The Jack Frost Thrillers - Box Set Page 16

  Red Sleeves smiled and stepped aboard. Then he turned and held out his hand as he looked up at her. Reluctantly, she took it and stepped down into the boat, then sat down quickly on one of the plush swivel chairs.

  The Indian settled behind the steering wheel, started the inboard engine, and backed the boat out of the slip. Turning the wheel to the left, he widened the throttle. The boat powered ahead with astounding acceleration. He ran it up to top speed, then sat back and relaxed.

  Susan stared at the broad expanse of lake that lay before them. Lake Mead went on forever, it seemed, into some of the most desolate desert in the United States. She had been out on this vast lake many times; it was beautiful in its own bleak way. It was possible to pass miles of shoreline, with hundreds of secret little coves, and never see a human being.

  The boat droned on, devouring the miles as Red Sleeves took them deeper into the reaches of the lake. The sun beat down on them. Red Sleeves handed her a floppy straw hat. “Put it on, Ms. Harris,” he ordered, “or you’ll suffer sunstroke in no time at all.”

  She wondered if Indians got sunstroke. She glanced at him. He seemed completely unaffected by the sun. She put on the hat and held onto it as the wind threatened to yank it from her head. Despite her deep tan, her bare arms and legs were already beginning to burn from the reflection of the sun on the water.

  After an hour of wide-open running, Red Sleeves cut the power and turned the boat toward shore. Susan looked, but saw nothing. When they were almost on top of it, she saw a little opening in the sheer cliff that ringed the lake. Red Sleeves eased the boat through the narrow passage, which was about a hundred yards long. Finally it opened into a huge grotto. There, on a shelf of rock, was a beautiful little cabin, fronted by a small dock.

  Red Sleeves secured the boat, then stepped out of the craft and held out his hand. This time she ignored it and clambered up onto the dock, unassisted.

  She looked around the grotto. There was nothing overhead but a ceiling of solid rock. There was no way anyone would ever see this place from a plane, and they had only the most remote chance of seeing the opening leading in here from the lake. She knew that she was cut off from any help.

  “Red Sleeves,” she said as she followed him up the steps leading to the cabin. “It has taken a long time to get here. You said if we didn’t get here in an hour, they’d kill Jack.”

  “I’m afraid I lied, Ms. Harris. I don’t have Jack Frost.” He watched the look of shock spread across Susan’s face. “I have you.”

  Her face turned dark with rage. She took a vicious swing at him with a clenched right fist. He moved ever so slightly, and she nearly fell off the steps. He caught her and set her upright on her feet. “Now behave yourself and act like a lady,” he said with a laugh.

  “You bastard!” she said, but she wisely decided not to try it again.

  The Indian held the cabin door open. Susan walked in and looked around. The place was beautifully furnished, except for the absence of curtains or drapes on the windows. They were hardly needed for privacy, she decided. “Would you like something cold to drink?” Red Sleeves asked.

  She whirled to face him. “Knock off the damn social crap! What do you intend to do with me?”

  “For now, nothing. What ultimately happens to you depends, as I said before, on Jack Frost.”

  Red Sleeves opened the door to a small refrigerator and withdrew a container of orange juice. He poured himself a glass and offered her one. Reluctantly, she accepted. “There’s electricity way out here?” she said.

  “The few electrical devices in the cabin are powered by solar panels.”

  “And private,” Susan said. “I can imagine what kind of things have gone on in this place.”

  “I doubt if you really can,” Red Sleeves said with a pleasant smile. “But you get the picture. We’re miles from civilization. The chances of being seen are very remote. No known commercial air routes cross over this particular portion of the lake. And private planes seldom stray this far out. In short, you are cut off from any help.” He finished his orange juice. “Now, please remove your clothes.”

  Susan looked startled. She had not expected this from Red Sleeves. “Like hell I will!”

  “Ms. Harris,” Red Sleeves said, “I have no desire to climb your bones. I merely intend to see to it that you will not yield to the natural tendency to try to escape on foot across the desert. Without clothes, you will die of exposure.” He looked around the cabin. “As you can see, there is nothing here to fabricate clothing from, so when I leave with yours, you will be, for all practical purposes, Eve in the Garden of Eden.”

  “Garden of Eden, my ass!” Susan said. “Just stay the hell away from me.” She clenched both fists, which brought a smile to the Indian’s face. He walked up to her, and as she cocked her fist, he threw a short, perfectly-timed punch, hitting her flush on the chin. She dropped into his arms. He placed her on the floor on her back. The Indian knew exactly how much force to use: just enough to stun her, not enough to break any bones, and with extreme accuracy to avoid breaking any of those beautiful teeth.

  He bent over, grasped the front of her blouse with both hands, and ripped the fragile material apart. He pulled it from under her and threw it aside. She wore a wispy, light maroon bra. Instead of rolling her over to get at the clasp in the back, he simply sliced the bra in two, and removed it.

  He pulled the skirt off over her legs, then peeled off the bikini panties. He picked up the small pile of clothes and stood looking down at her body with only clinical interest. He gave her high marks for muscle tone, appreciating the hours that she must have put in to accomplish her goal.

  Red Sleeves tucked the clothes into a small black nylon bag and pulled the drawstring tight. Then he sat down to wait for her to regain consciousness. When she did so, and realized that she was naked, she pulled herself into a sitting position, drew her knees up to her chin, and hugged them with her arms. Her eyes blazed with hatred as she rubbed her sore chin.

  “I’m sorry about that,” he said. “You’ll be quite comfortable here, even when the sun goes down tonight. At this time of the year, it seldom drops below 90 degrees, even here in the grotto.” He stood and walked to the door. “There’s enough food to last two weeks. I’ll be back well before then, of course—probably in a day or two, depending on how stubborn Mr. Frost is.”

  He stood in the doorway for a moment. “For your own well-being, please don’t try to walk out of here. You won’t last long under the sun, and this desert is full of snakes, scorpions, and other very nasty creatures. You’re safe here. Just be patient and wait until I get back. I’m the only one who knows your whereabouts. If something prevents me from returning, you will die here. Do you understand?”

  She understood only too well. But she also knew that Jack would not do anything to put her in jeopardy. Unless an accident befell the Indian, he would be back. Even if he returned with Jack as his prisoner, she would feel better. Somehow, together they would overcome the Indian. But right now she felt alone and frightened.

  “I won’t bother locking you in; there’s no place for you to go. There’s reading material in the library, but I’m afraid that’s about the only entertainment I can offer you.” He walked through the door, then turned again and said one final thing: “You can walk out to the edge of the lake if you wish, and do a bit of sunbathing. No one will see you, I can assure you of that. Just don’t stay in the sun too long, even though I can see that you already have an excellent tan.” He turned his back on her, and disappeared down the steps.

  Susan walked to the window and watched Red Sleeves back the boat out, turn it in a tight circle, and disappear into the narrow mouth of the tunnel leading to the lake.

  She gingerly touched her sore chin again. Then the tears came, and she could do nothing to stop them. After a few moments, she walked through the door and down the steps. She looked around, but realized that feeling self-conscious about her nakedness was silly.

  She
walked around the edge of the lagoon until she came to the narrow channel leading out to the lake. She crept along the narrow ledge bordering the channel, supporting herself with one hand on the rock wall.

  When she emerged from the tunnel, she stood at the edge of the enormous lake. Off in the distance, she could see the blue and white speedboat disappearing from view, a tiny speck now.

  Red Sleeves was right. Standing there naked under the hot Nevada sun, in this remote area of the lake with not another sign of human life in sight, she could very well have been Eve—but this was certainly no Garden of Eden.

  Chapter 10

  I glanced at my watch and realized with a sigh of relief that it was a quarter to five. At last I could go pick up Susan and get away from this relentless nymphomaniac who had stalked me all day long. I realized a lot of guys would have traded places with me in a heartbeat, but I’m stuck with my own little set of morals, and she didn’t fit into any of my free categories. “I’m going to pick up Susan,” I said.

  “I’ll go with you!”

  “There isn’t room in the car for more than two of us. Stay here with Ripper, and don’t—”

  “Don’t open the door for anyone but you! Don’t, don’t, don’t! Yes, I know, I know.” She sat down on the sofa and pouted.

  I heard her lock the door behind me. Just to be sure, I tried it, then went down the steps and walked quickly to my Jaguar. As I started to get in, I noticed the black bag on the driver’s seat. I gingerly picked it up and immediately decided it was far too light to contain explosives, poisonous snakes, or any number of other lethal devices I could think of.

  I cautiously opened the bag.

  I felt an icy hand close around my heart as I saw the clothes that Susan had worn to work this morning. I picked out a folded note, which simply said, “Want to trade?”

  I quickly went back inside the RV. In answer to Tina’s raised eyebrows, I dumped the contents of the bag on the sofa next to her. She looked up at me, her eyes wide. “Oh Jack, I’m sorry,” she said, and I could tell she meant it.

  Suddenly my knees felt too weak to hold me up. I took a deep breath and pressed Jilly’s number on the speed dial. It seemed like a very long time before he answered.

  “I need your help, Jilly.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Varchetta’s got Susan.”

  “Dammit! How’d that happen?”

  “Red Sleeves probably grabbed her from work somehow, coaxed her out of there with some kind of a story. I don’t know where she’s being held.” I told him about finding her clothes in my car.

  “For what it’s worth, if you’re worried about him doing anything to her, don’t,” Jilly said.

  “Why?”

  “He doesn’t work that way. He’s all business. There’s no reason for him to harm her—yet.”

  I caught the implication, but chose to ignore it. I told him where I’d mailed the ledgers. “If I don’t call you by tomorrow morning at 8:00 a.m. your time, turn the dogs loose on Varchetta.”

  “Jack, that’s a long time from now!”

  “I’ll need that much. I don’t want you to make a move if her life is still in danger.”

  “Jesus, I don’t like this,” Jilly said.

  “I’m going to call Varchetta and set up a meeting.” I thought for a moment. “Do you have any idea where Red Sleeves might be holding her?”

  There was a pause, then: “Naw, not really.”

  “What took you so long to answer? You obviously thought of some place, then dismissed it.”

  “Well, he has one that I know of for sure, a chalet up at Mt. Charleston, but that’s too well known. The other place I was thinking about might not even exist; all I’ve heard are rumors.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “I’ve often heard that he has a hideaway out in some remote part of Lake Mead. I heard he’s used it in the past for secret meetings with some of the top Syndicate people. I have no idea how to tell you to find it; Lake Mead is huge.”

  “I guess I have no choice but to contact Varchetta. Don’t forget, Jilly, 8:00 a.m. tomorrow.”

  “Be careful.”

  I clicked off and sat back in the chair, my fists clenched, my mind far away. “What do you think they’ll do to her?” I heard Tina say. From the impatience in her voice, I could tell it was probably the second or third time she’d asked.

  “They’ll kill her if they don’t get what they want.”

  She paled. Then, incredibly, she said, “If they do, I’ll tell my father!”

  I leaned back in the chair and looked at the ceiling for a moment. What in hell does this kid think her father does for a living?

  I decided not to pursue it. “What’s Varchetta’s personal office number?”

  He answered on the first ring. I didn’t bother to say hello, I just started talking. “There’s a private airstrip on Warm Springs Road, which cuts across from Route 15, west of town. I’ll meet you there in thirty minutes.”

  “With Tina and the ledgers?”

  “Of course not, you silly bastard!”

  “Then I won’t be there!”

  I laughed. “Sure you will.”

  Varchetta snorted. “I suppose you expect me to come alone, too.”

  “Bring your best, little man. The mood I’m in, you still won’t have enough help.” I terminated the call and sat there for a few moments, thinking.

  Tina sat cross-legged on the floor in her white cutoffs and tiny bikini top, staring up at me. “Well, what are you going to do?”

  “Red Sleeves might be watching the RV park, figuring that I’ll try to smuggle you out of here and stash you somewhere. I guess you’ll have to come with me. I can’t run the risk of dropping you somewhere unless I’m sure we’re not being followed. Go get some kind of shirt over that bikini top.”

  “Why?”

  “Dammit, just do it!” She got up without another word and disappeared into her bedroom. A few moments later she reappeared wearing a tee shirt and sneakers.

  We walked out of the RV and down the steps, Ripper bounding ahead. “What does Red Sleeves drive?” I asked.

  “A Ferrari of some kind. Really wild looking.”

  “Figures.” I looked around, but could spot nothing out of the ordinary. I took 159 down to 160. When I got to I-15 I turned left and headed toward Las Vegas. A few miles later I peeled off on 215 and drove toward Henderson, and the little airstrip that I had described to Varchetta.

  I was sure that I had not been followed. I’d been wrong about Red Sleeves hanging around to watch the RV park. The arrogant bastard held all the aces—he had probably been sitting in Varchetta’s air-conditioned office when I called.

  I suddenly realized that I might be doing the wrong thing by taking Tina with me. If somehow Red Sleeves managed to get the best of me at the airstrip, he’d have almost everything: Tina, Susan and me. I doubted very much if he knew about the ledgers.

  It was a risk I couldn’t take. I probably had another twenty minutes or so before our meeting. I decided to continue into Henderson. The Jag squatted under the heavy acceleration.

  “Where are we going?” Tina said as we raced past the airport. “I thought we were supposed to meet them here!”

  I explained my gut feeling about the whole thing. “I’m going to drop you at a movie.”

  “A movie!”

  I glanced at my watch. It was almost 6:00 p.m. I drove into Henderson and searched up and down the streets until I spotted a movie marquee. I stopped in front of the theater and stuck fifty bucks in her hand. “Take a seat just inside the door, on the right-hand side. I’ll be back after you as soon as I can.”

  She got out and looked up at the marquee. “Disney? Jeez, Frost, I—”

  “Get the hell in there!” I said. She stomped angrily to the ticket window. I waited until she bought her ticket and disappeared into the theater, then hung a U-turn and headed for our meeting.

  * * *

  As I approache
d the airfield, I spotted the black Mercedes limo parked at the far end of the narrow landing strip, well away from the road. I assumed the engine was running and the air conditioner going full blast.

  When I stopped, Ripper bounded out, raced around the front of the car, and promptly pissed on the left front wheel. “You’re such a comfort,” I muttered.

  The driver’s door of the Mercedes opened. Red Sleeves got out and began to walk toward us. He stopped a few feet away, a pleasant smile on his face. “Mr. Frost. How nice to see you again.” He glanced at Ripper.

  Before I could reply, the back door of the Mercedes opened and a short, older guy got out. He was holding what appeared to be a leash.

  I soon found out what was on the other end of the leash—an enormous German shepherd, looking for all the world like a huge timber wolf. Under that long hair I knew there had to be at least one-hundred-seventy-five pounds of solid muscle and bone.

  “I glanced at Red Sleeves, who was looking down at Ripper. Ripper’s gaze was locked on the shepherd.

  Red Sleeves smiled at me. “We thought perhaps it would be best to demonstrate to you, here and now, the agony of losing something near and dear to your heart.” He glanced at Ripper again. “Our assumption being, of course, that after that you might not want to run the risk of losing something even more precious.”

  “Really. Well, give it your best shot.”

  I watched as the handler reached down and unsnapped the leash holding the big shepherd. The dog began to slink toward us, slowly at first. Then he quickly accelerated, heading straight for J.T. Ripper.

  Ripper began walking almost casually toward the oncoming shepherd. I was on the verge of telling him to get his big ass into high gear when he launched.

  As the two huge dogs met, Ripper’s legs folded under him. He rolled into a ball, hitting the shepherd low, cutting the legs out from under the shaggy brute. The dog went down, clawing at the tarmac as he tried to regain his feet. But before he could, Ripper was on him, those awesome jaws clamped around the unprotected throat.