Page 7 of Canyon of Deceit
My next text went to a friend at Harris County Office of Homeland Security & Emergency Management, who said a pilot who didn’t want to be identified and used abandoned airstrips would have turned off his transponder. No one would bother with the flight unless it flew into controlled airspace. If someone looked for the aircraft, they’d find it. There were always ways to uncover the hidden. Except I wanted answers now.
I searched online about Rurik and Daria Ivanov. Nothing problematic jumped out about the couple. Neither did anything surfaceabout Russian organized crime—ROC—other than the usual FBI alerts. Another connection at the FBI could tell me if Rurik and Daria were under the radar or if US/Russia relations had recently escalated.
Professor Ivanov had made an enemy who wanted a lot of money—and had already proven their seriousness.
God, what am I to do?
THREE
BLANE
An adventuresome streak flashed through me as though I considered riding the tail of a lightning bolt. I wanted to accompany Therese Palmer into the harsh, high-desert area of West Texas to find a kidnapped little girl. More so, I craved the excitement and an opportunity to redeem myself to a woman who had attracted me since I’d first set eyes on her. But insight told me to gather all the facts about the little girl’s kidnapping first, and that meant listening and observing—my best tools.
During the wilderness-survival training, Therese had jolted all of us Rangers with her maneuvers, martial arts, and survival skills. For four days, she outdid us with one jaw-dropping tactic after another, never condemning our lack of skills or the speed we took to accomplish them. She showed the slower ones how to master a technique and asked those who’d succeeded to help their fellow Rangers. Those of us who were single did our best to impress her, but we all failed. She ignored the compliments and jokes, leaving us feeling stupid.
I must have gotten on her good side. Therese agreed to three dates, and I thought we had the beginnings of something worth the effort, then she told me that spending any more time or money onher was a mistake. Someday I’d ask how I’d offended her. It bothered me. A lot. Like expecting a promotion that never panned out.
An image of her honey-colored hair flowing around her shoulders and her sparkling eyes that weren’t quite blue or green held me in emotional chains. No one would ever guess the natural beauty had eaten bugs, wrestled a bear, and swam crocodile-infested waters, or so her reputation claimed—and she could navigate her way out of treacherous switchbacks in the mountains at night. One Ranger dubbed her Davina Crockett.
I showered, contemplating every word Therese had spoken during our early morning call. I dressed, and the sky held on to the blackness with no hint of ever lifting, like the unanswered questions galloping down the bridle path of a rescue mission and spending hours with Therese.
Had I thought through the mission, used logic and reason as to what lay ahead? I wanted to see her, and I wanted to avoid her. I yanked on my boots. With any luck, she’d grown a wart on her nose.
I pressed in her cell number, and she immediately picked up. The hum of road noise indicated she drove to the meetup.
“Yes, Blane. Change your mind?”
“Not at all. I have a truckload of questions, so why don’t you start with what’s really going on.”
“I’ve learned more. Some of the info I can share.”
“Great. Nothing’s hit the news cycle about a kidnapping. No Amber Alert has been issued.”
“It needs to stay that way. This is a need-to-know rescue operation.”
Whoa.“Why me, other than what you mentioned earlier?”
“Still the same. If you have new questions, Imighthave an answer.” Her slightly upturned voice told me she’d do her best.
“Why is the mission private?”
“The family isn’t American.”
“Does the kidnapping have political or international ramifications?”
“Maybe both. Maybe neither. The father says neither, but I have no way to confirm it without a face-to-face. You can read people far better than me.”
I’d sort this out after the meeting. “And he’s a friend?”
“A colleague.”
“What about his wife?”
Silence told me she two-stepped around her answer. “He says the kidnappers murdered her.”
I winced. “The man is desperate.” I envisioned a man leaning over his wife’s body. “I’ve seen nothing on the wires about a murder either.”
“I don’t think the police are aware.”
