by E B Corbin
“Yeah,” the other man said. “I say we let it go the next time we hear it.”
“Unless we have a good reason, I think you’re right.”
The two men scanned the area across the fence, checking for movement on the reservation. Henry held his breath, hoping that Toby would remain still. He should have listened to his gut earlier and forbidden Toby to come along. Too late now to send him back but he decided Nina’s son needed something to wrap around his head to keep his blond hair from acting like a beacon.
He waited until the two guards backed away and headed to the woods mumbling and shaking their heads. When the buzzing receded a bit and he felt certain they were gone for good, he signaled to White Cloud. “We need to camouflage Toby.” Henry had smeared mud over his face and hands earlier and wore a dark baseball cap to cover his auburn hair.
They found some twigs and leaves to tuck in the collar of his jacket, then rubbed mud through Toby’s yellow hair. The young man wiggled and spit as they covered his face with the same mud. He wasn’t nearly as conspicuous when they were done.
“We need to go through the beam all at the same time. We don’t want three different alarms going off,” Henry whispered.
“How will we do that?” Toby’s words echoed in the silent forest.
Henry clamped his hand over Toby’s mouth and glowered at the young man. “Quiet! If you must speak, whisper as softly as you can. Jesus, can’t you talk without sounding like your voice is coming through a bullhorn?”
“Sorry. I’m a bartender, not a soldier. I’ll be quiet.”
Following Henry’s instructions, they moved closer to the gap in the fence. He put his hands on White Cloud’s shoulders and had White Cloud do the same to him with Toby trapped in the middle.
“I don’t feel comfortable like this,” Toby said as he turned his head to avoid being nose to nose with Henry.
“Shut up and lead with your left foot when I say go.” Henry looked over Toby’s head to see if White Cloud was ready.
When White Cloud nodded, Henry lifted his foot and whispered, “Go!”
The three of them stepped across the infrared line as one, but Toby lost his footing when a prickle zipped through them as they crossed the infrared line and all three crashed to the ground.
“For God’s sake! Get up and run!” Henry took off for the nearest tree line. He heard Toby’s footsteps behind him and had no doubt that White Cloud was silently bringing up the rear.
White Cloud pointed to the left and started in that direction. Henry waited until Toby was between them and followed. They weaved through the woods for about fifteen minutes, Toby finally learning to move with less noise. When they came to the clearing with the shed, Henry signaled for them to stop and scrutinized the area to see if any guards were posted. He saw nothing but trees, bushes, and fallen branches. The buzzing remained low but constant.
Henry addressed White Cloud: “Give me the bolt cutters. I’ll cut the padlock and then Toby can join me when I signal for him. You stay here as a lookout.” He paused to peer into the Native American’s eyes. “Can you do any of the bird calls or shit like they do in the movies to communicate?”
White Cloud smiled and nodded. He lifted his head and warbled a sound like an owl. Henry could not distinguish it from the real thing.
“Perfect. We’ll use that as a warning.” Henry hunched over and sprinted to the shed. In less than a minute, he had opened the door and crept inside. His eyes adjusted to the dark interior quickly, and he scanned the room. No missiles. No launch tubes. No CLUs. Shit!
He backed out of the shed, motioning for Toby to stay where he was, and closed the door, replacing the padlock to give the impression it was still doing its job.
He darted across the open area and joined his companions behind the largest fir tree. “They must have moved the missiles. Nothing in there but boxes of bullets.”
White Cloud appeared deep in thought.
Toby said, “Damn!”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Henry wanted to check out the clearing, which the group of extremists intended to use as the firing point. It was the only other possibility unless they had moved to another turf. But he doubted that was the case; this site was too perfect.
He had no idea where the living quarters were in relation to where the three stood, and he didn’t want to find out. They needed to find the missing missiles without wandering all over the compound.
“What do we do now?” Toby whispered, his voice betraying panic.
“We go to Plan B.” Henry started off in the direction of the clearing.
White Cloud nudged Toby to follow.
Henry tried to walk down the trail they’d used yesterday, but there were places where the tracks split off in two different directions and he had a hard time distinguishing which path to take.
White Cloud pulled up beside him. “I will lead the way to the clearing you showed me on the map.”
Relieved, Henry turned to take up the rear when he heard a motor and saw an ATV with two riders barreling through the trees. The sound was almost drowned out by the intensity of the buzzing in his head.
White Cloud had already dropped to the ground behind a bush, so Henry grabbed Toby and pulled him down. He held his breath as the sound of the quad grew nearer, passed them by, and continued along a path perpendicular to the one they were on.
He heard Toby’s heavy breathing and felt him about to move. He signaled for the young man to wait. He wanted to be sure the four-wheeler didn’t come back or that more weren’t scouring the woods around them. They needed to sit still for a few more minutes.
White Cloud knew this instinctively, but Toby fidgeted, wanting to move. Henry listened to the buzzing in his head.
After ten minutes, with no sign of the ATV, Henry gestured for White Cloud to resume their trek, but he remained super vigilant for any sounds of motors or footsteps in the night.
They stopped at the edge of the clearing, and White Cloud pointed to a large wooden crate sitting in the middle. “I think we will be lucky—that must hold the missiles.”
“They moved them into position to be ready for tomorrow,” said Henry.
“But it is odd they don’t have guards around it.”
“Very odd,” Henry said. He searched the trees, looking for cameras or booby traps or anything unusual. “You see anything?” he asked White Cloud.
White Cloud surveyed the area slowly. “Nothing.”
“Weird,” Henry said.
“Yes, perhaps there is a motion detector on the crate.”
“Well, I have to take that chance.” He punched Toby in the arm. “Stay here.”
“But I—” Toby started.
“I’ll let you know when I need you.”
Henry took his time approaching the crate, alternating between scanning the woods and the box in front of him. He saw nothing to alarm him, and the volume of the buzzing remained steady. Upon closer inspection, he noted a padlock on the opposite side of the box from where he stood.
He stared at the lock, trying to decide if the crate was boobytrapped. Deciding there was nothing he could do about it if it was, He snapped one arm of the padlock with the bolt cutters. Then he jumped away in case it was set to explode unless opened with a key.
Nothing happened.
Henry marveled at how sure of themselves these guys were. They seemed confident that no one would dare disturb their weapons. Either that, or they were just plain stupid and cocksure about their scheme.
Henry waved for Toby to join him and grabbed the first missile. He laid it on the ground with care and unscrewed the cover. He’d researched the best way to disable the missile. He could destroy the guidance section in the front, but that would only cause the missile to miss its target—it would still explode and cause damage somewhere on the reservation.
Instead he had decided to mess with the propulsion section at the rear. If the second-stage ignition failed, the rocket would drop to the ground a few fe
et from launch. Since it doesn’t activate until two seconds after the second ignition, it would be essentially useless.
Henry signaled for Toby to get the second missile ready while he worked on the first one. They moved in harmony through eight of the missiles: Toby removed the cover, Henry altered the ignition system then replaced the cover, and Toby returned the missile to the crate.
Just as Henry started on the second to last missile, he heard the hoot of an owl and his buzzing rose to a crescendo. A crash came from the woods to his right. He froze for a second to try to identify the source of the sound.
Then he heard a shout and “Hey! Wha—” The voice was cut off abruptly.
Henry glanced to where they had left White Cloud but did not see the Native American. He hoped White Cloud was the reason for the silence in the woods.
Signaling for Toby to hurry up, Henry picked up his pace and only squeezed the tubes for the ignition together with his pliers instead of breaking them off as he’d done for the rest of the missiles. He hoped that would be enough to stop the secondary ignition as he moved to the last one and did the same.
They didn’t take the time to replace the covers of the last two missiles, instead dumping them back into the crate and shutting the lid. As soon as someone saw the missiles, they would know they had been subverted, but Henry couldn’t worry about that. He grabbed Toby’s arm and pushed him in front of him, and they ran for cover in the woods.
After ten minutes of running, with Toby crashing along, he stopped.
Toby panted beside Henry. “What about White Cloud?” he managed to ask.
“We’ll have to hope he’ll find us.” Henry then saw a flash in the woods. He grabbed his companion and dropped to the ground but not before the bullet tore through Toby’s shoulder.
“I’m hit!” Toby cried in shock. “Jesus! I’ve been shot!”
Henry watched Toby’s denim jacket turn red with blood. He pulled the young man behind a large fir tree with branches reaching the ground and hoped they weren’t surrounded. He pulled out his gun and surveyed the area but saw nothing out of place.
Still, he wanted the fanatics to know they weren’t going down without a fight. He crept around the tree branches and fired a shot where he had noticed the flash. Just one—he didn’t want to waste any more bullets.
Toby flinched at the sound of the 9-millimeter and put his hands over his ears. “Christ! Those things are loud.”
“Had to let them know we’re not helpless.” Henry transferred the gun from one hand to the other as he slipped his jacket off. He pulled his black shirt over his head and tied it around Toby’s wound.
Toby held his breath but still let out a soft yell when Henry pulled the arms of the shirt tight.
“Can’t have you bleeding out on us,” Henry said. “Your mother would have my head.”
Toby grunted.
“Can you walk?” Henry asked, his eyes constantly roaming the area. He knew they had to move from their position, but he had no idea which way to go—he had no idea where they were in relation to the fence opening. The roaring drone in his head did not help his concentration, either.
“Go on without me,” Toby moaned. “I’m done for.”
“You took a bullet to the shoulder. It’s not life-threatening.” Henry frowned as he canvassed the woods for danger. Then he heard the soft hoot of an owl off to his right. He lifted Toby by his arms and hefted the man to his feet. “Let’s go!”
Toby groaned when Henry threw his arm over his shoulder, but he stumbled along beside the ex-Navy SEAL.
They went a few yards into the forest when White Cloud stepped out from behind a large oak. The man Henry had dubbed Coveralls lay facedown in a pile of leaves.
Henry raised an eyebrow. “Is he dead?”
“No, but he will have a hell of a headache when he wakes. We have to move out of here.” White Cloud took Toby’s other arm and slung it over his shoulder. Between them, they could move faster and Toby did not have to struggle to keep up.
“Are there more of them?” Henry asked.
“Not yet but I am sure they heard the gunfire and will be along soon.”
“How far to the fence opening?”
“It is just past this tree line.”
Henry jolted to a stop. “Wait. Let’s not go barging into the open without checking it out first.”
Toby opened his mouth to say something, but Henry held out his hand for silence. The buzzing had been humming along at a steady rate since they’d met up with White Cloud, but now, suddenly, it spiked to a crescendo. He knew they had to get out of there—fast. “We need to run to the opening. Don’t stop.”
White Cloud nodded and tightened his grip on Toby’s arm.
With a signal from Henry, the three of them ran for the fence. Several gunshots sounded as they crashed through the infrared beam and weaved their way to behind a tree. Henry nearly dropped Toby trying to get his gun from its holster, when he spotted four skinheads running at them.
They made it halfway to Henry’s hiding spot, before three of them were felled by bullets from the surrounding woods. The fourth keeled over with an arrow in his back.
“What just happened?” Toby asked with a groan. “I’m dying here, guys.”
“You’ll be fine.” An unknown voice came from the woods as they watched one of Thomas’s students scamper over to them.
“This is Running Bull,” White Cloud said. “He is an EMT.”
He checked out Toby’s shoulder. “The bleeding doesn’t look too bad. We should leave this makeshift tourniquet on until we can get him to a hospital. I have called for the ambulance to meet us at Thomas’s cabin.”
“How long will it take to get here?” Henry noticed that Toby looked pale and was less responsive.
White Cloud kept his eyes on the opening to the compound. “It will be there by the time we get back. The ambulance belongs to the reservation. We got it last year with some of the revenue from the casino.”
Henry nodded. The buzzing had abated, and he felt certain no more skinheads or supremacists or sovereign assholes were coming after them tonight.
The EMT said that Toby would be better off walking than being carried since keeping the wound above his heart would help lessen the blood flow. Toby groaned but stood with the help of Running Bull and another man who had appeared out of nowhere.
The trek to Thomas’s cabin didn’t take long, and the ambulance was sitting behind White Cloud’s taxi when they arrived.
✽ ✽ ✽
When the vehicle first pulled into Thomas’s, Sam woke with a start and ran outside to find out what was happening, her heart racing faster than her feet. She almost fainted in relief when she saw it was Toby, and not Henry, in need of the ambulance.
The driver knew nothing except that he had been summoned by one of the off-duty EMTs.
Toby’s head jerked up as he heard them talking about him on their way to the ambulance. “What? It’s only my shoulder? Well, it might only be my shoulder, but it hurts like hell!”
“You should be just fine,” Henry said. “You’re lucky it’s not your gut.”
“Oh, geez.” Toby slumped against his rescuers.
“Ignore him.” Sam stepped closed to Toby. “Thanks for your help tonight. I’m sorry you got shot.”
“Yeah, me too,” Toby said. “Maybe now my mother will stop complaining that I never do anything to help with her people.”
Sam squeezed his hand before the EMTs shut the back doors. She stood with Henry, White Cloud, and Thomas as they watched the ambulance drive away.
Chapter Thirty-Four
White Cloud dropped them at the hotel a little after six in the morning. Henry’s eyes were bloodshot, and, although she couldn’t see White Cloud’s eyes, Sam knew he had to be dragging, too. The black sky had lightened to gray by the time they reached Portland, and it seemed to be the start of another dreary day. Perfect for sleeping in.
When Thomas had told them he would contact Nina a
bout Toby, Sam felt relieved that she didn’t need to face her. Although news about the young man was good and he would make a full recovery, Sam was too tired to deal with an upset mother right now. Later, she’d contact Nina and make sure she had been able to access the money Sam deposited.
Sam almost entered the wrong suite when they arrived on the tenth floor, but Henry guided her to the opposite door. She leaned against the wall as he entered the code. His fingers didn’t want to cooperate, so it took two tries before the door swung open. As tired as he was, he inspected all three rooms and both bathrooms before he let down his guard.
“Will you be able to sleep?” He thought about the last night they’d been there, when Sam’s nightmares were out of control. Not that he’d mind spending another night with Sam wrapped in his arms, but he was so exhausted he didn’t know if he could be of any help easing her fears.
“I think I’ll be fine.” Sam fingered the pouch Thomas had given her and hoped its voodoo worked when away from the reservation.
They both slept without interruption until Sam’s phone rang at one o’clock in the afternoon. She fumbled with the button. “Hello?”
“Are you still sleeping? The day’s half over.” Pete Singer’s excitement transmitted to Sam and she sat up, suddenly wide-awake.
“I had a late night. What’s up?”
“I thought you’d like to know that we’ve been given the green light to arrest Buckley.”
“You have? … How? … Why?”
“I sent your thumb drive and the recordings Henry sent us to D.C. All things considered, they decided that with Homeland and the ATF raiding the compound, the FBI should be involved, too. Our assignment was to pick up Buckley before the raid.”
“You have him in custody now?” Sam threw off the covers and started for the bathroom.
“Not exactly.” Pete’s voice had lost some of its enthusiasm. “We haven’t been able to find him.”
“Well, shit.” She sank back onto the bed. “Do you think he found out you were closing in and left the country?”
“Nah. We only received the go-ahead early this morning. I doubt he could find out that fast.” Pete paused and Sam could hear activity around him.