The Descent From Truth (10 page)

“Why are you doing this?” Pia asked. She shrugged the parka off her shoulders and draped it over her knees. “If you did not want them to have me, why did you hit me and turn me over to them?”

Why
was
he doing it? Even if the press of events had permitted introspection, Alex was not given to self-analysis. The chemistry between them, however, was undeniable. The more their lives intersected, the more out of control his became, but he couldn’t remember when he had last felt so engaged, so propelled by purpose. “I turned you in for kidnapping Freddy,” he said. “I punched you because you were trying to kill me.”

“I did not kidnap Frederick. He is my son.”

“As I understand it, he’s also Koenig’s. You figured you could just snatch him away from a man who has all that wealth and power?”

“You said you would help me. Back there—you promised.”

Alex let silence hang between them. Like
Brer Rabbit
with the tar baby, instead of freeing himself from a god-awful mess, he was getting more entangled. Turning Pia and Frederick over to Koenig had seemed the right thing to do at the time, and a gut reaction to Pia’s situation drove him to free her. He’d promised to help her get Frederick because that seemed the only way to assure her cooperation. Now that reason had begun to reassert itself, he had no idea what to do. The complications just kept piling on.

At some point, he would have to explain that protecting Frederick, possibly reclaiming him, were legal issues, that she needed a lawyer. In the meantime, he had to decide what to do with her. Since Koenig’s people had publicly backed off on the kidnapping claim, he had no obligation to turn her over to the cops. The smart thing would be to dump her and be on his way, but something primordial drove him to aid and protect her.

He could figure all that out later. Right now, he needed to concentrate on escape. “We’ll hole up somewhere, and you’ve go a lot of explaining to do.”

Chapter 12

The sun had barely peeked over the eastern mountains when Alex and Pia entered the village of Delta, roughly midway between Silver Hill and Grand Junction. Alex eased the snowcat into a gully and covered it with evergreen boughs. With luck, no one would stumble on it for a day or so. Time enough for them to get safely away. They hiked along the highway and found a twenty-four-hour truck stop with a bus station and restaurant.

“Let’s have breakfast,” Alex said. “Then we’ll figure this out.”

Sitting across from him in the restaurant booth, Pia slipped his parka off her shoulders. The upper part of her robe looked passably like a skimpy dress.

He studied her while she wolfed hot cakes and sausage. The stitches on her forehead were neat and straight, but she would probably have a scar. The raven sheen of her disheveled, boyishly cut hair glistened in the overhead light.

She looked up, caught him studying her. “What is it?”

Alex asked the first question that came to mind. “Did you legally renounce your parental claim to Freddy?”

She shook her head. “I have no claim. Frederick’s birth certificate lists Madam Koenig as his mother.”

They had made the trip from Silver Hill mostly in silence. The silence settled on them once more. If she had agreed to be a surrogate mother, had voluntarily given up the child, what claim could she assert at this late date? Alex agonized over what to do. She had been nothing but trouble ever since he found her wandering around in the snow. He had some cash from an ATM withdrawal at Silver Hill, and there was probably an ATM station here. Instead of getting sucked further into her obsession about Frederick, why not give her a wad of money and say goodbye? His feelings for her, the protective instinct she stirred in him, would fade with time. The consequences of doing what she expected might stay with him forever.

His expression must have reflected his thoughts. She quit eating and stared at him. “I came with you because you promised to help me protect my son. Are you going to keep that promise?”

That was his cue to tell her she was on her own. But could he just walk away, leave her sitting in a truck stop in a skimpy robe and oversized parka?

With or without him, her chances of gaining custody of Frederick depended on the legalities involved. In the absence of contrary evidence, DNA analysis might settle whose name belonged on the kid’s birth certificate. But that required a sample of his tissue: hair, fluids, fingernail scrapings—Alex wasn’t sure.

It occurred to him that he could easily get a reading on the question. “Have another cup of coffee. I need to make a phone call.”

To avoid leaving a credit card trail to the person on the other end of the line, he used cash to buy a calling card. Then he phoned the military lawyer who had represented him when the Army filed charges against him for assaulting an officer.

Captain Walter Farnsworth’s voice, impersonal and official, warmed the moment Alex identified himself. “Wondered where you’d gotten to. How’s civilian life treating you?”

“I’m coping, but I need advice.” Alex explained that a mother, a foreign national, had entered the U.S. with a man who held her baby, claiming he and his wife were the parents. “He’s taken the birth mother’s passport and all other identification.”

“Are any of the parties U.S. citizens?”

“No, sir.”

“Then an American judge would probably cede jurisdiction to the foreign court. The mother needs to get a lawyer there and subpoena the doctor who signed the birth certificate.”

“This guy’s a heavy hitter politically—she wouldn’t have a prayer. Couldn’t she get a restraining order to keep her child in the U.S., get an American judge to order DNA testing?”

“Without some evidence of parentage, highly unlikely.”

The unfairness of that raised Alex’s hackles. “What if she had possession of the kid, presented the court with DNA to prove she’s the mother? Could she get political asylum?”

“Possession and DNA evidence would change the equation. Asylum’s always a question mark, but if she could show that she would be denied due process back home, it might work.”

“Thanks for the information, Captain.” Alex hung up and returned to the restaurant booth with his mind in turmoil. Pia had admitted to voluntarily becoming a surrogate mother, so what right did she have to the child? Ethical issues aside, if he engineered circumstances so she could snatch Frederick, he would be an accessory to kidnapping. And he’d already spent more than enough time locked up, thank you. He slid into the booth and stared across the table at her. This wasn’t his problem, so why get in deeper? Helping her escape had been the right thing to do, but what now?

Pia flushed under his stare. “What is it? What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking you need something to wear besides a robe under that parka.”

“I do not need clothing. I need my child.”

Maybe he could slip back into Silver Hill, get the swatch of DNA she would need to prove she was Frederick’s mom. Leave her and the evidence with a lawyer who would take her case pro bono, and hope for the best. He needed time to think about it, to weigh the pros and cons. That meant stashing her somewhere, hiding out for a few days, and he knew just the place. His father owned an isolated cabin near Grand Junction. Well, he used to own it—who knew what he’d done recently? But it was designed for warm-weather use only, so it should be empty, regardless.

To throw Faust off their trail, Alex bought bus tickets to Denver even though they would only ride as far as the outskirts of Grand Junction. The ticket agent said the bus would leave at noon. He also told Alex they were within walking distance of a Wal-Mart. It was almost ten a.m., so the store would be open.

Alex told Pia about the cabin. “We’ll have a base camp, but we have to get you properly outfitted.”

The parka he had loaned her, hip-length on him, ended below her knees. In the oversized brogans and the all-enveloping coat with its fleece-lined hood, she looked like an Arctic waif as they trudged along the icy street to the Wal-Mart.

“How long must we wait before going back for Frederick?” she asked.

Until he decided what to do, it seemed best to humor her. “A couple of days.”

“He’s in danger, Alex. I told you that.”

“In the cabin up on the ridge, yeah. But you told me lots of things.”

“I lied to you, and I’m deeply sorry. But the threat to Frederick is real.”

Whether it was real or imagined, her expression, the fear he read in her voice, told him she believed it. “And you’re convinced of this because . . . ?”

“In Denver, just before we left for Silver Hill, someone arranged for his regular bodyguard to be replaced. I had never seen the new man before, and our driver was obviously ill at ease. I could not hear what the men said, because a glass divider separated us, but they were arguing before we turned off of the main highway. The guard pulled a gun, and the driver turned onto that side road. Their argument seemed to grow more heated. Then the driver opened the divider and shouted, ‘He’s going to kill the boy.’ They wrestled for control of the steering wheel, and we went off the road. A moment after the crash, the driver shouted for me to run. I climbed out with Frederick. The bodyguard tried to stop me, but the driver grabbed him. They were fighting when I ran away.”

Alex struggled to wrap his mind around the information. The newscaster had said the driver died in the crash. Hit his head. If he was still alive when Pia took off, the bodyguard must have bludgeoned him to death. To warrant murder, something heavy had to be going down.

“What if that man, that so-called bodyguard, gets to Frederick while we . . .” Pia waved a hand in the air. “While we dither?”

“That can’t happen with Faust protecting him,” Alex said. “Nobody gets by Faust.”

“You did. To take me away. Besides, what if it’s Theo who wants to harm him?”

They had reached the Wal-Mart. Alex paused and rested a hand on her shoulder. “Let’s not go off the deep end. Faust works for Koenig, after all. And Freddy is the old man’s only surviving offspring.”

Pia’s expression made it clear she wasn’t convinced. “What if they take him back to Peru before we . . . before we act.”

“Faust said Koenig plans on staying five more days. That was yesterday.”

“And we will wait no more than two days?”

“Three, tops.” The lie pinged a wave of guilt through Alex, but it came out spontaneously. Grasping both of her shoulders, he turned her to face the Wal-Mart entrance. “Let’s go shopping.”

To find clothing that fit her—jeans, long-sleeved shirts, undergarments—they looked in the teen department. In the sports department they bought hiking boots, snowshoes, cross-country skis, two sets of thermal long johns, and a backpack small enough for her frame. They also selected a lantern, soap, and sponges. In the grocery section they picked up powdered milk and eggs, pancake mix, raw vegetables, tinned meat, and condiments. At a kiosk near the exit, Alex bought a prepaid cell phone.

He made an ATM withdrawal and paid for everything with cash. As head of security for a multinational corporation, Faust would learn of the withdrawal and the purchase of bus tickets to Denver. That was exactly what Alex hoped for.

They left the store barely able to carry their purchases. Back at the truck stop, while Pia changed clothes in the restroom, Alex crammed as much of their equipment and supplies as possible into their backpacks and bundled the remainder for easier carrying.

Using his new cell phone, he called the old high-school buddy who had become a reporter for the
Denver Post
and had asked for an interview when Alex was being held by the Army for possible court martial. “I need another favor,” he said when the newspaper’s automated phone system connected them.

“They’re piling up,” his friend said. “You’re going to owe me big time.”

“This one might save a life. I need you to get a man’s name for me and check his background. It would be helpful to know what he’s doing now.”

“A life is at stake, you say? There a story in this?”

“If there is, you’ll get an exclusive.” Alex reminded him of Frederick’s accident on the road to Silver Hill. “You might recall that the driver was killed, the bodyguard only bruised. I need to know whatever you can find out about that bodyguard. What he did before working for the Koenigs. What’s he’s doing now.”

“His name will be on file from the story. I can do a background check, make some calls. You have a time frame?”

“Yesterday. And I’m serious about a life being at stake.”

“Also serious about giving me an exclusive?”

“If there’s a story, it will be all yours.” Alex told his classmate goodbye and ordered snacks just before Pia returned.

Sitting across the table from him, she sipped orange juice. “You believe Theo cannot find us at your father’s cabin?”

“What would be the point of trying? He can’t prove we took the snowcat, and the cops would want to know why he’s holding your passport.”

“He does not worry about legal niceties. To him the law is . . .” She pushed her hair back from her face and rested her hands on the table. “It is irrelevant.”

“Why do you say that?”

Frowning, she compressed her lips for a moment. Then her face relaxed, as if she had made a decision. “Do you know about Peru’s rebel movement, Shining Path?”

“That’s how I met Faust. We helped the Peruvian Army hunt them.”

“He no longer hunts them. Now they are his friends.”

“He’s on speaking terms with a bunch of terrorists? How do you know this?”

“Theo doesn’t seem to care what I overhear. To him I’m just a part of the furniture.”

“And you heard something?”

She nodded. “A telephone conversation.”

“When was this?”

“Last week. Our second day in Denver. He is getting something for Shining Path in your country.”

“Some kind of weapon?”

Pia shrugged. “At the time, I had no reason to pay close attention. And I certainly did not want to be caught eavesdropping.”

Faust’s seemingly urgent question after their dinner at Silver Hill—
did Pia say anything about me? About people I’ve spoken to or what I’m doing in Colorado?
—took on fresh meaning for Alex. He considered the information, wondering if it had a bearing on their situation. He decided that it didn’t. “Well, he won’t find us. He can—” A bus pulling into the parking lot stopped him. “There’s our limo.”

They chose seats near the rear, with no one around them. For a long while, Pia stared out the window while mountainous countryside whisked by. Then she turned to Alex. “This cabin, is it near the highway?”

“No.”

“How will we get there?”

“Guess.”

An exaggerated sigh. “We walk.”

“The way you scarfed those pancakes, you need the exercise. Otherwise, you’ll be a butterball in short order.”