by Doug Ball
“Sounds solid to me. Anything else?”
“Yeah. The man ordered a dozen more long guns and 5,000 rounds of ammo with 30 magazines. Put 10 percent down on the order. Sounds like the war has just begun and the army is being recruited.”
“You got that right. Get with Chuck and both of you keep moving on this. Get help from Phoenix PD and anyone else you can find to stake out the preppers shop. I want to talk to the tall man.” Tan scratched an itch on his leg.
“Okay, boss. You doing any good?” He didn’t sound like he expected a positive answer.
“No. Catch ya later. Keep me posted.”
“Will do.” The phones went dead.
Abdul turned onto the dirt road. He said, “I heard. Sounds like a good lead to me.”
“All we need is the tall man.” Tan reclined his seat and closed his eyes. “Wake me when we get to the turn off for the kill site.”
“Tan, we here.”
“Where?” He looked around. Low scrub covered maybe 20 percent of the ground. The rest was wide open. As he checked it out again with the shock of a murder scene eliminated, “This place is worse than the Phoenix area desert, isn’t it?”
“It be pretty ugly, but I loves the desert, boss. They’s just something about it that draws me like iron to a magnet.”
“Poetic. Very poetic.” Tan’s head swiveled as he took it all in.
To the right, two ruts barely discernible wandered into the otherwise unmarred dirt. “Whoa. Stop this thing.”
Tan got out and walked back to the ruts. Fresh tracks of a vehicle with all terrain tires stood out like a paper cut. One set of tracks going in and another coming out. The tracks on top threw gravel a bit more than the ones underneath. Someone was in a hurry to get away from this place. Tan positioned himself on the down sun side of the tracks so he could see the shadows in the tracks better, and walked alongside them. The tracks were spotty due to the tall grass grown in the ruts, but he was able to catch enough to stay with them.
After a few twists and turns he came to the spot, hidden from the more traveled road where the car and Abdul were, where the tracks ended. Foot prints meandered all around the spot. He found one spot where a man had relieved himself, another where shoes were changed, and a print of a foot only wearing a sock. “Abdul,” he shouted, “Come here. Bring the camera and the radio.”
“Comin’, boss.”
“And, don’t walk in the ruts.”
“I know dat, boss.” He worked hard at sounding insulted while he was changing the landing point for his next step.
Tan walked wide around the area, finding another spot where a man had relieved himself and partial tracks of four men headed toward the killing field. Abdul caught up, handed Tan the camera, and held out the radio.
Tan said, “Call Tim and tell him to get his CSI crew back out here. There’s more good info here about the shooters than at the scene.”
“Me call?”
“Yeah, you. I’m going to follow these tracks.”
“Okay, but I don’t know nothin’ ‘bout radio procedure.”
“Just call for Tim and get moving.”
“Yes, sir.” Abdul walked off away from the evidence scene and stuck the radio up near his face, pushed the button, “Hey, Tim, this here’s Abdul. Come on.”
There was no answer.
“Hey Tim, this here’s Adbul. Boss man want to talk to you.”
“Dispatch to unknown user of this frequency. Identify yourself.”
“Look, lady. I done tole you, this here’s Abdul. Calling for Special Investigator Brown trying to talk to Tim, the CSI dude.”
“CC4 to Dispatch. I have this. Thank you.”
“Go ahead CC4.” There was frustration in her voice.
“What’s up, Abdul?” There was laughter in his voice.
“The man got some new stuff out here. Need the CSI team to come back.”
“Where’s out here?”
“Where all them folks was killed. Look like we found tracks of the killers.”
“I’ll get them rolling and I’ll join you in thirty minutes or so. See ya.”
“Yes, sir. Come on out. Bring a friend.”
Abdul looked at the radio and then went looking for Tan.
Just over a rise in the land, there was a drop of 15 feet or so into a gully. Abdul saw Tan down the eastern edge of the gully a good hundred yards or so. He was watching the bottom of the gully as he walked and would every few steps work himself back and forth a bit and cock his head like he was looking for something.
“Hey, boss. Tim’s on his way with the posse.”
“Great. Wait there and watch out for foot prints or anything else that might be significant. Matter of fact, why don’t you get up on that rise to the east and keep an eye on me and the car. Give me a shout when you see a vehicle or dust headed this way from any direction.”
Tan kept walking toward the murder scene. The throwaway phone in his pants pocked buzzed. “San José, how’d you get thru all the way out here,” he answered.
“Santa Gabriella, Mexican circuits work better.”
Tan stood in the January sun wondering what was up now.
“Tan, there is a rumor you are targeted by someone on this side of the border. You must be important. $5000 for you dead or alive.”
“That’s nothing new. Borrago had a price on me until it backfired on him. I’m sure I’m on a few radars.”
“This one is serious. The rumor continues with the news of three old hands at committing murder looking for you and the bounty.”
“Oh, goody. Start the rumor that if they even so much as look at my family I will kill them in the slowest, most painful way I can think of.” With a touch of his fingers, Tan tapped his gun.
“I will do that, my friend. Be safe.”
“You, too.” The phone went dead. Tan closed the cheap flip phone and returned it to his pocket. In the background he vaguely heard a sound like denim sliding across leaves.
He started walking again. Whispers of sound rattled the silence behind him. He stopped. The sounds stopped. He moved. More whispers. He stopped. Silence, except for a raven in the sky. He turned to face the sound as he pulled his sidearm. There was nothing there. He moved toward the car. The whisper returned. He looked down. A twig had caught in his boot laces and was dragging on the ground. He removed it and continued to the scene without the whispers behind him.
‘I guess I’ll be jumpy until this is all over,’ he thought as he patted his automatic again.
He ran out of tracks. “Someone has brushed out the tracks from the scene to here,” he said to a raven overhead.
As he looked around, the crime scene tape was bright yellow about 100 feet ahead of him. Then he saw his own tracks not five feet after the end of the shooters’ tracks. “I missed them by that little when I walked around the scene looking for their pathway out. Well, now we have it.”
Abdul’s voice broke through the squawking of the raven.
He turned to see Abdul pointing toward the pass where a dust cloud was headed their way. A second rooster tail of dust appeared. He thought, ‘One of them is for me.’
Walking back, the investigator tried to call the governor with no luck. “No signal out here, stupid. You know that. We need to get on those Mexican circuits.”
The first car was Tim. The second was Tank and his jacked-up, off road special. Dented, little paint, scarred, with tail gate missing, but he loved it. After all, he built it the way he wanted his truck to be.
Tim and crew of two went to work after a quick briefing from Tan. Abdul and Tank were sent in Tank’s truck, to start nosing around the joints in the area. “Keep your eyes and ears open like you did on the Borrago case and watch each other’s back.”
8
One week later
“Governor Reeves, I have told you where we stand on the border killings at least twice a day for the past week. I really don’t need your reminders to keep me on the case. We have set up surve
illance at the gun shop using Phoenix and Maricopa County officers. They have notified us that this office will have to pay for any further man hours starting yesterday. I have two men doing a six man job there now. Your calls to El Presidenté have only gotten hateful responses and phones slammed in your ear. Our illustrious President is still mad at Arizona and will no longer answer your calls. I’d say offhand, Arizona is still in trouble with the illustrious combo of President and El Presedenté and the only way out of that trouble is going to come from Arizona and not our President or El Presidenté.
“What’s more, I have spent at least an hour a day in this office saying these same things. Something has got to change. I am losing weight and my hair is turning gray. I’m such a grouch, my wife almost hates to see me come home. So, I am taking the next two days off to make up for last weekend when I worked. Chuck will run the office. Leon will bring you a report at 1600 each day. If you need me to chew on, don’t call. If there’s an emergency, call. Any questions, Governor?”
“Yes, just one. Who would you recommend to replace you?”
“Josie.”
“Let’s get serious, Mr. Brown. You cannot dictate to me when you will work and when you will not. You will not tell me there is nothing more you can do. I will have this matter cleared and the perpetrators in jail soon, or I will replace you and your whole gang.”
“Be my guest. I have had two good job offers since this case began. Having said that, I do wish to continue on this case which I feel is going to blow up in our faces within the next couple of weeks. This was not a one-time thing. There will be more of these massacres, maybe two or three, and then there will be demands from someone. That’s my position and my prediction.”
“You have one week for that to be proven or the case solved. If not, you can hand in your resignation or get fired by this office.”
“Sounds like a plan to me. Call and leave a message if you really need me.” Tan turned and walked out the door, saying, “Bye,” to Josie as he went out to the hall and turned for his office.
At his office, Leon, Chuck, Bruce, and Lenny were sucking coffee and chomping on jelly filled power pills. Chuck had a glob of jelly on his tie. Being the only one wearing a tie, it seemed somehow appropriate. “I am gone for two days. Leon, you up to some surveillance?”
“Yeah. I even got a comfy chair to sit in.”
“Okay, you and Lenny keep an eye on the gun shop for the next day. Work out your own sched and get it done. Chuck, you and Bruce take over after that. I’ll be back in three days. That’s Thursday for you that can’t count days.
“Questions?” The way Tan said it dared them to ask.
“Yeah,” Leon said, “who watches the office?”
“The answering machine.”
“Gotcha.”
“Oh, yeah. You get the privilege of updating the Gov every day at 1600.
“Gee, thanks.”
“Make yourselves scarce unless you absolutely have to be in this office for a very good reason. I can be reached if it’s really needed. Call, hang up, call again.”
“You leaving us?”
“Not of my own accord. Gov’s about ready to fire all of us. Let’s stay outta sight and let him to his governing for a spell. See ya all on Thursday, 9 AM, here. Bright eyed and bushy tailed, or something resembling that.” He turned and walked out.
The four that remained looked at each other, Chuck shrugged a shoulder, and they all left. Leon turned out the lights and locked the door as the last one out.
Patagonia
Two days later
Two green crew cab GMC’s left the highway and traveled down Harshaw Road out of Patagonia to a place that had been checked out three days before in a different vehicle and from another direction. At a subtly marked turnoff the two trucks turned and traveled a couple hundred yards on a barely discernible pair of tread marks. Once out of sight of Harshaw Road they stopped under the edge of a ridge and covered the vehicles with prepositioned camo netting. The eight men gathered their gear from the back of the trucks, checked weapons, and moved to positions on the two washes making an approach on Paymaster Spring, where they waited for 30 hours until the sound of feet crunching gravel could be heard.
Unknown to them, in one wash a second group of folks, mostly dark skinned, were slowly slogging their way to the watering hole. No weapons were in sight, just tired, worn out people being led by a young, well-built man. A very pregnant young woman brought up the rear. She was not having fun.
In the other wash a third group of eight men, all in good condition, walked briskly along with large, full packs on their backs. Each had a sidearm and a semi auto rifle, most of which were AK 47’s. This group was fresh and alert with a point man thirty feet ahead of the group and a tail-end-charley thirty feet behind. This group had discipline and was watching the surrounding terrain like they expected an ambush, but didn’t really think it would happen. Neither northbound group knew the other was there. There was high ground between the waiting group and the washes making it impossible to see each other. Each would hit the ambush spots at about the same time.
Williams, Arizona
In Williams, the Grand Canyon train backed into the loading area to the north of the town center. Three passenger cars, two diners, and a staff car were positioned to load the VIPs who were sitting comfortably in the bleachers awaiting the tourist trap phony western characters to arrive and put on their imitation gun fight comedy routine. The stoker watched the pressure gauge as he relaxed for a few moments. He loved his job on this old steamer. His father had worked the last steam engine in regular passenger service years and years ago. Now it was his turn and his life was fulfilled by this job.
The president of a major bank in California leaned over to his wife and said, “This had better be good. I could be making big money today instead of sitting here waiting to be entertained by a bunch of amateur buffoons with guns and then taking a long ride on a smoky, old train with holes in the seat covers and coal ash flying all around.”
The wife replied, “Yes, dear,” and went back to people watching, checking out the fashions on the other ladies.
Paymaster Spring
The tall man in charge of the first group heard about guns in the wash from the point man and sent a messenger to the point man watching down the wash the coyote and his lumbering group had appeared in not seconds before. The messenger came back, “A group is coming up their side also. No guns. They want to know if you want a man or two to assist?
“No.”
“Okay, I won’t return. That was the deal. He will start shooting after our first shot.”
The group of armed men was seen coming around a bend 150 yards downhill.
Williams
The marshal in all his western attire, put on a terribly phony swagger as he moved into the cheaply built scene supposedly representing the main street of a western town and began the show with, “Where’s that danged outlaw Wilbur Keats. He done robbed the bank last night and I gotta recover the townfolk’s money or they gonna fire me.”
Nobody laughed.
Paymaster Spring
Down south, the very tired illegals were within 50 yards of the spring, each gathering a bit of energy at the call of, “Water just ahead,” from the coyote in the lead. Their jugs were almost dry and their feet hurt. A promise of water and rest gave them strength for a surge in speed.
The group reached the water and relaxed. The coyote pulled a bladder out of his pack and set it under the trickle of water to fill. The pregnant woman at the end was still moving up the wash when to her left came the first shot of the twin ambushes. The tall man had pulled the trigger on carnage.
Williams
The make believe outlaw stumbled like he was drunk out of the front of a saloon. The men ended up with a shoot-out and everybody headed for the train.
Still no laughter and hardly a smile.
Paymaster Spring
The area turned into a cacophony of gunfire and screams
. One of the eight with guns got his finger on the trigger and got off one round before he was put out of action. All the others went down without firing a shot. That one round went through the calf of the ambusher standing next to the tall man.
The first round at the spring wounded the coyote before he could pull a dinky .380 Taurus out of his jeans pocket. The others died screaming. The pregnant woman was not shot. She was stripped, but not raped after the leader said, “Leave her alone. Send her south in her shoes.” He handed her the bladder the coyote had been filling. It had a quart or so of clear water. “That way. Tell them the governor says you are the last one to be left alive. Send no more north or they will die.”
He gave her a not too gentle shove back down the wash.
She stumbled, caught herself, and began the long trudge back to the border. Then she remembered seeing a AzBP truck parked a couple of long miles back on Duquesne Road. She would go there.
Williams
The whistle and bell on the train rattled the serenity of this high mountain Arizona town and the train began to roll. A hundred and forty VIPs sat in the most elaborate cars the train company had as it rolled under I-40, past the train barn, and into the woods, if you want to call Junipers woods. Grand Canyon Village waited on the other end of the ride.
Paymaster Spring
The tall man checked each of the eight men with packs. Two were still breathing. He finished the job with his side arm and began pulling the packs off the bodies. Each was filled with drugs and a bag of food. He and the other three men took the packs and joined the other men at the spring.