The Dark Trail

by J. C. Fields

  “Probably best.”

  “So now what?”

  “Can I talk to him?”

  “Don’t see why not. Follow me.”

  ***

  Monk was escorted into the interrogation room by two deputy sheriffs. Kruger watched as the mathematician sat down across from him. Since Monk was in protective custody, handcuffs and shackles were not being utilized.

  The math genius only stared at Kruger.

  “You left Covington in a big hurry, Dorian. Why?”

  “I want a lawyer.”

  “You haven’t been charged with a crime. Why would you need a lawyer? Are you guilty of something, Dorian?”

  “Then let me out of here.”

  “You’re being held for your own protection. Who was the guy with the shotgun?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Sure, you do. He wasn’t at your apartment selling magazine subscriptions. He had a concealed shotgun and if you had opened the door when he knocked, well…”

  “You’re speculating, Agent Kruger.”

  “No, I’m not. Why was he there?”

  Monk glared at Kruger with unblinking eyes. The former FBI agent returned the stare and displayed a slight smile.

  Thirty seconds into the staring contest, Monk blinked and said, “Release me or let me have an attorney.”

  “If we release you, we can’t protect you.”

  “I don’t know what your game is, Agent, but I don’t need protection.”

  “Then why did someone show up at your apartment to kill you?”

  “He obviously had the wrong apartment.”

  “No, my team saw him at your place the previous day. He knew you lived there. He was a hired gun, Dorian. Someone hired him to kill you. Care to tell me why someone wants you dead?”

  “Maybe a disgruntled student.”

  “Try again.”

  Monk leaned back, narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. “I have no idea. Let me out of here.”

  “Why did you leave Covington in such a hurry?”

  “I was done for the semester. Now, let me out of here.”

  Kruger stared hard at Monk and gave him a half smile. “Ah, I see. Done for the semester. Are you going back in the fall?”

  “That is none of your business.”

  Keeping his eyes locked on the mathematician, Kruger stood, creating a loud screech as he shoved back the metal chair. “Very well. I’ll talk to the sheriff.”

  ***

  The bandage above Jimmie Gibbs’ left eye drew Kruger’s scrutiny. He pointed to it and asked, “What’s that about?”

  Gibbs shrugged.

  Clark smiled as he looked at Kruger. “When the shotgun went off, our friend, Mr. Gibbs here, took several pellets to the side of his face. He didn’t even know he was hit.”

  Kruger walked closer to Gibbs and examined the bandage. “You could have lost your eye, Jimmie.”

  They were all meeting in Kruger’s hotel room. Knoll stood off to the side, his huge arms folded over his chest. Clark sat on the corner of the bed as Kruger stared at Gibbs.

  “Well, I didn’t.”

  “How’d you know the guy had a shotgun?”

  “I’d seen the move before in Afghanistan, the Taliban used to send guys into a crowd with a heavy coat on and a stiff left arm. The arm would be holding a sawed-off shotgun out of sight against the coat. This clown was doing the same thing.”

  “How many pellets hit you?”

  “The doc said five.”

  “They get them?”

  Gibbs nodded.

  Satisfied Gibbs was okay, Kruger turned and walked over to the hotel room’s window and stared out. “Monk is to be released tomorrow morning. Since he knows we’re here, we don’t have to be as secretive about watching him. Plus, the local sheriff has offered to have some of his deputies help with the surveillance.”

  Knoll spoke. “Do you trust him?”

  The side of Kruger’s mouth twitched. “For now. The positive side is it frees us up to check into this militia he told me about.”

  Clark frowned. “What militia?”

  Returning his attention to his team in the room, Kruger frowned. “After I spoke to the sheriff about releasing Monk, he told me a little more about them. They call themselves para-military patriots, but the way the sheriff described them, they’re more of a criminal gang. He thinks they started in Denver and migrated to Casper a few years ago. Drugs, human trafficking, stolen vehicles and cattle rustling are their preferred activities. No one knows who the leader is, but when they catch someone they suspect is a member, a well-paid lawyer from Casper shows up and the accused is bailed out immediately.”

  “Is the FBI field office in Casper aware of this group?” Knoll was now leaning on the small desk in the room.

  Kruger nodded. “They are but don’t have the resources to devote to an inquiry.”

  “How does this fit into our investigation of Monk?”

  “Good question, Ryan.” Kruger paused and looked at each man in the room. “JR and I have been batting around a few hypotheses. Monk has hidden his past fairly well, but JR found a few facts. We now know he was born in Casper and went to elementary school there. Beyond this information, there’s a gap from middle school until he goes to college.”

  Clark said, “Homeschooled?”

  “We think so. No proof of it, but it would make sense.”

  “So, what are you saying, Sean?” This from Gibbs.

  “What if Mister Dorian Monk is a member of a militia group? During his schooling he was indoctrinated with their hatred and philosophy and then sent out into the world.”

  Knoll chuckled. “That’s kind of farfetched isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it probably is, but why did Monk come back here, and why did someone try to kill him?”

  Chapter 22

  Wyoming

  Since the furnishings and personal possessions within the apartment were sparse, the search did not take long. Albany Country sheriff detectives completed their task in a few hours and left the place ransacked. Monk opened the door to his apartment and froze. The beginning of a migraine thumbed behind his eyes. This signaled another seizure.

  He quickly stripped off his clothes and stood under a cold shower, letting the cool water cascade over his face and head. Time slipped away as the headache transitioned into a seizure.

  When he woke, he was sitting on the floor of the tub knees pressed to his chest, his arms wrapped around them. The water still cascaded over him. Disoriented and shivering, he turned the shower off.

  After drying, he checked the time and discovered only an hour had elapsed. He quickly dressed, grabbed the keys to the Equinox, locked the door to the apartment and walked quickly to his SUV. Once inside, he found it undisturbed. Having his apartment searched gave him a sense of being violated. The normalcy of his SUV eased the feeling.

  As he sat behind the steering wheel, he searched the parking lot for his watchers. An Albany County sheriff’s car was parked next to the lot’s exit. He could feel the eyes of the policeman boring into him as the man spoke into his radio.

  Knowing the sheriff’s car could not follow him out of the county, he started the engine and drove out of the lot.

  ***

  “I appreciate you telling us, Sheriff. We can manage from here.” Kruger listened in silence and after a few moments said, “Yes, thank you.” He ended the call and moved toward the window of his hotel room. A cloudless sky and the sun at its zenith greeted him. After spending several minutes contemplating their next step, he left his hotel room and walked to Sandy Knoll’s door.

  When the big man opened it, Kruger said, “Monk just left the apartment. What’s the range of the GPS unit?”

  Knoll motioned him inside. When the door closed, he said, “You’re thinking old school, Sean. The unit communicates with three geosynchronous orbiting satellites, which allow us to know where the SUV is, what direction it is traveling and how fast.�
�� He held up his cell phone. “All that information is relayed to an app I have on this.”

  “Huh, glad my parents didn’t have one when I first started driving.”

  “Yeah, no joke. Mine would have taken the keys and locked me in my room.”

  With a grim smile, Kruger nodded. “Let’s go find him.”

  The four men split into two teams, Knoll and Kruger, Gibbs and Clark. Since Knoll had the GPS app on his phone, he led the way.

  Sixty minutes later, after traveling west on Interstate 80 for seventy miles, Kruger glanced at Knoll. “Where’s he now?”

  “About thirty miles ahead of us. He just made a turn to the north. Looks like he’s on US 287.”

  “Where does that lead us?”

  With a grin, Knoll said, “North.”

  “Ha, ha. Where north?”

  “It’s Wyoming, Sean. There isn’t much out here.”

  Kruger nodded. “I can see that. Are we getting close to mountains?”

  “Sean, we’re in the high plains. The elevation of Laramie is almost two thousand feet higher than Denver.”

  Kruger shot Knoll a quick glance. “Huh. Didn’t know that.”

  Knoll nodded. “We’re actually descending by driving west.”

  “What about north?”

  “About the same, until we get to the Shoshone National Forest or Yellowstone. The elevation increases there and yes, that means mountains. My guess is he’s heading to Shoshone.”

  “How do you know so much about this area?”

  “Did some winter survival training out here—about twenty years ago.”

  Kruger nodded and returned to staring at the barren landscape.

  Five minutes later, Knoll asked, “Your status is temporary right now, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. Why do you ask?”

  “Jimmie told me a few days before you officially retired, someone from HR contacted him and gave him a choice of three Field Offices that needed someone with his language skills. Phoenix, Houston and Santa Fe.”

  “All of those are good field offices. Is there a problem?”

  “Yeah, he’s not moving. Alexia makes good money with JR’s firm and he doesn’t want to leave their place. He told me since his sister died, he’s never felt at home anywhere. Their place near Stockton Lake does. Plus, he wants to raise their son away from big cities.”

  “I take it you feel the same way.”

  With a nod, Knoll continued, “Yeah, Linda and I are tired of moving, too. When we were both in the military, we relocated constantly until we bought our place in Arlington. Then when we bought the condo at the Lake of the Ozarks, we started spending more time there. We put the place in Arlington up for sale about three weeks ago and had a contract on it within two days. Linda’s in Texas now getting everything packed.”

  “Are congratulations in order?”

  Another nod from Knoll was his answer.

  “So, what are you trying to say, Sandy?”

  Knoll shot Kruger a quick glance and smiled. “Neither one of us have any intentions of moving if the bureau tells us to.”

  “Not very conducive for career advancement.”

  “We both know that and, quite frankly, don’t care.”

  “Okay.” Kruger’s attention was on the big man now, not the depressing landscape. “So, what does that mean?”

  “Before I say anything, what are your plans when this Monk business is over?”

  Kruger looked ahead and took a deep breath. “Nothing specific. We’re going to take a family vacation to South Dakota.”

  Chuckling, Knoll asked, “What the hell’s in South Dakota?”

  “My college roommate. We’ve kept in touch all these years and haven’t seen each other for almost a decade. He lost his wife to cancer about a year ago and I’d like to spend a few days with him. We want to show the kids Mount Rushmore and some of the other sights up there.”

  “After that?”

  Kruger did not answer.

  “Kind of what I thought. Jimmie wanted me to ask you a question.”

  “Seems we have some time on our hands right now.”

  “Now, remember, this is only in the conception phase. We haven’t got the bugs worked out yet, nor do we know where to get the financing.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “You know that after Jimmie left the Seal’s he worked for Joseph for a while, just like I did?”

  “No, I didn’t know that, but I always wondered about it.”

  “He really enjoyed it, as did I. The only reason we joined the FBI is because you asked us to.”

  Again, Kruger did not respond.

  “We’re thinking about setting up a private defense contractor company. I still have a lot of contacts with within the military who are at the Pentagon. So does Jimmie. Even Joseph agreed to help when he can.”

  “Sounds like a good plan.”

  Taking another quick glance at Kruger, Knoll said, “We’d like for you to join us when we do it.”

  Silence filled the rented GMC Denali as Kruger just stared at Knoll.

  The big man continued, “We have a hanger located at the Springfield Branson National Airport we’ll use it as our base of operations. We signed a six-month option on it last week. One of my military buddies is a pilot who agreed to join us when we pull the trigger.”

  “Do you have a corporate name picked out?”

  “KKG Solutions. We already have an LLC set up as our corporate entity.”

  “This appears to be far beyond the conception stage. You two are serious, aren’t you?”

  “Very. We already have the board of directors determined, a mission statement, we’ve filed with the Missouri Secretary of State and have an attorney identified as our legal counsel.”

  “Who is it?”

  With a grin, Knoll said, “An ex-Seal Jimmie knows who got his law degree after he left the service.”

  “So, what’s stopping you two from doing this?”

  “You.”

  “Don’t let me stop you.”

  “We aren’t, but we also knew you wouldn’t join us while still with the FBI. That, as they say, is just a matter of time now. You are an integral part of our plan. We want to offer services most private military contractors don’t offer.”

  With a smile, Kruger said, “I’ve never been in the military.”

  “Doesn’t matter. You have over twenty-five years with the FBI. We need your expertise.”

  “I don’t know…”

  “Like I said, we don’t have the financial backing locked yet and we need to conclude this issue with Monk. We don’t need an answer right now.”

  Kruger stared out the passenger window, his hand supporting his chin. Knoll couldn’t see it, but the ex-FBI agent displayed the slightest of smiles. He knew where to get the financial backing.

  Chapter 23

  Northwest Fremont County, Wyoming

  Nestled in a wooded area halfway between Lava Mountain Lodge and Fish Lake Mountain, the cabin could only be accessed on horseback or four-wheel drive. It remained in a trust created by Monk’s mother. As the only remaining member of the family, Monk, in effect owned the cabin. The thought of the land passing into the hands of the state, should something happen to him, never entered his mind.

  Monk parked the Equinox in front of the cabin and turned off the engine. His state of anxiety lessened as he stared at the structure. To him, this was home. The frequency of his seizures since leaving this oasis concerned him. No one could find him here, not even the men who had sent the cowboy assassin knew about this place.

  There was nothing to retrieve from the back of the SUV after leaving the apartment without luggage. His tension from the previous few days melted away as he stood inside the quiet cabin. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and relaxed. Time to get back to normalcy. First on the list, build a fire in the fireplace.

  As he transferred the wood from the storage bin next to the hearth and arranged it inside the firebox, he heard
the door to his cabin open.

  ***

  Knoll pointed at his phone. “After he turned west off 287 it appears he drove another eleven miles before stopping. The vehicle hasn’t moved for ten minutes.”

  Kruger looked at the phone. “How far?”

  “The turn is a few miles ahead. It’s starting to get dark, what do you want to do?”

  Silence filled the Denali as Kruger stared at the screen of the satellite phone. “You’re the guy with special forces training. What do you think?”

  With a grin, Knoll said, “Keep going.”

  “Then by all means, Agent Knoll, proceed.”

  It took the better part of an hour for the four men to navigate the dark trail leading to the remote cabin using the tracking app. With Clark and Gibbs abandoning their rented Ford Fusion, Gibbs now sat in the front passenger seat guiding Knoll. When they were half-a-mile from the location indicated by GPS, they donned the tactical gear Clark had brought when he arrived in Wyoming.

  The equipment included night-vision goggles, wireless headsets for their Motorola radios, utility vests, hiking boots, a backpack with evidence-gathering supplies, a shotgun and two AR-15 assault rifles. Clark took the shotgun with Knoll and Gibbs carrying the AR-15s. Kruger relied on his trusty Glock 19.

  Knoll led the way on what could now only charitably be called a trail, followed by Gibbs, Clark and finally Kruger. The path was surrounded by Lodgepole Pines with the occasional Spruce and Ponderosa Pine intermixed. As they approached a clearing, they could see a cabin in the green hue of the NVGs. Monk’s Equinox was parked several yards from the front entrance. No lights were visible through the two windows on either side of the door.

  When he saw the darkened cabin, hairs on the back of Knoll’s neck tingled. He signaled everyone to halt and gathered them around. In as soft a voice as possible, he said, “It’s too early for all the lights to be out. Something’s wrong.”

  Clark whispered, “Maybe he was tired from the trip and went to bed early.”

  Kruger shook his head. “I’m with Sandy. Something’s not right.”