Chapter 10
As soon as the plane landed, several of the Team’s cell phones rang. Gretchen’s did as well. Trace noted the number as being the kidnapper when she showed him the dial.
“Let it go to voicemail until we have some privacy.”
Gretchen agreed and turned off the ring. When she checked back, no voicemail had been left.
Gretchen’s SUV was parked in long-term parking and the four SEALs loaded the suitcases while Trace took charge of driving. Gretchen sat shotgun up front. Trace noticed Fredo hadn’t changed his blue Hawaiian shirt.
“What?” Fredo was giving Trace a dose of attitude.
“Well, you’re right about one thing,” inserted Coop. “We should still be on vacation. But hell if I don’t actually get excited now that we’ve got something to do.”
Trace considered Coop’s comments, and he also began to enjoy the pulse of a Brotherhood op coming up. The wrinkle and complication was that it involved someone he cared about very much. But then, he always cared about the people he was trying to rescue. It was not usually in the good old US of A.
Armando leaned over the seat as Trace exited the parking lot toward the freeway. “Your dad have any guns, Gretchen? Big guns?”
“My parents were hippies, Armando. Sorry, no guns, but I have a .38” she returned.
Trace nodded and gave her a wink. “You know how to use it?”
“I took a class, and had some practice. Dad insisted.”
“He sounds like a good man. Every woman should know how to shoot.”
“We’ll have to make do with what we’ve got, then,” Armando sighed.
“I’ve got the cell phone data. Registered to a Casa de Flores.” Coop said as he examined his notebook.
“Never heard of it,” said Gretchen.
“We can’t find an address with that business listing either.”
“Oh, one other thing, we have a locator on Clover’s cell phone. Didn’t think about it until we were boarding. And then I forgot. I’m so sorry.” Gretchen frowned.
“Not a problem. Write her number down,” Coop said as he handed her a small spiral notebook.
Trace decided to reveal he had packed a sidearm.
“We all do, Trace,” answered Fredo. I never go anywhere, even on vacation, without some protection.”
“Let’s hope we don’t have to use them. But at least we have something,” mumbled Armando.
They arrived at Gretchen’s home, on a hillside overlooking the Willamette River, and the lower districts bordering the Columbia River beyond. Rain was threatening, and the late afternoon was quickly evaporating.
They parked around the rear of the two-story structure and Gretchen showed them in through the kitchen. With the suitcases brought into the living room, Gretchen got to work making some sandwiches and heating up some soup she had in the pantry.
“Should I attempt to call them back?” she asked as she brought over a plate of fruit.
“Trust me, for a million bucks, they’ll call,” said Armando.
“I’d try to call. Let them know you’re back in town,” offered Trace. “And try your ex again. See what the updates are, if any.”
“Good idea,” Coop agreed, with his phone to his ear.
“And I’m texting Kate now to let her know we’re here. She can let my folks know.”
Then Gretchen tried to redial the number the stranger had called from and it came up with a disconnect. “No luck there.”
“So, let’s discuss what we know,” said Trace. Gretchen sat next to him, texting her sister.
Coop was walking toward the hallway, talking to his contact.
“She’s in a warehouse type structure,” said Armando.
“It’s cold. Probably no heat in the building. We got a business like a wholesale florist I’m guessing from the name,” added Fredo.
“I’m wondering how they knew where she’d be,” added Gretchen.
“They’ve been following them? Following the girls?” asked Trace.
“You know, something must have given them the idea. I’m guessing this isn’t a big operation, more like the crime of opportunity,” Armando added.
“Maybe they thought they’d get Gretchen as well. Perhaps they got lucky when Clover was left all alone? That type of thing Armando?”
His Team brother shrugged. “Maybe. Just speculation. But I’m thinking something planted the idea this would be a good idea.”
“You check your messages for anything from the police, Gretchen?” Trace asked her.
She ran to the kitchen and pushed the replay on the answering machine and wrote down the detective’s name who left her a message some three hours ago. “I’m going to call him right now.”
Before she could do so, her cell rang. She held up the screen, showing the SEALs it was the same number.
“Mrs. Sanders. You are back in Oregon now?”
“Yes.” She pushed speakerphone so they could all hear.
“Good. So we have spoken to your husband.”
“Ex.”
“Ex-husband then. And he has indicated he will be working on raising the necessary cash. I suggest you coordinate with him. But he has violated one of my rules about the police and the press.”
“Yes, I just found out about that. We have not been able to talk.”
“This is what he says. I am not happy. So, I have raised the bar to one million five hundred thousand dollars. This is non-negotiable.”
Gretchen gasped, but Cooper moved his palms in a level single plane, motioning her to be calm. Trace saw her stuff down her anger and her growing fear.
“Y-yes. I’m listening.”
Good girl, Gretchen, Trace thought.
“He gave permission for you to bring the money to the designated drop off spot.”
Gretchen rolled her eyes and stared back at him. Trace shrugged and motioned for her to continue the dialog.
Cooper held up his notebook, on which he had written, ask to talk to Clover again.
“Okay, we’ll work that out. But I want to talk to Clover again to make sure she’s okay.”
“I will give you exactly one minute when I’m done. So, tomorrow morning at eleven o’clock, I will call you back and you will bring the money to the spot I’ll designate. You’ll only have a few minutes to get there. Are you less than thirty minutes to Clover’s school?”
“Yes.”
“The drop won’t be there, but I will leave further instructions for you at the school.”
“H-how will I know?” Gretchen asked.
“It will be explained tomorrow. Now, you would like to speak with Clover?”
“Yes, please.”
They all heard the teen’s fragile voice start in with the same refrain she’d had earlier, “Mom, when are you coming to get me?”
“Soon, baby.” She looked at Coop for further instructions since he was writing furiously in his notebook. Gretchen read it over quickly and then repeated the instructions he’d written. “Did it take more than a few minutes before they arrived at where they’re holding you?”
The sound of the phone dropping gave Trace the chills.
“Mrs. Sanders, you were told not to make tricks with me. I am going to be very angry if you don’t behave. It’s going to be a long evening. You don’t want me anywhere near your daughter when I get angry.”
“I’m sorry. I just—”
“Your full compliance is required, Mrs. Sanders.”
The last sentence was drowned out by the sounds of a locomotive blast in the background, and then what appeared to be a rumbling echo as the train was accelerating. All the SEALs stood straight and took notice.
“No more tricks. Tomorrow at eleven then.”
“Sir, please, may I—?”
But the phone had already gone dead.
“We need a Portland map of the rail lines. You have something like that here, Gretchen?” asked Coop.
“No, but I can get it online.” She pulled out her laptop from her carry-on bags and began the internet search. Finding the page she wanted, she turned the computer to face Coop and Trace, who studied it side-by-side.
“Wish we had Tyler today. He grew up here in Portland,” muttered Fredo.
“I think we have what we need,” said Trace. “Look. There’s a station house, and it’s a hub. We’ve got what appears to be about four sets of tracks all parallel there. The only other one I see is downtown Portland.” Trace stood up. “Wouldn’t we have heard cars and activity?”
“Good thinking. So, Gretchen, what is this area here called?” asked Coop.
“We just call it the warehouse waterfront district. Used to be the cheapest loft rentals in the city, but now it’s gotten trendy. Still, many of those buildings are abandoned,” she answered.
“Is it close to the school?” Trace asked.
“Very close. Yes.”
Coop’s phone rang, and, after a brief discussion, he ended his call with a, “Thanks buddy, I owe you one again.” He smiled to his audience. “Okay he gave me coordinates that said between the river and Brickyard. North is the Pallatine Bridge and south the entrance to the 305 freeway. He said that was about a ten block radius.”
“Brickyard is right here,” Gretchen pointed out the labeled street. “And the rails run right through the first third of that square you just gave me. All the new upscale lofts are along the river, so I’d guess they’d be somewhere around here.”
Trace was starting to feel hopeful. “Good job, sweetheart. You know that area at all?”
“Lots of homeless shelters. Some rescue missions and a couple brewery houses. The whole place is undergoing massive renovation so there are construction projects all over. Closed streets. It’s a mess getting through there.”
“But we didn’t hear any construction, either. Just the trains,” said Trace.
“That’s the part I don’t like to go. Sometimes the church youth group would help out serving Thanksgiving Dinner down there, but as a big group. Not a place to go to at night by yourself.”
“And that’s why you’re not going by yourself.” Trace could tell Coop was also feeling hopeful. “Good deal. I can live with that. How many buildings are in that area?”
Gretchen sat down again and put her palm to her forehead. “Tons.”
“Explain what you mean by tons,” said Fredo.
She stared at her hands neatly folded on the tabletop. “I’m going to guess and say more than a hundred. At least.”