"Yeah, but the game we're after shoots back," Blalock replied acidly.
"More incentive for me to be accurate," Wilson countered. "Tell me, FB-Eyes, what the hell are you complaining about? I'm offering to help you, and it sure looks like you're going to need a hand."
"Three against four does improve the odds," Ella agreed.
"Let me round up a few of my cousins," Wilson offered. "It won't take long, and then we'll outnumber them easily."
"No," Ella replied flatly.
"The ones I'll pick will never betray us, no matter what happens," Wilson insisted.
"Just get Paul. He's at my mother's house," Ella said. "Then it'll be four against four." She considered sending Wilson for Clifford, but she couldn't trust Blalock not to arrest her brother and she didn't have time to argue with him about that. "We'll sit tight, then move in at dawn. If we're lucky, they'll be half asleep."
As Wilson left, Ella turned to Blalock. "You still with us on this?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"Not really. You started this with your damn fool illegal bug. I think it's only right you see it through."
Blalock glared, then nodded reluctantly.
"I have some equipment-^I shipped it in. It should give us an edge."
Blalock smiled slowly. "I should have known you'd have something up your sleeve."
"Let's just say I came prepared."
"With what?"
"Flash-bangs and enough tear gas to choke an army."
"This is starting to look more like a workable plan." He smiled again, but there was no joy in it.
Ella led Blalock over to her pickup and unlocked the trunk.
It was nearly dawn by the time they were all ready, at the ridge east of the hogan. Ella gave Blalock four flash-bang grenades.
"What are those?" Paul asked, worried about his sister's safety.
"They're like enormous firecrackers. They're called flash-bangs because there's a flash, and a bang, and that's about it. But they do incapacitate, and that'll give us time to move in."
She picked up the tear gas canisters. "I'll use these. My goal is not to exchange gunfire anywhere near the hogan. I don't want a stray round to hit Loretta, and we have no way to warn her."
Wilson had been keeping watch; now he joined the others. "We have to move now. There's a pickup heading this way. It should be here in about ten minutes."
"Let's get to it," Ella said.
They split up, moving toward the hogan from four different directions. If the assault was simultaneous, the element of surprise, and their enemies' confusion, would all work to increase their chances of success.
Ella watched the hogan, then glanced at her wristwatch.
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Another minute passed. Right on time, the loud flash-bangs landed to the left of the hogan door, where two of the men were talking. The concussion wave rushed past Ella like a wall of air, and she flinched.
Ella hurried forward, shotgun ready. The two men were lying facedown, stunned, and would remain that way for a while, but there were two others, undoubtedly behind cover somewhere. She crept silently through the brush, stalking the missing pair.
She advanced cautiously, searching for signs of the two guards. It was as if the earth itself had swallowed them. She kept her senses sharp and her weapon ready.
Finally she heard a barely perceptible shuffling noise, about fifteen yards to her left. Ella froze, listening until she heard it again. Pinpointing the sound, she saw a rifle barrel poking through some scrub bush, aimed at the hogan.
She moved closer. With the rifleman in her sights, Ella opened her mouth to order him to surrender, when a shot cracked through the air. On instinct, she dove to the ground, rolling and firing a round at the gunman in front of her. She didn't hit him, and he was gone before she reached solid cover.
The shot had come from the direction of the hogan. Ella crawled forward. Abruptly she saw Clifford staggering away from the door of the hogan, clutching his chest. Blood poured through his fingertips.
For a moment, Ella couldn't breathe. When had her brother come here, and how? The world seemed to spin out of focus. With effort, Ella shook herself free of the anguish that knifed through her as Clifford fell to the ground.
Blalock advanced toward her brother, pistol in hand, ready to shoot again. Ella fired into the air, shouting, "Don't!" The thought that Blalock had been their enemy all
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along turned her blood to ice. She brought her pistol to bear, intending to shoot Blalock, then noticed the horrified look on Blalock's face as he stared at the body on the ground.
Blalock stepped back, shock etched plainly on his face. Ella realized he hadn't known who he was shooting at. Her brother had created a disguise, making use of shadows and an ordinary wig. As usual, Ella had recognized him anyway—but Blalock hadn't.
Hearing a car engine start up, Ella spun around. The two gunmen had reached a Jeep at the bottom of the rise. As they sped away, she felt relieved—she wouldn't have to contend with them now. She started running toward her brother, but before she'd taken more than a few steps, she suddenly heard the metallic rasp of a shotgun shell being fed into its chamber.
"Stop." The whisper-soft voice had come from directly behind her. "He's a dead man, Daughter-in-Law. It's over for you and for your family. We tricked you. My men will double back and take out the rest of your companions. You've lost."
Ella slowly turned around to face Randall Clah. "Why are you doing this?" She didn't want to believe he was involved, but the truth was there in the twilight before her. His eyes gleamed unnaturally, illuminated by the approaching dawn.
"For power. More power than you have ever dreamed of. It's right there, just waiting for us to take. People like you hold us back. You're afraid. You don't even try to use the advantages that real magic can give you."
"You've lacked for nothing all through your life, Randall, and your family lives very comfortably. What more do you want?"
"All the abilities you and your family have. For genera-
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tions, your ancestors have been able to command respect and fear. Then you and your brother came along. You both waste your powers by not using them to get what you want. Your loss is our opportunity."
Ella knew now why he had never liked her, and had opposed her marriage to his son. "My brother is a Singer. How can you say he's thrown anything away? He's using everything he knows, all that he is, for the benefit of the tribe."
"Neither of you has developed your abilities fully. You both saddle yourselves with useless rules. That's why we're stronger, and why we will win. After your clan has ended, the People will come to us. We'll be in control, giving or withholding our help as we see fit, and destroying those who get in our way."
"Jealousy and envy are poor excuses for what you've done. You'll still lose. We have many relatives. What makes you think this legacy, handed down through generations, will die with Clifford and me?"
"You two are the only ones with any real power. First we destroyed your brother's reputation. Now we've taken his life. That order will be reversed in your case, but the outcome will be the same. In the end, we'll be the ones people respect. The Dineh will consider us heroes for getting rid of your family and their hold over us."
He raised his shotgun. A single rifle shot rang out. For an instant she wasn't sure what had happened. The pain she expected did not come. She glanced down at herself, noting in muted shock she wasn't injured. Looking up, she saw incredible surprise in her father-in-law's eyes. Without a sound, he fell to his knees, then crumpled to the ground, lifeless.
Wilson stepped out of a thicket of junipers, rifle still smoking. His eyes were narrowed, and he stared at the
corpse before him transfixed. "I couldn't let him kill you/' he finally managed.
Stunned, Ella walked over to Randall Clah's body and took the shotgun. Outrage, and a sense of being cheated, spiraled
through her, choking the air in her lungs. It shouldn't have ended like this. Justice hadn't been served. The law enforcement system he had betrayed should have had the final word, not a carefully aimed bullet.
Her father-in-law had understood nothing about her family. Her family had never coveted power. Randall Clah was a prime example of why they'd done their best to avoid it. And as far as her own so-called powers, they were those of any seasoned law enforcement officer. Randall had given his life for nothing at all.
Bitterness filled her, but she forced it aside as her instincts came back in a rush. Ella glanced around warily. "The other two are doubling back," she said quietly.
Blalock rushed toward them and spoke reassuringly. "No, they're long gone, along with the two we stunned with the flash-bangs. The guys in the pickup saw the chief fall, then hauled their buddies into the truck and took off like a lightning bolt. I was too far away to try for a shot. I would have gone after them, but..." He glanced back at the hogan. "Paul's gone for help. We need a medical team." He cleared his throat. "I bandaged him and stayed with him while Paul freed Loretta, but I think it's already too late."
"My brother is dead?" Ella's voice came out a broken whisper, and suddenly she was empty inside.
Blalock hesitated, his face lined with strain. "I hit him square in the side. How was I supposed to know he'd be there? I knew it wasn't one of us, and hell, it didn't look like him!"
"I know what happened. Don't blame yourself."
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From the look on his face, Blalock had expected recrimination or rage from her, and her calm answer had stunned him. "How did he know we were going to be here? Was he behind his own wife's kidnapping?"
Ella suppressed a desire to shake Blalock. "You're putting it together all wrong. As usual." Now her tone was razor sharp, and he flinched.
Ella joined Loretta, who was kneeling beside Clifford and holding his hand. Although her brother's eyes were closed, and his chest scarcely moved, Ella knew he would be all right. She sighed audibly in relief. The wound was serious, but her conviction was nothing short of certainty. It might have been wishful thinking, or a conclusion drawn from instinct, based on experience. Still, she knew her brother would live.
Loretta glanced at Ella, tears in her eyes. "He came for me. I knew he would."
Ella placed a hand on Loretta's shoulder. The naked sorrow on her face made her ache with compassion. "He will be all right," she assured her sister-in-law. "I've never been more certain of anything in my life."
"He has to be," Loretta answered, lifting Clifford's hand and brushing it with a kiss. "He just has to."
As fear for her brother faded, confidence filled Ella. She pulled Blalock aside, anger and determination blending to a lethal combination in her mind. "If the chief was involved, others high up in the department may be part of this as well. We have to keep everything under wraps for now."
"We need reinforcements."
"We bring in outsiders, and the perpetrators will go to ground. We'll never find them. We can't let that happen." She considered it carefully. "On paper, Clifford was the man you were after, right?"
"The initial evidence all pointed to him. You've got to admit—"
Ella held up a hand, interrupting him. "Report the shooting. Tell them you're unable to get answers from Clifford, and you've placed his wife in protective custody since she's a witness. They'll come after her, count on it." She'd started to say more when they heard the wail of the emergency vehicle.
Wilson stayed with Ella while Blalock went to guide them in. "Clifford was at your mother's when I went for Paul," Wilson confessed. "He knew something was wrong, and your mother confirmed it. I had to tell him what we were planning. It was his right to know."
Familiar doubts crowded in her mind, but she tried to dismiss them. It was hard to keep anything from Clifford. Once he decided to wring information from a person, he always succeeded. He'd done it to her often enough when they were growing up.
"What I don't understand," Ella said slowly, "and find hard to forgive, is that you didn't tell me he would be here. How could you have withheld something as vital as that?"
"I intended to tell you, but I wanted to do it privately. I was afraid Blalock would try to arrest him and blow everything."
Ella stared off into the distance, trying to get her temper under control. She didn't need anger to confuse her thinking. She needed cold rationality. "We'll discuss this later," she said coldly.
Ella saw Chester Bowman emerge from the rescue squad vehicle and breathed a sigh of relief. The Bowmans had been friends of her family for generations. She would be able to get a special favor from him.
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Ella went to Loretta and whispered a few quick words in her ear. Loretta nodded, then got up and took Blalock aside. Ella crouched beside Chester, who was just opening the medical kit. His partner was retrieving other supplies from the squad vehicle.
"He'll make it," Chester assured her.
"Not if his enemies find him again. That's why I need you to do something," she said.
Chester regarded her with interest, but said nothing. The lines around his eyes sharpened.
"I need you to pronounce him dead in front of FB-Eyes," Ella said. Blalock wouldn't go along with her if he thought Clifford was still alive.
Chester nodded slowly. "I'll do it. Your brother healed my mother and my little brother. I'm glad for the chance to help him. My partner will go along with it too. I'll tell him in our language, so FB-Eyes won't understand."
He tended the wound as best he could, then spoke hurriedly to his assistant in Navajo. The men appeared to work urgently for several minutes. Finally Chester stood with a somber air and sent his assistant to retrieve a sheet from the ambulance. "We have to take him to the morgue. He's dead."
Blalock's face went as white as chalk. He stared at the body as the EMTs covered it with the sheet. Ella could feel his tension. This could mean the end of his career with the bureau.
"We'll get through this, Blalock. It wasn't your fault. But you've got to keep Loretta in protective custody. That's the only chance you'll have to explain what happened here. Take Paul with you too, to help. I doubt he'd leave her with anyone else right now anyway."
Blalock nodded robotlike, as if he was glad to follow someone else's lead. "There'll be a review board about this shooting. I have to find answers for them."
Ella could taste the bitter sorrow of a man who saw a lifetime of effort eradicated by one single moment. As far as Blalock was concerned, Ella was the best person to explain Clifford's abilities with disguises, back up Blalock's story, and justify the shooting.
Ella led the way to her truck, pulled out some gear, then handed Blalock the keys. "Pick up Paul, then take Loretta to my mother's home. She'll help you. Drive my sister-in-law off the reservation, up to Durango. Stay at the ski lodge. And try to get my mother to go with you. Tell her about my father-in-law's involvement if you have to. Tell her not even the police can be trusted. I can't guard her now. If all else fails, get Paul and Loretta to help kidnap her."
"How long do you want us to stay undercover?"
He hadn't questioned her orders, just the particulars. Now she'd be able to count on him. Fear was a great motivator. "A few days, no more. I'll get word to you as soon as possible. If you have to stay somewhere else, leave a message telling me where I can reach you."
As Blalock left with Loretta, Ella returned to the emergency vehicle. Clifford needed medical attention, but she wasn't sure how to get it for him under the circumstances. "How's he doing?"
Chester pulled the sheet away from Clifford's face. "He doesn't need my help," Chester said, his voice filled with awe. "His body is healing itself."
"What do you mean?"
Chester lifted one end of the bandage taped loosely over the wound. Although her brother had taken a nine-millimeter round through his side, the bleeding had already
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stopped. Chester opened his palm and showed her the bullet. "His body, or the movement of carrying him, pushed the bullet right out. When my partner and I placed him in the ambulance, I checked the wound again and found this on the surface."
Ella stared down at her brother. He was unconscious, but his breathing was even. "He needs careful nursing, and time to heal. Like this, he's easy prey. I'm not sure where to hide him so he'll be safe."
"Will you trust him to me?" Chester asked. "I can take him to my mother's. She'll know what to do."
Angela Bowman had taught Rose Destea all she knew about herbs. She was traditionalist, and fiercely loyal to what Clifford had been trying to do. "That's an excellent idea," she agreed. "But how will you explain this emergency call to your superiors?"
"False alarm," he answered with a shrug. "We'll bring back doughnuts and everyone will be satisfied."
Ella gave him a grateful smile. "I won't forget this."
Ella watched the emergency vehicle until it disappeared from sight. "It's just you and me now," she said to Wilson.
"I know."
"Do you regret your involvement with my family?" she asked, holding his gaze.
"No, not at all. Your family may be the target now, but the threat is to all of us," Wilson answered. "To be honest, I'm not a fighter by nature. I'm glad I'm an academician. In my world, intellect rules; the environment is more civilized, gentler. Had this issue not endangered the very people whose children I hope to teach, I would have done my best to avoid the entire thing. But there are some things worth fighting for."
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''Yes, you certainly can be quite a fighter at times/' she said warily.
He gave her a puzzled look. ''What's that supposed to mean?"
"Well, I saw how you handled yourself at the chapter house, and I've heard of another instance too."
"Like when?" he asked, puzzled.
"Peterson mentioned he had to pull you off someone once," she said, keeping her voice casual.
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