suppressed it so she wouldn’t draw attention to herself.
Little Joe grabbed her arm, pulled her up and shoved her farther inside. The second man closed the door behind them with a resounding thud of finality. She shuffled along behind Timothy, trying to see through the gloom and yet afraid to look around. The sweet scent of sawdust overwhelmed her and resurrected vivid memories of the day two years ago when she had been summoned to that same sawmill because her husband had been in an accident.
“Keep moving.” The round end of the gun barrel pressed into her shoulder blade as Little Joe growled near her ear.
She forced herself to keep plodding, one foot in front of the other, as she passed the large bay door, where the ambulance had pulled up in an effort to get as close to her husband’s body as possible. A muscle jumped under her neck as she thought, as she had a million times since the accident, that her husband never should have taken that part-time job at the mill. Their farm-and-produce income had been enough, but he had wanted to build up some savings as their family grew.
That pregnancy had been an easy one, up until that point. She had had a little morning sickness and had been plenty tired, but after managing twins through infancy and the toddler stage, those symptoms hadn’t bothered her that much. Her crochet hook had flown fast through the green-and-white baby blanket, as well as a pair of booties, and even though it was too early for such preparations, her excitement had driven her to retrieve the twins’ old baby clothes that had been tucked away in the attic.
On the morning of that fateful day, she had just brought the laundry in from the line and had planned to bake some oatmeal cookies for the twins before she started crocheting a little cap. Miriam from next door, whose husband had a telephone in the barn for his harness business, had come running as Katie stood at the sink, washing the morning’s dishes. The message had been grim, and her heart had begun a wild thump even before she had heard the word accident. Miriam had volunteered to stay with the twins, who thankfully, at age two, were completely unaware of what was transpiring.
Five long minutes later, the Amish Taxi had pulled up in the lane, though she had not called for it. With hugs from the twins, she had been whisked away by the van, riding in the same vehicle, along the same road, that her husband traveled every day to his job at the mill, since it was too far for horse and buggy. The ride had been silently frantic, and all too soon for her emotions to adjust and her heart to rest, they had arrived at the sawmill, where ambulance lights flashed through the morning sunshine, and huddled groups of workers had cast forlorn looks at her as she approached the entrance.
Inside, the scene had been gruesome. She had learned later that she wasn’t supposed to have seen her husband like that. Her husband’s boss and the paramedics didn’t know she would arrive so soon, and they had not finished their repositioning of him or their cleanup of the area. As soon as they realized she was watching and listening, they rushed her away to an employee lounge and made her sit on a red leather couch.
The miscarriage had struck later that day. While she had lain on a hospital bed on the second floor, being attended by an obstetrician, her husband had lain on a metal slab in the basement morgue, being attended by a coroner.
Now, despite her husband’s efforts and good intentions, she had neither savings nor family beyond the twins.
Lost in her memories and dazed by being back at the sawmill, a place she had avoided since her husband had died, Katie stumbled into Adam. The thug had stopped them near several large stacks of boards. Adam grasped her hand, his hand warm and strong over her cold flesh. Her pulse beat through her, threatening to pull her back into a state of being overwhelmed, and she glanced at Timothy. With both of his wrists handcuffed, he was even more limited than she was.
She swallowed hard, forcing the memories and emotions to the back of her mind. Her bruder needed her, and she would do her best for him. For Timothy, and for Ruth and Rebekah.
Adam stroked his thumb over the back of her hand, a gesture that was both comforting and thrilling at the same time. And jah, she would do her best for Adam as well, and for whatever the future may hold for them.
* * *
A tear trickled down Katie’s cheek, and Adam’s heart twisted within his chest at her obvious anguish. She had told him that her husband had died in an accident at the sawmill, and now here they were. She had been forced to enter the very place where her happy life had ended, and there was nothing Adam could do to protect her from it. It took all his restraint not to slam his fist into the stack of boards or lunge for the closest criminal or make a wild dash for the door with Katie. But none of those actions would help, and would in fact only bring further harm to all three of them.
Self-control, a level head and a compassionate heart were what Katie needed now. God would help him, especially now that Adam had asked Him.
As they had been marched through the sawmill and into the middle of the enormous building, Adam had scoured the structure for exits. There were not many options that he could see, except for the one they had just entered. A few skylights dotted the ceiling, but unless he had a grappling gun, a weapon that could shoot a rope with grappling hooks on one end around the transom and allow them to ascend through the roof, the skylights weren’t helpful.
Several windows lined the very top of the walls, near the ceiling. But at a height of at least fifteen feet, those windows couldn’t provide an escape. The tiniest bit of setting sun filtered through the opaque glass. It would be completely dark in a matter of minutes. One small light was on, a lamp on a table a few yards away. But considering the time spent driving, they were probably so far out in the country that no one would see it. And who would care anyway? Lots of business owners left lights on in their places of business overnight and through the weekend for security. It was ironic, really. The little light in the dark sawmill should indicate to someone on the outside that someone was inside, yet lights were left on inside a business for security. Adam would have chuckled to himself if he had been capable of finding anything funny at that moment.
He continued his survey of the building.
One entire end of the building looked like a giant garage door, but it was closed and most likely locked. Adam had no doubt that it was secure and would not provide a viable exit. The walls reflected a bit of shine from the low lamplight. They looked to be made of sheet metal, which would mean that he couldn’t grab an ax and break through drywall. It also meant that, even if he did have his weapon, which he didn’t, it wouldn’t be wise to shoot. A bullet could ricochet off many surfaces in that sawmill, and then there would be no telling where it might end up.
Adam didn’t know much about milling, but none of the machines in that part of the building looked safe. He was sure that much safety equipment was required to be worn while operating them. One looked like it was designed to skin the bark off logs, and another probably cut them up into boards. Conveyor belts, perhaps for moving the logs and the resulting lumber, stretched back and forth. And almost every bit of equipment contained vicious-looking teeth. They were all machines that would be plenty capable of hurting people. Adam sent up a quick prayer that that was not what this criminal gang had in mind for the three of them.
Timothy cast a forlorn look at Adam as the thug called Little Joe stationed them in front of a stack of what looked like freshly cut boards. Sawdust clung to the top in clumps, and Katie sneezed.
“Stay there,” Little Joe ordered them as if they were dogs and then sauntered toward the folding table where Vic huddled with a couple of other men.
After Joe had moved far enough away, Adam looked to Katie and Timothy. “It’ll be fine.” He wasn’t sure exactly what he meant by that, but it seemed he should say something reassuring. Even if their end was death, they would be with the Lord, and that was fine.
“Do you have a plan?” Katie whispered and then sniffled, the sawdust in the air obviously affecting her breathing.
“Not yet, but I’m working on it.” He nodded toward the table. “So, Vic is there, as well as the driver of our van and the guy who was in the back with us. Who’s the fourth man? Do you know, Timothy?”
Timothy cut his eyes at the foursome, seeming to study the men. “Nein, I do not recognize him.”
“Maybe he was the advance man and broke into the sawmill before we arrived. There’s no way to know for sure.” Adam studied the men some more and the stacks of papers spread out over their table. “Any idea what all the paper is? Did Little Joe ever say anything that might indicate what’s going on?”
“Nein. He was quiet all the time, except for when he was giving me orders.”
Amish Covert Operation Page 15
