I Will Fight No More Forever

by E B Corbin

  Henry raised an eyebrow. “Do you want it on your conscience if something dreadful happens?”

  “Of course not.” Singer let out a deep sigh. “I suppose I can supply you with a small body cam that looks like the American flag pin everyone was wearing a few years ago. But if you get caught, I’ll deny knowing anything about it.”

  Henry nodded. “I won’t get caught.”

  “Wait, wait,” Sam said. “I don’t like it. If they don’t buy that you’ve changed your tune, you could wind up in the hospital or worse.”

  “I can pull it off.” Henry knew he’d have to rely on his early-warning system, or “spirit guide” as White Cloud called it, but he couldn’t tell Sam about it. If he sensed any escalation, he planned on getting out as soon as he could. “White Cloud can watch over you when I’m not around.”

  “I don’t need watching over.” Sam crossed her arms over her chest. “I can take care of myself for the few hours that you’ll be gone.”

  “What if they want me to do something that will take a couple of days? You shouldn’t be alone for that long.”

  Pete Singer looked intently from Henry to Sam. “Is there something I should know? Why can’t Sam be alone?”

  “Nothing,” Sam muttered. “Henry is a bit overprotective.”

  “I know about your father,” Pete said. “And I know he’d do anything to get his money back. Does this have something to do with that?”

  “No, not at all,” Sam said much too quickly.

  The SAC stared at her, his burnt-sienna eyes showing his disbelief.

  “All right… maybe Henry’s been acting as my bodyguard lately. My father put out a general call for anyone who could tell him where his money is. For some reason, he seems to think I took it. Some lowlifes in the area heard about the reward and may be trying to find me, thinking they can force me into telling them where it is. But they won’t kill me outright, not until I tell them.”

  Henry grunted and slumped in his seat. “No ‘may be’ about it. They already snatched you twice and made another attempt just yesterday.”

  “Jesus.” Pete frowned. “How did you get involved in this white supremacist thing? Seems to me you have enough trouble dodging people trying to get you.”

  “It’s a long story,” Sam said. “You don’t need all the details.”

  “I’d like to know what you’re pulling me into.”

  “Nothing that will come back to bite you.” Sam slumped her shoulders. “Toby Martin, the guy who brought you the USB drive, is the son of Nina Dark Horse Martin. She and her husband, Toby’s father, were victims of my father’s con. That’s our only connection to this mess.”

  Pete Singer shook his head as if to clear it. “What are you doing getting involved with your father’s marks?”

  “Just checking up on them to see how they’re doing after losing all their money.” Sam was not about to tell the SAC that she had the funds.

  The fewer people who knew about the funds, the better. Even though the FBI had shown no interest in the money at the time of her father’s trial, that could change if they knew she’d located most of it. Better they think it’s so well hidden it can’t be found.

  Henry jumped in to help explain. “And we ran into a Native American taxi driver, who’s been driving us around. He has people living on the reservation and is quite concerned about their safety.”

  “You didn’t rent a car?” Singer said.

  Sam spoke up before Henry had a chance to answer. “White Cloud brought us. He’s waiting to take us back.”

  “Wouldn’t it be cheaper just to rent a car?”

  Henry turned his head to Sam. “We, uh, we tried that. We’ve had two cars since we’ve been here. It didn’t turn out too well.”

  Singer’s forehead wrinkled.

  Sam jumped in before the SAC had a chance to question Henry’s statement. “The first was too small, the second kind of had an accident.”

  “How long have you been in Portland?”

  “A little over two weeks,” Sam said. She didn’t care if it sounded as if she and Henry were bad drivers. She didn’t want to have to explain about getting shot at. “Traffic isn’t too bad, but between the skateboarders and the bicyclists you have to be alert all the time.”

  The agent seemed to accept her explanation. “So, are you willing to let us handle the situation with the white supremacists?”

  “Seems to me, you’re not going to do much without more to go on. If you give me the equipment, I’ll see what I can get.” Henry didn’t dare look at Sam.

  Pete Singer peered at his blank computer monitor for several seconds. Finally, he sighed. “All right. I’ll take you down and get you what you need. But if anything goes wrong, I’ve never seen or heard of either of you. You got that?”

  Chapter Twelve

  By the time they left the federal building, the sky had turned into a pewter blanket which blocked the feeble sunshine of the morning. In the nearly three weeks they’d been in Portland, Sam couldn’t remember a full day of blues skies.

  She wondered how people dealt with the gloom and stayed sane. Then she spotted a Portland PD cruiser blocking their waiting taxi. White Cloud stood next to the driver’s door, his hands in the air.

  “What the hell?” Sam forgot all about her desire to chastise Henry for his dangerous plan and picked up her pace.

  With no buzzing in his head, Henry knew whatever it was, it wasn’t dangerous. He grabbed Sam’s arm to slow her. “Hold on. Let’s not go barging in and creating a scene. We don’t know what’s happening. Could be White Cloud called them and they’re being cautious because he’s a Native American sitting outside a government building.”

  Sam took two more steps, dragging Henry along. When she slackened her speed, Henry bumped into her. In her growing anger, she shoved at her assistant only to encounter a solid wall of flesh that didn’t give an inch. “You know that’s not the case. He wouldn’t be standing with his hands up if it were.”

  “Let’s see what’s going on before you go off half-cocked.” For his part, Henry was glad for the diversion. He expected Sam to lay into him the minute they left the building.

  “I never go off half-cocked!”

  Henry’s lips curled at the edges enough to show his dimple. “You do.”

  He’d watched her when the technician explained the use of the recording device to him. Two or three times he saw a look of irritation cross her brow while they were in the lab, so he kept asking questions long after he understood how the pin worked.

  It was a fairly new device—the camera hidden in the stars and stripes of the pin could not be detected except by an expert in spyware who knew what to look for. The wireless feed went straight to a receiver that looked like a cell phone but was much more versatile.

  The receiver recorded the audio and video but also had the ability to stream it to an outside device up to one thousand feet away. Sam insisted they include that second receiver with the equipment.

  At first Sam thought it was an old-fashioned transistor radio. But when the tech opened it up for her, she saw a tiny CPU, a video card, and a small hard disk drive—no transistors or tubes of any sort. She was satisfied it would do the job.

  She didn’t mention it to Henry, but she intended to monitor that receiver from the taxi the whole time he was in the meeting. If he got into trouble, she wasn’t sure what she could do, but she would be close enough that she and White Cloud could come up with something to save Henry’s ass.

  The lab tech was reluctant to include it at first since it was an expensive piece of equipment and they hadn’t had time to test it. But he gave in after she mentioned the position she once held. He didn’t want trouble with his boss or anyone else.

  Now, as they approached the parking lot, one of the police officers stepped away to stop them. “Move along. There’s nothing to see here.”

  He sounded so much like Officer Barbrady from South Park that Sam snickered before she could help herself. H
enry poked her in the side with his elbow as a small grin appeared on his face.

  “That taxi is waiting for us,” he told the young officer. “Is there a problem?”

  “The guard in the booth called us,” the officer explained. “Said a suspicious Indian was hanging around.”

  “For God’s sake! That jerk knew he was with us.” Sam looked to the booth and realized it was a different man than before. Must have been a shift change.

  “I’m sure it was a misunderstanding.” Henry kept his cool. “We were a bit longer than we anticipated, but the driver agreed to wait for us.”

  While Henry tried to explain, Sam marched over to the booth where the cause of this problem sat biting his fingernails. The guard, a skinny kid with pimples, looked hardly old enough to drive let alone stop unauthorized visitors.

  At least the first guard was diligent. This kid was reading a comic book in the booth. He tried to hide it behind his back, but that only drew attention to his immaturity.

  The bureau had to be scrambling for bodies to fill positions if this was the best they could do. But that wasn’t her problem any longer. She felt renewed relief that she left when she did.

  “Why the hell did you call the cops on our taxi driver?” Sam walked close to the booth and fought off the urge to drag the kid out by the front of his shirt.

  He put up his bony hands as if to ward off an attack, and his voice cracked as he spoke. “I, uh, I saw that guy… that taxi driver just sitting there for a long time. I… I didn’t know he was waiting for you. We’re told to keep our eyes peeled for trouble, and that’s what I did.”

  “Where’s the guy that was here before you?”

  “He’s, uh, he’s on his lunch break. I’m just a temporary replacement.” The kid’s voice came out a squeak on one word, a goose honk on the next.

  “Well, you made a mistake. That taxi is waiting for us. Check the sign-in sheet. My name’s Sam Turner, and we were meeting with Pete Singer. You do know the name of the special agent in charge, don’t you?”

  The kid’s eyes opened so far, Sam feared they would pop out of his face. “George didn’t tell me. I was fifteen minutes late, and he was in a hurry. I didn’t know what else to do.”

  “Well, for one thing, you can tell those officers you made a mistake.” Sam gestured toward the others.

  White Cloud, Henry, and the two policemen were all staring at her and the young guard.

  “We heard that.” The older cop, with a bit of a paunch, pulled at his duty belt, causing the handcuffs to jingle. His growl was loud enough for all to hear.

  The younger officer looked dubious, but half turned to his partner. “Whadda ya know? Apparently Injun Joe was telling the truth.”

  It took all of Henry’s self-control to keep from grabbing the young punk by the collar and making him apologize. Then he realized that this guy was just the kind of person who would be in the meetings he was hoping to attend. He’d have to get used to hearing a lot worse.

  The older officer tipped his cap back on his head and stepped toward the cruiser, moving backward to keep an eye on the taxi driver. “We’re wasting time here. Let’s go get lunch.”

  The younger man stared at Henry and Sam for a second before he started to move. “You’d better be telling the truth.”

  Sam let out a sigh of disgust. “Why would we lie about something so obvious? Someone made a mistake. Get over it.”

  The young officer opened his mouth to speak when his partner called to him. “C’mon, Jake. Move your ass. We can’t be standing around here all day.”

  White Cloud remained in place until the police cruiser left the parking lot. Then he opened his door without a word and climbed into the driver’s seat. He stared out the windshield, his face as frozen and stony as those on Mt. Rushmore.

  “What a crock of shit,” Sam muttered to herself as the police disappeared down the street. She returned to the taxi and climbed in the back. “I guess we can’t depend on Portland’s finest for much help.”

  “They were just doing their job.” White Cloud’s lips barely moved.

  “Doesn’t it make you mad?” Sam asked. She was angry, and she wasn’t the one humiliated by the cops.

  “One learns to live with it,” he said, but his expression belied his statement. “It was not the most annoying thing that ever happened to me. I have dealt with government people enough to know what to expect, and I have been called worse.”

  “Still doesn’t make it right,” Henry mumbled as he climbed into the front passenger seat.

  “It is over. Best to forget it.” White Cloud started the engine and backed out of the parking space without looking around. “What do you wish to do now? Will the FBI help us?”

  Sam hesitated. “Not unless we can give them something else besides the audio recording. Their hands are pretty much tied.”

  “As I expected.” White Cloud’s knuckles gripped the steering wheel. “The white man’s government does not care about what happens on the reservation.”

  “They alerted the reservation police,” Sam said. “And told them to watch for anything unusual.”

  “Uncle has already done that.”

  “We’re working on ways to get more evidence,” Henry said. “I’m going undercover to one of their meetings.”

  “It’s a stupid idea,” Sam mumbled.

  “What good would that do?” White Cloud threw a quick glance at Henry. “We already know what they are planning.”

  “But we don’t have enough proof. The bureau gave me a bodycam. If I can bring them visual evidence of the plot, they’re willing to get involved.”

  White Cloud gave a small nod but said nothing.

  “And I’m going to look into Buckley’s financials. See if we can find where they got the cash to buy the missiles. If I can follow the money, we can give it to Pete. He’s the guy in charge at this office.”

  “But it might not be enough,” Henry said. “You don’t have any authority to go poking into Buckley’s business. Singer told you that.”

  Sam wasn’t giving up. “I’ll figure out something to make it legitimate. When we can show a verifiable trail linking this whole plot back to Buckley, I don’t think Pete will ignore it.”

  “My plan still has the best chance,” Henry said.

  The taxi came to a stop at a red light, and White Cloud shifted his attention from Henry to Sam. “So you are going to do what each of you does best. Henry will put himself in physical danger, and you will do your computer thing.”

  Sam relaxed for the first time since she got into the taxi. “I guess you could look at it like that. But I still think my way is best.”

  “And I think your way won’t be enough.” Henry crossed his arms over the seat belt.

  “I think arguing will do us no good.” The car behind them honked when the light turned green, and White Cloud turned back to watch the road. “You will each be doing your own thing. That is as it should be.”

  Sam had to admit he was right. If they each played to their strengths, they might be able to stop this thing. “I guess I should go back to the hotel and start digging.”

  “And I need to do some shopping. I need a proper disguise if I’m hoping to pass as a racist badass.”

  Sam reached up to punch Henry in the shoulder. “You’d better be careful. Don’t get too wrapped up in your fake persona.”

  Henry laughed and they both felt the tension melt away.

  When White Cloud pulled up to the hotel entrance, Sam didn’t move. “After you do your shopping,” she said, making air quotes around the word shopping, “why don’t both of you come up to the room. We need to do some planning.”

  “You and Henry can do the planning. I will do whatever you say.”

  Henry twisted to make eye contact with Sam as he spoke to their driver. “You’re as much a part of this as we are, more so even. We don’t have contacts in the Native American circle, and we don’t know for sure what kind of reaction to expect from your peop
le.”

  She knew what she needed to do. “White Cloud, how much do you make a day driving a cab?”

  The driver’s forehead wrinkled. “I do not think that is relevant.”

  “It is if I want you to work for us. I need to know how much to offer you a day.”

  “You do not need to pay me. I am willing to do what is necessary to save Natives from further harm from ignorant white men.”

  “But we may need you available twenty-four/seven as this progresses.”

  “Then you shall have my services at all times.”

  Sam huffed out a breath. “Okay, if you won’t tell me how much you want, I’ll give you five hundred a day.”

  White Cloud’s eyebrows rose, the only revealing expression on his otherwise deadpan face. “That is too much.”

  “Well, that’s what it’s worth to me.” Sam opened the door and jumped out before the Native American could protest. “See you both back here in a bit.”

  “Wait a minute, wait!” Henry opened his door. “I’m still your bodyguard, and you’re not going into our room alone.”

  “Don’t be silly. It’s the middle of the afternoon and a public place. What can happen?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  The buzzing had started when they were about a block away from the hotel. Henry may have had doubts about his early warning system, but he knew better than to ignore it.

  “Nothing can happen if we go in together.”

  As Sam approached the revolving door, a woman flew out holding up her hand and calling, “Taxi!”

  She carried a hard black case about the size of a shoebox and hopped into White Cloud’s cab before anyone could protest. “I will return,” he said to Henry.

  As they watched the taxi pull away, Sam’s mouth hung open at the brashness of the woman. But since it had started to rain once again, she dismissed the rudeness and jumped into the lobby to stay dry.

  It took a minute for Henry to notice that the buzzing lessened as the taxi drove away. He followed Sam into the lobby, trying to figure out what was happening in his head.