his.
“That Brown was going to drive them out to the St. Croix River, to some channel between Bayport and Stillwater he said.”
“Then what?”
“They have a boat, a big boat. They’re going to go somewhere up the river.”
“Where?” Riles demanded, leaning on the table.
“I don’t know,” Burton answered. Rock released him, and Burton buried his face in his hands. “I just don’t know. Other than north, I don’t know. Brown had a spot that mattered to him, but I don’t know where. He didn’t tell me that part.”
“Were they planning to go ashore somewhere?” Mac asked.
“I think so. He said there was a spot important to him. A place he used to go. I can only assume that meant going ashore.”
Peters stood on the other side of the metal table, flipping through the contents from Burton’s pockets. He held a cell phone in each hand. “Odd to have two cell phones, isn’t it?” he asked, eyebrow raised. “One of these used to contact Brown?”
“Yes,” Burton replied, nodding.
“Will it be on?”
Burton nodded. “I’m not supposed to call him unless it’s an emergency, If I call him with an emergency now, he’ll likely…”
“Kill the chief and Hisle,” Riles finished for him.
“But…”
“But what?” Peters asked.
“He’s supposed to call me in about fifteen minutes.”
“We could get a fix on that phone then.” Riles said hopefully.
“I don’t think you can,” Burton answered. “He won’t call me on the phone number I have for him. I have that one for an emergency, if I needed to contact him. Otherwise, he’s contacting me with disposable cell phones. It’s a different one every time. He’s been using a phone once and then dumping it.”
“A different phone everytime?” Rock asked.
“That’s right,” Burton answered. “I don’t see how you could get a real fix on it. At least not in the timeframe you need.”
“Well then,” Mac started, still listening in, “You best get him to explain to you where he is on the river, in as much detail as possible so that we can find him.”
“I’ll try.”
“You better do more than that,” Riles responded. “Do you have any idea what this boat looks like?”
Burton shook his head. “I really don’t other than it’s a pleasure boat, good size, it would have to be.”
“Why’s that?” Rock asked.
“Because he can’t have the chief and Hisle up on deck,” Mac answered. “He’ll have them down below and will only bring them up when he comes ashore. Until then, he’ll have them stuffed down below. Riles?”
“Yeah.”
“Get on a chopper and get out there,” Mac ordered. “I’m on my way.”
“To where?” Riles asked. “Here?”
“The river,” Mac answered. “My boat is docked just north of Stillwater. I’ll be on it in less than ten minutes. We need to find that boat. And Burton, you better come through if you want to get out of that room.”
38
8:42 PM
Brown stood to the left of Dean and admired the flotilla that was now gathering around them, awaiting the start of Stillwater’s massive Fourth of July fireworks display. By the time the show started, sometime between 9:30 and 10:00 PM, there would be hundreds of boats running from a half mile south of the famous lift bridge to another quarter-to-half a mile north of the town.
The mass of boats included a variety of sizes, from the Showboat Paddle Boats to yachts, sixty-foot cabin cruisers, houseboats, cigarette boats, speedboats, pontoons, and even a boat made out of a tiny sports car. All were full of revelers, the music roaring and alcohol flowing. In addition to the boats, the decks of the bars and restaurants that lined the river were packed to the rooftops with partiers ready for the show. The city riverfront park was covered with lawn chairs and blankets, not a patch of green to be seen.
It was a festive atmosphere and also a good one to get lost in, the congestion increasing by the minute. Most drivers were smart enough to float on either the east or west sides of the river, leaving something of a lane up the middle of the river to allow traffic to move in either direction. But it was closing, the clumps of vessels metastasizing on the north and south sides of the bridge. While it made maneuvering through the channel a slow and tedious process, it also provided camouflage as they moved north.
They approached the historic lift bridge. During some summers, a cruiser of their size might have had to wait for the lift section to open. However, the past winter as well as the summer had been unseasonably dry. Consequently, the water level was down, and Smith cruised easily underneath the steel bridge. Five minutes later, they were able to slowly accelerate as the traffic thinned.
Clear of town, Smith left Dean at the wheel and went back down the companionway to the cabin beneath. Flanagan and Hisle were locked in the bathroom. Monica sat at the small table, counting the bricks of money.
“How does it look?”
“Good,” Monica replied, thumbing through the stacks. “The bills are non-sequential, and it’s all there.” David was taking the bricks and stuffing them into separate smaller nylon shoulder bags.
They had their running money. In a little over an hour they would all be making their way to the Canadian border and toward a new life, leaving Minnesota behind forever.
Smith checked his watch and then took a cell phone out of his pocket. He dialed Burton. Burton answered on the fourth ring. “How are we doing?” the kidnapper asked.
“Fine,” the FBI agent answered quietly. “The police are running around with their heads cut off, frantic that they can’t find their chief and Hisle. It’s almost comical, really. They’re quite sheepish that you made Flanagan and Hisle disappear under their noses as you did.”
“Good,” Smith replied.
“Where are you at?”
“We’ve moved through Stillwater and past most of the traffic clogging that area. We’re clear now heading north to where the St. Croix starts to narrow.”
“How long until you get to your spot?”
“We have about fifteen to twenty minutes before we get there. It’s pretty far north. We have to get past all the campers.”
“And your cargo?”
“Hisle and Flanagan are locked up for now. We had a little fun with them already with more to come soon enough. What of you?”
“I don’t have a fan club, that’s for sure,” Burton answered. “No chief, no Hisle and now, no girls.” Burton replied flatly. “But this was to be expected.”
“You have more than held up your end. I will send you a package in a month or so.” Smith hung up.
“Does that give you an idea of where they are at?” Duffy asked over the radio. He stood next to Burton, who was now cuffed to the metal table in the basement interview room, under the watchful eyes of Double Frank and Paddy.
“Shit. They’re well north of us already,” Mac answered on his radio as he revved the engines on his boat and
