Without thinking, Ansel stepped forward and hugged him. “Thank God, you’re all right. I thought that thug was going to shoot you. Did Cyrus escape?”
Reid stiffened in her embrace and pulled away. “You know Cyrus Flynn?”
“Of course. He’s Cullen’s nephew. He pushed me into the pond when I was five.”
Reid shook his head. “Wow, I had no idea.”
“There’s no reason you should. I never told you. You didn’t catch him?”
“I will.”
“Reid, what are you doing here in the first place?” Ansel demanded.
He looked around the hall. “We need privacy. This way.” Abruptly, he steered her through the open bedroom door.
He didn’t answer her question, but she suspected what was coming. “Listen, I would have called you, but...”
“I don’t care about that.”
“What’s wrong?”
Reid released her forearm and shut the door. The hubbub from the hallway became a dull drone. “I want you out of this fiasco right now. I’ll tell Outerbridge you’re leaving. You’ll ride back to Lacrosse with me.”
Ansel wasn’t surprised, considering what had happened, but did she want to leave Parker so soon?
“Reid, I think I should see this through. I can learn more information about what’s going on. I don’t expect you to stay.”
His face darkened. “It’s too dangerous. Things are going down that you’re not aware of.”
“I wouldn’t doubt that, but I’ve already found out some of Outerbridge’s little secrets.”
“Such as?”
“The microchip. It came from inside one of the gray rings all the ERT are wearing. They’re actually dosimeters used to measure high-level radiation.”
“I already know that. The chip analysis came back last night.”
“But I know why they’re wearing them. They’re worried about high radium counts. Some of the fossils stolen from Utah sites are dangerously contaminated with uranium deposits. Exposure to a cache of these bones for more than one minute can kill people, Reid, and they’re not even concerned about anything but themselves. The important thing is, if Chief Flynn was taken by poachers, he could be exposed and suffer from radiation poisoning.”
Reid shook his head. “I think Chief Flynn may have bigger problems then radiation sickness or poachers, Ansel.”
“What are you talking about?”
A heavy knock sounded at the door, and both of them gazed at the barrier suspiciously. Reid finally reached out and opened it. Agent Outerbridge stared at them omnisciently. “Am I interrupting something?”
Reid frowned. “As a matter of fact, you are.”
“Tough.” He walked into the room. “Close the door, Detective. Time for a little chat.”
Reid looked at Ansel. “You’d better wait outside.”
Ansel crossed her arms. “No, thank you. I have a few things to discuss myself.”
“Since you two obviously know each other, I think you should stay,” Outerbridge agreed. “Especially since both of you have compromised my sting operation and put my task force in jeopardy.”
Ansel didn’t like the way Outerbridge stared at her in particular. She knew why he was singling her out, and her cheeks flared red. Parker. God, if Outerbridge knew that she’d spent part of the night with the pilot, Reid would blow a gasket. She didn’t dare leave without being able to defend herself.
Reid’s grin was flat. “Which operation? The fossil smuggling rouse you’ve pandered to Ansel or the real one?”
Outerbridge’s head snapped toward him. “The only FBI mission I’m in charge of is called Operation Dragon. My task force is working under the direction of the Department of Justice, and we’re investigating a fossil poaching ring operating throughout Montana, Utah, and Wyoming. That’s it period.”
“Bullshit,” Reid insisted.
Outerbridge pursed his lips. “Anything else you’ve heard is wrong, Lieutenant Dorbandt. You’ve just exposed an FBI presence in this area with your Lone Ranger act out in the hallway. Thanks to you, I’ll be lucky if I can complete the illegal fossil buy I’ve worked hard to accomplish for months. I’ll be discussing that with Sheriff Combs and the State Attorney.”
The threat flew over Reid’s head. “I’ll loan you the quarters, Outerbridge. I have every right to pursue suspects who have stolen a Lacrosse County police Chief’s vehicle, pulled a weapon on a sheriff’s officer, committed an aggravated assault on a civilian, and run from law enforcement during an arrest. Quit blowing smoke up my ass.”
Ansel had listened to all the posturing she could take. “Wait a minute. What other FBI operation are you talking about, Reid?”
The stare Reid flashed at Outerbridge was hotter than a branding iron. “The one probably cooked up by the U.S. Attorney in Washington. Tell us about Frank Carigliano.”
Outerbridge didn’t twitch a muscle, but Ansel could see the cogs turning. She knew that anything coming out of his mouth would be a lie.
“You’re way off base. I don’t know him,” he said.
Ansel focused on Reid. “Who is he?”
“Carigliano is the operation director of Swoln Stockyards where Cyrus Flynn works. I just found out from Montana Department of Criminal Investigation files that in 1999 Carigliano was suspected of calling the shots for the beating-murder of a deputy county attorney from Sidney whose body was dumped across the North Dakota line. Nothing was ever proved, but five witnesses fingered him, two of them drug dealers.”
Outerbridge simply shrugged. “That has nothing to do with Operation Dragon.”
“I’m not done. The murdered attorney, Lewis Lovell, was involved with a local banker in a money-laundering scheme. Sicilian mafia drug monies were siphoned into the bank and processed out to purchase stolen objects of art, antiquities, and fossils. Converting illegal cash assets into legitimized collectibles with a history and verifiable pedigree was a good business until Lovell wanted out and threatened to expose the whole scam.” He stared at the agent. “The illegal fossil dealing is right up your avenue.”
Outerbridge snorted. “So what?”
“Swoln Stockyards is owned by a dummy corp called Allied Beef Exchange. Tracing the real owners is like unraveling a bird’s nest, but the corporate trail goes out of the country through Helena, then into Canada. From Canada it goes to Vancouver, British Columbia and heads toward the Caribbean, probably to a mafia cartel operating in Belize. Mafia drugs like cocaine, heroin, and marijuana coming into this country take the reverse route from Canada, then land in Chinook, Montana for distribution throughout the U.S., Mexico, and Latin America.”
“Still has nothing to do with my task force,” Outerbridge insisted.
The startling wealth of information Ansel had heard caused her head to spin, but certain facts stuck in her brain like colored tacks. She pinned Outerbridge with her own stare. “So who’s Jessie Frost?”
Reid’s head twisted toward Ansel. “You know Jessup Frost?”
Ansel watched the FBI man before speaking. He was nervous, unconsciously rubbing his right thumb across his index finger. “No. I overheard Dixie telling Outerbridge that Parker shot Jessie Frost. Obviously the FBI knows who he is. Let me guess. He’s a poacher digging up bones for eventual sale to the mafia, isn’t he?”
Outerbridge swallowed. “I’m not allowed to answer that. It’s restricted information.” He turned and headed for the door.
“I went to the Dawson County College where the T-Rex foot was stolen,” Ansel continued. “A librarian told me that a man with red hair and a beard had been there a few days before the robbery. I didn’t think anything about it until now. It was Cyrus Flynn. He was casing the place. Both of them obviously work together since they’re at this hotel. Probably came to Billings because of our Allosaurus sale through Accent on Antiquities.”
The agent ignored her, but Reid’s smile was broad as he watched Outerbridge try to make an escape. He had the agent by the scruff of the
neck. “I’ll tell you who Frost is, Ansel. He’s a foreman at Swoln Stockyards and an ex-con heavy into methamphetamine like Cyrus. You think the Feds didn’t know that? Or about Carigliano and Allied Beef? This is all about drugs. We’ve been suckered.”
Ansel was furious. She’d opted to help the FBI because she believed she was saving plundered fossils, not to be used for some backdoor poaching bust when the real agenda was to trap drug runners through a lesser felony charge. Like convicting Capone on IRS tax evasion crimes rather than for being a multi-murderer.
As Outerbridge reached for the door knob, Ansel stepped up behind him. “I want the truth. Is this operation nothing but a Department of Justice ploy to go after a drug cartel?”
The agent spun around. His face was bright red, and he fixed her with a glare. “All right, Miss Phoenix. I’m not ashamed of doing my job any way I can. Operation Dragon is a double-edged sword. We’re after a fossil poaching ring that sells its stolen goods to a drug cartel and gives them a way to hide their illegal cash assets. Hopefully, we’ll bring down a two-headed monster: a fossil smuggling ring and a drug pipeline. As far as I’m concerned, a felony is a felony. I don’t care how I get one as long as it sticks.”
“You should have been honest,” Ansel parried.
“If you’re squeamish about details, then you were just giving me lip service when you spouted your indignance over black market bone smuggling. Either you want to stop the destruction of fossil artifacts or you don’t. Fortunately, equivocation about the methodology isn’t an option in my line of work.”
The rebuke shocked Ansel, but didn’t negate her outrage over the deception. “I get it. That Great White you told me you wanted to filet is a big drug player. That’s why fossil dealers like Billy De Shequette at Accent on Antiquities will skate past felony charges if they rat out the mafia drones buying bones from them for the money laundering scam.”
Reid jumped in. “Exactly. Want to tell us who the big fish is you’re after?” When Outerbridge failed to answer, he said, “I’ll guess. It’s the high ranking state official in Helena that Attorney Lewis Lovell threatened to expose before he was set up to die by Carigliano.”
A light went off in Ansel’s head. She gazed at the agent who stood stonily by the door. “When you gave me your pitch about the operation, you told me that the fossil poachers sold a T-Rex skeleton for four million dollars to somebody. Who was that?”
Outerbridge shrugged. “A Dutch corporate businessman.”
Ansel sighed. “Was the skeleton radioactive?”
A tic jumped on Outerbridge’s left cheek. “We believe so. You don’t expect a cartel to care about what happens to people, do you? It’s all about money with this scum.”
“Hokay, somebody was the go-between for an international black-market sale of that magnitude. Who brokered the deal stateside?” Reid demanded.
“I don’t know.”
Reid moved up to Outerbridge’s face. “You might as well tell me. Sheriff Combs can phone the U.S. Attorney of Montana, too. Right now you’re withholding information that could lead to the identification of felons who may have Chief Cullen Flynn as a hostage. You’re actions are obstructing justice and interfering with a major county investigation. Play ball with me, Outerbridge.”
Outerbridge held his features rigid for several long moments, then his line-etched face relaxed. “I’ll tell you on one condition. Information goes both ways. I understand you have Chief Flynn’s missing Jeep under sheriff’s guard down in the parking lot. I could confiscate it because it’s part of my investigation, but I don’t need the hassle. I want copies of all the Lacrosse county forensics and vehicle contents reports on the Jeep sent to me electronically. I also saw the digital, reconstruction photo of the museum poacher’s face, but don’t know who he is or how he fits into all this so I want to know immediately what you get back from your tips and sources.”
Ansel’s mouth dropped open. “You have his picture?” she asked Reid.
“That’s why I’m in Billings. It’s been in circulation for several hours now.” He glanced at the agent. “It’s a deal. Now who is the prime target from Helena you’re going to bring down?”
Outerbridge smirked. “Lewis & Clark County Attorney Cody Masterson. I understand that you know his ex-wife quite well, Lieutenant.”
Chapter 28
“Thoughts are like arrows: once released, they strike their mark. Guard them well or one day you may be your own victim.”
Navajo
A loud knocking reverberated through the hotel door. Ansel rolled over, staring blearily toward that general direction as she tried to orientate herself. After Reid and she had cornered Outerbridge, she’d collapsed in bed to grab a few hours of sleep before he would drive her back to Big Toe. She looked toward Dixie’s bed. The covers were twisted but empty. She had yet to see or hear from the woman. The raps resumed.
She wiped the fuzziness from her eyes and slowly trundled to the door in her wrinkled dress clothes. “Who is it?” No sense taking chances with Cyrus on the loose.
“Parker.”
She was too tired and cranky to be excited about his presence. “What is it?”
“I need to talk to you. I haven’t got much time.”
Ansel looked at her wrist watch. It was almost nine a.m. Parker must have finished the group huddle with Outerbridge scheduled the night before. She was no longer in the FBI loop. Reid had told her he had an appointment to catch before they left town, and he wouldn’t be back until after eleven. She wished they’d already departed so she could avoid seeing Parker at all.
“Ansel, open up.”
Despite her better judgement, she unbolted the door. When she opened it wide, Parker stood eyeing her warily. He was wearing a fresh outfit of jeans, black tee, and boots. He looked tired, too. “Can I come in?”
“Sure.” She retreated into the room. “I’ll be back in a moment.”
Parker stepped in and closed the door while Ansel headed for the bathroom. Once inside, she locked the door. He wasn’t going to slip inside again so easily. She used the toilet first and then brushed the foul taste in her mouth away with some of Dixie’s toothpaste and her index finger. Leaving home without the minimal toiletries was a major inconvenience. A review of herself in the mirror revealed a nightmare vision of an Indian wraith with spiky hair, smeared makeup, and two matching pouches of dark FBI baggage under her eyes. Parker certainly wouldn’t be pawing her clothes off in passion, she mused.
He knocked on the bathroom door. “Come on, Ansel. You can’t hide in there.”
Ansel opened the door. “Are you sure you want to talk? You won’t like what I say.”
Parker reached out to touch her. She expertly dodged his hand and slid past him. He turned and watched as she walked stiffly into the center of the room. “Why are you mad at me?”
She faced him, raising her eyebrows and crossing her arms. “Cyrus Flynn. Jessie Frost. Frank Carigliano. Allied Beef Exchange. Sicilian Mafia. County Attorney Cody Masterson. Should I go on?”
Parker sighed. “You’re blowing this out of perspective. My job is to fly a chopper. I don’t contribute to the game plan.”
“But you knew the game plan, Parker. I didn’t. It’s bad enough that I was tricked into this operation with all those honorable platitudes about bone orchards and the noble fight against wanton destruction of fossil artifacts, but you really played me for all I was worth.”
“That’s not true. It may seem that way, but it’s not.” He came toward her again, a pained expression drooping his usually stoic face.
Ansel back stepped. “Don’t touch me. You all shared the scoop on me in one of your neatly-labeled, federal files. You had to know about my childhood accident and who was involved. When were you going to tell me that Cyrus Flynn was tied into this mess? Did you ever think of my feelings about finding out or seeing that sicko bastard after what he did to me?”
Parker halted, dismayed by the venom in her voice. “You’re right
. I should have told you even if it compromised the op. I was wrong and I apologize. How can I make it up to you?” His eyes were beseeching.
Ansel trembled with rage and rubbed her arms briskly to calm herself. He was trying to appease her, but it wasn’t enough. A cold, slithering snake of reason lay coiled in the back of her mind that she couldn’t chase away, and it hissed to her that Reid Dorbandt would have never done this to her. Not even if they’d just met and jumped into an intimate relationship. Reid would have told her about Cyrus. Warned her.
Unlike Parker, it would have come down to a matter of honor with Reid, not servitude to a higher force. Parker had decided long ago that currying himself to Anglo men in power advanced his rank in the pecking order. To keep Outerbridge’s secret about the drug cartel connection, Parker hadn’t dared to mention Cyrus to her.
“Get out, Parker.”
“You don’t mean that.” He rushed forward and grabbed her shoulders before she could avoid it. “You’re tired and upset. I’ve got to leave in half an hour. The task force is flying back to Glasgow. I’m not going with this hanging between us.”
Ansel didn’t pull away this time, but she didn’t dare look at him. One glance would start melting her resolve. Already his hands were like red heat on her body. She focused on the floor.
“I mean it. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
“Then we won’t. I’ll call you like we planned.”
Tears started at the corner of her eyes. She squeezed them shut. She refused to let him see her cry. “Just go,” she ordered.
Ansel sensed his body shift forward as he placed a tender kiss upon her lips. She stood unyielding, determined to be stone against his fiery liquid sexuality. Her lack of response discouraged him, and Parker pulled away.
“Be safe, Ansel.”
She listened as his footsteps treaded across the carpet and the door opened. The soft click of it’s closing was like a smooth stiletto piercing her chest, and it angered her that was so. “You, too,” she whispered.
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