Wisdom Spring, page 24
*****
A couple of hours after Scott left, Joe perked up from behind the rocks. A vehicle was coming. Just one? He expected more. But after all, these were only the reinforcements close by. He moved a little further away from the rocks and into the trees. They turned onto the road, slowed down for a moment—maybe thinking Frank would be waiting—then picked up speed and headed for Wisdom Spring. They were driving an SUV, rented he was sure, and he saw four heads.
If he had known there would only be one car, he thought, he would have been prepared and would have taken out the whole carload right then. He ran down the hill toward the Jeep hidden two miles away.
*****
A few minutes later Scott heard the SUV drive into town. He, too, was surprised at only one vehicle. He knelt down and watched through the window as the car came to a stop. Four men cautiously got out to search the buildings. Scott slipped out the back door with Max and hid behind a shed. He heard someone shout that they must be at the mine, then heard them get back into the SUV and head down the road.
Scott jumped up and ran through the woods, Max close at his side. A few minutes later he heard a gunshot. The fleeting thought went through his head that he should have been waiting at the mine the whole time, not in town, or that he should have opened fire on them in the town. Because he didn’t, Jon might already be dead. He had dropped the ball, and he knew it.
He reached the line of trees in front of the mine. Jon and Jess were standing by the Armada with their hands up. The truck's back was open, with some boxes piled inside. The four men were all pointing guns, and he heard one of them say, “Kill them, then blow the mine.”
Chapter 36
“Oh my God, what happened here?” cried Jess. “Look at all these bodies, and so many of them children.”
“These must be the ‘deceased’ children in the folders,” I said, my stomach still churning.
“But why are they mummified? And why wouldn’t they just bury them?”
“The cool temperature of the cave kept them from decomposing,” I said. “I think they chose to ‘store’ them here because they knew that someday they would blow the mine. They couldn’t bury them in a mass grave because—if the folders of the kids are right—they died over a period of several years. They’d have to bury them individually, and a graveyard that size would tend to raise questions. Also, my guess is that they probably didn’t want the other kids to know that they had died. Storing them here made sense. Remember when Clyde said that Ben was sad because kids would always be leaving, so he couldn’t make friends? This is where they went, or some of them, anyway.”
“I wonder if he knows, even to this day, exactly what happened to them.”
“I guess it depends on how close to the top he is.”
As we talked, I was edging closer to the bodies. It was the last thing I wanted to do, but I knew I had to. I would stop short of actually touching any of them, though.
“What are you doing?” Jess asked.
“I want to see if there is any evidence of how they died.” I still couldn’t place the smell. It was unpleasant, but not a decomposition smell. I finally decided it must be the smell of mummification.
I bent over a little boy and could see no obvious marks. I checked a few others without success. There were quite a few adults—more adults than children—and it was obvious how they had died. Each one had a single knife slit from ear to ear.
“If I had to guess, they probably poisoned the kids. They slit the adults’ throats. All the same way. Why not a bullet? Were they afraid of someone hearing? They were probably dissenters or people in the wrong place at the wrong time. The adults weren’t killed in here, though. There’s no sign of blood.”
“Can we go?” asked Jess.
“Yeah. I just want to take some pictures. If they end up destroying the mine, we’ll need some sort of proof.”
I first counted the bodies. There were seventeen children and thirty-six adults. I quickly took a couple of dozen shots from all angles, then we left the room. I held Jess as we walked back up the road through the mine, neither of us talking. We got back to the first chamber and each picked up a box. I opened the door cautiously, but saw nobody around. We walked them over to the Armada and stashed them in the back.
We took two more trips. When we came out with the final boxes a black SUV sat behind the Armada and four men were getting out. I dropped the box and reached for my Sig. One of the men shot and the bullet hit at my feet, showering me with dirt.
“Don’t try it,” he said.
“Wow, it really is the girl. What’re we supposed to do?”
The obvious leader of the group said, “They told us that no one should be left alive. Even the girl. Especially the girl. Kill them, then blow the mine.”
A streak of gray shot out of the woods and landed on one of the men. It was Max. The man screamed. Max had already disarmed him—almost literally—when I heard the sound of Scott’s shotgun. A second man went flying. Another blast and all of the windows on the passenger side of their SUV blew out. The two remaining men were running for cover, so I scooped up my Sig and shot the keypad on the outer door, which had closed behind us. Then I followed Jess, who was almost in the woods.
Scott called Max back so he wouldn’t get shot. The man he had attacked was not going anywhere anytime soon. The remaining two hunkered down behind their SUV, throwing the occasional wild shot over the hood. Jess and I had hidden behind an old piece of machinery.
“Stay down,” I said. “I’m going on the other side of Scott.”
Jess nodded her agreement and I moved back further into the woods, then came around behind Scott, eventually parking myself about twenty feet to his left. We were now in a position to cover any escape attempt on their part into the woods behind them. Nevertheless, one of them tried it. All three of our guns went off at once and the man dropped to the ground.
A pistol flew over the top of the SUV and the remaining man raised his hands. “I’m done. I’m coming out.”
At that point, Joe emerged from the woods thirty yards up the road, ready to start shooting. Seeing the situation, he lowered his rifle and sauntered in.
Scott already had the man—the one who had ordered us killed—spread-eagled on the ground. Jess was checking on Max’s victim, who was alive but not moving.
“If you want even the chance of living, you’re going to tell us everything you know about your bosses,” said Scott. He gave Joe a glance that I tried to figure out.
“I can’t tell you much, honest,” said the man. “We were hired a couple of years ago to be on call. They paid us well for almost no work. The only stipulation was that if they called, we were to drop everything and move quickly. This was the first time I got the call.”
“How’d they find you?” I asked. “How did you get hired?”
“The four of us are all ex-cons. They approached me in prison and told me that they could get me out. They’d pay me, but I’d owe them. It seemed like a good deal. I still had another five years on my sentence.”
“How’d they get you out?”
“I have no idea. One day the guards came to my cell and told me that I’d been paroled. I didn’t ask questions.”
“So who are ‘they’?” asked Scott.
“No clue. I was told someone would contact me and he did. He met with all four of us. He gave us our guns and some shitty cell phones and told us to carry the phones with us at all times. They could only be used to call him or to get a call from him. We had to memorize his number and delete it from our call log if we ever got a call from him.”
“Did he give you his name?” asked Jess.
“Yeah, Mr. Smith. Real cloak and dagger shit.”
“Did they tell you others were on their way today?” asked Scott.
“Yeah, but he said it would take them hours to get here. If you leave now, they’ll never catch you and I won’t say anything.”
Joe motioned to me and we walked out of hearing distance.
“We can make use of him,” he said, and told me his idea. I liked it. It had the chance of actually keeping them off our tail while we sorted things out.
We walked back to the prisoner.
“We’ll see how willing you are to cooperate,” said Joe. “You’re going to make a phone call. You’re going to call that number and tell them that you found us and killed us.”
“And,” I added, “that you put our bodies in the mine and blew it.” Joe hadn’t been there to hear that part of the command. “Those were their instructions,” I said to him.
Joe nodded. “You hold the phone so I can hear them. You better sound as natural as you normally would or you’ll be dead. What’s your name?”
“Billy.”
“Okay Billy, do it and don’t screw up.”
Billy sat up against the SUV and dialed the number.
“Hey, it’s Billy. We got ‘em.”
I couldn’t hear the other end of the conversation, but Joe seemed satisfied with what he was hearing.
“There were four of them.” Pause. “Yeah, the girl was one of them.” Pause. “Oh yeah, it was definitely her. We all recognized her.” Pause. “Joe Gray? I don’t know. We didn’t ask their names. We just shot them.” Pause. “It’s gone. We put their bodies in the mine so there would be no trace of them. Then we blew it up.” Pause. “Thanks.” Longer pause. Joe shook his head no. “No, it would be a waste of time. There’s nothing for them to do here.” Pause. Joe nodded. “Yeah, we took care of him.” Pause. “Okay. We’ll get rid of the Jeeps and destroy the satellite phone.” Pause. “Yeah, we’ll go through the buildings and get rid of any evidence of the other guys being here. That shouldn’t take long.” Pause. “Okay, thanks.” He hung up.
Joe took the phone from him and handed it to me. The number was in the call log. I wasn’t sure how, but that could prove useful.
“Sounds like they are calling off the reinforcements,” said Joe.
“Maybe I destroyed the keypad for nothing,” I said.
“No,” said Joe. “It was probably still a good idea. Why don’t you guys head back up to the town and I’ll follow you up.”
Billy suddenly had a wary expression on his face. “You said you’d let us go.”
“And that’s what I’m going to do.”
We got in the Armada, backed up and turned around. As we rounded the bend, I heard a shot, then another. I braked.
“Did Joe just kill them?” I asked.
“It’s what Joe does,” said Scott.
Chapter 37
We were back in Scott’s house, decompressing. We had all come back in Scott’s plane. The Armada had outlived its usefulness. It was a hot vehicle and it was time to get rid of it. I parked it in the small airport parking lot and Scott called his friends Pete and Ollie at Piney Lake, asking them if they wanted an SUV of questionable ownership. As expected, they were happy to take it on. Piney Lake was only a couple of hours away, so we knew it would be picked up in no time and all evidence of our existence up here would be gone. I left the keys under the seat and said goodbye to the Armada.
It was a tight fit getting all six boxes in the plane, but we did it. Because of the lack of room, Max ended up sitting on my lap. He eyed me suspiciously until Jess finally offered to take a turn. He seemed much happier on her lap, which I could understand. I would be too.
It was too loud and distracting in the plane to have a decent conversation, so now, with an ocean of Chinese take-out in front of us, Scott asked, “So exactly what is in the boxes?”
“We only had time to give them a cursory glance, but they contain files on hundreds of people, some famous and some not, all of whom seem to have some connection with all of this. We did find Ben Fremont in there.” I gave them a quick recap of the little bit we read on him. “I think after we eat—or while we eat—we should each take a box and go through the files more carefully. We’re not rushed for time, and as far as I know, nobody has a clue as to where we are. That work for everyone?”
Joe looked at his watch. “It’s late, but if everyone is as keyed up as I am, we should at least get a start on it.”
“Sounds good to me. Jess?” asked Scott, looking over at Jess, who had been quiet.
The reason for her silence became apparent the minute I looked at her. She was “gone” again. I put my fingers to my lips to motion Scott and Joe not to talk and they nodded. We probably could have talked though, as noise didn’t seem to disrupt her sessions, but it just seemed more natural to me to give her the space. Even Max sensed it, getting down on his haunches and staring at her. Finally she came out of it and saw us looking at her.
“Sorry,” she said, a little embarrassed by the stares. “I never quite know when a message is going to come.”
“Anything good?” I asked quietly.
“Reception—if you want to call it that—wasn’t very good, but I sensed the message was important. It had something to do with ‘replacement’ or ‘replacing’ or ‘exchanging.’ Sorry, that’s the best I could do.”
“Okay,” I said. “So we keep aware of that.” I gave Joe a glance.
“Hey, don’t look at me,” he said. “I don’t understand it, but I’m starting to respect it.” He added, “Hillstrom worked for Exchange Systems. Something to do with that?”
“Maybe,” answered Jess. “But we already knew that, so maybe this is something else.”
“Well then, let’s each grab a box and get started,” I said.
We began the project with hope and enthusiasm, despite the daunting nature of what lay before us. For Jess and me in particular, if this didn’t provide the answers—and even more importantly, the proof—to clear her name and expose Hillstrom, we had no idea what we’d do. During some quiet moments we had touched on the subject and found the alternatives grim. We would probably have to buy a remote piece of land in Alaska and live the rest of our days in hiding. Some people would give their right arm for an opportunity like that. For us, we’d do it if we had to, and we’d be happy being with each other, but it wasn’t how either of us envisioned our ideal future.
Along with one of the boxes bursting with files, we each also grabbed a handful of the folders from the box of thin ones. Those were the ones we were going through first.
“So why did they—for lack of a better term—dispose of all those children?” asked Jess. “And why were some of them killed and others sent away?”
“I may have come upon the answer to the second part of that,” said Scott. “I’ve been making a separate pile for each, deceased and sent away. The ones they gave back to an orphanage all appeared to be under the age of six. Anybody older than that it seemed they killed.”
Immediately we all made piles like Scott’s.
“You’re right,” I said. “I wonder why?”
“I can take a guess,” answered Jess. “Whether it was a financial decision or a moral one—I seriously doubt the latter—they probably felt that anyone under six could go back where they came from and probably soon forget all about the town. In other words, they didn’t worry about them becoming a risk to their operation. By the age of six or seven the kids were probably too old and would be more likely to describe life in the town. They’d be a security risk.”
“Makes sense to me,” said Joe. “And I’m guessing that they went through so many kids because they were looking for a specific type. They had to match certain criteria.”
“Such as?” I asked.
“Don’t know. If we use Ben Fremont as an example of a success story, then they were trying to find people with certain sociopathic tendencies, people they could mold into whatever they needed. What we’re looking at here is a good old-fashioned ‘Charm School’.”
“You mean like the old book by Nelson DeMille?” I asked. “I’ve read articles over the years that suggested these training schools really do exist.”
“They do,” said Joe flatly.
I looked at him with a “how do you know that” expression.
“Joe used to be CIA,” answered Scott in response to my look.
“Training facilities like this exist all over the world in varying forms, rarely this coordinated though,” said Joe. “Spies have had to infiltrate other countries ever since the advent of … well, spies. It would be to differing degrees, depending on the purpose. Sometimes they are already adults and just need to learn the ways of a country before they can take their place in society, and sometimes a bit more intense. If this is really what Wisdom Spring was, then it would be the most extreme example I’ve ever heard of.”
“Wait a minute,” I said, barely listening to what he had just said. “You were CIA?”
He nodded.
“And all this time you couldn’t have been in touch with one of your contacts there to let them know what was going on? After all, you were one of them. Wouldn’t they believe you?”
“No,” said Joe, who seemed uncomfortable talking about it. “For two reasons. First, it was over twenty years ago. Most, if not all, of my coworkers have long since retired. Second, I was kind of asked to leave, so I’m not sure how good my contacts would be even if I had them.”
He looked down at one of the files.
“You going to leave us hanging?” I asked.
“There was a killing that I was involved in. The death of a woman in North Korea. It wasn’t exactly sanctioned. Seemed like the right thing to do at the time. Seemed like the only thing to do at the time, so we … I … did it. They didn’t see it that way and to avoid embarrassment, they cut ties with me.”
“Anyway,” he said, anxious to move on. “I think Wisdom Spring was a training ground. If so, they had a long-range vision because at that age it would take fifteen years or more to graduate the finished product.”
It was late and we decided to call it quits for the night. Jess and I were asleep in minutes.
We were all back at it early the next morning. Scott had gotten up before any of us and had gone out for coffee and bagels.
