Read Online The Nightmare Thief by Meg Gardiner - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Meg Gardiner
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deep in the wilderness to get a signal strong enough for a phone call. But sending a text message required only a weak signal and only for a few seconds. She typed a message to Evan, headed: URGENT. She queued up all the data she’d pulled from the damaged SIM, and pressed Send.
Message failed.
She tried again. Messages placed in queue. Will be sent as soon as possible.
Jo hefted her backpack. The voice on the phone had unnerved her.
And she knew that Phelps Wylie had not been hiking the mountainside when the floods swept down. He had been dragged to the mine at the mercy of a human tormentor.
The speedboat tied up at a harbor on Treasure Island. The men in ski masks shut down the engine and leapt onto the dock. In the abrupt silence, the boat bobbed, water lapping against the hull.
Treasure Island: good omen.
Autumn climbed onto the dock. The ride had been thrilling. It had rattled her teeth. Lark climbed out behind her, followed by Grier and Dustin. A minute later the Hummer came tearing up, followed by a black Volvo SUV. At the sound of the engines a seagull took flight, squawking.
The tall man pointed at the Hummer. “Inside, on the double.”
They ran along the dock and piled in. Inside were Peyton, Noah, and Autumn’s “nemesis,” U.S. Marshal Ritter, aka Kyle the Edge Adventures guy.
Autumn hesitated. “I thought we were broken into separate teams.”
“There’s been an adjustment to the itinerary,” said the boat driver. “First, you get commando training. We’re going to an assault course.”
“I didn’t sign up for training. I get a crime spree. Emphasis on spree. ”
The stout gunman climbed into the Hummer, grabbed their overnight bags and purses, and tossed them onto the dock. “Give me your phones. You’re going to boot camp.”
Reluctantly they handed their phones to him. He climbed out and slammed the door. Outside, more masked people scurried around. Somebody opened the baggage compartment at the back of the Hummer and began loading gear. A heavy object landed with a thud.
Haugen watched Stringer and Friedrich shove the heavy duffel bag into the luggage compartment of the Hummer. They slammed the hatch. Autumn leaned toward the window and stared out at him.
Von came over. “What if they figure it out before we get to the compound?”
“We’ve talked about this,” Haugen said.
“They’re not as stupid as I expected, and they’re not drunk enough yet.”
“You quiet them immediately. You do it in front of the group, pour encourager les autres. You film it, so Peter Reiniger will be convinced that we’re serious.”
“And then I get rid of the evidence.”
“Yes. And make sure it’s one of the disposables.” Haugen paused, to be sure Von understood. “Not just the weapon—the one who becomes the lesson.”
The stout gunman climbed into the driver’s compartment on the passenger side. Another man, wispy and blond, pulled off his mask and got behind the wheel. He cranked the ignition, grinding it until the Hummer finally fired up. They got on the Bay Bridge and headed east, toward Oakland. Finally the stout gunman pulled off his ski mask. A head shaped like a pumpkin sat atop his chunky frame. He ran a hand over his hair.
“Greetings. I’m Von, your drill instructor.”
Autumn leaned toward him. “I don’t want an assault course. I want room service.”
“Assault course and spa,” Von said. “Honey, it’s six-star. Don’t worry.”
Dustin raised his head. “As long as there’s booze.”
“There’s always booze,” Von said. “It’s a party.”
10
T hrough the pines Jo saw, at last, the crest of the hill. They’d been hiking back toward her truck for two hours. She was thirsty, and an altitude headache was lurking. The sun darted in and out from between gathering clouds. The air had a nip.
She was itching to get Phelps Wylie’s damaged cell phone to the Tuolumne County Sheriff’s Office, down the twisting mountain
Message failed.
She tried again. Messages placed in queue. Will be sent as soon as possible.
Jo hefted her backpack. The voice on the phone had unnerved her.
And she knew that Phelps Wylie had not been hiking the mountainside when the floods swept down. He had been dragged to the mine at the mercy of a human tormentor.
The speedboat tied up at a harbor on Treasure Island. The men in ski masks shut down the engine and leapt onto the dock. In the abrupt silence, the boat bobbed, water lapping against the hull.
Treasure Island: good omen.
Autumn climbed onto the dock. The ride had been thrilling. It had rattled her teeth. Lark climbed out behind her, followed by Grier and Dustin. A minute later the Hummer came tearing up, followed by a black Volvo SUV. At the sound of the engines a seagull took flight, squawking.
The tall man pointed at the Hummer. “Inside, on the double.”
They ran along the dock and piled in. Inside were Peyton, Noah, and Autumn’s “nemesis,” U.S. Marshal Ritter, aka Kyle the Edge Adventures guy.
Autumn hesitated. “I thought we were broken into separate teams.”
“There’s been an adjustment to the itinerary,” said the boat driver. “First, you get commando training. We’re going to an assault course.”
“I didn’t sign up for training. I get a crime spree. Emphasis on spree. ”
The stout gunman climbed into the Hummer, grabbed their overnight bags and purses, and tossed them onto the dock. “Give me your phones. You’re going to boot camp.”
Reluctantly they handed their phones to him. He climbed out and slammed the door. Outside, more masked people scurried around. Somebody opened the baggage compartment at the back of the Hummer and began loading gear. A heavy object landed with a thud.
Haugen watched Stringer and Friedrich shove the heavy duffel bag into the luggage compartment of the Hummer. They slammed the hatch. Autumn leaned toward the window and stared out at him.
Von came over. “What if they figure it out before we get to the compound?”
“We’ve talked about this,” Haugen said.
“They’re not as stupid as I expected, and they’re not drunk enough yet.”
“You quiet them immediately. You do it in front of the group, pour encourager les autres. You film it, so Peter Reiniger will be convinced that we’re serious.”
“And then I get rid of the evidence.”
“Yes. And make sure it’s one of the disposables.” Haugen paused, to be sure Von understood. “Not just the weapon—the one who becomes the lesson.”
The stout gunman climbed into the driver’s compartment on the passenger side. Another man, wispy and blond, pulled off his mask and got behind the wheel. He cranked the ignition, grinding it until the Hummer finally fired up. They got on the Bay Bridge and headed east, toward Oakland. Finally the stout gunman pulled off his ski mask. A head shaped like a pumpkin sat atop his chunky frame. He ran a hand over his hair.
“Greetings. I’m Von, your drill instructor.”
Autumn leaned toward him. “I don’t want an assault course. I want room service.”
“Assault course and spa,” Von said. “Honey, it’s six-star. Don’t worry.”
Dustin raised his head. “As long as there’s booze.”
“There’s always booze,” Von said. “It’s a party.”
10
T hrough the pines Jo saw, at last, the crest of the hill. They’d been hiking back toward her truck for two hours. She was thirsty, and an altitude headache was lurking. The sun darted in and out from between gathering clouds. The air had a nip.
She was itching to get Phelps Wylie’s damaged cell phone to the Tuolumne County Sheriff’s Office, down the twisting mountain
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