Jack Del Rio: Complete Trilogy: Reservations, Betrayals, Endgames

by Richard Paolinelli

  “Do we move in now and grab whoever we can?”

  “And accomplish what?” Callum asked bitterly. “All we’d get at this point are two isolated cells with very little intel gained on either group here or in Ireland. Leave our man in place as long as he feels he is not compromised. Right now we need to find Cassidy and get her the hell out of there before they find her first.”

  Callum’s phone rang and he snatched it up before the second ring could sound.

  “Yes,” he snapped, then he sagged in relief. “Thank god. Where did you find them? Well, I’d say it was the perfect day for a trip to the park then. Get them to the safe house in Newbridge straight away, don’t bother going back to her flat in Dublin first. We’ll meet you there in four hours and try to figure out where to go next.

  “And Will,” Callum continued. “Someone knows a lot more about us than I’m comfortable with. Keep an eye out and don’t trust anyone you don’t personally know. You hear me, laddie.”

  Callum hung up the phone more gently this time and grabbed his coat.

  “They found them both alive and well,” Callum reported. “Come on Jimmy, I want to be wheels up and heading for Dublin within the hour.”

  * * * * *

  The Newbridge Greyhound Stadium was a madhouse on Fridays, the only day of the week the dogs ran the track in front of hundreds of spectators, gambling on their ability to pick a winning dog.

  But for the other six days of the week it was deserted and far enough outside of town to not attract a lot of traffic. Which made the small house just outside the barrier of bushes near the backstretch a perfect location for a safe house. No one could approach without being seen long before they reached the front door and easily eliminated.

  “Mumy,” the little girl bundled up in a blanket next to the fireplace asked her mother. “Why can’t we go home?”

  “We will soon, Jackie,” Laura Cassidy answered, the smile on her face meant to reassure her daughter. “We’re just going on a bit of a holiday first.”

  “Here lassie,” a red-headed agent, one of the three that had literally scooped them off the street in Dublin just two hours before, worked on getting the fire going to warm up the chilly room. “Hold this matchbox for me while I get the wood set up for our fire.”

  Cassidy nodded her thanks to the agent for helping keep her daughter distracted. Hopefully she would never realize the danger they were all in. The other two agents, dressed in matching dark suits, were stationed at windows on either end of the house, looking outside for any potential threat.

  There had only been one word uttered when they had collected their charges.

  “Burned.”

  It was enough to not alarm the child while telling the mother all she needed to know for now. After they had left Dublin behind Cassidy had been told Callum was on his way and would meet them in Newbridge. Then she would find out how and why. More importantly, she would find out what the next move, and where it would take her, would be. But for now, they would have to wait for another hour or so, before Callum arrived. Which meant keeping little Jackie distracted.

  “Car coming,” The agent stationed at the window nearest the main road announced.

  “Too early for the boss,” the red-head remarked unnecessarily, placing himself between the front of the house and the two females in the room as he placed a hand on his sidearm. The other two agents had their weapons out, one attempting to reach Callum as he moved to a window closer to the front door and watched the vehicle approach.

  Just as the car - a black American-made sedan with tinted windows - got parallel with the front of the house, the passenger side windows rolled down and bullets from a pair of automatic weapons unloaded on the house. Cassidy dropped on top of Jackie, the red-headed agent dropping on top of her to shield them both, as the other two agents took shelter from the fusillade.

  When they heard the sound of the car speeding away, both men closer to the door returned fire through the windows. But while they were certain they had scored hits they could not tell what impact their shots had. One agent threw open the door to race for their car and pursue their attackers. But he made no attempt to get to the car once the door was open. The last few shots had not been aimed at the house, but at the tires of the only vehicle they had. There would be no pursuit.

  “Anyone hit?” he demanded, turning back into the house and closing the door.

  “We’re all okay over here,” the red-head reported after checking Cassidy and Jackie for injuries.

  “I’m fine, mate,” the third agent said. “We got lucky.”

  “This time. Better call Callum. He’s not going to take this well. I’ll call the locals and see if they can run down our friends before they can ditch the car.”

  Cassidy held her daughter tight, feeling the little girl shaking as she tried to dry the tears. She was shaking just as much as Jackie and couldn’t find it in her to lie to the child and tell her it was going to be okay.

  * * * * *

  Callum was shaking too, with rage, barely an hour later as he reviewed the carnage at the Newbridge safe house for himself. More bullet holes than he cared to count riddled the exterior of the house and the car. How all of that lead was flying around without hitting anyone was nothing short of a miracle.

  But what enraged him more than an attempted on his people’s lives was the speed that the hit was carried out.

  “Too fucking fast, Jimmy,” Callum growled. “If they weren’t followed from Dublin…”

  “They say they weren’t, boss,” Castleton replied, as angry as his boss. “These lads are too good at their job to let someone follow them.”

  “I know,” Callum said, the growl no less fierce. “Which means someone is too well connected to our office and leaking intel to the wrong sort.”

  “So anywhere we have set up…”

  “Is probably already under surveillance with someone waiting to hear where to go to finish the job,” Callum finished bitterly. Cassidy and her daughter, along with the three agents were still inside the house, waiting to move to another location. The exterior was surrounded by the agents Callum had brought with him from London and Dublin along with every local LEO in the area. Callum stewed over what to do next as he looked at the carnage and its aftermath only looking away when Castleton’s phone rang.

  “Castleton,” his agent answered. “Where? I see. Keep us posted. Thank you.”

  “Let me guess,” Callum said flatly. “The found the car, burned out and no sign of who’d been in it or where they went.”

  “In a field near Milltown,” Castleton confirmed. “Near an intersection. No one saw the car abandoned and if they had another car waiting for them no one has any clue which direction they took. They could have driven right back by here to go back into town and no one would know it.”

  “Damn,” Callum muttered, pacing back and forth a few times, lost in thought. After a few trips back and forth, Callum pulled up suddenly and reached for his own phone.

  “Jimmy,” he ordered. “Get an unmarked jet to Dublin, two pilots only. Have them refuel when they get there and be ready for a long flight. I’ll tell them where when we get up in the air and tell them I want this completely off the books. No filing any flight plans of any kind. It’s time we stayed well ahead of these bastards for a change.”

  “On it, boss.” Castleton replied, turning away to make the arrangements as Callum scrolled through his contacts until he found the number he wanted and dialed it.

  “Dave, lad,” Callum said when the call was answered. “I hope it’s not too early over there?”

  “Just finished breakfast,” Archer replied from his kitchen. He was still unpacking but was at least able to have a home-cooked meal. “Miss me already?”

  “Aye, lad,” Callum said, trying to match Archer’s light banter. “I have to pay for my own beer now that you aren’t here to lose at darts. Actually, I was wondering if you’d had your little sit down with your President yet?”

 
“Did that yesterday. Almost as soon as I got off the plane from London.”

  “You’ll be seeing him again today by chance?”

  “I doubt it, why?”

  “I was wondering if you’d ask him a question for me, lad?”

  “Shoot.”

  “Can he tell me exactly where I can find Jack Del Rio?”

  “That’s not funny, Tom,” Archer said darkly. “You know Jack died four years ago.”

  “Did he? I’ve heard differently. Maybe you should ask your President, or maybe that Doyle fellow at Secret Service, about Jack’s current state of health.”

  “And why would I do that?”

  “Because Jack’s daughter is in danger of being killed,” Callum said quietly. “And Jack may be the only chance we have to keep her alive, lad.”

  FOUR

  “Chief Shirley?”

  “Yes, miss…?” Shirley asked irritably.

  “Hannah Sanders, Arizona Independent,” the woman introduced herself, showing Shirley her press ID.

  “You’re far from home down in Phoenix, Ms. Sanders,” the Chief said not unkindly. “And I said all that I can say right now about the investigation when I addressed you and your colleagues a few minutes ago.”

  “I understand that,” she said, letting go of her badge and pulling out a pen and pad. “I wanted to ask you about something else.”

  “Oh?” Shirley replied, regarding his interrogator carefully. She was almost as tall as he was, attractive and very fair. He doubted she spent much time outdoors. If he were a younger man by twenty years he’d probably give a thought to asking her out. Now he’d settle for asking her to let him go on his way in peace. “What might that be?”

  “The man that drove away in the green pickup,” Sanders said, closely watching the Chief’s face for any sign of reaction. “He’s been spotted at crime scenes on the area Reservations multiple times. He’s never in uniform and no one seems to know who he is, even officers in your own department. Is he an officer in the NNPD?”

  “Ms. Sanders,” Shirley began carefully. “I never discuss personnel issues with the press, not even to confirm or deny employment. All I will say is that all NNPD officers, including myself, are always in uniform when on duty. As you noted, the man you are asking about was not in uniform.”

  “Is he a consultant?”

  “We don’t employ paid consultants,” Shirley answered with a half-truth. “We simply don’t have the budget for that kind of luxury.”

  “Is he part of the Executive Protection Services then?”

  “You’d have to ask Frank Tso that question.”

  “Chief, the man was here. He is not Navajo or a member of any other Native American tribe. And he clearly was welcomed to this crime scene and has been so in others. He isn’t attached to any other law enforcement agency that I’ve contacted. What was he doing here?”

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Sanders, I cannot comment on investigations that are still in progress nor on anyone involved – or not – in said investigation. Now, if you will excuse me?”

  Shirley turned on his heel and strode to his SUV. He was on the road back to Window Rock in seconds, leaving a very frustrated reporter in the swirl of dust his tires had kicked up.

  Through narrowed eyes, she watched the Chief’s car disappear over the horizon before striding toward her own car.

  She had set up a temporary desk in the paper’s Flagstaff office, but instead of turning west to go home, she turned east and set off along the road to Window Rock as well. Frank Tso would be in Window Rock and she could make it there before he went home.

  She didn’t expect to get any better answers from him than she had from Shirley. But she knew without a doubt that she was onto something here and, one way or another, she was going to get some answers.

  * * * * *

  The sun peeked over the eastern edge of the canyon that Jack Del Rio now called home. Located in a grey area that might have belonged to the Hopi as much as it might have belonged to the Navajo. Neither tribal council objected when Del Rio had approached them about purchasing the land once he had located it. Neither tribe thought it was worth anything.

  But to Del Rio it was as precious as a gold mine. There was only one obvious way into the canyon and it hadn’t cost him much to cut a dirt road into it. But what appealed to him was the way time had eroded some of the bedrock walls of the canyon. On one side, a natural stable had been carved into the wall, needing only a fence line of one hundred yards to close off a suitable area for the horses he’d decided to raise here.

  On the other, with some inspired design, he was able to utilized the carved out pockets and half caves to create a two car garage, where both his trusty old ’68 pickup parked alongside his brother’s 1964 Mustang. He’d managed to purchase it second hand from the car dealer that had bought it from his brother’s estate sale four years before with no one the wiser that Del Rio was the new owner.

  Next to the garage area was a piece of architecture he was sure no one had duplicated, at least not for several hundred years before. The only part of his house that was constructed of wood was the front façade. Everything inside was rock walls and floors of tile-covered concrete. Plumbing and electricity had been a challenge, but within a year his home was complete.

  He called it The Fortress and it was aptly named. No one could approach unseen and no one other than he knew of the snug, but passable, cave that led from the garage to an opening on the other side of the mesa the canyon was cut from. He could slip a horse through the tunnel, or even flee on foot if the situation required, and be long gone before anyone knew it.

  The torrential rains that occasionally hit was a concern until he’d engineered a way to redirect the water into a small lake area for the horses. And the real payoff had come when he’d decided to sink a well inside the canyon. No one could have ever guessed there was an aquifer within two hundred miles. But they hit one on his land. With the surplus available, Del Rio had run the pipeline out to the road so that all could share. In a water-starved land, free water was a god send and Del Rio refused any and all attempts at compensation.

  Standing on his front porch, sipping hot tea and watching the sun rise, was all the compensation he needed. He was perfectly content.

  He heard the car turning onto the road that led into the fortress and quickly identified Frank Tso’s official car. The man in charge of keeping the President of the Navajo Nation safe favored a dark green Dodge Charger. With as much territory that the reservation encompassed, he needed to be able to get from point to point as quickly as possible.

  “You’re up early,” Del Rio remarked as Tso pulled up and got out of his car. Even with the muscle car, it was a good two and-a-half hour drive out to Del Rio’s place from Tso’s Window Rock HQ.

  “Your fault,” Tso said, stifling a yawn. “Seems like you’ve caught someone’s attention.”

  “Oh?” Del Rio said scowling. “Official?”

  “Worse. A reporter out of Flagstaff.”

  Del Rio relaxed a little. Reporters were little more than a nuisance. Official interest meant someone with government connections from his past. He wanted nothing more to do with that kind of attention.

  “So what’s his interest in me?”

  “Her,” Tso corrected, taking a swig from the coffee mug he’d been working on since leaving Window Rock. “All she knows is there’s a white man living somewhere on the Res that he’s been helping out the NNPD. She wants to know more.”

  “She have my name?”

  “Just John Rivers, beats me how she wormed that one out. I expect it’s only a matter of time before she figures out where you hang your hat and shows up here. Also figured I’d give you a heads up and see if you want us to run her off for you before she does.”

  “Has she asked Terry about me?”

  “Yep. He gave her the official no comment-comment and didn’t give her any further explanation as to why you’ve been out to some of the crime scenes.”


  Del Rio thought about it for awhile and couldn’t see how she could be more than just a nuisance. Maybe if he talked to her, cooked up some kind of story, she might go away.

  “No, don’t run her off,” he said finally. “In fact, go ahead and tell her where to find me. I’ll deal with her and then let you and Terry know what I came up with in case she calls to confirm.”

  “What are you going to tell her?”

  “Haven’t figured it out yet. Maybe some part-time consultant on some forensic issue or something. Hopefully enough to make her decide there’s nothing to see here. Should work, as long she doesn’t connect me to the first time I was out here.”

  “I don’t think she was in the area back then,” Tso confirmed. “Should work. By the way, Terry asked me to update you on that body up near Kayenta the other day. Turns out it was a lover’s triangle. He was messing around with a girl and her boyfriend didn’t care for it.”

  “Seems odd he would have let his rival take him out that easy,” Del Rio replied, puzzled. “The kid barely put up a fight.”

  “Oh it gets better,” Tso said. “Turns out his killer was also his cousin and he didn’t know he’d been found out until right before the knife work started.”

  “Nice,” Del Rio said with a shake of his head. “Well, thanks for the heads up. I’ll watch out for our reporter friend.”

  “You do that,” Tso said as he returned to his car. “Hey, Jack, I almost forgot. A couple of guys with Irish accents were asking questions about you, about Jack Del Rio, around Window Rock yesterday.”

  “I’m a popular guy. What were they asking?”

  “Mostly about five years ago, what happened to you, things like that. Nothing too suspicious, but I thought I’d mention it under the circumstances.”

  “Well, hell, I don’t know anyone from Ireland,” Del Rio replied. “They tourists or something?”

  “Don’t know, they were pestering some of the secretarial staff in Window Rock then they left. No one has seen them around since.”

  “Never a dull moment this week,” Del Rio quipped. “Let me know if they pop back up on the Res and see if you can find out a little more about them if they do.”