He never stopped to think that by turning on the generator, he’d directly contradicted his claim of ignorance. The officers found this extremely amusing. Laughing to themselves, they entered the mine, dragging Dennis.
Behind them, hidden around a bend in the trail, a man with piercing blue eyes watched. Leon had seen the cop cars in the driveway when he arrived, and had waited until the officers dragged Dennis out of the trailer and down the path before sneaking onto his property. He’d already been into the trailer, to check for anything that might lead them to his Vancouver address. He didn’t mind letting Dennis take the fall for what they found here, but he didn’t want to be connected in any way. Now he watched them enter the mine, his thoughts racing. They would probably find the cops Dennis had imprisoned there, along with the drugs and the money. This operation was obviously finished. All that time and money, down the drain. Along with the mine itself. He grimaced. He was losing more than he cared to count. But Joseph’s shipment should have already come through, and that meant he would have $10 million waiting for him in the bank in the Caymans. Maybe after the cops left, as they inevitably would, he could sneak into the mine and get some of the cash out. Added to the funds he’d already deposited, it should be enough to see him through until he could come up with something else.
He turned and hurried away, leaving Dennis to his fate with the RCMP.
It took an hour, as they received no assistance from the ever-uncooperative Dennis, but the men from the Force eventually made it to the central area, and the hydraulic elevator. Dennis required a little more coaxing before he showed them how to use the elevator. Koopman was happy to supply the motivation. It took another half hour to find the storeroom area, with its four separate doors.
“Shush, guys, I hear something,” said McCloud. They all stopped, feeling hot and compressed in the narrow tunnel. “There it is again,” he said, walking toward one of the doors. “That door.”
Koopman yelled loudly. “Catherine! Indy! Is that you?”
To everyone’s surprise, Indy’s voice came echoing back from inside the room. “Yes! Let me out of this damn dungeon!”
Koopman reached for the door and saw the large lock on it. “Got a key, Dennis?” he asked.
“I know nothing,” said Dennis. “Didn’t know any of this was here. Honest, eh?”
“Stand back Indy!” Koopman shouted. “I’m going to shoot out the lock. Everybody, get back. In this kind of situation things could ricochet all over the place.”
The explosive noise from Koopman’s firearm was amplified in the small space. A few small rocks fell out of the low dirt ceiling. Koopman wondered nervously, and belatedly, if the intensity of the sound could cause a cave-in. A few more chunks of rock were dislodged, but nothing else happened. The bullet shattered the lock, and a black and disheveled looking Indy almost fell out of the room.
“Am I ever glad you people came by! It’s about time! Need air. I’ve got to get air.” He almost ran down the tunnel toward the American entrance. He threw open the mine doors and breathed deeply of the pure Flathead Mountain air. He wasn’t sure he could go back into the tunnel, even to get to the Canadian side.
Brink and Koopman watched Indy go. “Guess he’s been there for a while,” said Brink smartly.
Blackman, meanwhile, was peeking around the door into the room that had been Indy’s prison. “Holy smokes, guys, look at this.”
The others looked around the door at the mountains of cash stacked up against the walls of the room. “Oh my God. There’s got to be a couple million dollars here,” said McCloud.
Koopman was already opening the other doors. “You all had better come and look at what else we have,” he said.
They took turns looking behind the other doors. Drugs. American money. Canadian money. More drugs. Marijuana. Cocaine. Heroin.
“Jesus, I guess Indy was right. He and Catherine found the mother lode, all right,” said Koopman. “This has got to be one of the biggest drug busts in Canadian history. It’s incredible.”
“Knew nothing about this, eh Dennis?” asked Brink.
“Nope. Nothing at all. Didn’t know this was back here,” he said. “I just live in the trailer. I don’t know nothing.” Blackman rolled his eyes and smirked at McCloud. They all said that.
“Koop, you should go and get Indy,” said Brink. “We’ve got to figure out what to do here. This completely blows me away.”
Koopman and Blackman walked toward the American entrance. They tried hard not to laugh at the sight of the 50-year-old Inspector Inderjit Singh, face blackened by coal dust, lying flat on his back, arms and legs spread-eagled, staring at the sky, watching the stars come out.
“How long were you locked up, Indy?” asked Koopman.
“More than 36 hours by my count. And I’m claustrophobic. I almost went nuts in there,” he replied.
“Nutser,” corrected Koopman. “Where’s Catherine?”
Indy sat up abruptly, looking around. “Oh damn. I was in such a hurry to get out of there that I forgot about her,” he said. “We’ve got a bigger problem than just drugs, guys.”
“What could be bigger than drugs? This is a major Canada/US drug corridor. I’m sure huge amounts of heroin, cocaine, marijuana, and money have been flowing back and forth through this hole for years. And God knows what else. This is going to make international headlines,” said Koopman.
“But Catherine’s disappeared,” Indy said. “I don’t see her around here. I’m sure she followed the drug smugglers out this end of Devil’s Anvil. Maybe she hooked a ride with them, somehow.”
Brink hadn’t been listening to what Indy said. “How big a load came through here, Indy?” he asked.
“Huge. Absolutely huge. It took a total of four trips with that trolley they have in there. Catherine went out between the second and third loads, to have a look around. She came back and told me that it was a large van, or small truck, or something. She said she was going to get the plates and details, but she didn’t come back after that. God, I hope those guys didn’t find her.”
“How big is huge, Indy?” Brink pressed.
“A couple of tons, at least,” Indy responded. “At least. Millions of dollars, street value. Tens of millions. There was something unusual about it, guys. And I’m not only talking about the size of the shipment.”
“What was that, Indy?”
“The way it was wrapped. Catherine said that it was divided into individual bricks, and that each brick was wrapped in red cellophane. I’ve spent my share of time working narcotics, and I’ve never heard of that before.”
“Me either,” responded Blackman.
“Indy, how is it that she got out and you didn’t?” asked Koopman, scratching his head.
“There’s a tiny little ventilation tunnel between rooms,” Indy replied, trying to wipe the coal dust from his face with his wrinkled and torn shirt. “She was able to get out through that. I just… uhh… I just couldn’t get through it. But she came back and told me about what was going on outside. She was pretty excited by it all. She went back out again, and didn’t come back after that. If she’s not here now, she must have somehow hitched a ride. She told me that there were tarps and coolers in the back of the truck with the drugs, and gave me this water. She may have got in behind the tarps somehow. At least I’m hoping that’s what happened.”
Koopman was scratching his head. “Red cellophane. Red cellophane. Why does that ring a bell?” He shook his head, then turned back to Indy. “How long ago did Catherine leave, Indy?”