Shooting Chant

by Aimée

  Then Ella glanced over at the three grim-faced guards standing inside Labkote’s fence, and her short-lived optimism faded. They had left the outside guardhouse unmanned. All three were armed with riot guns, pistols, and Mace. She could also hear the hum that signalled that the electric fence was on.

  For a company that only sold sterilized laboratory supplies and glassware, this seemed a bit much. Then again, she had no idea how much money it would cost to replace the equipment or decontaminate the clean areas if anything was compromised.

  As she started toward the fence, intending to talk to the security guards, Clifford and Glen Lee came up to her. Ella had known Glen almost all her life. He had a small farm, livestock, and a large family. He wasn’t what anyone could term a rabble-rouser.

  “Join us on the line,” Glen said. “As a cop, your support would mean a lot to the community.”

  “I can’t do that, and you know it. I’m here as a cop, not a private citizen.”

  “There won’t be any trouble today,” Clifford said. “If someone tries to leave the plant, we’ll step aside. We’ll do the same with anyone who needs to go in. This won’t play out the way it did at the tribal offices.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” Ella said, seeing the reporters from a Farmington TV station pulling up in a van. “Stay away from the fence, too. It’s more than just a hot wire.”

  Glen nodded. “Talk about paranoid,” he muttered. “These LabKote guards are packing a lot of firepower, don’t you think?”

  “They just look afraid to me,” Clifford said. “I think they’ve seen too many old cowboy and Indians movies where the Indians attack the fort, you know?”

  Glen laughed. “Maybe so.”

  “I’m going to go talk to them,” Ella said.

  “Jesse Woody has been trying to do that since we first arrived, but the guards won’t let him in, and the supervisors won’t come out,” Glen said.

  “The security guards are probably undertrained and nervous. Let me see if I can get them to relax a bit.”

  As Glen moved away, Ella took Clifford aside. “This isn’t the place I would have chosen to talk to you, but I need to ask you something directly. Would the Fierce Ones get involved in a kidnapping?”

  “You’re talking about Senator Yellowhair?” Clifford asked. “I heard about that,” he added, then shook his head. “No, that’s not something our group would do.”

  The kidnapping wasn’t general knowledge yet, but on the Rez news seldom needed to make the papers before everyone knew about it. “You really should give your involvement with this group some hard thought, Brother. You’re in with a crowd that’s known for acting first and thinking later.”

  “No, not anymore. They want me to remain part of their group, and I’ve threatened to quit—and, work against them—if any physical confrontations or destruction of property takes place. I’m going to lead them in a new direction, you’ll see. Our tribe needs the Fierce Ones, but they have to be a strong, positive force.”

  “It sounds as if you’ll be taking over Jesse Woody’s position as spokesman,” she said with a tiny smile.

  Clifford shook his head somberly. “I’m a Singer, first and foremost. It’s my duty to be available to anyone who needs healing. I won’t turn away from that.”

  Ella looked over at LabKote’s covered loading dock and caught a glimpse of a tall Anglo man wearing jeans, a baseball cap, and a fatigue jacket, holding a Colt .223 semiautomatic rifle. A cold chill ran up her spine as she recognized Morgan. There was something about the look on his face. She’d seen it before in police officers who had been in too many confrontations to see the prospect of another with either fear or anticipation. It was a settled look, one that, in many ways, was a lot more dangerous than either of the two more common responses.

  She hadn’t confirmed Morgan’s background yet, but it would be something she’d want to do soon. She was still searching for the person who killed Kyle Hansen, and as she looked at Morgan now, she had no doubt that he would be perfectly capable of committing the act.

  Ella had her officers stand between the protestors and the electric fence, not to safeguard LabKote’s people, but on behalf of the protestors. The press was also being kept way back because of the danger posed by the electric fence, but they still were able to use their cameras to film everyone.

  The protestors remained orderly, but Ella couldn’t quite push aside the feeling that things could go downhill fast if one of the protestors made the wrong move.

  Justine came up then, interrupting her thoughts. “If the protestors pull something like they did at the tribal offices, we’re going to have some people maced, shot, or electrocuted. What should we do if one of the guards starts shooting? Stop them, even if we have to shoot back?”

  “You bet. But I don’t think it’ll go that far. Look at the security guards.” Ella’s eyes darted back to the LabKote security team, and to Morgan. “The oldest one is what, twenty? They’re inexperienced and torn between wanting to mix it up and afraid of what’ll happen if they do. But it’s clear that Morgan, the man wearing the baseball cap and fatigue jacket, is in charge. Look at his posture and the way he holds that assault rifle. I’ve got a hunch that if anyone can keep those guards from making a crucial mistake, it’s Morgan. He’s maintaining control over his men.”

  “I wish I could be as sure as you are,” Justine said.

  “I’m not certain enough to lower my guard, if that tells you something,” Ella admitted. “But something about LabKote’s people is bugging me.” She paused, trying to figure it out. “No, to be more precise, it’s Morgan who’s worrying me. I know he has a military background, the marines, but he really looks out of place here.”

  “How so?”

  She considered it. “He looks too calm,” she said at last.

  Justine nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. He’s like a shark in a goldfish pond. But where would someone like that fit in?”

  “In some war-torn country no one can either spell or pronounce, because he likes the excitement,” Ella said. “I wonder why he left the marines?” Seeing Ted Landreth come out of the main building and move toward the protestors, her attention became riveted on him. “Get ready. Something’s up.”

  Landreth stood just inside the fence and waited for Jesse Woody to approach.

  “I’m here to see if we can work out the grievances you seem to have against our company. We can talk in my office, but you’ll have to come in unarmed, and alone.”

  Jesse held out his arms, palms upward. “I’m not armed. None of us are.”

  “Good, then you won’t mind if you’re frisked before we let you inside the building?” Landreth said.

  “Not at all,” Woody answered.

  Landreth waved to Morgan, who signalled one of the security guards on a handheld radio. The guard activated a portable transmitter, and the gate opened.

  Morgan spoke into the radio again, and the other guards stood in the gap as Woody passed through. Once Woody was clear, the guard closed the gate again, and Morgan came up to quickly and efficiently frisk Woody for weapons.

  Now that Morgan was standing close to the fence, she watched him carefully, noting he still wore a handgun, and had the black leather case she assumed held a folding knife instead of Mace. Morgan was certainly a man who believed in being prepared.

  Morgan looked up and his eyes held hers. She didn’t look away and, for what seemed like an endless moment, she saw the open challenge in his gaze. Then someone called him and he nodded to her, then went back to the building.

  Jesse stayed inside for nearly forty minutes, but when he came back out, there was a smile on his face and the protestors visibly relaxed.

  Jesse exited the fenced-in area with less ceremony than when he’d entered, and met with the others and the press that had come to cover the event. “LabKote supervisors have agreed to meet with us again and discuss our demands. They don’t know of any Navajo who is qualified to take over the job that’s now ope
n, but at least they’re willing to let us look, and then give them a recommendation. It’s a start—a good one.”

  As the group dispersed, and the press returned to their vehicles, Ella breathed a sigh of relief. Justine came up to her then. “If it’s okay, we’re going to go back to our regular duties now.”

  Ella nodded. “That’s fine. The crisis is over but, before I leave, I’m going to talk to Morgan again.”

  “You’re going to put pressure on him?”

  “No, he doesn’t strike me as the type who reacts well to that technique. I just want to ask him a few pointed questions—like why he and his men were so heavily armed. The situation certainly didn’t call for it.”

  “You want me to go in with you?” Justine asked.

  “No, that’s not necessary. I’ve met with him before, and I don’t think he’s going to give me any trouble. It’s not to his advantage, especially now that this incident has ended. If I read LabKote correctly, they’re hoping all the publicity they’ve been getting will fade away as quickly as possible.”

  “Is there anything in particular you need me to do next?” Justine asked.

  “You can do background checks on Walter Morgan and Ted Landreth, just to confirm what they’ve given me already. Find out if those pregnancy tests were filed or not, and get me a list of whose files were taken besides mine and Mrs. Yellowhair’s. I also want you to try and find Avery Blueeyes and Atsidi Benally as soon as possible.”

  “I’ll do that. I also spoke to the Blueeyes’ family earlier and they claim Avery is fishing somewhere, but they don’t know where. I considered putting out an APB, but we don’t have enough legal justification. We have no evidence, circumstantial or otherwise, linking him to the kidnapping,” Justine said. “I got a chance to question Atsidi, but he has an iron-clad alibi. He was on a field trip to a historical site with his students when the senator was kidnapped. Of course, that doesn’t mean he wasn’t an accomplice.”

  “For now, concentrate on Blueeyes, then. We can’t put out an APB, but we can find him and bring him in for questioning.”

  “I’ll keep digging. Even if he’s holed up somewhere, I’ll find him,” Justine said, getting into her unit. She waved good-bye, and drove off.

  As soon as all those outside LabKote had gone, Ella went up to the booth at the front of the gate, where a guard had been stationed. “I’d like to talk to your head of security,” she said flashing her badge. “Walter Morgan.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” the guard answered. “I don’t suppose you have an appointment.”

  “No, but maybe I can get a warrant, if you insist on forcing the issue. I’m still investigating the death of one of your employees.”

  The guard picked up the phone and had a quick, soft-spoken conversation with someone on the other end. “Mister Morgan will be out in a moment.”

  This time there were no games. In just a few minutes, Morgan came out and met her.

  “Hello again, Investigator Clah,” he said as the gate was opened. “I understand you want to talk to me.”

  “I do. I have a few questions regarding your security measures.”

  He smiled, but his expression didn’t soften. “I figured you might. I saw you standing out here, watching my people more than your own.” He gestured toward the building. “Let’s go to my office.”

  She watched Morgan as he remained just a step or two ahead of her, setting the pace. He was clearly a man who liked remaining in control, especially on his own turf.

  A moment later they were inside a small office that was as stark and as spartan as she’d expected from someone like Morgan. Like his home, there were no family photos anywhere. A security camera was attached in a corner near the ceiling, looking down on the entire room. Morgan’s assault rifle rested across his desk, which held only a computer and keyboard, and there was a large metal gun cabinet against one wall. Another small table held a tape recorder and telephone console. Most people’s work spaces said something about them, but this office was more like an interrogation room.

  “I understand that you had your security people make it clear that you’d shoot any trespassers,” Ella said. “Were those riot guns and your Colt loaded?”

  Morgan picked up the assault rifle, removed the clip, and showed her the full magazine. “Does this answer your question? We have the right to protect this facility from criminals. Trespassers are criminals that may become a threat to our operations and destroy valuable equipment and inventory. I think a show of force usually prevents violence—when people know you can back up what you say, they’re less likely to test you. That’s also why my guards and I are armed to the hilt,” he added.

  “What property in this plant is worth the price of a man’s life?” Ella insisted.

  He suddenly laughed. “Subtle as a brick, aren’t you? It’s my job to protect this place, and I do it to the best of my ability. And, for the record, we do have the support of law-abiding Navajos. Your tribal council and president have visited our facility, and they all approve of the way we are handling things, including the employment question.”

  “Then you don’t think the Fierce Ones have a valid argument?”

  “I’m not from around here, as you know from looking over my personnel file, and I don’t know enough about the situation on the reservation to answer that. But I do know that they shouldn’t have any beef with LabKote. We hire many Navajos. My next in command, for example, is Navajo. He supported my decision to shoot if anyone tried to get in.”

  “Who’s the guard?”

  “Jimmie Herder. You may not have seen him today because he was covering the rear of our facility. We’re not the Evil Empire, Investigator Clah.”

  “I never said you were,” Ella clipped.

  Ella knew that with every answer she gave him, he was sizing her up just as she was doing with him. The main difference between them was that this was clearly a game he enjoyed playing.

  “Look, you’re obviously starting to feel uncomfortable about LabKote. Why don’t you let me give you a guided tour? Some of the machines we use are worth hundreds of thousands of dollars each. If they get damaged, we’d have to shut down and we can’t just go to the local hardware store or Radio Shack for parts. Any downtime means big losses for this company. LabKote is not a large operation, and we’ve been undercutting our competition to get a customer base. We make only a small profit, so we can’t afford any significant losses if we plan to stay in business. That’s why we’re so protective of our facility.”

  “Are you trying to tell me that you’re operating on a shoestring budget?”

  “Our financial situation is proprietary information,” he said, “but come on. If you get a good look at everything here, it’ll set your mind at ease. Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t know.”

  Ella followed him down the hall, her gaze taking in every detail of the facility. There was a large warehouse area where the sterilized packets were boxed and prepared for shipping. Large, garage-type doors along one end opened onto a long loading dock. Shrink-wrapped packets of plastic petri dishes and other lab supplies were carried into the packing area by a moving conveyor belt which passed through an opening in the wall. About a dozen Navajo men and women were filling orders as she was shown around.

  Morgan then led her out of the warehouse and farther down the hall, stopping by a window that revealed the interior of a large room that was secured with a steel door and an electronic lock. This looked like another warehouse, with large garage-type doors against one wall. The doors were covered with some kind of insulating material, however.

  “That’s where Hansen worked. You can’t see his booth from here, but you can see it if you look up at the security monitor,” he said pointing to the far corner. “We keep that in place to make sure everything’s as it should be.”

  She could see shrink-wrapped, sealed packages moving slowly down a conveyor belt, pausing every few seconds by the large machines. “I’m assuming this is
where everything is sterilized, and those are the machines responsible. Can you tell me about them?”

  “I don’t know all the technicalities, I’m no scientist, but this is the place where we kill any microbes that might have survived the earlier cleaning process and still be viable inside the sealed packages. It’s done with short bursts of gamma radiation. To insure safety, the machines are shielded and, in addition, the building’s added shielding prevents the highly focused, short-duration gamma rays from getting beyond the room. Notice the material on the doors. One of the reasons we have such tight security is because we could have a nasty accident if some intruder walked through the processing area and into a beam of gamma rays.”

  “And I suppose that the person running the machines has to have a high security clearance?”

  “With our organization, yes, but this is not a top secret process or government operation. Our machine operators are critical to the operation and everyone’s paycheck depends on them, so we make sure that they can work without interruption during a processing cycle.”

  “What kind of security is there to keep a worker from wandering in there at the wrong time?”

  “You’ve already seen our cameras and, since the operation beyond this door is completely automated, only the operator or his supervisors have key cards to open these particular electronic locks.”

  He took her to another window. “This is our quality control area,” he said, gesturing to the room inside. “The reason for the heavy rubber seals around the door is that we have an air lock system in place here. There are also special micropore filters. In this room our quality control people search for contaminants among random samples taken off the production line. Like the processing room, this is a restricted area. Only lab personnel with special suits have electronic keys that allow them access.”

  Ella glanced through the window. Beyond the closet-sized air lock, and through another window in an interior door, she could see people in white moon suits working. The large, stainless steel machines had openings equipped with heavy gloves that the techs would use to reach into the chambers. It looked like a scene from a science fiction movie, not something anyone was likely to see on the Rez.