River of No Return : A Jake Trent Novel (9781451698053) (29 page)

58

WEST BANK, SNAKE RIVER. OCTOBER 31.

8:30 A.M. MOUNTAIN STANDARD TIME.

Jake called Layle in the morning to inquire about the Terrell children.

“Not yet. They don't know yet. Still in Victor with their aunt.”

“Does she know?”

“I've told her that things got tangled up in China, and their return is delayed. What's going on at your end?”

“It's over as far as we go. Keep me updated on the kids.”

Chayote's enthusiasm at his master's arrival lightened Jake's mood somewhat—he'd received attention from the neighbor only for feeding and bathroom breaks. The same storm that barreled through Idaho Falls had spread through the tall spires of the Tetons, leaving two new feet in the mountains and seven or eight inches at the bed-and-breakfast. When Jake let him out, the heeler galloped through the snow, eating big scoops of it until he was shivering.

Jake made a small fire and sat down by it to drink his coffee.
The sixty-year-old guesthouse wasn't airtight, and drafts haunted the downstairs. He didn't like turning on the electric heat until the first night below zero.

J.P. was with Esma at the hospital. She was doing well. The sepsis was in check, and she was likely to be released the next day.

Jake's plans for the day were basic—he needed to cover and store his boat, tape some of the especially leaky window frames, and deal with Divya. She still didn't have a flight. The airport was behind because of the weather.

Jake's plans changed when she came racing down the stairs at 8:45 a.m.

“Meirong is dead,” she blurted. “Hanged herself in the cell by her jumpsuit.”

Thoughts flooded Jake's head. “Where does that leave us?” An epiphany.
Can we go get Charlotte?

“Wright is in. He's on the phone as we speak, trying to sell the agency higher-ups on your idea.”

Jake jogged upstairs to get dressed and brush his teeth. “What can I do?” he shouted back down at her.

“Nothing but wait.”

He took a seat on his bed and aired a big sigh of relief. All was not lost. Meirong was gone, and with her the biggest bargaining chip for Charlotte. But Xiao didn't know that yet, and if they acted quickly, he wouldn't find out until Charlotte was safe.

* * *

Jake was shoveling snow out of his skiff with a small shovel from his backcountry ski pack when Divya came outside. He had retrieved the canvas cover from its place in the garage and spread it out beside the boat.

Divya looked like Jake felt: reinvigorated and optimistic. Still beautifully severe in a dark outfit and her mirrored sunglasses.

“Any word?” he asked her.

“Not yet.”

Jake looked at his watch, wondering what was taking so long.
Bureaucracy,
he figured. Hopefully not so much as to derail the effort entirely.

“Hey, do me a favor and grab the other end of that cover and pull it over the stern.”

When the cover was attached, Jake pushed the trailer a few dozen feet back off the driveway, under the shelter of a large pine.

“This guy yours?” Divya was crouched, rubbing Chayote's ears.

“Yeah. Kind of forced his way into the family here.”

“I love the place. Get much business?”

“Not really. Let's go inside; I'll show you around.”

The main house was cold; there hadn't been any guests since the weather changed, and thus no need for heat. The large ­interior—­thirty-five hundred square feet or so—was decorated in a combination of brawny fishing lodge furniture and contemporary western art.

Divya stopped in front of a tangerine rendition of an American bison in the main gathering room.

“Interesting.” A smile peeked through.

“Hey, we're in Wyoming.”

“I've never been to Wyoming.”

“Then don't dis my orange buffalo.”

After the brief tour, they settled in by the fire in the guesthouse to get down to business. Chayote, with no such aspirations, snored loudly from the hearth.

“What's the timetable?” Jake was feeling anxious.

“Hopefully quick. We need to move before Xiao learns that Canart and Meirong are dead. We've informed Canart's wife only that her husband is missing and that revealing such information to anyone else at this stage could jeopardize his life. Not a perfect plan, but it buys us a few days.”

Shortly after noon, Wright called and asked to speak with Jake. Divya handed her phone over.

“Jake. It's a go. We're gonna try to get out of this mess with some semblance of a positive result.”

59

TRAM VILLAGE, CHINA. NOVEMBER 1.

1 P.M. BEIJING TIME.

Charlotte Terrell turned over in her bed. She'd been trying to spend as much time as possible asleep, where reality was diluted, but her body was restless. She flipped onto her back and opened her eyes, blankly staring at the stucco ceiling for a few moments.

“Funny seeing you here,” she said toward the giant in the corner, who didn't say anything in response.

Charlotte sat up and looked at the clock.
Holy shit!
She got out of bed, used the restroom, and washed her face. Looking in the mirror, she could swear she'd added a few wrinkles since this nightmare started.

“Food?” she asked the giant as she walked back to the main room and plopped down on the corner of the bed. He got on the phone and ordered some.

“Ask him when I am leaving.”

The giant hung up. “It wasn't Xiao.”

Charlotte's bags sat neatly packed in the center of the room. Her late husband's bags were pushed into the corner, where they didn't catch her eye as often. The TV had become more of an annoyance than a luxury; there were very few programs in En­glish, and she hadn't even begun to understand the local dialect. Instead, she reread the
Western Home
magazine that was in the room.

Her body was sore from being idle. “I need exercise if I'm staying for a while.” She'd said it hoping the giant would reassure her that it wouldn't be long.

All he said was, “I'll ask Xiao.”

The food arrived, brought by the front-desk woman, and Charlotte ate as much as she could despite a weak appetite. She wanted to stay as healthy as possible—physically and mentally.

The room was starting to smell lived-in. The hot food coming and going had stuck around too, bringing a cafeteria aroma to the carpet and upholstery. The sheets had been changed only once since their arrival, and not at all since her daylong drug-induced sleep, from which she had woken up clammy and sweating.

She showered frequently, but she preferred to wear the same clothes—a white pajama outfit with holly leaves and berries.

“I'm going to clean up,” she said to herself. The giant didn't bother looking up from his phone. She washed her face and put on makeup and body lotion, thinking the ritual might induce a sense of normalcy. When she was finished, she walked to the window.

“What's that?”

Nothing from the giant.

“Hey, who are
they
?”

The giant sighed and stood, joining her at the window. Char
lotte had a forefinger pressed to it, pointing to the front gate, where a crowd of a few dozen people was gathered on the outside.

“Just workers.”

But before he could sit back down, his phone rang. The giant spoke fast in Mandarin, then hung up and turned to her.

“I'll be right back.”

* * *

In groups of three and four, more and more people were accumulating. Half the distance to the formation, the giant from the room was standing with Xiao in the dusty road, looking on.

She was still watching when the giant came back.

He walked to his post in the corner without saying a word.

“What's going on?”

“Nothing. Villagers.”

Charlotte returned to the window. It looked as though the crowd was approaching fifty or sixty.

“What do they want?”

“Probably money.”

As more and more villagers gathered, the mass began a procession toward Main Street.

“They're coming in.” The group was pushing and pulling on the gate, using leverage to break it down.

The giant joined Charlotte at the window, then abruptly headed for the door.

The mob reached the middle of Main Street in short order. It was made up of men, mainly, early teenagers to fortysomethings. They moved about without direction, an uneasy throng looking around curiously. A few held picket signs, but Charlotte couldn't decipher the characters. Every few moments a new group of five
or six would pour in from the broken front gate.

That silly white bison was their first target, and Charlotte watched it tumble over with some satisfaction. A few minutes later, a very young demonstrator wandered over to the fallen beast and tried to light it on fire.

The men became more unruly as their numbers multiplied. River rocks from the ornate landscaping were tossed at windows. Doors in various buildings were being tested and broken down.

The giant came hustling in, calling for Charlotte. When she followed him into the hall, Xiao was there too, and she looked at him.

“We're moving. Leave your bags.”

The giant gripped Charlotte by the upper arm. He led her down to the parking garage, where they got in a silver luxury sedan. With the giant behind the wheel, he pulled out of the garage that faced the opposite direction from the mob.

He drove fast around the back side of Main Street and stopped behind the restaurant where Charlotte had been imprisoned with her husband. He jumped out, grabbed Charlotte from the backseat, and with Xiao, led her into through the back door, down the stairs and into the stark-looking kitchen.

“Sit down,” the giant ordered.

“What's going on?”

Xiao fielded this one. “Local farmers, here to steal. Scavenger dogs.” Uncharacteristically, he sounded unsure of himself. “It will pass.” He walked up the stairs and disappeared.

Even in the bunkerlike basement of the restaurant, Charlotte could sporadically hear the crowd shouting in unison. “What are they saying?”

“I can't tell.” The giant, like Xiao, seemed concerned.

The noise from outside grew louder. It sounded now as though
the crowd was just outside the restaurant. “Are they trying to get in?”

The giant didn't respond. He was busy listening.

Xiao returned with a handgun for the giant. He was visibly shaken. They spoke to each other in Mandarin for a moment and Xiao left again, up the stairs.

Charlotte sat in silence, until she noticed the smell. “Smoke. They're trying to burn the building.” Her uneasiness morphed into full-on fear. Not because she was afraid of her own demise, but for her children.

The giant left Charlotte's side and looked up the stairwell. When he came back he said, “Something outside burning,” but didn't look convinced.

More ruckus. The structure of the building itself seemed to be emitting a low buzz; the crowd was here. Testing windows, doors, and walls.

“Come with me.” The giant grabbed Charlotte by the arm again and led her to the dry-storage room where she'd shared her last days with her husband. The broken cot still sat near the door, a memorial to Roger's courage.

Both Charlotte and the giant were breathing heavily now—uncertain of what awaited them. The din of voices was followed by the clamoring of pots and pans hitting the tile floor. The mob was in the kitchen.

The lock still hadn't been repaired, so the giant leaned his mass up against the door, attempting to barricade it. The sharp ping of shattering wine glasses and dinnerware knifed under the door, coming from a much nearer source than the initial racket. They were closing in.

Neither Charlotte nor the giant uttered a word. The chaos was just outside the door. Charlotte knelt in the corner, hands over
her head, glancing up only from time to time. She prayed for her family.

The banging subsided after a few moments, the gang apparently satisfied with their destruction. Their voices still echoed through the basement kitchen.

“What are they saying?” Charlotte whispered in the now quiet room.

“Looking for things of value.”

“Thank God.”

The voices soon yielded to silence too. The giant slumped down onto his behind and took a deep breath, still leaning against the door.

“We need to get out of here.” Charlotte couldn't stand the confines of the cell any longer.

“No.” The giant was adamant. “We'll wait until we know they are gone.”

For what seemed like an eternity, Charlotte remained in the corner, recovering. She didn't weep for her husband or family or fret about her own fate. The giant didn't speak either.

Twenty minutes later, the cautious steps of someone whispered through the door.

“Xiao,” the giant mouthed.

The volume of the padding steps increased until they came to a stop right outside the door.

The giant started to stand and turn as the heavy door burst open. He was hurled backward onto the table. A thick smoke filled the room. Charlotte heard him struggle to free himself, but another force was keeping him down.

Charlotte's wrist was pulled through the fog, and when she resisted, her assailant threw her onto his shoulders. She grabbed
for the doorjamb but couldn't hold on. She was being carried through the kitchen and up the stairs, taken.

Her eyes burned from the smoke and she couldn't open them. A rush of cool air told her she'd been taken outside, where a hectic drumming noise overwhelmed her senses. Sand and dust flew in a stiff wind, stinging her face.

She was laid on a cold metal floor. She tried to see, but the fiery stinging forced her eyelids shut again.

60

WEST BANK, SNAKE RIVER. NOVEMBER 1.

10:45 A.M. MOUNTAIN STANDARD TIME.

It was midmorning when Jake's phone buzzed. Divya had spent the night in Jake's bed again, while he took the cold leather couch downstairs. Her flight was at 3 p.m.

They had coffee and a quick breakfast in Wilson, all the while making sure their cell reception remained strong. The mood grew tenser with each passing hour.

When the message finally came, Jake opened it and immediately stood from his seat at the bay window overlooking the creek.

Divya popped up from the couch and walked toward him.

“She's safe,” he blurted.

A wide smile came across Divya's face. “I got it too.”

* * *

The roads were slick from the blowing snow on the way to the airport. Traffic from canceled flights moved at a snail's pace, and by the time Jake pulled up to the curb Divya had to rush for her flight.

“Call me if you get canceled.”

“Will do.” The winter storm brought out a rosiness in Divya's dark skin. She looked content. And gorgeous.

“I'm sorry, Jake. For putting you through all this.”

He waved it off.

“Gimme a hug.”

* * *

Jake waited in the 4Runner, sipping coffee and watching the weather until Divya's 747 took off eastward. He pulled out onto 89 toward town and put the wipers on high to deflect the incessant flakes.

A few elk had moved into the refuge during the night, hounded by the even more perilous weather in the mountains. He pulled over to observe a herd of mature males and called Deputy Layle.

“Charlotte is safe.”

“Thank God. I'll go over the hill and tell the family.”

“That's a tough job. Thank you. Looks like we have a new chief in town.”

Layle chuckled. “I've got a wedding to plan and a fiancée who says I don't spend enough time with her. I have half a mind to put your name forward for the job.”

Jake looked south toward the town of Jackson, barely visible through the storm.

“Not a snowball's chance in hell.” He wasn't sure whether he meant it. “Do me a favor and tell Noelle that Charlotte's okay.”

“Of course.”