Sam considered the options.
'Oh, my God, Sam. Look.'
A man with a weird-looking hood over his face was putting a blindfold on Sarah.
'Damn,' Sam muttered. 'Makes it that much harder.'
The hooded man approached her with what looked like a line.
'What's he doing?' Haley asked.
'He's probably binding her. In itself, it inflicts pain.'
'We've got to stop him. Look, he's starting with the line.'
'I have an idea,' Sam said.
'Do something,' Haley begged.
Sam input the code to conceal the caller ID on any phone receiving a call from his cell.
He didn't know if it would work with the sheriff or not.
'I need the name of the people where we left the Blazer,' he said to Haley.
'I can't remember. Let me think. Let me think. Nisky, I think. I think it's Nisky.'
Sam dialed the sheriff's dispatcher on San Juan.
'You looking for Ben Anderson?' Sam asked the dispatcher.
'We sure are.'
'I just saw him on Lopez. I've known him for twenty years and there is no question.
Tall. White hair, dressed like a farmer. Southern end of the island on Mud Bay Road.
End of the road. Nisky is the name. He's at the Nisky house right now. Came in a red Blazer. Parked it out in back by the woodshed. Good luck.' Sam hung up. If they could see his number despite his turning off the caller ID, they would know it was him and it would have only limited effect. Unless, perhaps, they were so excited, they got careless.
Still, they might know about the Blazer by now and that should intrigue them.
They watched through the window.
'Can't we do something?' Haley moaned. She was beside herself and he knew he would need to act soon or he wouldn't contain her. Frick kept wrapping the line.
'I can't stand this,' Haley said. After a couple more wraps of the line, the man in Ben's kitchen went for his cell phone. 'Stay here,' Sam ordered in his biggest command voice.
'Get down.' She did as he said. Thank God.
Sam focused like a stalking cat, staying low, watching the man that stood over Sarah.
The man was moving, looking impatient, and agitated. He dropped the end of the line.
Then he left the room.
Then Sam noticed that Haley was down, but staying right behind him.
'I need to go in alone.'
'No.'
'You don't want to go in there,' he said. 'We're going back out and put you on the beach.' He turned on her.
'Okay, we're wasting time. I'll go back,' she said.
Frick stood in front of Ben Anderson's beach house, speaking on his cell phone in the deep shadows thrown by the moon.
'I can't believe someone just called in to tell us where Ben Anderson is.'
'It's detailed,' Khan said. 'They told us exactly where and they told us he came in that Blazer from the resort. We know Chase and Haley Walther took that vehicle. There's really nobody good over there yet. You better take your guys and go.'
'James is going to spill her guts. I was just about to inject her and the mere thought of the chemicals was disintegrating her will. I had the instruments laid out and she was going to become hysterical just looking at them. I can't stop now.'
'You do what you want. I understood that what we're doin here is finding Ben Anderson. What does it matter if you can break his assistant.'
'Damn it. The timing sucks,' Frick said.
'This Nisky place isn't far at all. Down near those three bays.'
'Did you give the address to the guys?'
'One of them knows right where it is.'
'I'll go over there for two minutes. If it's another wild-goose chase, it's the asshole Chase all over again. Listen, if we jump every time he gives us a false trail, we'll never get anything done.'
Frick hung up without giving him a chance to reply. Ripping off his hood, he called for two men out on the road, who were already apprised. 'Stay away from that woman,' he growled at Rafe Black. 'I mean it.' Then he realized that he should shoot her up with a pentathol cocktail. He hesitated, then jumped in the truck. He would be fast.
He leaned out the window. 'You assholes be sure no one steals her. This could be a trap.' They all nodded.
Frick's mind was sinking into a warm, sensuous place and he was enjoying a certain feeling that came over him when he was about to start a job. Odd that the feeling came even when things were going to hell.
Sam kept calm, the only alternative to reckless rage. He had to work fast. Whoever was doing this-no doubt Frick himself-would be back shortly. Sarah was crying, even before the binding had started. She had been cuffed tightly to the chair, feet and hands.
Quickly he unwound the rope, which had been unmercifully tight. There was a weird ball gag in her mouth and he removed that. Then he picked up the entire chair with Sarah in it and walked out the door, down the beach trail, and through the shrubs. Sarah was a svelte woman; so despite his physical limits, he was able to carry her. His pumping adrenaline gave him strength he didn't know he'd had. In fact, he felt no pain at all as he walked out onto the beach, with Haley somewhat amazed at the chair business.
'Be quiet,' he said, once on the beach.
Sarah managed to calm herself, at last convincing herself that she was in the middle of a successful rescue.
She was more or less in possession of her faculties. Haley tried to cover her with more clothing, against the cold November air.
'We can't leave without getting those files,' Sam said. 'Coming back will be impossible. You row down the shore. If I can make it to the beach with files, I'll bring you into the beach. If not, I'll do the best I can.'
'Check the garage. I'm thinking those files are in the filing cabinets in the garage. Go right out of the kitchen, into the hall, then into the garage,' Haley said.
Sam hobbled back across the beach and into the kitchen, recklessly hoping that Frick would come back so that he could kill him on the spot-or die trying. Quickly he slipped into the garage and, using a penlight, found the cabinets. They were locked.
Risking a lot, he flipped on the garage lights and observed metal storage cabinets standing along the wall. He turned the light off, went to the cabinets with a penlight, and began searching. The first had boots and rain gear, but the second had tools. He took out a small pry bar. Against the wall he found a pipe and fit it over the pry bar. With the added leverage he easily snapped the lock bars on the file cabinets.
Two entire file drawers dealt in one way or another with methane. Quickly he took a huge armload of files and ran out the garage's back door. Limping as best he could, he made his way to where Haley had rowed.
From behind he heard shouting at the house. Someone had discovered that Sarah was gone.
CHAPTER 32
Rachael and Lew Stutz sat in a small conference room in the downtown Seattle offices of the Washington State Police. Apparently on a holiday weekend, the best they could do was provide a lieutenant, John Glendale, a blond fellow who did not seem to smile easily. He was young, thirty-five at most, and appeared earnest and sincere.
