Devil's Brigade (Trackdown Book 3)

by Michael A. Black

  Wolf nodded and extended his hand. As they shook, Wolf’s cell chimed again.

  YOU THERE? 9 1 1

  On the way, he thought, and wondered what this was all about.

  Fort Lemand,

  Southern Arizona

  Both Smith and Cummins immediately knew something was wrong when they were denied access by the state police to get on the main highway from the access road from the ghost town. Rather than stop and get an explanation from the trooper, Smith wheeled the Malibu into a U turn and sped back toward the ghost town.

  “What the hell’s that all about?” Cummins asked.

  “Who knows,” Smith said. “But I ain’t about to stick around and find out. We can get in the back gate.”

  But as they approached the macadamized road leading to the rear entrance of the fort, they saw a column of military-style vehicles and dark sedans moving toward them from the opposite direction.

  “What the fuck?” Smith said and stomped on the accelerator. They arrived at the back gate and skidded to a stop. The gate guard made no move to exit the gate shack and open it for them. In fact, he peeped up from the window and pointed an AR-15 in their direction.

  “Shit,” Smith said. “Everybody gone nuts or something?”

  He swung the door open and got out with slow deliberation, keeping his hands elevated.

  “Hey,” he shouted. “It’s us. Smittie and Cummins. Open the fucking gate, would ya?”

  The gate guard picked up a telephone and began speaking into it.

  Cummins couldn’t control himself any longer and pushed the car door open. He leaned forward and vomited copiously. Everything he’d had for breakfast, the toast, the powdered eggs, the coffee, came roiling up from his stomach and out through his mouth. When he’d finished, he wiped his mouth with his fingers, and then wiped those on the seat of the Malibu, hoping that Smith wouldn’t notice. Cummins was glad to see Smith had stepped closer to the gate shack and was now engaged in a conversation with the guard. He’d lowered his hands and came back to the front of the Malibu.

  “Come on,” he said. “He’s under strict orders not to open the gate. We gotta leave my car here for now.”

  Cummins managed to extricate himself from the vehicle and step around the puddle of vomit. He slammed the door and joined Smith by the fence.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “Don’t know,” Smith said. “Could be another one of the colonel’s bullshit alerts or something. He gets a hair up his ass every once in a while but I don’t like the looks of them other vehicles we seen, neither.”

  The gate guard walked over and stuck a key into the heavy-duty security lock. It was one of those massive locks that was about the size of a pint-sized water bottle with a hasp that dropped inside leaving little area on the hasp that could be cut. The guard looked young, maybe eighteen or nineteen, and totally wide-eyed and petrified. It was plain to see he was scared.

  Cummins wondered again what the hell was going on.

  “You’re both to report to the auditorium at once,” the gate guard said. “By order of Colonel Best.”

  Oh, my God, Cummins thought.

  Had their little escape plan been discovered?

  The McNamara Ranch

  Phoenix, Arizona

  McNamara was waiting, double-parked in front of the office building when Wolf pushed through the doors and Mac took off as soon as Wolf slid inside. The expression on his face was one of tension and concern.

  “Trouble?” Wolf asked. The adrenaline was kicking in and he felt the fatigue vanish.

  McNamara nodded. “Kase called.” He darted around several vehicles, then made a sweeping right turn in front of a line of cars stopped at a red light.

  “What’d she say?” Wolf asked, buckling himself in.

  McNamara passed two vehicles and zoomed down the roadway.

  “Only that she needed us home right away,” McNamara said. “And that the FBI was there.”

  “The FBI?”

  Wolf tried to assess this new information.

  What was this all about?

  He knew they were investigating the recent shooting at the Ranch and also Franker and Turner still had their ongoing investigation of the murders of the American citizens in Mexico. But he’d gotten the impression that Franker was going to let the clock run out of that one because Wolf had warned him of the pending danger prior to the South African mercenary shooting incident. Maybe he’d read the FBI man wrong.

  Time will tell, he thought. If we make it there, that is.

  “I hope to hell they ain’t serving a search warrant or something,” McNamara said as his eyes darted back and forth between the mirrors and the road ahead. “They’re liable to find my weapons stash.”

  Wolf hoped not too but he really had little to hide at the ranch.

  “Like you always say,” Wolf said. “Let’s not worry about something until we know we exactly what we have to worry about.”

  McNamara was breaking all speed records for city driving and had apparently thrown the Rules of the Road book into the toilet.

  They arrived in record time, scarcely fifteen minutes after Wolf had exited the building. He thought about making a joke about Mac doing the flying the next time they had to go somewhere out of state but Wolf kept his mouth shut. They’d hardly spoken at all on the ride back and he figured that was the way McNamara wanted it.

  As they got out of the Escalade they saw a solitary navy-blue Crown Vic parked next to Kasey’s car.

  No SWAT Bearcat, Wolf thought. And only one sedan. Last time they had three cars.

  He took it as a positive sign.

  McNamara grabbed Wolf’s arm and said, “Remember, we don’t say shit to them without a lawyer. That guy Soraces seem like a possibility?”

  “He’s sharp,” Wolf said, “but definitely not on our side.”

  They practically ran to the front door and McNamara thrust his key in the lock, only to find the door open. He burst through and there was Kasey, a box of tissues on her lap, with two FBI agents in blue suits, one standing, one sitting, next to her.

  “What’s going on here?” McNamara said, striding over to them.

  Kasey jumped up, the tissue box tumbling to the floor, as she ran to her father’s embrace.

  Wolf could see that her face was red and pinched looking. She’d been crying.

  “Oh, dad,” she said. “They’re here about Charlie. He’s into something awful. And he’s got Chad.”

  The seated agent stood and produced his badge case with his gold shield and ID card.

  “Mr. McNamara,” the agent said. “I’m Special Agent Decker. This is my partner, Agent Vincent. We work in Special Operations, the bank robbery detail.”

  Bank robbery, Wolf thought. What the hell’s going on?

  Both of them looked to be mid-thirties with slender builds and short-cropped hair. Decker appeared to be the senior of the two.

  “What do you guys want?” McNamara said. “And what the hell did you say that upset my daughter?”

  Before the agents could respond, Kasey unburied her head from her father’s massive shoulder and said, “No, dad, no. They’ve been very nice. It’s Charlie. They think he’s involved in that armored truck robbery the other day.”

  Wolf had heard a brief mention of that on the news but the details had been vague. It was only noted because the two armored car guards had been murdered.

  “You might have seen it on the news,” Decker said. “It happened Saturday night...” “What’s this about my no-good ex-son-n-law being involved?” McNamara asked. Kasey had reburied her face in his shoulder and he softly patted her shoulders.

  The two agents looked at each other, then Decker resumed talking.

  “I’m afraid we’ve found some evidence linking him to the crime, sir. Would you happen to know his whereabouts?”

  “Don’t call me ‘sir.’ I work for a living,” McNamara said.

  Wolf figured he was using the old army NCO
refrain to buy a few seconds of time.

  “What kind of evidence?” he asked.

  Agent Decker shook his head. “I’m not at liberty to discuss the particulars but I’m afraid it’s pretty compelling. That’s why it’s imperative that we locate Mr. Riley as soon as possible.”

  “You check that piece of shit trailer park?” McNamara asked.

  Decker nodded. “Apparently, he’s moved out of there. Your daughter said that he has their son and was purportedly going to the Grand Canyon?”

  “I already told you, he was lying,” Kasey said, easing away from her father. “I don’t think he went there at all. I checked with all the hotels in the area and he wasn’t at any of them.”

  Mac held her hand and she resumed her seat on the sofa.

  “I gave them his phone number, too,” she said. “And the number of Chad’s phone.”

  Decker gave a slight acknowledging nod to her and continued to address McNamara. “Any idea where he might have gone? Whom he might be with?”

  McNamara shook his head slowly. “All I can think of now is that he has my grandson with him.”

  “So your daughter’s told us,” Decker said. “We’ll see that the local authorities place an Amber Alert for the child’s safe return.”

  “We went looking for him at the trailer park the other day,” Wolf said, figuring neither Mac nor Kasey was thinking clearly enough to give information to the FBI. “There was a guy in the adjacent trailer that seemed to know him. Name’s Roger D. Smith. Drives a black Malibu.”

  The two agents made eye contact again. Decker nodded but made no effort to write the information down.

  Either the guy’s got a photographic memory, Wolf thought, or they already know that.

  Decker shifted his shoulders a bit and Wolf got the impression that this interview had run its course. The FBI man took a card out of his breast shirt pocket and handed it to McNamara.

  “Sir,” he said. “I know how stressful this must be but are you sure you don’t have any idea of your son-in-law’s whereabouts.”

  “He’s my ex-son-in-law,” Mac said, his voice a low growl. “And if I did have, do you think I’d be standing here?”

  Decker’s head tilted to the side. “Mr. McNamara, believe me, the best thing to do, if you do receive any information as to his whereabouts, is to contact the Bureau.” He handed the card to Mac, who made no effort to touch it.

  “The son of a bitch is out on bond,” McNamara said. “And now he’s robbing and killing people, and he’s got my grandson with him.”

  Decker compressed his lips and nodded. “I understand how disconcerting this is. That’s why—”

  “You guys must know more than you’re telling,” McNamara said. “Tell me what you know and I’ll track him down myself.”

  “That wouldn’t be a good idea, sir,” Decker said.

  “Don’t you listen?” McNamara said. “He’s got my grandson.”

  “And the Bureau will do everything it can to make sure the boy is recovered safely,” Decker said.

  “If we call him,” Wolf said, “can you triangulate off the phones?”

  Decker raised an eyebrow.

  “We’re already doing something of the sort,” he said. “It would be better if you’d refrain from trying to take any action yourselves at this point. If you do hear from him, urge him to turn himself in and contact us.” He offered the card to McNamara, who now accepted it.

  “You said you’d do one of them Amber Alert things?” Mac said.

  “We’ll look into having that done immediately, sir,” Decker said. He and his partner repeated the admonishments they’d already given and headed for the door.

  Decker seems like a consummate professional, Wolf thought.

  Once they’d left, Kasey burst into tears.

  “Oh, my God, dad,” she said. “He’s got Chad. What are we going to do?”

  Mac shook his head and said nothing.

  For the second time that day, Wolf felt powerless and angry and he liked it even less this time. There was way more at stake.

  About ten minutes later, the phone on Kasey’s desk rang and she jumped up and ran to answer it, saying, “Maybe that’s him.”

  At the desk, she stopped and glanced down at the Caller ID screen. She looked up at Wolf.

  “It’s blocked,” she said.

  Wolf strode over to the desk and picked up the phone, answering with the standard, “Trackdown, Incorporated.”

  For a few seconds, there was nothing but silence, then, “That you, Wolf?”

  It was Cummins. Wolf was sure of it.

  What a time for this to happen.

  “Yes,” Wolf said. “Who’s this?”

  “I think you know the answer to that, soldier,” Cummins said. “Don’t you?”

  “Look, Cummins,” Wolf said. “Give me a number where I can reach you and I’ll call you back. Something’s come up here and—”

  “And I bet I know what it is. He’s about two-and-a-half feet tall, with blond hair and blue eyes, and answers to the name of Chad. Right?”

  Wolf felt like somebody had struck him in the gut with a baseball bat. His reply came out in a hoarse whisper.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Simple,” Cummins said. “I’ll trade you the kid for the bandito statue.”

  “What?”

  “Cut the shit,” Cummins said. “And listen real good. Give me a cell phone number where I can reach you and only you. No feds, no cops, nothing. Be ready for me to call you back with the details of the deal. And bring me the bandito from Mexico.”

  Wolf repeated his personal cell phone number.

  After a moment, Cummins came back on the line. “Okay, like I said, wait for my call. No cops, otherwise, you’ll never see the kid again, Understand?”

  “You touch him, motherfucker, and I’ll kill you,” Wolf said.

  Peripherally, he saw Mac and Kasey look up.

  “Like I said, spare me the threats,” Cummins said. “I don’t want the kid to get hurt any more than you do but it’s all contingent on me getting what I need, no questions asked.”

  “What do you need?” Wolf said but he already knew what Cummins meant.

  “Yeah. The bandito. Just be ready to deliver it to me, safe and sound, if you ever want to see the kid again.”

  He hung up and Wolf kept staring at the phone.

  “Steve?” Kasey said. “Who was it? Did he say something about Chad?”

  Wolf turned to her, the feeling that somehow, someway, he was responsible for this whole mess, and it burned in his gut like a red-hot phosphorous round.

  Fort Lemand

  Southern Arizona

  The auditorium had what appeared to be the full complement of twenty-eight men, minus the gate guards, on hand. Two men stood at the entrance doors with AR-15s. As Cummins shuffled in behind Smith, he saw Colonel Best, dressed in a set of camouflaged BDUs, addressing the group from a podium up front. Two more guards, each wearing holstered side-arms, stood on either side of the podium. Cummins and Smith took a seat at the back. Even from a distance of about forty feet, Cummins could see that Best’s face was glistening with sweat and huge circular rings of wetness encompassed each armpit. Keller was standing beside him, wearing a similar camouflaged outfit with a black baseball hat. He looked exceptionally grim. His eyes locked on Smith and Cummins as they sat. Riley, Cherrie, and Chad sat about three rows ahead of them.

  “The hour of governmental tyranny is apparently upon us,” Best said. “Their unwelcome unlawful presence has been observed in front of our compound. Although they have yet to make their intentions clear, we must stand ready to defend ourselves should the situation require it.” He paused and licked his lips. “We have two civilians in our midst and they will be confined to quarters immediately, for their own safety. As of now, Base Freedom is on full alert. Every man is to report to the armory and draw his weapon and ammunition. Then form up in the court yard to receive your orders for
maintaining the perimeter. Remember, we, the people, are well within our Constitutional rights of assembly here and we have broken no laws. Maintain strict fire discipline and stand ready until such time that you receive the order to do otherwise.” He turned his head.

  “Captain Keller,” Best said.

  Keller stepped forward said in a loud voice, “Sergeant Cassidy, prepare to dismiss the men.”

  A barrel-chested man with chevrons at the corner of the podium stood and called the group to attention and then issued the order to fall out. Cummins stood and was frantically trying to figure his next move as he and Smith waited for Riley, Cherrie, and Chad to make their way to them.

  “You got any ideas what’s going on?” Smith asked Riley as he approached.

  “None,” Riley said. “Unless they fingered us for that armored car thing.”

  Cherrie asked what she was supposed to do in her whiny voice.

  “Riley, Smith, Cummins,” Keller yelled out. “Get over here.”

  Cummins saw Smith’s brow crease as they waited for the rest of the group to filter by and then made their way up toward the front.

  Why were the three of them being singled out?

  This couldn’t be good.

  Chapter Eleven

  The McNamara Ranch

  Phoenix, Arizona

  Wolf watched through the window as the dark sedan pulled up and parked next to the Escalade. It looked like Franker was by himself and Wolf felt slightly encouraged that the FBI agent had abided by Wolf’s request to come alone. He’d taken Franker at his word when he’d said he felt he owed Wolf something and it was time to cash in if possible, although the agent looked a bit tentative walking toward the door. Wolf strode over and opened it.

  “Special Agent Franker,” he said, extending his hand. “Thanks for coming.”

  The FBI man’s expression remained neutral but he shook Wolf’s hand.

  Wolf closed the door behind him and reintroduced Mac and Kasey.