'What happened?'
'They were gone.'
'Did you check for laundry chutes, under the floor, the walls? They gotta be there.'
'We're checking. I'll call and mention laundry chutes and the rest. Shall we rip up the floor and the walls?'
'Tear the place apart.'
'Who the heck is that?' Chandler, one of the guards, asked Michael on a handheld radio.
Michael was looking through the binoculars.
'A tourist?'
'Who goes sightseeing in November?'
'The way he moves, I'd say we're looking at a she,' Michael observed.
'Yeah, she looks like a kitten in a toilet. Never seen anything so miserable in my life.'
'How long you think she's been there?'
'Not long, maybe ten minutes.'
'We'd better send the car over.'
'It would be a dumb-ass kind of trap, but just don't forget Mr. Gaudet.'
'How could I forget him?'
'I'll see if I can make the satellite phone work,' Yodo spoke up. 'Before you move, we need to tell Sam.'
Yodo went out the door to a small fortification, where an other man sat hidden, caressing a BAR. 30-caliber machine gun. In seconds he had Sam on the phone. Sam advised that Grady was due to arrive, but they should trust nothing and take all due security measures in bringing her across.
There were eight guards at the compound, all armed and trained. They had four outposts fortified with sandbags and rock, and each bunker contained handheld rockets, grenade launchers, and a BAR machine gun. They created a square around the cabins and they were the first line of defense. But they were not always occupied. The men moved around the perimeter and watched, keeping in mind the location of the nearest fortification. There was always one man within twenty yards of each outpost. Although the houses were used during the day, at night they were quietly abandoned for camouflage tents hidden in the dense forest against the mountain. Welcome to paradise.
Chapter 22
When the bear leaves its cave, the village hides its food.
Trotsky nearly dislocated Benoit's shoulder when he dragged her out of the bathroom.
'You've probably killed me,' Gaudet said in an even tone that chilled her more than the most hysterical cry. 'The French have held up fifty million dollars. Now they'll hunt you and me both, you fucking bitch.'
'We've got to go,' said Trotsky. His pragmatism immedi ately affected Gaudet, who turned away without another word.
Trotsky pushed a hidden button in the library and a panel opened. They entered a sizable room with vanity photos of the apartment's owner and all manner of memorabilia: books, wine, signed baseballs, various sabers, as well as cigar humidors by the dozen, each carefully labeled. Trotsky closed the panel just as they heard a crash at the front door of the apartment. In one corner of the room there was a solid wood panel. Trotsky pushed another hidden button and a spiral staircase appeared. On the floor below was a large wine cellar with wine in glass cases and adjoining the wine a large room full of old books. Obviously, the man who owned the place was a wealthy collector. Quickly the two put on white hazmat uniforms. There was a very large cart labeled hazardous materials. When they opened the bin, it was full of white material that had the appearance of old ban dages. However, when they lifted up a wooden piece, the bin was actually empty, the bandagelike material having been affixed to the wood. Inside the small compartment Benoit recognized a scuba tank and regulator. They handcuffed her hands in front of her.
'One word and I will kill you instantly.' Gaudet showed her a pen. 'It shoots a pellet of ricin that is instantly lethal. I promise you, Benoit, one small sound and I won't hesitate.'
They put the oxygen regulator in her mouth and closed the lid.
Despite nearly overwhelming panic, Benoit felt the cart rolling forward and imagined they left the room and entered a hallway. After a minute or two they stopped; she supposed to wait for an elevator.
'Hey, would you mind showing me your credentials?' a voice said.
'Hey, why don't you show us yours?' Gaudet said with unflappable confidence.
'We asked you first.'
There was silence and she couldn't discern what was happening. Perhaps Gaudet was showing them something.
'Can we look in there?'
'Hell no. Can't you read? It's asbestos shavings. You wanna die?' That was Trotsky, his accentless voice sounding absolutely authoritative.
More silence.
'I think we'll just take a look.'
The board didn't move, so they were obviously deterred by the white stuff.
'You are breaking the law.' Trotsky paused and clicked open a cell phone. 'We are a hazmat team, contractor's license number 9859432d, and we need a squad car at the Trump International. We are being accosted by civilians who are endangering themselves and everyone in the vicinity…'
'Keep your shirt on and hang up the phone. You can go. We just had to check.'
They clicked over the metal threshold of an elevator. She heard the doors close and they were going down. When the elevator opened, there were more men. The same procedure was repeated, only this time Trotsky was even more indig nant and she didn't hear him purporting to call the police. With a heavy sigh she resigned herself to the fact that they were leaving the building. She felt and heard the lift on the back of a truck and soon she felt the vehicle moving slowly ahead in New York traffic.
Desperate, she pushed up on the lid. It wouldn't move. They had somehow locked it. In a way that was good. They obviously didn't expect her to get out, so they might leave her alone. The container was heavy plastic. She lay on her back and used her feet to push on the lid, but even with all her strength she couldn't budge it.
'Only a few people have left the building. We found one room off the library hidden behind a panel, but it goes no place. One way in and one way out. On the floor below there was a hazmat team with asbestos. We saw credentials and looked in their hamper and it was full of asbestos. They left in a truck. Just to make sure we have somebody on their tail.'
'How do you know the hamper was full of asbestos?'
'I see what you mean. The guys said they took off the lid. But I don't know if they reached down inside.'
'After being told it's hazardous? Give me a break. They're not gonna put their hand in that stuff if it looks offi cial. They wouldn't know that it's not that easy to get mesothelioma.'
'I'll check already.'
'Fine. Get me to that truck. I think they're in it.'
'But it was the floor below.'
'Tear the walls apart.'
'We pretty much have.'
'The walls of the secret room?'
'Jeez, it's got display cases.'
'Keep looking. You'll find a way to the lower floor. How about windows?'
'Shit, Sam. You can imagine anything… but okay.'
