I took the phone outside the tent and walked up to the high point where the spotting scope was still set up. I took a long look at the compound. The bunkers were badly damaged, but I couldn’t see the section of the wall that was down. It must be on the other side. There were at least twenty people on the catwalk around the inside of the walls; many seemed short enough to be kids. I found the juniper in the scope, but I couldn’t detect the wooden plank below it even though I knew exactly where to look. Maybe if they didn’t have the sheriff and Linda Surrett in the compound, their leader would be more willing to talk.
I called Margaret at work. When she came to the phone, she said, “I’m so glad you called. I heard about the attack on the compound last night. The reporters said no one on either side was badly hurt, so I didn’t worry much. Are you all right?” There was an undercurrent of reproach in her voice. I hadn’t called her before collapsing in my cot last night, and she heard about the action from the morning news.
“Not a scratch. There wasn’t even an exchange of gunfire. We forced them out of the bunkers with tear gas before we burned them. Any news about our New York project?” The SEC and FINRA should have arrived at Bank E & A last night at the close of business. I wasn’t sure if it would have made the news yet.
“It wasn’t on the national news, but the Bloomberg news station mentioned the bank this morning. It just said that the SEC would have an announcement at 1:00 eastern time about Bank E & A, and that their shares had not traded in London overnight. Maybe you can call Heather and find out first hand what’s going on.”
“Good idea. Do you know her direct number?” I asked.
Margaret gave me the intern’s direct phone number at Bank E & A, and I called.
“Risk Management Department, this is Heather Potter,” she answered.
“Hi Heather. This is Mike Damson. Did things go as we expected yesterday when the FINRA got there?”
“Hi Mike. They sure did. There must have been forty examiners here. They got here after most of the traders had gone for the day. Henry Griffin was still here, and they spent a lot of time with him. About half an hour ago, the New York police arrested Florence Halks. They handcuffed her and led her out of the trading room in front of everyone. I felt a little sorry for her. She was crying like a baby. There were news crews downstairs that took pictures of her being put into a police car.”
“I guess they wanted to make a point. What do you think will happen next,” I asked.
“I talked it over with my professor last night. He explained that the regulators will make a capital call on the parent firm when they opened for business in Britain this morning. The regulators estimated last night that the losses on the natural gas derivatives exceed the net excess capital of the US subsidiary. If Bank E & A North America is not recapitalized by close of business, the NASD will liquidate it. The regulators will not let a firm operate without the required capital, and they have zero patience about getting more cash in when they make a capital call. I’ll probably need a new job tomorrow,” she said.
It would be a shame if Henry Griffin and his girlfriend, Florence, sunk the whole firm, but that business was out of my hands. I asked, “Is there any indication that Griffin is going to be arrested?”
“Not yet, but his assistant claims that they made him turn over his passport last night before they would let him leave the building. They certainly know about Dr. Thatcher’s death. I’m sure they’re suspicious about it, plus they know he tried to cover up the trading losses because he approved the changes to the computer models that figure profits.
I thanked Heather for the update and went looking for Allen Peabody. I wanted to hear what he’d learned about last night’s actions from the bug that Linda was concealing. I had the beginning of a plan that might get the negotiations started.
CHAPTER FORTY
I found Allen walking by himself outside of the staging area. He had the receiver for Linda’s transmitter to his ear, and he was staring at the Freedom First compound.
When I walked up, he smiled and said, “Hi Mike. Good job last night. No one was seriously hurt. Linda was called out to treat some minor burns for the men who were fighting the fires. She treated a dozen people who’d lost their sight, but of course, their vision returned as soon as the flash shock to their retina was past. She got credit for healing the blind, and they now give her the freedom of the compound.”
“What about negotiations. Has she got them to talk yet?” I asked.
“The fact that no one was seriously hurt didn’t help bring them to the table. Howard, the patriarch of the clan, claims that we avoided killing anyone because they have our leader, Sheriff Taylor. He said that we’d never rush the compound with the sheriff in their custody.”
“What does Linda have to say about that?” I asked.
Allen looked at the compound and back at me. “When she was alone, she cussed about the sheriff being so stupid as to end up their prisoner, but she thinks they now understand that we’re not about to go off and leave them alone. She doesn’t think they know that four deputies were killed in the first confrontation, and she decided against telling them.”
“You have no way of communicating with her, Allen?” I asked.
“Sorry,” he said. “We were afraid that all the alternatives might compromise her cover. She couldn’t use an earphone without fear of it being discovered. She couldn’t have a hidden speaker, because we wouldn’t know if she were alone when we tried to contact her. Her safety is completely dependent on their belief that she’s a Red Cross nurse.”
“If I could get the sheriff out of there, do you think it would help move things along?” I asked.
“Damn right it would. They don’t want any of their kids hurt, but they don’t understand that we share that objective. Howard thinks that the only thing that is restraining us is the risk to Sheriff Taylor.”
“What would happen to Linda, if I got the sheriff out?” I asked. The chances of getting both of them out seemed poor since they were kept in separate houses.
“She’ll be OK. I don’t think Linda would go with you anyway. She feels she’s building confidence with the leaders, and they seem to think of her as a neutral,” he said.
“Good. Maybe I can do something tonight.” I walked back to the compound to find Captain Horn and tell him of my plan to attempt a rescue of the sheriff.
Captain Horn greeted me warmly and asked, “What’s up Mike? You look like you’ve got something working inside that big head of yours.”
“I found a wooden cover over some kind of hollow underground area when I was crawling toward the compound last night. The wooden door was camouflaged to hide its location from a casual observer, but I crawled right over it. Linda Surrett claims that the main compound door wasn’t opened to let the raiders back into the compound after their attack on us night before last. She thinks they must have another way in. I’m guessing that I found it by accident last night.”
“Are you proposing an attack through this passage?” he said with obvious concern. “Even if you surprise them, there’d be a lot of casualties.”
“No attack; I’m hoping to get the sheriff out of there. Without a hostage, they might be willing to start talking. I know which house, even which room he’s in. I think I can use the night vision equipment to sneak in.” I watched as Captain Horn considered the proposal. I wasn’t certain that he wanted the sheriff out of the compound. Sheriff Taylor was certain to take charge of our efforts, relegating Captain Horn to second fiddle.
“It sounds very dangerous,” he said after a long pause. “I can’t order someone to do that.”
“I’m a volunteer,” I said with a smile. “I’ll just follow the passageway and see where it leads. It may be locked on the other side or maybe it’s not really a route inside. I’ll return if I can’t get to Sheriff Taylor safely. It’s a low risk strategy. I’ll be able to see them first because of the goggles.”
“No offense Mike, but if we do this, mayb
e someone younger should go,” he said. “At least Chad should go with you to keep you out of trouble.”
I took his comment as agreement and said, “Good, I’m confident that Chad will volunteer too. We’ll go in as soon as the compound seems quiet for the night. They may expect us after midnight because of last night. I think we’ll try it earlier.”
About 10:00 that evening, Chad and I were dressed in our black coveralls, our faces and hands darkened. Two deputies from the Sedona office joined us in our crouching walk through the ravine. The two deputies were to stand guard at the entrance to the tunnel in case we needed covering fire as we exited. Chad and I carried pistols and the deputies had M-16’s. All four of us used night vision equipment. The Christmas lights that had been hastily hung along the compound’s walls the previous night had been augmented with a weird collection of lamps and light bulbs. However, we’d be entering through the trap door that was far outside of the area illuminated by the newly installed lights.
Chad and I planned to reconnoiter and withdraw if there was any chance of being seen. We needed to know if the trap door actually hid a passage that would lead us into the compound. Even if my guess about the passage was correct, we didn’t know where in the compound it would come out, and we didn’t know if it would be guarded.
Linda had said that the sheriff’s right leg had been shackled to a brass bed using his own handcuffs. Chad had checked with the Flagstaff office for information about the handcuffs. He’d secured the correct passkey to open them from the office at Page in case we were lucky enough to get to him. Linda had also let us know that, while there didn’t appear to be a specific guard on the sheriff’s room, the house was occupied by several families. There was no chance that the house would be empty at night. Fortunately, there was a window in the sheriff’s room that would let us reach him without going through the house if we were able to sneak into the compound. We’d brought stun grenades and tear gas to drive the residents from the house if necessary and to cover our retreat in the tunnel. I carried an extra gas mask for Sheriff Taylor.
The trap door opened easily to reveal a tunnel with sandstone walls and ceiling. It appeared to be the same stone that had been used to construct the walls and houses. It probably dated to the original construction in the nineteenth century. We dropped into the tunnel pulling the trap door shut behind us. Even with our night vision equipment, the tunnel was pitch black except for a faint glow in the area immediately around the closed trap door.
Chad and I took out small LED flashlights. They were designed to cast such a faint light that it was invisible without the goggles. The tunnel was straight, floored with smooth dirt. It pointed straight toward the Freedom First Ranch compound. Its roof was too short for my height. We both walked in an uncomfortable crouch as we moved quickly toward the compound. We held our pistols, but I wouldn’t use mine unless there was no choice. Killing anyone inside might make beginning negotiations even more difficult.
My perception of time and space was distorted. After a distance that seemed so long that I thought we might have passed completely through the compound, we came to a rough sandstone staircase. At the top of the stairway was a stout wooden door that had no handle on our side. The door was firmly locked, and by looking through the cracks between rough-cut boards, we could see an iron bar had been used to secure the opening. Chad pointed to the hand forged iron hinges on our side of the door. Oil dripped from the top hinge indicating that the door might have been recently returned to service after a long period in which it had not been needed. We listened carefully at the door for several minutes without hearing a sound.
Chad reached into his pocket and pulled out a pocketknife. He smiled at me as he reached up and pushed on the lower end of the iron pin at the center of the upper hinge. With a slight scraping sound, the pin moved up enough for Chad to take it firmly in his right hand and pull it out. He did the same thing to the lower hinge. It resisted more and made a loud scraping sound, but it came out with a few minutes of exertion. Chad held onto each hinge and pulled the door toward us creating an opening just wide enough for us to pass through. After a long look at the darkened room beyond the tunnel, we realized that it was a storage room that held shelves of home canned vegetables, sacks of flour, and other foodstuffs. No one was in the room.
We crept through the room until we reached a small window. The compound was completely dark. The residents must have decided that the only lights should be on the outside of the walls, so that lights from the compound would not silhouette their sentries. It was a lucky break. There was ample starlight for our night vision goggles, but not enough for the guards on the walls to see us.
It took us only three minutes to move quietly along the compound’s walls to the window behind which we believed the sheriff was held. The wooden framed window opened easily, and we saw the sheriff sleeping on his side with his face towards us. He was covered with a quilt except for his head and his right foot. The bare foot was fastened to the bedpost by his handcuffs.
Chad climbed through the window and took the handcuffs off the bed and the sheriff’s foot. He gently roused the sheriff and pantomimed getting dressed and climbing through the window. The sheriff didn’t understand or react until Chad realized that without the night vision goggles; the sheriff had no idea of what was happening. Chad whispered instructions. The sheriff dressed quickly, and Chad helped him across the pitch-black room to the window. Chad boosted him through the window, and I helped him to the ground. We led the sheriff carefully through the blackness to the storage room without anyone exchanging a word. Once we were in the tunnel, Chad replaced the bolts in the tunnel door. We’d freed the sheriff without anyone in the compound being aware of our presence, and there was no reason to let the residents know how we’d done it.
No one spoke until we’d gone halfway through the tunnel. Chad led the way with the sheriff following him through the blackness by putting his hands on Chad’s shoulders. I followed a few steps behind them, covering our rear.
Finally, we were far enough from the storage room for Chad to say, “Sheriff, we’re in a tunnel that opens well outside the compound. We’ll be out in the open in a few minutes. Until we’re out in the open again, we should be able to safely use flashlights.” He put one in the sheriff’s hand and we both lifted our goggles.
“Thank you Chad. I can’t believe that you came right into that fort without being discovered. Who else is here?” He turned to see who the man behind him was.
“It was Mike that found the tunnel and planned your escape,” Chad said.
The sheriff look puzzled until his flashlight pointed at my blackened face. “Mike? What on earth are you doing here?”
“I just came up to help anyway I could,” I said. It was clear that I was a civilian as far as Sheriff Taylor was concerned. I’d been suspended, and he certainly hadn’t expected me to be part of a rescue attempt. He didn’t say anything else at the time. It was half an hour later when we were back in the staging area that he sent Captain Horn to find me.
The sheriff’s face was serious, but he didn’t look mad. “Mike, I’m grateful for your help in freeing me, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave the area immediately. Go back to Sedona and stay away from contact with the Sedona office until your thirty days are up. I’ll ask Chad to drive you home since you didn’t come in your own car. He’s probably needed to cover the Sedona office anyway. Captain Horn was mistaken when he rescinded your suspension. It’s a matter that’s outside either of our hands. Thanks for your help, goodbye.”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
I turned from Sheriff Taylor without a trace of expression on my ugly face and walked away. My mind was numb as I locked out my feelings so no one could see my anger. On an intellectual level, I’d always assumed that the sheriff was committed to my suspension. He’s an elected official who’d made a promise to the county commissioners, but on some level I’d come to think of us as friends. We’d been to each other’s houses for dinner and
solved some important cases together. We’d had what I thought was an excellent working relationship of mutual respect. Even if the sheriff was committed to my suspension, why did he order me away from the Freedom First Ranch? I was certainly willing to help any way I could without pay.
Captain Horn followed me as I walked away. When we were out of earshot of the sheriff he put his hand on my shoulder turning me to face him. “I don’t understand that man,” he said looking back at Sheriff Taylor. “I know he’s down on me because he thinks I caused this mess, but you and Chad just rescued him from his own stupidity, and he sends you both packing. He bawled me out for reinstating you, and said I was lucky not to get suspended myself. I’m really sorry. Maybe when your suspension is over, I can do something to fix things. Thanks for helping me up here Mike.”
We shook hands, and Captain Horn turned and walked back to the small group gathered around the sheriff. I went looking for Chad. He was in the mess tent explaining our daring rescue of Sheriff Taylor to a group of Flagstaff deputies. I invited him to come outside to talk about something.
“Chad, the sheriff just reinstated my suspension. He wants me out of the area ASAP, and he wants you to drive me back to Sedona and stay there to look after the office.”
Chad is one of the easiest going men I know. His expression startled me for a moment. I’d so rarely seen rage on his young face that his whole expression seemed alien. He couldn’t speak for a moment. After an abnormal pause, I said, “Chad?”
He uttered an obscenity that I never use and said, “We just saved his ass, and he tells us both to get out.” Chad’s comments sputtered out into more obscenities until that was out of his system.
The Victim at Vultee Arch Page 22