Lone Rider (12 page)

             
Then Bogen hooked up with Sanchez’s organization. The Big Boys. The South American Source. Bogen’s operation rapidly increased to include the entire West Coast. About nine months ago, when the heat got too hot in
California
, Bogen packed up and moved operations to a deserted corner of
Montana
,
where he was preparing to expand into another profitable joint venture with the South American cartel: white slavery.

             
Dallas
had been with the gang eighteen months. Bogen himself had recruited
Dallas
after a fight in a sleazy
Sacramento
bar where
Dallas
inadvertently saved Bogen’s life. A knife meant for Bogen’s heart had deflected neatly off
Dallas
’ rib
cage. It had taken over sixty stitches to close the gash but had earned him something beyond measure: Bogen’s trust.

For the first few months after joining,
Dallas
handled petty stuff:
stolen cars and truckloads of stolen cigarettes. Bogen immediately recognized
Dallas
’ shrewd ability to turn a higher profit
,
and he quickly moved up the ranks.

             
At that moment Bogen stood, clearing his throat. The barn grew quiet.

“Everyone knows the people we work for have been nervous the past several months. They’ve had a few close calls.” 

             
“They’ve always been nervous,” Duke shouted. “Afraid we’ll take over.”

             
Bogen waited until most of the laughter subsided. “The bottom line is, we’ve got orders to
shut down temporarily
. Normally I wouldn’t comply, but this time my gut tells me to listen. And everyone here knows I’ve got pretty good instincts.”

             
The decision to comply with Sanchez’s order surprised
Dallas
. It wasn’t like Bogen to back down in a situation like this.
Dallas
had expected a confrontation between Sanchez and Bogen -- a token act of defiance if nothing else. But to roll over and play dead? Why the sudden change of heart?

Several of the men grumbled, urging Bogen to reconsider.

             
Dallas
noticed
that
Snake remained uncharacteristically quiet. That was odd
,
too. Snake never kept his opinions to himself.
Dallas
’ senses went on alert. What was going on? Something had happened between the time Bogen and Dallas had discussed Sanchez last night and now. The question was what?

He thought back to his suspicions that Tess hid something. Either he was growing paranoid
,
or everyone else knew something he didn’t. And if not everyone, then certainly Bogen, Snake
,
and Tess.

             
“I suggest you stick close to camp for the next week or so, until this blows over
,” Bogen said.  “
I’m sending Haynes and Eddie to stock up on supplies. If anyone needs something, see them.”

             
Bogen looked briefly at
Dallas
, then continued. “Everyone’s curious to see Haynes’ new acquisition. Too bad. He’s not sharing.”  With Bogen’s word it was official. Tess was
Dallas
’
.

             
Several men hooted lewd encouragements, which
Dallas
ignored. Snake dropped his beer can and strode off. But not before shooting
Dallas
a venomous look.

             
The exchange left
Dallas
feeling uneasy. Snake would cause trouble the first chance he got.
Dallas
needed to get Tess out of the way, as soon as possible, but without casting suspicion on himself.

             
The problem was
how.

*    *    *

 
             
“Her name is Tess Marsh, age twenty-six. She’s one of the Marsh heirs.”

             
The man
on the other end of the phone in
Washington
,
D.C.
,
Dallas
’ FBI supervisor,
Barry Neilson, whistled. “How the hell did they get her?”

             
Dallas
was parked near the drugstore, talking on his cellular phone. Eddie had made a beeline for the local pool hall when
Dallas
mentioned stopping to pick up supplies for Tess.
Dallas
figured he had fifteen minutes at the most.

             
He quickly explained the circumstances leading to Tess’ abduction. “Bogen doesn’t realize who he’s got. And I think I’ve convinced her to keep her identity secret. But if Bogen finds out, her life won’t mean squat. He’ll bury her rat
her than take risks with a high-
profile name. I want her out, Barry. Now.”

             
Barry grunted. “That’ll be tricky, especially since she’s in your care. She disappears; all eyes turn to you. And we’re close, buddy. The signal’s coming in strong.”

The signal
was one of several homing devices
Dallas
had planted on Sanchez’s beloved pet greyhounds. The animals went everywhere Sanchez went. If Sanchez were going into hiding at the cartel’s headquarters, the dogs would accompany him.

             
“Sanchez is waiting to complete one more shipment,” Barry continued. “It should go down within the next two or three weeks. He’s got at least ten wome
n ready to move. And get this: A
t least two of them are under eighteen. Unfortunately, he’s got them well hidden. He’s already nervous -- if we put the squeeze on him t
o
o soon, he’ll take off like a skyrocket. And we could lose the girls. We’ve got to let this deal go down as planned.”

             
Dallas
frowned, scanning the streets. Barry had a point. There were other considerations besides freeing Tess. The cartel had to be stopped before one more innocent young woman was snatched.

             
This wasn’t what
Dallas
had originally signed on for -- not that he’d have backed down. What was supposed to have been a routine
FBI
undercover drug operation for
Dallas
and his partner had quickly expanded once they learned Bogen had connections with Sanchez. Hector Sanchez’s elusive association to the cartel’s white slavery operation had been a bane to international authorities who wanted Sanchez’s boss. The head honcho
:
Quito
Ramon
.

Dallas
’ connection to Sanchez through Bogen was the first time anyone had ever gotten s
o
close. Consequently
,
the scope and duration of
Dallas
’ assignment changed drastically. He’d been undercover almost two years on a job that had initially been expected to last about three months. And they were too close to turn back now. No matter how tired of it he was.

             
“I don’t want to take unnecessary risks with the Marsh woman’s life,”
Dallas
reiterated.

             
“Agreed. But we don’t want to put both of you at risk by acting at the wrong time.”  Barry sighed. “Let me check on a few things. Like making sure we can squelch any news stories that surface if she’s reported missing. I’ll leave word with Michaels -- as soon as I catch the bastard. He was taking a day off to go fly fishing
,
and I haven’t heard from him yet.”

             
Matt Michaels was another undercover FBI agent posing as a local mechanic in
the
nearby
town of
Jordan
. He was
Dallas
’ partner and intermediary.
Dallas
had worked with Matt on several other cases. The men worked well together.

             
“In
the meantime,” Barry continued, “k
eep the woman as close to you as possible. And stay in touch.”

             
After hanging up,
Dallas
punched in a seventeen-digit code. The cellular phone was one Bogen furnished to all his men. An additional computer chip in
Dallas
’ phone scrambled his transmissions and allowed only the
Bureau
to eavesdrop on his conversations.
    
The code changed the billing records to show
Dallas
had indeed placed a call -- to his bookie. The same bookie Bogen occasionally used. In fact, while
Dallas
spoke with Barry, someone masquerading as
Dallas
made a simultaneous call of the same duration to the bookie.

Climbing out of the truck,
Dallas
hurried into the drug
store. He’d grab a few things for Tess
,
then pick up Eddie and get back to camp. He didn’t want to leave her alone any longer than necessary.

*   *   *

Tess stared at the ceiling, blinking back tears, disoriented. Count to ten. She’d once been told that you couldn’t count in your dreams.
One, two, three...

And that’s all it had been: a bad dream. She stared at the clock. Two hours had passed. She must have dozed off only to awaken back in the nightmare that had become her life: being chained to
Dallas
’ bed.

She shivered, unable to shake the final remnants of the grisly dream in which Snake had dumped her concrete-weighted body into
Lake
Summer
. She’d floated downward in slow motion, sinking in terror to land amidst a watery graveyard of decomposing bodies with fish-eaten eyes. Her lungs ached as she held that final breath, refusing to relinquish her life.

Seven, eight, nine...
She struggled to sit up.

How would she get out of this mess -- alive and unharmed?

             
Dallas
’ harrowing description of her potential fate had left her numb.
White slavery
. Could she survive being sold, being raped, or being made a drug addict?

             
A sob broke free. How many women had met fates like this, were victims of such a grossly offensive crime? Did anyone suspect that such a thing had occurred, or were the women assumed to be victims of some other atrocity? What must their families be going through?

             
For the millionth time she thought about her own family. In her case, it could be another four weeks before her family even missed her or suspected something was wrong. Her shop was closed for the summer, which gave the two college kids that worked for her a chance to go home until the fall semester. Her mother was husband hunting on the French Riviera. That left her father and brother, who had an empire to run. If Tess remained incommunicado all summer
,
they’d hardly notice.

             
The only other person who might notice her absence was her ex-fiancé, Geoffrey. She knew from her mother’s letters that Madeline was encouraging Geoffrey to “try again.”  But Tess had her doubts. Geoffrey had wasted little time finding a suitable replacement.

             
The sad truth was no one would miss her on a day-to-day basis. Tess had planned on following the summer craft show circuit across the
Midwest
, interviewing potential
jewelry
designers for her shop. Because she had wanted to leave room in her schedule for spontaneous forays, she hadn’t left an itinerary with anyone. And she had used cash the last two times she purchased
gas and food, leaving no credit-
card trail. Once they discovered her missing, how would they find her?

             
Unless someone fortuitously pulled her car up from the lake, it could be a long while before anyone suspected foul play.

She closed her eyes
,
thinking about the man Snake had killed
,
and once again saw the knife plunge, blood spill across the floor. The man hadn’t even cried out. Didn’t beg for mercy. And she’d never felt so helpless and frightened in her life. Matt Michaels. Who would miss him? Family? Friends?

Bogen seemed to think Michaels was working with someone else. If that someone connected Snake to Michaels, would they come around asking questions? That had seemed to be Bogen’s primary concern. He wasn’t concerned over the fact Snake had murdered a man. He’d been worried it would draw attention to their operation.