Though he had the presence of mind to continue toward the exit, Krantz looked shaken.
Tornado moved to the driver's side of the Jeep and continued poking at it with his horns. Then he backed up and slammed into the Jeep at full speed, lifting it up on two wheels.
Krantz yelled a string of obscenities at the bull, who seemed to take it as an insult.
"Now he gone and done it," Johnson whispered, chuckling under his breath.
Tornado's next run flattened the left-rear tire. As Krantz eased the vehicle forward, the massive creature moved to the rear, dug his horn into the spare tire, then ripped it from the rack.
Krantz pulled tight to the rear gate, opened the sunroof, crawled out, and stepped to the hood.
After pausing for a moment to shake his head, Tornado lined up his attack and rammed the Jeep hard enough to turn it onto its side.
With a look of pure panic on his face, Krantz propelled himself over the gate, landing on his face in the mud.
Tornado, apparently bored with the game, returned to the other side of the pasture. He looked back over his shoulder several times as if monitoring his quarry.
Ray and Johnson, both struggling to contain themselves, made their way up the hill toward the cabin with Johnson in the lead. They were careful to remain out of sight, but still reached the cabin minutes before Krantz.
The one-room rough-log cabin looked sturdy, but weathered and battered. The windows on the front lacked glass, and two out of three steps pitched to the left. A large blue vinyl tarp covered the roof and was tied in place with ropes attached to tent stakes.
"Not a bad job for a short day's work." Ray poked at his cell phone then put it back in his pocket. He motioned toward the cabin. "My cell won't work. Go around back and alert the agents the plan is in play."
Johnson crept off, keeping well inside the tree line.
A few moments later, long, lean, dark-skinned Smith and short, thin, light-skinned Custer followed Johnson around to the front. Both agents looked unkempt, like average meth lab workers. But, Ray knew, they cleaned up well.
"The plan is to let the suspect enter the cabin and lay claim to the methamphetamine. Then we'll all move in and make the collar," Ray said.
"Is Krantz armed?" Custer asked.
"He's carrying his Glock," Johnson said.
"Fan out." Ray pointed in several directions. "We'll come at him from all sides. Be ready to move in fast."
"I agree." Custer crept to the left, slipping into the woods.
The others moved out of sight as well.
Krantz, still covered in mud, approached the cabin, looking side to side. "Hello. Anybody here?" He listened, then drew his weapon, approached with apparent caution, and disappeared inside.
Ray heard the banging and scraping as Krantz moved things and conducted his search. Five minutes later, he appeared carrying a large canvas tote and a small cardboard box. While the two DEA agents and Ray, all with weapons drawn, surrounded him, Johnson captured the events with his cell phone video.
Custer flashed his credentials and motioned to Smith, who did the same.
"DEA. Drop the stuff and with two fingers, toss your gun over here," Smith said.
"Screw you." Krantz dropped the items, pulled out his gun, and pointed it at Ray. "You bastard, Stone. You're an outsider. I knew you weren't one of us."
Custer moved in from the left, his weapon trained on Krantz. "You can't hope to win this. Drop your weapon."
"What's going on here? I'm confiscating these drugs. Back away and allow me to do my job." Krantz backed up three steps but didn't lower his weapon. "I'm not letting you grab my case. For all I know, you'll have this stuff on the market tomorrow."
"Krantz, put down your weapon. It's over," Ray said.
"This is a big mistake you know, Stone. You set me up." He swung his Glock toward Custer.
Custer, sounding reasonable, said, "Lower your gun, sir."
Krantz looked from man to man, then dropped the Glock to the ground.
Smith closed in on one side, Ray on the other.
With no further resistance from Krantz, Ray handcuffed him. "You have the right to remain silent . . ."
Chapter 37
Ray
"Thank you, gentlemen." Ray nodded to Custer and Smith.
"What am I being charged with?" Krantz said.
"It's a long list," Ray said. "Possession with intent to sell for starters, assaulting an officer, and assaulting federal officers. I'm sure we'll add charges as we go along. Let's go inside."
"So y'all can beat the crap out of me?," Krantz said, attempting to pull away.
"Not your decision." Ray shoved Krantz toward the cabin door. "It's time to talk."
"I want an attorney."
"Of course, you do. We talk. You listen," Ray said.
The DEA agents moved Krantz inside and sat him on a stained folding chair—the only chair—next to a tattered card table. Bottles of liquid and jars of powders littered a long counter next to a make-shift sink and a camp stove. The odors of the chemicals mixed with underlying mildew created a thick, nauseating stench.
Ray removed a folded paper from his back pocket and laid it on the table in front of Krantz. He put a pen next to it. "Johnson, move the former deputy's cuffs to the front, please, so he can sign the paper."
Johnson did as directed.
"I'm not signing anything." Krantz spat out the words as if they tasted bad.
"Read it. It says you've been read your Miranda Rights and understand them."
"Okay." Krantz signed, then rubbed his face with his cuffed hands. "I'm listening."
Ray admired Krantz's illusion of control.
Agent Smith stepped forward, taking the lead. He laid out the details of the setup at length. "Detective Stone and Officer Johnson have a solid case on the local charges against you. You can't get around it." He motioned to the cell phone Johnson pointed in their direction. "Officer Johnson was kind enough to capture the whole event. He is continuing to record this interview. In fact, the whole process was recorded, including the call you received from Ope and your promise to talk to Silken. We've had the store under surveillance, and you never went to see him, nor did you call."
Krantz stared straight ahead.
"We'll get your Uncle Silky for interstate trafficking with or without your help. However, it's up to you whether you take the fall with him or not."
"How so?"
"We know you blackmailed Ope for information about planned drug raids and passed the information on to Silken, Vast, and Flocker," Smith said. "We can prove you've been an errand boy for Silken. And we can prove you acted as a shield between him and the Sheriff's Department until you were reassigned. If you cooperate, by that I mean tell us everything you know about Silken's operation and help us build a solid case, we will see to it you don't face federal charges or do any federal time. You know you won't get early release from a federal facility. If, on the other hand, you decide to stay quiet, we can and will take you down."
"What about the local charges?"
Ray stepped forward. "We can deal. You won't get off free. I can't make any promises on behalf of the DA, and you know he won't deal on any homicide charges. It all depends on you."
Krantz squinted. "Damn, Stone, I wish I'd gotten your job."
"It wasn't for lack of trying." Ray leaned close to Krantz. "What will it be? We can haul you into Crestville now for booking on the local charges and pending the federal arrest warrants, or you can decide to cooperate."
Krantz glared at Ray. "You son of a bitch, you leave me no choice."
Ray smiled. "A setup is about not having a choice."
"I'll talk."
"Good. Now, before we continue, do you waive your right to an attorney?"
"I do."
Ray produced a second form. "Sign here." He pointed.
Krantz signed the form waiving his right for counsel.
"How did you find out about this stash?" Ray said.
"None of your concern." For the sake of the recording, Ray led Krantz through the events leading to his appearance at the cabin. "Why didn't you tell Silken about the stash?"
"I'm tired of being his boy. I thought I'd get the meth and do a little business. Vast is out of the way, and will be, probably, forever. Flocker, who you know is a major player in the whole local competition, is also out of the mix for a while. I thought I'd fill the void. Who would know? Certainly not my uncle, who relies on me for his local information."
Ray filed away the comment about Flocker for later use. He knew, of course, Flocker was involved in the meth trade. What he hadn't heard before was the term major player in reference to him.
Custer asked, "What do you know about Silken's business?"
Krantz paused, looking threatened for the first time. He took a deep breath and exhaled. "Silken was sent here by the powers in Miami. They wanted to expand their market and needed to assure a steady supply for the South Florida meth heads. Silken picked Plateauville because of my aunt's tie to the community. He knew he'd be able to establish himself as a legitimate businessman. His boss in Miami funded the store. Now the Miami people are threatening to kill him if he doesn't fix his production problems."
"What's his take on the lab explosions?" Ray said.
"The thing is, Silky doesn't know who's to blame. It's for sure he isn't. He had a nice operation going. Vast produced a huge amount of product. Flocker, too."
"Did he know both of them were dealing on the side?" Ray said.
"Sure, he did. In fact, I told him myself."
"And?"
"He said, 'Let them. They aren't taking much out of my pocket, and it gives them incentive to keep me supplied.' He had me keep track of their output and make sure he received his first."
"Were they aware Silken knew?" Ray said.
"I don't think so."
"You said you wanted to go into business for yourself. Did you blow up Vast's lab?"
"No. I'm not a killer. What I planned to do was make Vast supply me, too. My idea was to tell him that if he didn't I'd report all of his outside sales to Silken."
"You're a real scuz, you know?" Ray shook his head. He spent some time going over the details of the meth lab explosions and Krantz's alibis for the times in question. He felt somewhat certain Krantz told the truth.
"Why were you harassing Kelly Ann Vast? And my fiancée, for that matter?"
"Silken's orders. Nothing personal."
"Funny, they don't feel that way about it. Did you try to kill Flocker in the hospital?"
"No. I went to see him. I even threatened him."
"Why were your prints on his IV pole?"
Krantz looked like he was about to speak, then stopped. He clenched his brow. "Strange thing. He asked me to move it. I didn't think much about it at the time."
"Did you touch it?"
"Yes. I did. He couldn't reach it, and he said he wanted to be able to move it around."
"Someone put an extra drug in his IV bag. Weren't you a medic? You know how to do it."
"I was a medic and know how. But, I didn't do it. Maybe Flocker did it himself. I wanted his product, too. Figured if I took some from Vast and some from Flocker, I'd be in good shape. Then Vast's lab blew. I tried to put the screws on Flocker. Then he blew up his own operation."
***
Late Wednesday afternoon, Ray, Johnson, and Custer gathered in the back of a white van they'd borrowed from Johnson's father and parked in front of Silken's Dry Goods. Smith sat in an old clunker behind the store near the back door.
Ray set up a feed from the video camera in Krantz's sunglasses to a monitor and digital recorder in the van. Keeping it on a need-to-know basis, the signal was also routed to Mullins in the Plateauville PD and Sheriff Foster and Detective Shim in Crestville. The sunglasses recording device was new for the Sheriff's Department and was something Krantz had not used before, preferring the model worn on the front of the shirt. Ray thought it a perfect setup.
Right on schedule, Krantz parked two spaces away from the van.
"Krantz, now is the time," Ray said.
Krantz nodded. In full uniform, with his earpiece in place and cam running, he exited his vehicle and stepped into Silken's Dry Goods. "Uncle Carl, you around?"
"I'm in the office. Come on back, Bobby."
The video showed the patron-free store and the narrow isle leading to the office. Silken sat behind a wooden desk in a cramped space, which was nothing more than a wide hallway with the alley exit on one end and the open door from the store on the other. The only items on the desk were a bottle of whiskey and a small revolver.
Krantz's hand waved in front of the camera. "What's all this, Uncle?"
"Bobby, Bobby. They're coming to kill me. You see, I haven't kept up with my production goals. Now, they've lost faith and . . . you get the picture."
"What would happen if you had a good haul of meth? Would that help?"
"Sure it would, but where am I going to get it? Vast and Flocker are both in custody and their labs are bust. I heard rumors of another lab close by, but I don't know where it is or who's running it. My sources seem to have dried up."
The view from the camera lowered as Krantz sat. Then Silken's image filled the monitor. "It's time to offer him the product," Ray said into the microphone connected to Krantz's standard-issue ear piece.
Krantz adjusted his sunglasses, a prearranged signal that he had the message.
Krantz said, "I heard about another lab out on Dripping Springs at the edge of the county."
Silken grabbed his gun and stood in one motion. "And you didn't tell me? You ungrateful bastard."
Krantz's hand, making a take-it-easy motion, came into view. "That's not how it is. Ope called me yesterday and told me about a raid on the lab scheduled for today. Mullins and Stone were playing it real close, didn't even tell Foster until the last minute."
Silken sat back down but kept his hand on his gun. "Is that the huge lab we've been hearing about?"
"I thought it might be. I tried to get out there yesterday afternoon to check it out, but the trails leading to the place are knee deep in mud. So, this morning I went to the hospital to see Vast."
"Wait a minute. I thought it was Flocker's lab." Silken's face reddened. "You better not be lying to me." Silken pointed the gun at Krantz, who didn't flinch.
In the van, Ray laughed. "The boy has bigger balls than I gave him credit for."
Shim's voice drifted over the wire from Crestville. "He should have used them to do his job."
"Put the gun down, Uncle Carl." Krantz's voice rang with authority. "If you kill me, you won't get the kilos of methamphetamine I have in the trunk of my patrol car. The county will just think I made an impromptu bust and scored big. You'll have nothing and get hit by your buddies from down south."
Silken laid the gun on his desk and leaned back in his chair. "I want the damn meth. It's what I need to stay alive and in business. Are you going to quit pissing around and give it to me, or not?"
"First let me show you a sample." Krantz laid a quart size bag filled with meth out of Silken's reach but on the desk. "This stuff is pure. Vast gave me directions to get to the lab through Old Jasper's place this morning. He's been running it on the side. But when he turned himself in to go to the hospital, his guys helped him hide the stuff. He told me where it was in the cabin."
"Why would he tell you?"
Krantz laughed, sounding sincere. "First, I roughed him up a bit, then I promised him a fair share. As if he can claim it from jail."
"You're sure he won't talk, maybe turn for a deal."
"Yeah. He has himself a new baby with that wife of his. I told him I'd get even, and he wouldn't have a family if and when he survived jail and walked out."
In the van, Custer said, "We need to wait for Silken to take possession of the package. Then we can move in."
"Right," Ray said. "Johnson, you stay here and monitor the feed. Tell us when he makes the touch."
"Okay," Johnson said, tapping the microphone. "Everyone hear me?"
A chorus of affirmative replies echoed through the van.
"I'm in position in back," Smith said.
Ray and Custer climbed out of the van and assumed their positions near the front door, chatting and attempting to look casual. The plan was to draw as little attention to the bust as possible.
A Plateauville black and white pulled to the curb. "What's happening, guys?" the young officer said.
Ray took three quick steps toward the vehicle and leaned close to the driver's side window. "Drive on."
The officer frowned, said "Asshole," loud enough for all to hear, and sped away.
Ray returned to the front door, hoping their quarry hadn't heard the interruption.
Silken said, his voice demanding, "Give me the damned product."
"Here you go, Uncle."
Johnson's voice came through the earbuds. "Silken is handling the baggie."
Ray said, "On three. One. Two. Three."
Ray and Custer burst inside, weapons drawn. Smith appeared through the alley door.
Krantz grabbed Silken's gun.
Ray, Custer, and Smith rushed into the office and grabbed Silken.
Silken stood with his hands behind his back, facing his nephew, who had his service weapon pointed at him.
Ray cuffed Silken. "Stand down, Krantz."
Johnson entered the room.
"Cuff Krantz."
"Yes, sir," Johnson said.
"So, Bobby Boy, that's how it is, huh?" Silken sneered.
"I'm afraid it is. I didn't have a choice."
Custer and Smith pulled their federal badges, waved them at Silken.
"DEA." Custer went on to read Silken his rights.
"I want my lawyer."
"All in good time," Smith said.
Custer grabbed one of Silken's elbows, Smith the other. They led him out the back of the store, where, Ray knew, an unmarked Federal SUV awaited.
Chapter 38
Sophia
On Thursday, Sophia drove into Crestville as the sun rose over the mountain and shone in her rearview mirror. The varying green of the trees, their leaves shimmering in the light, was interspersed with brown—trees that had fallen victim to some form of pestilence. She had grown to love Tennessee, but the woods reminded her of the evil that lived and died amongst the throngs of good folks.
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