Chapter Twenty-Three
Aiken filled the tub with cold water and sent two of the men to collect ice cubes. He cranked the air-conditioning on and slid the unconscious woman into the tub, tying her upright so that she only had her feet in the water.
Slapping her face, he attempted to wake her but it was more than an hour before she stirred with a groan. She opened bloodshot eyes staring in confusion at the bathroom and the agents standing over her.
“Ms. Coventry,” Aiken said. “Where’s the boy?”
She sputtered already attempting to deny when Aiken slapped her. Her skin instantly reddened showing the imprint of his palm. She cried and folded, begging him not to hurt her, she needed the money but didn’t remember what had happened after she had found the boy in the lobby and the hospital.
“He punched you?” Aiken prompted.
“I don’t remember,” she wailed. “I swear. I don’t even know where I am.”
“You’re still in the Casino Complex, Ms. Coventry. Tell me everything you can remember.” She spilled her guts, shivering as the water and ice dropped her temperature. Aiken stared at her and she became paler than he thought possible as she realized that her life was measured in seconds.
“Please,” she begged. “Please don’t kill me!”
Aiken smiled. “You’re lucky we’re on reservation land, Ms. Coventry and that I have no contacts here to help me dispose of a body. You’re scheduled on a plane for Sunday afternoon. You better be on it or you’ll just be another set of coyote gnawed bones out in the desert.”
“Anything,” she promised. “I’ll do anything to make the flight.”
Aiken nodded to Andrews who cut her down and helped her over to the toilet where she rubbed the circulation back into her hands and feet. Her toes were shriveled and white; Aiken suspected she might have lost a few to frostbite.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to stay here until dark before we can escort you to the airport, Sarah. In the meantime, I’m sure you can…entertain my men.”
She looked terrified but nodded fractionally as a grinning Ferguson dragged her off to one of the bedrooms. Minutes later, they heard the muffled sound of a woman screaming and sobbing and the grunts of the agent as he raped her. Only Aiken abstained and when the last man had finished, he shook his head at Aiken’s questioning look.
He entered the bedroom to stare down at the nurse. She was bruised and bloody. Her breasts had been bitten, one nipple nearly tore off and hanging by a thin strip of tissue. She was bleeding between the legs and semen glittered on her pale skin from her mouth to her knees. None of them had used a condom and when he rolled her over, he saw that she had been sodomized. His fingers reached for the pulse in her neck and it came faintly. It would not be long before it faded completely.
“Martin, get rid of the body,” he ordered as if telling the man to take out the trash.
“Dump it in the desert?”
“No. Wait until dark, dress her, take her up to the roof and push her off. Given her credit history and debt problems, the authorities will assume she jumped.” He turned around and went into the kitchenette where he perused the available foodstuffs before making sandwiches. Once he had eaten, he called Chicago and the phone drop relayed his signal to Hamilton’s private encrypted line. He reported all the information he had to the recorder and waited for his return instructions. When it came, he was alarmed. Chase was on his way out there with his team and aware of their arrival. He told Andrews to get rid of Coventry’s body by ditching it in the nearest laundry chute and vacating the hotel. His instructions were to return to the airport, track Chase and his men, let them find the boy and then snatch him back. Aikens didn’t like the idea but he knew better than to argue against Hamilton.
The limo driver was a different man; this one was a Pakistani who spoke limited English but enough to understand ‘car rental’ and ‘airport’. He rented a Jeep SUV and waited for Chase’s private Lear jet to touch down. Watching from their vehicle in the long-term parking lot, they saw the jet come in and make a graceful landing before taxiing to the VIP terminal.
The new group had a short walk over to the car lot where Chase picked up a large SUV. One of the younger agents carried the luggage and stored it in the back cargo compartment. Dr. Cameron was seated between the two agents in the back seat while Chase took the passenger side. Aiken recognized the driver; he was a discharged SF sergeant from Iraq and they knew each other, and each would know why the other agent was there. Needless to say, Aiken did not want Chase or the driver to spot them.
They watched the SUV drive off and followed at a discrete distance although tailing them wasn’t necessary yet - Aiken knew where they were going.
Surprisingly, the SUV did not go to the casino or the hospital entrance but downtown near the subway system entrance. Two men exited the vehicle and disappeared down the stairs as the SUV drove off and Aiken watched as they proceeded to the gambling tower where they had already allowed the valet to park the car. Each man went around and picked up the small bag in the back with the exception of Cameron. They entered the casino. Aiken sent in Martin as he was unknown to them and would not arouse suspicion. He was dressed in a flamboyant tourist outfit, beachcombers and Hawaiian T-shirt, sunglasses and a deep tan. Aiken gave him instructions to follow them only to the elevator and observe which floor button they punched but not to approach them or make eye contact. Chase stepped into the elevator and went up to the eleventh floor where the management offices of the casino were situated. His team kept the doctor between them as he flashed his credentials to the good-looking secretary who sat at an equally expensive looking desk just outside the lobby of the security offices. The name on the door read Nathan Pete which was not a Sioux name but Navajo. The girl looked up with a professional smile.
“May I help you?” She did not seem impressed at his badge or his authority.
Chase said, “I want to speak to Peter Redline Otseno.”
“Mr. Otseno is on his way to Pine Ridge Reservation Tribal Council, Mr. Chase,” she smiled brightly. “Perhaps I can assist you?”
“Where is Lake Hamilton?” He snapped and she jerked back as his spit hit her in the face.
“Lake what? There is no Lake Hamilton around here.”
“Not what, who. Lakan Strong Hamilton, a runaway you were seen harboring. I can have you all arrested and jailed for kidnapping the president’s grandson.”
“This isn’t your land,” she returned. “And your laws don’t mean squat here.”
“Really? You think your tribal regulations will stand in the way of Homeland Security and the Secret Service? Just try me," he barked. “I want access to your video cameras, guest lists and hospital records.”
The door to the Security Offices opened and a tall man stepped out dressed in a finely cut three-piece suit with a string tie. Instinctively, all of them went backward as this individual bore a decided resemblance to the great Indian Chief Crazy Horse. “Can I help you, gentlemen? Rosa, some coffee please,” he smiled at the girl.
“I’m not thirsty,” Chase snapped and the security man looked at him without any change on his impassive face.
“The coffee is for me.”
“We know you have Lakan Hamilton," Chase said. “He was seen exiting this casino and in the company of Peter Otseno. Where is he?"
“I have no clue," Nathan Pete shrugged. “I just flew in from a conference in Las Vegas with the Gambling Commission. The Governor was there; shall I call him to confirm my whereabouts for you?”
Chase fumed. “Where is Pete Otseno?”
“Tribal Council Conference. You’re welcome to search the casino,” Pete shrugged. “You can see the guest lists.”
“The hospital?”
“That too. We have nothing to hide. Rosa, print out what Agent Chase requested,” the Native American ordered.
“Before I get your coffee, Mr. Pete?” She asked sweetly as she stood up.
“Why no,” he cracked a smile and his teeth were white and perfect. “I would prefer a cup from the Starbucks.” She scurried off and all of them watched her trim rear end in the tight linen skirt. Dr. Cameron snorted. Nathan Pete gave him a curious look. “You have something to add, Agent –?”
“Dr. Cameron,” he answered. He leaned forward and got in the Security Manager’s face. “I am the one who implanted the tracking chip in the boy, Chief. And my instruments state unequivocally that he was here in this building. Your people might have removed the tracer but he was marked with no less than four such markers, one of which is a radioactive isotope that is unmistakable. We know he’s here.”
Nathan Pete licked his lips but his face remained impassive. He spread his hands. “Go ahead and search. No one here will stop you. All I ask is that you don’t disturb the guests.”
Chase took his team and started at the first floor systematically working his way up. Cameron and one of the other agents were going over the computer lists when the doctor saw the guest names in the hotel. He circled it and told the Agent to check room 12503. Chase answered on his cell phone. “Doctor?”
“Yes,” Cameron replied.
“No, Dr. Cameron. What do you want?” Chase was short, he was frustrated and wanted to take it out on someone.
“Room 12503 is a Dr. Rivers. He’s a pretty famous cardiologist and surgeon from Boston General. If they took out the boy’s implant, a doctor such as he would be the one to do it. If he gambles – well, you get the picture.” Chase didn’t say goodbye, he simply hung up as the pair headed for the twelfth floor and the cardiac surgeon’s room.