Chapter 6

We retired early Friday evening and for the first time in several days, we didn't make love. I think we were both asleep when our heads hit the pillow. I was up early the next morning, showered and shaved as I headed for the kitchen and breakfast. Our tee time was 9:12, and I felt much better after a good night's sleep.

"Sleep well?" Crystal asked.

"Very. I guess we were tired and maybe a bit stressed with everything that's been happening this week."

"I'm sure. Is Astrid up?"

"Yeah ... in the shower when I left."

"Your mother and I will be keeping her busy this morning. I assume you'll be back before three?"

"Yeah ... should be ... easily."

"Good. Henrik wants to take us all to dinner tonight at his club. They have a nice band and a good dance floor. If I know Astrid, you'll need your strength."

"Sounds great. That'll be fun. Astrid makes me think I can actually dance," I grinned.

I ate my usual breakfast and Astrid arrived just as I was finishing. I got a kiss on the cheek as she settled onto her stool and poured her morning fruit juice.

Henrik appeared from his study and shortly we were ready to leave for the golf club. I kissed Crystal and Astrid, as did Henrik, promising them we would be back by three.

It was good to see Milo again and we both swore we would do our utmost to get our money back from the first game. My father arrived almost as we did and the introduction to Milo was made. We already knew who was teamed with whom.

"This will be interesting," my father said, sizing up the handicaps. "I have a feeling we are at a disadvantage, Henrik."

"Not to worry, Mac. I'm playing with your son's money," he laughed.

Dad finished the fall with a twelve handicap, but hadn't played much this spring. However, he was stuck with the official number, just as I was with my eighteen. They would have to give us strokes. Milo coached me again on the fine points of Shaughnessy's greens. It would turn out to be a big help.

We got up two holes early thanks to Milo holing-out from the fringe on three and my par on seven when both Dad and Henrik bogeyed from the sand. We made the turn one up when Henrik got one back on the ninth. On the thirteenth, Dad made an impossible, long putt for a birdie. We were all even. This was beginning to look like the first game all over again.

Dad hit the ball very well with a smooth swing, a low trajectory and a slight draw. He's almost always on the fairway. His weakness is his long irons. Henrik uses his powerful hands and arms to muscle the ball down the fairway. It isn't pretty to watch, but it works for him as he regularly smacks the ball out 250 yards or more. His weakness is his putting.

I was hitting the ball pretty much the same way as I did on Wednesday, maybe a little further. When we got to the seventeenth, a short par three, I hit a lousy shot that was made worse by the winds off the river. I was miles to the left of the green with a long pitch and run shot. I stubbed it, barely reaching the fringe.

As I watched the others, I was seething. Of all the times to screw up. Milo was in no shape to help, as he faced a long, almost impossible putt that ended up six feet from the hole. No easy par for him. Dad and Henrik both made the green and both parred the hole. I stepped up to my putt with little hope of making it, made a quick decision on the line and weight, and stroked it.

Sometimes, the golf gods are with you, and other times they aren't. I watched in amazement as my putt rolled through the swale, over the tiny crest and down into the hole, dead center. Milo whooped his approval and promptly stepped up and holed his six-footer for his par and a tie. We dodged a bullet.

The eighteenth decided it. It was a long par four and I hit my best drive of the day, with a solid second shot just short of the front of the green. I was looking at an easy chip and putt for a par if I kept my nerve. Milo scrambled, but got on the green in three. Henrik was off to the left in two, but also with an easy chip and putt option.

Dad, however, pulled his three iron well left and was in trouble. He had to chip over a trap and then stop the ball quickly to get anywhere near the hole. He made the chip nicely, but the ball refused to hold and he was almost twenty feet from the hole. I made my chip to within five feet as did Henrik. We both sank our putts. Dad missed his for a bogey and when Milo made his putt, we'd won!

It was another great game on another great day. I was getting the golf bug again and thinking maybe I might encourage Astrid to catch it too.

Henrik produced our winnings and Milo and I gratefully accepted our lost twenty dollars from the previous game. Dad was the only one to lose, but he didn't appear to be very upset about it. He was muttering about his long irons, but I'd heard all that before, and Mom has told him time and time again to go get a lesson. Maybe one of these days he will.

It was just past one thirty when we adjourned to the 19^th hole, ordering a sandwich and a beer. Naturally, the winners bought. Only Milo was able to sign, so I offered my twenty to him, but he refused.

"I don't get that many chances to extract money from your future father-in-law, so allow me the pleasure."

We told Milo the events of Thursday, hence my father's joining us for this game. He was very happy for us, telling me I was getting a very special lady in Astrid. He had known her since her early teens and saw her mature into the spectacular woman she was today.

We parted just after two-thirty and headed for Henrik's car. It was only a ten minute drive home. We were talking about golf as we pulled into the driveway and he opened a door on the four car garage. I pulled my clubs and shoes out of the trunk and transferred them to my car as Henrik walked toward the house.

We entered the side door into the laundry room before moving into the kitchen. The house was silent as we walked into the living room. Henrik came to an abrupt stop and I nearly bumped into him from behind. I stepped aside and saw what he saw. Crystal, tied to a dining room chair, with tape across her mouth, her eyes wide in terror.

"My God! Crystal!" Henrik shouted as he ran to her. I was right behind him, wondering where Astrid and my mother were.

Henrik pulled the tape from Crystal's mouth and she immediately let out a howl of anguish. It was the most mournful sound I have ever heard.

"What happened," Henrik asked as he fumbled with her bindings. I moved to help him.

"Astrid!" she cried. "They've taken Astrid!"

"Oh, God no!" I'm not sure if that was me or Henrik or both of us. I felt a bolt of cold terror rip through my chest. Henrik looked gray and was struggling to free Crystal as she cried and moaned. At last, she was free and fell into Henrik's arms.

"Astrid ... what happened to her?" I asked, almost afraid of her answer.

"Four people ... they came to the door. When I opened it, they burst in. They had guns. They wore masks ... like women's stockings. I think they were looking for me, but when they asked Astrid who she was, she told them. They immediately decided to take her. They tied her hands and taped her mouth and took her away. I couldn't do anything to stop them, Henrik. Two people held me and then bound me to this chair. I'm sorry, Henrik, I couldn't stop them."

"All right, Crystal. Calm down love. Let me look after this." Strangely, Henrik was suddenly calm.

"Rick, look after Crystal. I have to make a phone call." He disappeared into his study, returning seconds later with a cell phone in his hand. I knew it wasn't his regular one because it was still in a clip on his belt.

I watched him as I held a shaking Crystal, leading her to the nearest sofa.

"Code Red, Number three, Viking one," he said clearly into the phone. I couldn't hear the other side of the conversation, but every so often, Henrik would say "yes" or "no" into the phone. At one point he paused, holding his hand over the phone.

"Do you remember when this happened, dear?" he spoke kindly and softly to Crystal.

She was shaking her head, still in a state of high anxiety, but soon replied, "About one, maybe one-thirty."

He repeated the information into the phone. He paused again.

"Did they leave a note or a message or anything?"

She looked around, as did I. I spotted something on the counter in the kitchen and quickly moved to it.

"Don't touch it, Rick!" Henrik called.

I stopped in my tracks, looking at the folded piece of paper. The cut and paste message was partially visible.

"It's here. This must be it," I called.

Henrik spoke into the phone further, then sighed deeply and snapped it closed. He looked like the weight of the world just landed on his shoulders and I knew, for the first time in my life, exactly what that felt like. I was sick with worry, a cold void in the pit of my stomach. What had happened to Astrid? Was our life together going to end in some horror story on the six o'clock news?

Henrik moved to Crystal's side and was stroking her shoulder as she wept openly.

"There will be some special officers here shortly, Rick. They will look after finding Astrid."

"What about my mother ... she was here, wasn't she?"

Crystal looked up at me and stifled a sob. "No. She left before they came."

"Thank god for that," I gasped.

"Rick, Crystal. Do not make any phone calls right now. Someone may be listening," he said, again with amazing composure.

"Henrik ... what's going on? You seem to know something about what's happened. Tell me, please," I pleaded.

"There isn't much I can tell you, Rick. A little over five years ago, a number of government officials and business leaders, including me, were given special training in what to do if there was an attempt on us or our families. We were given a special cell phone and each of us given a code name. Mine is Viking One. Using their code, I have told the special security forces that we have a kidnapping, Code Red, and it is my daughter, number three. I am number one, Crystal is number two.

"If someone is listening on the phone or other device, it won't mean much to them. We haven't seen the note yet, so we don't know what this is about. They might be terrorists, or just out for money, or something else entirely. There will be several special officers here shortly."

"I've never heard of this training and code stuff," I said.

"No ... it was part of the increased security needed for the Olympics in 2010. It's a joint effort between the RCMP, the FBI, Interpol, and several other national police forces. It's been in place in one form or another since Munich, 1972. They are trying to cover all the bases, but I never in my wildest imagination believed it would happen to us."

"I feel sick. Please excuse me," I said as I rushed to the bathroom. I lost my lunch and most of my breakfast. My face felt cold and my stomach ached when the heaving finally abated. I was sweating and when I stood, a wave of dizziness came over me. I put my hand to the wall to steady myself before I opened the door and returned to the great room.

I saw three men in business suits standing, talking to Henrik and Crystal separately. Two of them held recorders as they asked questions. There was a no-nonsense look about them. Once again, Henrik appeared to be completely in control of his emotions. It must have been force of will ... a will which I was unable to summon.

"You are Mr. Richard Campbell?" one of the men asked as I approached.

"Yes, that's right."

"I'm Sergeant Morrow, Special Security Detachment," he said, showing me his I.D.

"You are the fiancée of Miss Astrid Rasmussen?"

"Yes."

"Is there anything you can tell us ... anything you might have seen that would help?"

"No ... I'm sorry. I was with Henrik ... Mr. Rasmussen ... and didn't see anything until we got into the house. That's when we discovered Mrs. Rasmussen tied to that chair," I said, pointing. "She was tied with those ropes and a big piece of duct tape covering her mouth."

He nodded. "Thank you. Why don't you have a seat and we'll see what we can find out from the note."

I followed his advice, sitting on the sofa beside Crystal. She had regained her composure for the most part, but was still showing the stress of the moment. I reached for her hand and held it.

Henrik was conversing with the two other security men as they reviewed what I assumed was a ransom note. The officers were wearing surgical gloves as they handled the note. At length, Henrik nodded and walked over to us, sitting beside Crystal and wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

"It's a ransom note. They want five million dollars and have made a number of demands. They call themselves the Wilderness Survival Force. I've never heard of them and neither have the officers."

"Does that mean they'll kill Astrid if you don't meet their demands?" I asked, once more alarmed beyond reason.

"I don't know. We may yet pay the ransom, but right now, we're trying to see what we can learn about them and if we can identify any of them. This isn't some organized group that we know about. They have left a number of clues, according to the officers, but that doesn't mean they aren't dangerous."

The officers approached the sofa.

"Mrs. Rasmussen, are you feeling up to answering some questions now?" the older one asked.

"I think so. I'll try. We have to get Astrid back. We have to!"

"Yes, of course. Can you tell me what you can remember about the four people? Were they all dressed the same?"

"No. Two wore jeans, two in shorts ... you know ... those really baggy ones with all the pockets. I think they all wore sneakers." She looked up as she paused.

"What about hair. Anything unusual?"

Crystal held her hands over her eyes, I assumed trying to remember what she saw.

"One of them was bald. I'm sure of that. One of them had black knotty hair ... he was the black one," she said.

"One of them was black?" the officer asked in confirmation.

"Yes. His hair had those tight little knots in a row. I can't remember what they're called."

"Cornrows?"

"Yes ... that's it. The others ... I couldn't tell because of the stockings they wore."

"What else do you remember?"

Again, Crystal closed her eyes in concentration.

"I think ... I think one of them may have been a woman," she said.

"A woman! What makes you think that?"

"The way she walked. She didn't say anything that I can remember, so I didn't hear her voice, but ... her hips ... the way she moved, I was thinking it was a woman."

"Very good, Mrs. Rasmussen. That is very helpful. Let's try for some more. When they spoke, did any of them have an accent?"

"I can't remember one. Only two of them spoke. The two that took Astrid. They sounded just like you and me," she said apologetically.

"Did any of them use a name at any time?"

"No ... I don't think so. I'm sorry."

"That's OK. That's still a help. Do you remember what they said when they were talking?"

"I don't know. I was so shocked. I remember them yelling at us to stand still. They were holding guns on us. I was terrified. I'm sure Astrid was too, but I wasn't watching her. I was just watching the guns pointed at me ... at us."

"Understandable. Can you remember anything of the conversation when they decided to take Astrid instead of you?"

"Yes ... he said something about how the 'old man' would pay quicker if they had his daughter. The other one said something about taking us both, but the guy who seemed to be in charge said no, one was enough to handle."

"OK ... anything else?"

"No ... everything was a blur from that point as they tied me up after Astrid was taken away. At first I was afraid they were going to kill me, but then they left by the front door and got into a car and drove away."

"Did you see the car?"

"Yes. They left the front door partly open. It was an older cream-coloured Volvo. The back windows were blacked out, so I didn't see Astrid. I just got a quick look at it as it went past the open door. I thought I saw rust on it, but I'm not sure."

"OK, that's very helpful. You have done very well for someone who was in a terrifying situation. You are a very brave woman," the officer said with a smile.

I agreed. Crystal remembered an amazing amount for someone under the stress she was facing. I saw a look of pride on Henrik's face as the officer complimented her. I think her ability to help had also calmed me down. The special security police, or whoever they were, were going about this in a professional manner and that was also a calming factor.

The interviews and investigation lasted another hour, but they weren't interested in me. Henrik spent quite a bit of time with one officer in particular, but I couldn't tell what it was about. Crystal was coming around, but was still upset at the events of the day.

It was past five when the officers left after shaking hands with Henrik and moving out the front door. I wandered back into the kitchen, hiked myself up onto a stool and sat, wondering what next.

Crystal and Henrik were right behind me.

"Are you feeling better, Rick?" Henrik asked.

I nodded. I wasn't great, but I wasn't still nauseous. In fact, I was hungry.

We all sat silently for a while before Henrik spoke.

"I've always been afraid something like this might happen, but it was one of those things I always pushed to the back of my mind. Now, it's happened. And now, all we can do is wait and let the police do their job."

"What did the note actually say?" I asked.

"It said something to the effect that they were the Wilderness Survival Force and they were out to right all the wrongs the industry, and especially me, had done to the land. They wanted five million dollars and made some demands about the abolition of future forest operations by all companies in the province."