Devil's Run (24 page)

It was impossible to get
lost, since I had only to follow the fresh trails of my companions. A few minutes
later, I was out of the trees and back onto a groomed trail where the others
were waiting in a little cluster, except for Boyd, who was standing off a
little ways talking on his cell phone. Cory snapped pictures of me as I
approached.

“How’d you like it?”
said Canfield.

“Cool,” was all I could
get out. Now that I had stopped, I realized I was huffing and puffing.

Canfield smiled. “Once
you get the hang of it, it gets a lot easier.”

I leaned on my poles and
did my best to slow my breathing and bring my heart rate down. I motioned
towards Boyd with my head. “What’s going on there?”

“We don’t know,” said
Cory. “Jeff got a call.”

Boyd had his back to us,
but he looked agitated, gesturing occasionally with his free hand. Finally, his
shoulders slumped and he nodded twice. He snapped the phone shut, put it in his
pocket, and skated back to us.

“Everything okay, Jeff?”
said Canfield.

“Yeah. No. Yeah, it’s
fine.” He pointed at me. “It’s just that something’s come up. I’m afraid Craig
and I have to leave.”

“Is it about your son?”
said Cory, her face showing deep concern.

Boyd looked at me, then
back at her. “Yes, it is.”

Boyd’s chalet sat on an
acre of land just above the main resort lodge, close to the slopes but screened
off from the peasants by a thick line of trees. The big A-frame was perched
over a multi-car garage. From inside his study, which faced the valley below, I
had the impression that, except for the roof, the place was made entirely of
big sheets of glass.

We’d skied as a group
down to Mountain Road and into the public resort. Just above the mid lodge,
Boyd and I left the others, following a narrow trail through a smattering of
McMansions to his humble abode. We’d left our skis in the rack outside the mud
room.

“Drink?” said Boyd. He
was standing by the bar.

“Scotch rocks,” I said,
just to be sociable.

“Sounds good.” He
grabbed some ice cubes from the ice bucket on the bar and tossed them into two
crystal highball glasses. For the hundredth time I wondered who it was that
kept putting fresh ice in rich people’s ice buckets.

Boyd poured two generous
portions and handed one to me. We tipped glasses.

“To luck,” he said.

“What kind?”

He turned away and
walked to the window. “Good, I hope.”

“Who was that phone call
from?”

“One of my credit card companies.
A charge was red flagged.”

“And it had something to
do with Ken?”

“Yes,” he said, without
turning. “I think I found him.”

“And?”

“He might be in Mexico.”

“Mexico? Where?”

“Some drug
rehabilitation clinic. In Ciudad Juarez.”

“Juarez? You’re kidding.”

“Why? Even Raviv said
these kids run off to Mexico.”

“Yeah, to Rosarita Beach
or Acapulco, not Ciudad Juarez. Rambo would be afraid to go there. It’s drug
war central.”

“Well, as I said, it
does appear he’s in a drug rehab clinic.”

“You said Ken didn’t use
drugs.”

“I didn’t think he did.”
He looked at his drink. “I guess I didn’t know him as well as I thought.”

“Wait. Raviv checked all
his credit cards, remember? And you said you cancelled them.”

“I did.”

“So how can he or anyone
else be using them?”

He shook his head. “It
wasn’t his, wasn’t Ken’s card. It was mine.”

“Yours?”

“Yes. While Ken was
still in high school, I was away a lot. I added him to one of my MasterCard
accounts. I wanted him to have something for emergencies. They issued a card
with his name on it, but the charges are billed to me and show as mine. I’d
forgotten all about it.”

“Did you call the
clinic? Is he there?”

He shook his head. “I
called, but they won’t tell me anything. Doctor patient privilege.”

“It’s Mexico,” I said,
“pay somebody.”

“I don’t know anybody
down there.” He put his glass down on a table so hard the ice cubes jumped. “I
want you to go.”

“It’s probably a wild
goose chase. Look at the time lapse. Now, all of a sudden, he starts using the
credit card?”

“Maybe he’s been living
on that cash he withdrew and it ran out.”

“If he was doing drugs
hard enough to end up in rehab, he’d have run out of money long before now.”

“Maybe it’s not him,”
said Boyd, angrily. “Maybe it’s the girlfriend and he’s trying to get her,
whatchamacallit, clean.”

“It’s more likely
somebody stole Ken’s wallet.”

“I’ve got to know,” he
said. “And I can’t get away now. There’s too much going on.”

“Well, we wouldn’t like
a little something like a missing son to mess up your plans, now would we?”

“I don’t like your
tone.”

“And I don’t like your
whole set up. Something’s very wrong here. This place, that fire, that Gestapo
grandpa you have running the place. What’s really going on here, Boyd?”

“We’re trying to get a
business going in difficult economic times.”

“Oh, bullshit. If this
operation is legitimate the business plan must have been cooked up in the drunk
ward at Bellevue.”

“Enough! You’ve put me
in a serious position here. I told you to stay away. Your accusations about my
son can have serious ramifications for my business dealings.” He pointed at me.
“I made a contract with Peled for your services.”

“And now he’s dead.”

“That means nothing. You
were hired to find my son.”

“That’s what I’ve been
trying to do. And the last place anyone saw him was here, the night of that
fire.”

“One person, who’s
conveniently dead.”

“A lot of people are
conveniently dead. Including Raviv.”

“That was terrorists. It
has nothing to do with my son.”

“You don’t really
believe that fairy tale, do you?”

He seemed genuinely
perplexed. “I have no reason not to.”

“Really? Like everyone
else in this growing pile of bodies, someone thought he might know too much
about whatever you and your friends are into.”

“We’re not into
anything,” he said, perfunctorily.

“I think the Feds are
suspicious of Verdugo Enterprises and this place in particular. I’m told
Imperatrice is pretty wired in and if he thinks they have someone trying to
penetrate their operation he might think that person is me.”

“I thought you’d been
out of that for years.”

“I was and I wasn’t.
Imperatrice implied he knows more about me than he should. Raviv was tight with
the Feds. One thing old Rich and I have in common is we don’t believe in
coincidence. It wouldn’t be unreasonable for him to think I was part of some deep
cover operation and they used Raviv to get to you. After all, it can’t be easy
to initiate an investigation when a popular and well-connected U. S. Senator is
so deeply involved.”

“If they think you’re
investigating them, why would they ask me to bring you up here?”

“Makes perfect sense. I
showed up here, asking questions, which probably made them more convinced I’m a
fed. So they give me the mink glove treatment, the guided tours, the fancy
room. ‘See, Nick, we’re just a nice getaway for rich bastards. Nothing to see
here’. And thanks to Cory’s camera habit, there’s a photo album of me being
chummy with all of you.”

He looked as if he would
argue, then shook himself and picked up his glass. He went to the bar and
poured himself another stiff slug, knocking half of it back with one swallow.
Then he put the glass down and placed both hands on the bar. He stood that way,
his back to me, for at least two minutes.

“Look,” he said finally,
without turning around. “Just do this for me. It won’t take half a day. I’ll
pay you ten thousand dollars.”

“The FBI pulled my
passport. Getting into Mexico might not be a problem, but I couldn’t get back
in the country. I’d be arrested if I tried.”

He turned to face me.
“They don’t need to know. We can fly you in. A private airfield.”

“We?”

“Verdugo. It’s only
about six hundred miles. You’ll be in and out in a few hours.”

“I thought you didn’t
know anyone in Mexico.”

“I don’t, but Verdugo
has a subsidiary down there, a chemical plant with its own airfield. The pilot tells
me they jump the border all the time.”

“I still don’t like it.
Some of these rehab centers are fronts for the cartels. They use them as
hideouts and recruiting stations. What if Ken’s working for them? Or, worse,
they’re holding him for ransom?”

“I’ll pay it. Just go
and find him.” He paused and took a deep breath. “I’ll pay you twenty-five
thousand dollars. Cash.” When I hesitated, he said, “Over and above what I
already owe Raviv’s company.” He looked at me pleadingly. “I need to know about
my boy.”

We stared at each other
for a long time. It didn’t feel right, but rolling the dice might be the best
way to shake things loose.

“Alright,” I said. “I’ll
do it.”

“Good.”

“But, you can keep your
money.” I pointed at his chest. “My price is information. I do this, and you
tell me everything you know.”

He sighed, but did not
speak. Then he nodded and said, “It’s a deal.”

“And if you’re smart,
you won’t double-cross me.”

“Why would I?”

“You think you’re
indispensable to this bunch, but you’re not. If they think I’m a fed, then
they’ll consider the possibility you’ve been rolled. If I were you, I wouldn’t
go skiing alone.”

We stared at each other
some more. Then he said, “I’ll get you some cash.”

It was after dark when I
got off the chairlift at The Retreat and I was dog tired. Klaus was waiting
patiently at the ski check. All the other lights in the shop were off.

“Mr. Kohl asked that I
give you a message when you returned,” he said.

I laid the skis on the
counter. “Yeah, what was that?”

“He would be pleased if
you would join them for dinner in the main dining room.”

“My compliments to Mr.
Kohl, but I’m taking a shower and climbing into bed. Been a long day.”

He smiled. “I
understand. I will tell him.”

 I trudged through
the tunnel and took the little elevator to my room, heading directly up to the
bathroom where I jumped in the shower and stayed there for almost fifteen
minutes. It was heavenly, and just what I needed.

After I toweled off, I
put on one of the white, fluffy robes hanging by the shower and went into the
bedroom. The lights, which I had left on, were now off. A faint odor of perfume
hung in the air. The small fireplace in the bedroom burned with a low flame,
its flickering light revealing the outline of a woman beneath the single sheet,
with shadows and highlights in all the right places.

“Hi, Nick,” said Cory.

“Why Mrs. Canfield, did
the men abandon you for brandy and cigars?”

“I find them boring. You
seem much more interesting.”

“It’s all an act. Even I
can’t stand me.”

“Come over here and sit next
to me.” She patted the mattress.

“I’m not sure that’s
such a good idea.”

“Oh, don’t be a poop.
I’m tired of poops. Come over here. You must be cold. It’s nice and warm in
here.”

To prove it, she threw back
the sheet to reveal that she was naked and aroused. The light from the
fireplace threw her prominent breasts into sharp relief. The dark nipples were
thick and engorged. Dear Penthouse, I never believed your letters before…

“Look, Mrs. Canfield.”

“Cory.”

“Yeah, that helps. I may
have sent the wrong message yesterday.”

“On the cable car?”

“Yes.”

“It didn’t seem wrong to
me. It felt like a strong message.” She smiled lasciviously. “Kind of a long
message, too.”

“Yes, well, I’ve been
working on my communication skills. However, I have a rule against sleeping
with the wives of sitting U.S. senators.”

“Oh?”

Right then the phone
rang. I snatched the cordless handset from the night stand and backed away.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Craig?” It was
Kohl.

“Yes.”

“I am sorry you were
unable to make dinner. Mrs. Canfield was most disappointed.”

“That’s likely to
continue.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Never mind. What can I
do for you?”

“You are to be at the
cable car station at six o’clock tomorrow morning.”

Cory was staring at me,
caressing her breasts with one hand, while the other drifted languidly across
her stomach and between her legs. I turned away and realized Kohl had said
something.

“I’m sorry, could you
repeat that?” I said.

“A car will be waiting
at the bottom to take you to the airfield.”

“Thank you.”

“Good luck on your
journey tomorrow.”

“Good night.” I broke
the connection.

I turned to put the
phone down and found that Cory had left the bed and was walking slowly towards
me. I was mesmerized by the way her hips moved, and found my gaze focused on
the small triangle of hair between her legs. For some reason, I remembered I
hadn’t shaved in two days.

She walked right up to
me until her nipples touched the robe. Heat radiated off her body like a
furnace. Whatever fragrance she was wearing made my head spin. She placed her
hands behind my neck and pulled my mouth down to hers. Her lips were warm and
full. Then her tongue was in my mouth, and I realized my arms were around her,
feeling the warmth of her skin. My hand traced down her spine and caressed the
small of her back. She moaned and pushed herself against me, rotating her hips,
slowly at first, and then faster and faster, grinding against me until a
violent shudder ran through her whole body.

She broke the kiss and
whispered into my throat. “What is all this about a rule?”

“Well,” I said, “rule
might be overstating it.”

“I see,” she said.

Then her lips were on
mine again and we kissed long and hard. Her hands dropped from my neck, and went
to the belt of the robe. I grasped her by the upper arms and pushed her away,
holding her at arm’s length. Through the tousled hair that fell across her
face, the dark eyes gleamed with desire, and her mouth was wet and half open.

“Look,” I said, “I’m
sorry, but I just can’t do this.”

There was no flash of
anger, just an enigmatic smile. I let go of her and dropped my hands.

“I’m sorry.”

She said nothing, just
stood there watching me.

“Okay, then, well, it’s
been great,” I said. I motioned over my shoulder at the bathroom. “I’ve got a
thing I’ve got to do.”

Once the bathroom door
was closed and locked, I stepped into the shower and turned the cold water on
full.

Ten minutes later, I
checked. She was gone.