The Romanov Ransom

11

A deafening roar grew in intensity as the water neared. Racing to the cliffside where they’d left the ropes hanging, Sam and Remi helped the boys first, giving Brand the backpack with the logbook. The boys safely up, he and Remi grabbed the ropes, attaching their own harnesses, as the water hit. The surge swept their feet from beneath them. They gripped their ropes as the current pulled, the spray lashing at their faces. Sam looked up, saw the boys watching in fear, as the water raged past. Finally, it crested, then started to recede, allowing them to continue their climb. Soaked and exhausted, they reached the top. Sam and Karl gathered the ropes as Remi and Brand hiked up to the Toyota. A moment later, Remi was back. “I can’t find Zakaria.”

“He’s not in the car?”

“No. The key fob’s on the seat next to the binoculars, but he’s gone.”

Sam examined the area near the trees, wondering if he’d somehow slipped in the mud and fallen into the gorge. Nothing appeared disturbed around that area, and he returned to the Toyota to have a look around. What he didn’t expect to find was a cigarette butt half buried in the mud near the front tire.

He crouched down, noticing a distinct waffle boot print next to it. “How well do you and your brother know Durin Kahrs?”

Karl looked over at Brand. “He’s your friend, isn’t he?”

“Mine? I thought you knew him.”

“What? No. I thought—”

They both turned perplexed faces toward Sam and Remi, Brand saying, “Now that I think about it, when we ran into him at the bar, he acted like he knew us. Everything he brought up was more open-ended questions.”

“Yeah,” Karl said, nodding. “Vague things that seemed legitimate. ‘How’s everyone at home?’ or ‘Remember that class we had together?’ We were the ones supplying him with all the information.”

“Classic con technique,” Sam said. “What was his interest in the plane?”

Karl shrugged. “He just offered to help us find it. I’m not even sure how he knew—”

“He said he read that article on our documentary, remember?”

“There was an article. He could’ve found out that way…” Karl looked at Sam. “You think he’s the one who untied our rope and left us stranded there?”

“Hard to say, right now. But if I had to lay odds, it’s a safe bet.”

“What about Zakaria?” Brand asked. “He wasn’t involved, was he?”

Remi and Sam exchanged glances, Remi saying, “He seemed genuinely worried about you.”

“I agree,” Sam said, pulling out his phone. He tried calling. When Zakaria’s phone went to voice mail, Sam texted Where are you? He waited a few seconds for a response. When there was none, he tucked the phone in his pocket. “Let’s finish loading the gear, then take a look around.”

As he suspected, Zakaria’s footprints veered through the mud away from the gorge and toward two other sets of footprints, and tire tracks that didn’t match the Toyota’s.

“He definitely went off with someone,” Sam told them as a return text finally came in.

Almost there. Do you have the courier bag?

“Not the response I was expecting.” He showed them the text, asking, “Anyone ever mention anything about a courier bag to either of you?”

Karl shook his head.

“What courier bag?” Brand asked.

“Exactly what I was thinking,” Sam said as Remi pointed to something in the distance.

“That’s got to be Zakaria,” she said, handing him her binoculars.

He focused in, seeing Durin Kahrs’s silver Nissan racing toward them. Someone stood, popping their head and shoulders out of the vehicle’s sunroof, then lifting up an automatic rifle.

Sam grabbed Remi’s arm, pulling her behind the Toyota. “Get down!” he yelled to Karl and Brand. A bullet whistled past them, striking the ground nearby.

Two more shots hit the side of the Toyota.

Sam and Remi crouched behind one wheel, Karl and Brand the other. Sam drew his Smith & Wesson.

Remi unholstered her Sig. “Makes me wonder what’s in that courier bag we supposedly found.”

“I’m more interested in a plan to get out of here.”

Another shot was followed by the hiss of air from the front tire. So much for driving away, Sam thought. He looked back toward the trees. Their only route of escape was into the gorge. If they could reach the outcropping of rocks below, they had a chance to find cover. “Hope you’re ready for another hike?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

“After you.”

Remi crawled toward the ravine, careful to keep the Toyota between her and the approaching vehicle.

“Brand, Karl,” Sam called out. “Follow Remi.” They scrambled after her. He followed. Seconds later, he heard the sound of the Nissan rumbling across the rough, muddy ground. Sam quickly surveyed the outcropping, spying a couple of boulders jutting up through the wet brush that seemed large enough to provide cover. He pointed. Remi nodded, drawing the boys behind the larger of the rocks, ducking down beside them. He dove behind the other.

“Where are they?” a man at the top of the ridge asked.

“They had to have gone back down.”

Sam braced his gun against the right side of the boulder, leaning over just far enough to see through the brush around it. Two men, both with scarves over their noses and mouths, stood at the crest, rifles at the ready.

They wore traditional djellabas, and he recalled Durin’s warning about local bandits in the area. If one of the men was Durin, he’d changed clothes.

“Come on out!” the taller of the two called. “We won’t hurt you!” For local bandits, their grasp of English was very good.

“Footprints,” the other said, his eye on his scope, following Remi’s tracks through the mud with the barrel of his long gun. He lifted his rifle, aiming toward the rock where Remi and the boys were hiding.

Sam fired.

The man’s shot went wild as he stumbled, then fell, the rifle flying from his grasp. The second man jumped back out of sight. “Don’t shoot!” he called out. “He shouldn’t have fired. It was a mistake.”

“Like the shots you took at us?”

“Just a warning.”

“Some warning,” Remi muttered.

“What is it you want?” Sam yelled.

“Don’t shoot, or I’ll hurt your friend!”

Sam kept his gun aimed that direction, straining to hear what was going on up there. A moment later, he saw someone moving up on the crest. Recognition hit, and he let up on the trigger. Zakaria, his face bloodied and a gag around his mouth, was now a human shield for his captor. “I’m listening,” Sam shouted.

“Bring me the courier bag and I’ll let your friend go. If you call the police, I’ll kill him, then come after you.”

“What courier bag?”

But the man dragged Zakaria back. A moment later, they heard an engine revving as the vehicle sped off.

Remi looked over at Sam. “They are gone, aren’t they?”

“Wait here and I’ll find out.”

He made his way up the hill, staying low, gun ready. The dead guy was sprawled facedown in the mud on the hillside, his hand outstretched and, just beyond it, his rifle. Sam reached out, grabbed it by the barrel. “Remi!” He slid it, butt first, toward her.

She retrieved it, covering the hilltop, while he made his way toward the crest.

He ducked behind a stand of brush. The car was gone. He checked inside the Toyota, then all around it. “Clear!” he yelled, returning to the ravine, making his way to the body as Remi, Karl, and Brand climbed up the hill toward him.

The first thing Sam noticed was the dead man wore hiking boots with the same waffle pattern as the prints they’d seen in the plane. When he rolled him over and pulled down his muddied face mask, he wasn’t at all surprised. It was Karl and Brand’s supposed friend, Durin Kahrs.

Remi eyed the body. “It’d be nice to know what’s really going on here.”

“And what Zakaria knew.” He dug through the man’s pockets, found his ID, and took a photo with his cell phone. Finding nothing else of interest, they climbed back up the hill to their Toyota — and the flat tire. At least the keys were in the ignition. “Don’t suppose AAA makes international calls?”

“Sorry, Fargo. I think we’re on our own out here.”

Sam changed the tire while Remi stood guard. Karl and Brand were too shell-shocked to do much more than watch.

She glanced down at Sam before returning her gaze to the horizon. “We shouldn’t have left Zakaria here.”

“It wasn’t like we had a lot of choice.”

“It’s our fault,” Brand said.

“No,” Sam replied. “It’s Durin Kahrs’s fault. You couldn’t have known he was playing you.”

“You think it could be the logbook they’re after?” Brand asked.

“Hard to say. We’ve definitely got to take a better look at it.” He finished tightening the lug nuts, going over everything that Zakaria told them. He gave the last lug nut a final twist, then stood. “Something’s bothering me about all this.”

“What’s that?” Remi asked.

“If this courier bag was on that plane when Durin went out to the crash site, it’s a safe bet that he took it.”

“Which doesn’t make sense,” Remi said.

Karl added, “If he already had the courier bag, why have us come all the way out here?”

“Exactly.” Sam took one last look around to make sure they hadn’t left anything behind, then closed the tailgate. “Only one reason I can think of. A setup, to begin with. He’d already been out to the plane, found this courier bag, didn’t want you or Zakaria to know he was in possession of it, and decided to use you as the means to an end.”

“Unfortunately for him,” Remi said, “the plan backfired.”