The Spy I Loved (31 page)

“
The first person I thought of was you, Mister
Kimball.”

Liam
tried to break it to Dale as gently as he could.

“
Look. She’s a grown woman—”

“
Yeah? So?” Dale looked the type to quickly become
belligerent, his eyes shocked at the number of people in Cabin
Seven.

It had
the look, not a big drunk-up but some serious professionals…with
guns, and all of them either on a computer or on a phone, some of
them working both at once. The maximum capacity of any cabin was
set at eight, what with the Ministry of Health regulations in force
throughout the province. That didn’t rule out a big party once in a
while.

This
didn’t look much like a party.

“
There are other young people in the camp. Maybe she rode in
with some of them.”

Dale
exploded. Even though it could be true. Lindsey had been a bit down
on herself lately, and Dale had a sneaking suspicion that it had a
lot to do with this Kimball character.

“
And how in the bloody hell is she supposed to get
home?”

Liam didn’t have much of an answer for that. He understood
the man’s concerns. It wasn’t
his
niece.

“
Well, I don’t know. She’ll probably catch a ride home with
whoever—or stay overnight.” Even Liam was having a hard time buying
that one.

It wasn’t exactly unheard-of. Young women got
boned,
(or boinked) to
put it crudely, all the time. It was at least a small part of what
the young lady had been pretty obviously looking for—

He really couldn’t
say
that, of course.

Dale
loved his niece, and he was probably worried about nothing, his own
guilt crushing in on him a little. He was showing some of this
inadequacy now.

It was
all Liam could do, hating himself as he did, to usher Dale out the
door.

“
If she needs a ride, Dale, she’d be calling you at your home
number. Right?” Even then, the gentleman took some
convincing.

Dale had
this betrayed look on his face. With one last angry look around, he
turned and stomped out.

As soon
as the door was closed and Liam was satisfied that Dale was indeed
going down the walk, he turned to the room.

“
What?” He had plenty of manpower. “I want two or three of you
guys to have a look around. Knock on doors and ask if she’s there.
Full court press.”

He was
impressed how they divided themselves up. The more junior teams
members scuttled out the front door.

It didn’t
take long to determine that she wasn’t home, and not much longer to
determine that the truck she had supposedly borrowed was sitting in
front of the store. They checked all outdoor campfires, all
parties. They couldn’t be sure she hadn’t taken any of the
boats—there still seemed to be three or four boats out on the
water.

She
wasn’t at any of the other cabins, a polite knock and an inquiry
bringing all negative responses.

Someone
answered another call, speaking as quietly as they could, hair on
their neck prickling at the silence from Liam and the others. The
guy’s back was turned to avoid just such distractions. This post
would be manned constantly, no matter what happened. There was an
emergency message, an icon onscreen that could be sent in a second
assuming bad guys kicking in the door…

“
Very well. Launch them as soon as possible.” It was a unit of
reconnaissance drones, setting up and coming online. “We have more
than one situation. Will advise. Please proceed with our initial
plan, please.”

The
operative hung up the phone and punched up the big screen on the
wall. Typing in the reported position, a small blue star appeared.
According to their friends, the drones would be launched
immediately from a small grass airstrip on Mackinac Island. They
would be over Canadian territory, cameras zooming in from miles
away, in minutes. They had three aircraft and one in reserve for
mechanical emergencies. A second unit would hopefully be on scene
within six hours, providing relief for refueling and
maintenance.

His feet
seemed to be glued to the floor.

Things
were getting down to the wire.

Liam was
tightening the noose as quickly as he could. The first part of
EMERALD was now labeled Object One. That part of the investigation
had been handed off. He needed action, but it had to be useful, it
had to be correct—

A phone
rang.

Marjorie,
one of their C.S.I.S. operatives, was waving madly at Liam and
pointing at her device. Her face was very pale, her normal look of
casual humour gone.

He stared
into Marjorie’s eyes and it was like time stood still—a deer in the
headlights moment.

“
Ah—no.” Marjorie left the computer there on the table but got
up out of her seat.

She
looked very grim.

What Liam
saw when he bent to have a look was enough to make his blood run
cold.

All of
that other stuff fell apart when he saw the picture of Lindsey,
bound, gagged and blindfolded, laying on the railway
tracks.

Behind
the figure of the girl there was a set of signals. The red lights
were flashing. Down low in the frame, the single white flare of a
locomotive headlight was visible a half a kilometre
away.

“
Damn you.”

Somebody
was going to pay for this. He read the brief text.

They were
demanding a trade—EMERALD (or what they had of it) for the
girl.

His mind
raced.

EMERALD
for the girl. The trouble was that you could hardly trust them—or
could you?

It would
be a minute yet. He needed to consult with his superiors before
calling that number.

His guts
ached.

***

His hand
shook when he dialed the phone.

“
Kimball.”

“
Sir.”

“
We’ve got the girl. Do you believe me?”

“
Yes.” Liam fumed, but kept his tone level.

“
She’s still alive.”

“
I believe you.”

“
You have something we want.”

“
Sure we do.” Face hard, Liam Kimball listened carefully, for
tone, for background noises, characteristic phrases, or an accent,
anything that might help them.

There was
nothing. Just a voice, distorted and without obvious clues other
than that it was male. It might be an effect of the distortion
program. There was an oddly disjointed pacing.

“
Listen. We’ll make our arrangements and get back to you
within the hour. You will bring EMERALD and we will bring the girl.
Agreed?”

There was
no point in saying no. They were being given an hour, which was
strictly a no-no.

Someone
was going to be very sorry indeed.

The phone
went dead.

Liam
looked at a circle of cold, angry faces.

“
Right. I need to know where that call came from. We need to
find out how she was taken. My impression is that she can’t be very
far away.”

A young
fellow named Boyle spoke up.

“
Here’s another question—he’s talking about EMERALD. But do
they know which piece we have—or do they know we’ve got an even
bigger one up north now?”

The man
on the phone, a man (maybe) whose voice was unrecognizable but
possibly still traceable…Lom or Borz? Or someone else.

Liam
nodded. It was all coming in at once now. A few minutes ago it
seemed he had too many people. He badly needed more warm bodies,
more information, more time.

“
Those people across the street. We haven’t seen them in
hours. Let’s pay them a little visit.”

Taking
out his gun, as a couple of team members got hastily out of their
seats, Liam headed for the door and the street.

His
backup actually used their heads, using the back door. Splitting up
immediately, one went left and one went right. As for Liam himself,
it was like he just didn’t care anymore. He hadn’t cared for quite
a long time, or so it seemed. He used the front door, making no
attempt at stealth.

The
others were barreling along, crashing through the underbrush, and
then he saw the one on the left flit across the road, using the
minimal shadows between street lighting to whatever advantage they
could. Gravel crunched to his right. He was intent on his purpose.
With them in position, he mounted the front steps and knocked on
the door, standing slightly off to one side and with the gun down
low at his right thigh.

The
weapon was cocked.

He was to
the left of the door. The screen door was a right hander and the
inner door a left-hander. If all of the cabins had an identical
floor plan, the bedroom window on the right side was dark. The big
bay window on the left showed a dim light. The curtains were
carefully drawn. He tried a peek. Liam saw nothing but a thin slice
of empty wall.

There was
nothing else for it but to knock.

No one
answered the door. He could only wait so long. There was light
music going on inside and Liam decided to have a look around the
back. Snapping on a powerful mini-light, he kept an eye open for
trip wires and booby traps.

The
crickets were out. There was all sorts of noise out there. The park
was one big, but fairly quiet communal party, going on all around
them. A half a dozen radios or music boxes were going, none of them
really loud.

Sensing
the unseen minder to his right, Liam quietly went to the rear door
and peered in. From what he could see the place was unoccupied.
There were a couple of lights on and the bedroom door was closed.
The bathroom door was closed and the window was dark.

Opening
up the screen door, he gave the inner knob a cautious twist. It was
locked.

He let
out his breath and caught the eye of the nearest
watcher.

The whole
thing stunk to high heaven. Stepping back, the lady came up. They
took a set of lock-picks out of their jacket pocket, careful not to
let them clink and rattle as they did so.

Liam
leaned in close beside the girl’s head.

“
There might be booby traps.”

She
nodded, inserting the first of the picks.

Other
than that she was ignoring him. He stepped away to let her get on
with the work.

From
where he was, he saw a boy and a girl come out the front door of
the store forty metres away and head this way.

***

The fact
that the Bernstein’s cabin was deserted was disturbing. The photos
of Lindsey could have been faked, although Dale obviously
considered her overdue. They were accepting that much at face
value. The cabin was empty, a quick sweep of the resort revealed
that they were not in the store, not outdoors and their boat was
still at the dock. The fact that the car was there but no sets of
keys was interesting. There were still clothes and personal
belongings in the cabin.

“
So what do we do?”

Little
F’s visage stared at him from the laptop screen.

“
Well, we buttoned up their cabin. If they return, the odds
are our visit will be detected. My guess is that they’re not coming
back.”

That one
was a tough call, but on balance, it seemed unlikely.

“
Do you think they have this Lindsey girl?”

Liam
nodded shortly.

“
It’s a pretty good bet. What else do they have to bargain
with? They’ve got one piece of the puzzle. Let’s not forget they
have to get that out of the country. Somehow. Now they want another
one—or possibly two, if they know about the biggie in Agnew Lake.”
Liam’s reasoning was that the enemy was awfully confident about
being able to do just that—so they were coming out of the woodwork
and raising the stakes considerably for themselves in the
process.

They were
also raising the stakes for the authorities.

This was
no longer slap-on-the-wrist territory.

A good
chunk of the engine cluster still rested on soiled towels on the
drying board beside the kitchen sink. Ian had made arrangements for
their find at Agnew Lake to be placed under military guard. In the
meantime, there were a dozen soldiers and police guarding it, but
they were out of the loop information-wise. It would be best to
secure the thing, as Liam explained to Frank. They had it in the
back of a truck, otherwise it was just a bunch of people standing
around wondering what to do next.

“
Yes, I see. And we don’t know if they know about that one.
What’s your proposal?”

They had traced the call through the cellular towers and the
phone network. All they had was a name, George Lowell and the
number. The unit had been used within downtown Espanola. The
message might have been pre-recorded. The subjects could have been
sitting innocently in a doughnut shop and simply pressed SEND
whenever they wanted. They would ditch the phone and use another
one next time. All they really needed was Liam’s number. Just how
they got it was a very good question. They had
probably
done it using wireless
connections and hacking into The Pines’ own computer. Testing the
hypothesis, one of their own techs hacked in within three minutes.
The Pines was typical for its size in having the bare minimum of
computer savvy. Liam had given a phone number and email address
when making the reservation.