"Right," I said. "But if we all agree, then it's the truth. Right?"
Grogan and Danziger looked less than convinced.
"Having a gun pointed at you does funny things to people," Grogan said. "We don't know what the others might do if Russell threatens them."
"That's a risk we're going to have to take," I said.
We sat in silence for half a minute or so while Travis passed by. Then Danziger whispered, "Listen, there may be something else."
I looked at him.
"When you mentioned a duress code-it jogged my memory. You know, I set something up with the bank a while ago, but we never had an opportunity to use it. Never came up. It's sort of a silent alarm-an electronic duress code."
"Electronic? How does that work?"
"It's just a variant authentication code. If you enter a nine before and after the PIN, it trips a silent alarm. Tells the bank officer that the transaction is fraudulent, probably coerced."
"Then what happens?"
"Well, first thing, they freeze the account. Then a whole emergency sequence gets triggered-calls are made to a list of people. My office, the CEO's office, the director of corporate security. Telling them something's wrong: Someone's probably forcing a company officer to access the bank accounts."
"But are they going to know where it's happening?"
"Sure. Our own corporate security people can dig up the IP address we logged in from-where the duress code originated. That'll tell them exactly where we are."
I nodded. "So corporate security or whoever can alert the Canadian authorities. Yes. But would Russell know we tripped an alarm?"
"Not at all. He'll see a false positive response. He'll think the transaction was successful."
"He'll know it wasn't as soon as he checks his account balance."
"True. No way around that."
"So when he sees that the wire transfer didn't go through," I said, "we'll just tell him it must have gotten intercepted along the way. Maybe at some higher level at the bank. Or by U.S. banking authorities. Some line of bullshit-he's not going to know the truth. But by then, the word will be out that we're in trouble."
"Exactly."
"Could work," I said.
"Maybe."
"Right now," I said, "it's all we have."
43
The manager's son, Ryan Fecher, made a psst sound and slid over toward me.
"I recognize a couple of those guys," he said, so softly I could barely hear him.
"From where?"
"From here."
"When? Which ones?"
"Last week, I think it was. We didn't have any corporate groups, just separate parties. That guy-Russell? The leader? And that guy who keeps bring people in and out?"
"Travis."
"I think they're brothers," he said.
"I think you're right. What'd they do here?"
"They kept to themselves, didn't socialize with anyone. Didn't want to do any of the normal stuff like fishing. They mostly hung out here, took a lot of pictures."
"Of what?"
"The inside and outside of the lodge, the grounds, the dock, all that. They said they were into architecture and they'd heard about this place. Wanted to know how many staffers we had and where they lived. If we had Internet and if it was wireless and if it was in all the guest rooms or not. Whether we had landline phones or satellite phones, and whether guests could use the sat phone. How we got supplies like food and stuff and how often we got deliveries and mail. And they wanted a tour of the lodge."
"Inside and out?"
"Everything. Even the basement, but I got busy-we were pretty short-staffed last week-so I just told them to look around themselves."
"They didn't seem suspicious to you?"
"Well, there was the architecture thing-I mean, this is one of the oldest lodges in Canada-and they said they were thinking of opening their own fishing lodge in Wyoming. Which I guess was kinda weird, since they sure had no interest in fishing, you know?"
"You never told me this," his father said.
"I never gave it any thought until now," Ryan said. "Why would I?"
If Russell and his brother had come to the lodge a week earlier to scope it out, they'd been tipped off by somebody.
I asked the manager: "Who knew we were coming?"
He looked puzzled, then defensive. "Who knew-? I'm not sure what you're getting at."
"These guys knew the top officers of the Hammond Aerospace Corporation were going to be staying here. This whole thing was planned. That means they had a source. An informer. Maybe even a member of your staff. That's what I'm wondering."
He scowled. "Oh, come on. You think one of my people was involved? That's just…insane."
"Not necessarily involved. Just talked to someone. Maybe without even knowing who he was talking to."
He was indignant. "The only ones who get the booking schedule in advance are me and my son."
"People have to order supplies."
"I do the ordering. There's no one else. What makes you so sure this was planned?"
"A bunch of things," I said. "How do you get supplies in here?"
"We've got a contract air service out of Vancouver that does a supply run every three days."
"When's the next one?"
"Not until Saturday."
I nodded, wondered whether Russell knew that, whether it figured into his timing. "How'd they get here, do you think? Through the woods?"
He shook his head. "No way. The woods are way too dense. Had to be a boat."
"There must be old hunting trails."
"They're all grown over. No one hunts around here anymore. Haven't for years."
"Since it's been made a wildlife preserve?"
"Before that, even. There's really nothing to hunt. I mean, there's always going to be people who'll break the law if there's something to catch. But the deer are way too small. A long time ago people used to trap beavers. Used to be a grizzly hunt, once, a while back. But not in forever. Years ago the Owekeeno Indians cut trails through the forests, but they're all grown over, too."
"How far's the nearest lodge?"
After a few seconds, he said, "Kilbella Bay, but it's a ways."
"Can you get to it on land?"
"Nah, it's across the inlet."
"So these guys must have taken a boat or a seaplane."
"Would have had to. But…"
"But what?"
"I didn't hear anything. I always hear boats passing by on the inlet, or coming in, and I didn't hear any motors. And I sure would have heard a plane."
"You were busy in the kitchen."
"I woulda heard it, believe me. Always do."
"So maybe they rowed in."
"Maybe. Or took a motorboat in partway, then cut the engines and rowed the rest of the way in."
"Which would mean they probably left their boat down on the shore, right?"
He shrugged. After a moment, he said, "I did hear a gunshot."
"We all did."
"Come to think of it, I haven't seen Josй."
"Who's Josй?"
"One of the Mexican kids. I told him to hose out a couple of the boats earlier tonight, but…"
"Around the time these guys showed up?"
"It would be, yeah."
"He probably ran into the woods," I said.
Paul glanced at me, looked away. "Yeah," he said. "Probably."
I began sidling away, when he stopped me. "This lodge is my whole life, you know."
I nodded, listened. He wanted to talk, and I let him.
"I mean, when it was built, a century ago, it was sort of a madman's folly. A crazy rich guy came out here when there was nothing else around except a couple of salmon canneries and decided to build this huge, beautiful fishing lodge." He shook his head, smiled sadly. "I'm not even the majority owner. He's in Australia, in Canberra. Only comes up here when we have celebrities visiting-movie stars and tycoons. He likes to schmooze with them. I put in the sweat equity. Even in the off-season, I'm always working, doing the hiring, repair work." He closed his eyes. "My wife left me. Couldn't stand the isolation. So now it's just me and my son, and he wants out, too."
"That's not true, Dad," Ryan said.