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Authors: Andrew Peterson
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woman. Red splotches began forming above the cuts on her torso.
“My colleagues have expressed interest in coming in here and meeting your ex-wife. I haven’t allowed them to. Yet.” He held a box of condoms up to the camera. “I have a week’s supply for all six of my men. I trust that such a prolonged interaction won’t become necessary?”
“No, it absolutely won’t.”
“I have no interest in you, Mr. Dalton, or your ex-wife. My sights are… let’s just say they’re above your pay grade.” He held two small photographs up to the Webcam. “I’m sure it’s difficult to see the mother of your daughters in such a horrible situation.”
“Please, leave them out of this. They’re only children.”
“That depends entirely on you, Mr. Dalton. My men have also expressed interest in meeting them as well.” He turned to his left and snapped a finger. Arturo, his right-hand man, dragged two chairs from the shadows and placed them next to the table. Two more men, each with a blindfolded and gagged young girl, hauled them into the chairs and held them in place by their shoulders. Both were crying and shuddering with fear.
“Please, I’m begging you. Leave them out of this.”
“I see no reason to indulge my men as long as you cooperate.”
Nichole managed to stop crying long enough to say, “I’m here, babies. Mommy’s here.”
He snapped his finger again and Arturo covered her mouth with duct tape and blindfolded her.
“Please don’t hurt them. I’ll do what ever you want.”
“I’m prepared to give Nichole an injection of morphine. Would you like me to do that?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not without compassion, Mr. Dalton.” He stabbed a needle into a patch of undamaged skin and depressed the plunger.
Nichole groaned through the tape covering her mouth.
He lowered his voice and leaned over her. “This won’t act as quickly as an intravenous injection, but in a few minutes you should feel better.” He placed the syringe on the table and leaned into the camera. “Mr. Dalton, you and I are now going to discuss our situation. I trust our conversation will remain confidential?”
“Yes.”
“Do I need to remind you what will happen otherwise?”
“No.”
He inserted a thumb drive and opened the record program on his laptop computer. “Very good. Shall we begin?”
Chapter 11
After a fuel stop and head call in Seligman, Nathan and Harvey were on their way to Page, Arizona, near the Utah border. In Page, they topped off the Bell’s tanks and resumed their flight. Passing beneath them was some of the most beautiful territory Nathan had ever seen. The reddish-orange rock formations seemed random and yet master-planned. Truly God’s country, but a nasty place to lose an engine and crash—nothing a spatula couldn’t clean up.
After passing over the huge, concrete monolith of Glen Canyon Dam, they snaked their way up Lake Powell, staying close to its centerline. On both shorelines, dozens of narrow bays snaked their way out from the lake’s main body. Party barges and waterskiing boats occupied most of them.
There were a million and a half places to dump a stiff out here. Blind luck had led to Kramer’s body being seen as it went into the water. What were the odds? Maybe not all that bad. There were probably hundreds of impromptu campsites along the shorelines with many of them outside designated areas.
“Let’s climb to five hundred AGL. This light isn’t great for spotting power lines.”
“No problem,” Harv said.
“We’ll be over the marina in a few minutes. We’ll reconnoiter the area before landing.”
“You want the controls?”
“You’re doing fine.” He refolded the Denver sectional chart, putting Bullfrog Bay in the middle of his knee board. “Fly a heading of… zero-three-zero. That should take us directly to the marina.”
“Zero-three-zero,” Harv repeated. “Our FBI escort should be there by
“My colleagues have expressed interest in coming in here and meeting your ex-wife. I haven’t allowed them to. Yet.” He held a box of condoms up to the camera. “I have a week’s supply for all six of my men. I trust that such a prolonged interaction won’t become necessary?”
“No, it absolutely won’t.”
“I have no interest in you, Mr. Dalton, or your ex-wife. My sights are… let’s just say they’re above your pay grade.” He held two small photographs up to the Webcam. “I’m sure it’s difficult to see the mother of your daughters in such a horrible situation.”
“Please, leave them out of this. They’re only children.”
“That depends entirely on you, Mr. Dalton. My men have also expressed interest in meeting them as well.” He turned to his left and snapped a finger. Arturo, his right-hand man, dragged two chairs from the shadows and placed them next to the table. Two more men, each with a blindfolded and gagged young girl, hauled them into the chairs and held them in place by their shoulders. Both were crying and shuddering with fear.
“Please, I’m begging you. Leave them out of this.”
“I see no reason to indulge my men as long as you cooperate.”
Nichole managed to stop crying long enough to say, “I’m here, babies. Mommy’s here.”
He snapped his finger again and Arturo covered her mouth with duct tape and blindfolded her.
“Please don’t hurt them. I’ll do what ever you want.”
“I’m prepared to give Nichole an injection of morphine. Would you like me to do that?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not without compassion, Mr. Dalton.” He stabbed a needle into a patch of undamaged skin and depressed the plunger.
Nichole groaned through the tape covering her mouth.
He lowered his voice and leaned over her. “This won’t act as quickly as an intravenous injection, but in a few minutes you should feel better.” He placed the syringe on the table and leaned into the camera. “Mr. Dalton, you and I are now going to discuss our situation. I trust our conversation will remain confidential?”
“Yes.”
“Do I need to remind you what will happen otherwise?”
“No.”
He inserted a thumb drive and opened the record program on his laptop computer. “Very good. Shall we begin?”
Chapter 11
After a fuel stop and head call in Seligman, Nathan and Harvey were on their way to Page, Arizona, near the Utah border. In Page, they topped off the Bell’s tanks and resumed their flight. Passing beneath them was some of the most beautiful territory Nathan had ever seen. The reddish-orange rock formations seemed random and yet master-planned. Truly God’s country, but a nasty place to lose an engine and crash—nothing a spatula couldn’t clean up.
After passing over the huge, concrete monolith of Glen Canyon Dam, they snaked their way up Lake Powell, staying close to its centerline. On both shorelines, dozens of narrow bays snaked their way out from the lake’s main body. Party barges and waterskiing boats occupied most of them.
There were a million and a half places to dump a stiff out here. Blind luck had led to Kramer’s body being seen as it went into the water. What were the odds? Maybe not all that bad. There were probably hundreds of impromptu campsites along the shorelines with many of them outside designated areas.
“Let’s climb to five hundred AGL. This light isn’t great for spotting power lines.”
“No problem,” Harv said.
“We’ll be over the marina in a few minutes. We’ll reconnoiter the area before landing.”
“You want the controls?”
“You’re doing fine.” He refolded the Denver sectional chart, putting Bullfrog Bay in the middle of his knee board. “Fly a heading of… zero-three-zero. That should take us directly to the marina.”
“Zero-three-zero,” Harv repeated. “Our FBI escort should be there by
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