by Andy Straka
After an hour or so, Farraday said he’d run out of tidbits for his bird so the agent and I surveyed a part of the acreage I hadn’t been on before while he and the hawk went back to his truck to retrieve his spare bag. Upon his return, we went back to the hunt.
Farraday’s big redtail caught nothing, but it wasn’t for lack of trying. A squirrel tumbled from the treetops, barely escaping her talons before scrambling to safety inside a hollow tree. She also put a rabbit to cover in a dugout den beneath a stand of fallen logs and made point to it. Try as we might, however, neither Farraday nor I was able to flush the bunny to her again.
Along the way, we all kept a lookout for any signs of hazardous materials or any agitation or other problem among the wildlife in the area, or in Tawny for that matter. There was no evidence of nasty stuff, Tawny looked healthy and keen, and as for the wildlife we saw, including a few deer, all appeared to be normal. There didn’t seem to be a large number of small game present, but that was typical with a hawk in the woods—most potential prey would’ve bugged for cover at the first sensing of the raptor.
We were unable to serve anything else to Tawny until, finally, as we were heading back toward the trucks, she swooped after a field mouse only to check to a flight of doves taking the air from the branches of a jack pine about a hundred yards in front of us. I was about twenty yards ahead of the others with my beating stick and had the best view.
The chase didn’t last long though. Killing smaller, quicker birds was not totally impossible, but rare for the big buteo, and they soon outflew her. All, that is, except for one that seemed to sky up irregularly, twirling and zigzagging as if it were injured. Tawny had a bead on the dawdler, but the bird seemed to right itself and was soon making steam after the others. The redtail, sensing this, broke off to alight in the branches of the pine from which her erstwhile quarry had just departed, maybe in hopes of pouncing on any other hidden stragglers.
“You see that?” I asked.
“What, she try to hit on those doves?” Farraday was making his way toward me. Hallston hung back checking out a dried-up streambed for any evidence of chemicals.
“Yeah.”
“Should’ve stayed on the mouse, she might’ve at least caught her dinner.”
“Can’t blame her, can you, when there’s bigger meat in the air?”
“Nah, I guess not.”
“But one of that flight was flying funny, kind of dopey-like, until it righted itself and finally got under wing.”
“Huh. Maybe it was injured.”
“Maybe. Funny thing was, it looked a little different from the others too. I couldn’t make out the markings but the straggler didn’t have quite the same shape as the others.”
He shrugged.
“What happened?” Officer Hallston caught up with us.
“Just thought I saw a strange bird—part of a flight of doves she flushed out of that pine where she’s perched now. Tawny took off after it, but she broke off.”
“Really. Probably nothing, but let’s have a look.”
When we made it to the tree and took a look around, it did seem like nothing. There were no other birds in evidence, living or otherwise.
“What did you say you saw again?” the conservation agent asked.
I described it again, this time in more detail.
“Probably just a bird with an injured wing,” offered Farraday.
“Probably,” she said. “But I’ll tell you what—since we’ve got precious little else to show for our little outing so far, I think I’ll bag a few samples of droppings from down here in these pine needles.” She produced a few clear plastic bags and some latex gloves from inside her coat pocket and proceeded to scoop several handfuls.
“Great hunt,” Farraday said. “Now we’re out here skimming up bird shit.”
“Could be worse,” I said. “Nobody’s pointing a gun at me this time, or shooting at us the way they did Chester.”
“Not exactly a clean crime scene, eh, Detective?” Farraday said.
“You know I’ve thought of something else,” Hallston said. “What if someone were illegally storing chemicals or other materials out here without Chester’s knowledge?”
“Possible, I suppose,” I said. “You have anybody in mind?”
“No, but I could contact the EPA and see if they had any ideas.”
“Not a bad thought. Might as well cover all the bases.
Jake’s supposed to be talking to the vet too. Let’s see if anything comes of that.”
The sun had dropped below the trees and was dropping fast toward the horizon. We had a half hour, maybe less, before dusk.
Approaching the trucks in the gathering shadows, we saw that Toronto had finally decided to join us. Chester’s old Suburban was parked behind the conservation officer’s Jeep and my pickup. He had to have been there awhile since I hadn’t heard the sound of his engine.
Farraday and the conservation agent went to settle the redtail in the back of the Scout.
“What happened to you?” I asked Toronto.
“Got a little waylaid,” was all he said.
“You talk to the vet?”
He shook his head. “Sat in his waiting room for two hours. Emergency surgery—somebody’s dog got run over by a truck. Nurse said to try back later.”
“You ask if they’d gotten in any test results for Elo?”
“She said she didn’t think so. In any event, she said we had to talk to the vet about it.”
“Anything else?”
“I got a line on that phone number your masked bandit called yesterday.”
“Yeah?”
“Had a memorable conversation with another Stonewaller.”
“Who is it?”
He glanced at Farraday and Hallston. “I’ll tell you about it when we’re alone.”
We went over to the Scout. Hallston said she had to get going so she and I broke away and I walked her over to her Jeep.
“Thanks for coming,” I told her. “I thought we might stumble onto something more, but not for the moment, I guess.”
“It was worth a shot,” she said. “If there’s some foreign substance up here making birds sick, I’m as interested as you are in finding out what’s causing it. I’ll let you know if anything turns up on these samples.” She opened her rear hatch and stuffed her pack in next to the rest of her equipment, then slammed the door shut.
“I appreciate it. And thanks for holding off a bit on Chester’s other two birds.”
“You’re welcome.” As she came around the side of her vehicle, her gaze drifted back toward Toronto, who was holding something for Farraday.
“Chester’s told me a few stories about your friend over there.”
“There are a few to tell.”
“I guess he’s a bit more of a … colorful personality.”
“Right. I’m the one who specializes in drab.”
“Then again, he was Chester’s sponsor and all.”
“That must be it,” I said.
She laughed and climbed into the Jeep. She started the engine, turned the vehicle around in the grass, and waved as she headed off down the dirt road.
She’d only traveled about fifty yards when I heard it. A hissing noise, like the air being let out of a tire, escaped from the bottom of the Jeep. A ball of fire enveloped the cab and at the same instant the roof appeared to implode briefly;
then the entire vehicle exploded with a deafening roar.
I dove for the shelter of a nearby ditch.
“What the heck was that?” Damon Farraday screamed.
Flaming bits of foam and other pieces of what was left of Gwen Hallston’s Jeep rained down across the woods. Farraday and Toronto had been standing another fifty yards farther away, shielded from the blast by the front of his Scout. Tawny was screeching inside her giant hood.
I jumped up and ran to my pickup, opened the door, and grabbed the fire extinguisher I kept behind the seat. Hallston was assuredly beyond help
, but with the dryness of the brush and timber we could also have a major forest fire on our hands.
Toronto had grabbed a blanket from somewhere and he and I ran together to the remains of the Jeep. There was not much left of it or Gwen.
“Take the other side!” I yelled. I began shooting down the flames with the foam from the extinguisher while Toronto beat at several smaller flares that had already sparked in the grass. We spent four or five minutes knocking down what we hoped were all traces of the fire, but with the smoldering wreckage of the Jeep, now nothing but a charred piece of chassis filled with body parts, the danger remained high.
I called 911 on the cell and the dispatcher said people were on their way. She wanted me to stay on the line, but I was too busy watching flares. I walked back up the hill and gave the phone to Farraday, who appeared to be in a mild form of shock. He took the phone and started babbling. At least he would keep the line open.
“Hey, Frank,” Jake said, coming up behind me. “This may not be over.”
“What do you mean?”
“Whoever planted that device on her Jeep might’ve armed the Ford and the Scout too.”
I looked at him for a moment.
“Get away from the vehicles!” I said to Farraday.
“Wha—?”
I grabbed him and helped him to his feet, walking him to a safe distance. Toronto lifted the entire giant hood from the back of the Scout and carried it over to us out of potential danger.
“Wha—what’s going on?” Farraday asked.
“I’m going to go check it out,” Toronto said.
“I’ll help,” I said.
“No. No sense both of us getting killed.”
He approached my pickup first, dropped to the ground, and rolled under the bumper.
A couple of seconds later he called out calmly. “There’s another bomb here.”
“Oh, Jesus, mother of God!” Farraday was blubbering into the phone. I took it from him and explained to the operator what was happening.
“I’ve seen this type of unit before,” Toronto said. “It’s on a timer. Set to go off a short while after the drivetrain starts rolling. You got any wire cutters?”
“In the tool chest in the bed,” I yelled.
“How about a flashlight?”
“There’s one in there too. You need my help?”
“I need your prayers,” he said.
He got the tools and the light and rolled back under the truck. He was under there for maybe a minute and a half.
“How’s it going?” I asked.
“Done. I’ve disarmed it and I’m removing it from the frame.”
“Good idea.”
He finished with what he was doing and crawled carefully out from beneath the Ford with the device in his hand. It looked like a large pale brick with wires sticking out of it.
“C-four,” he said, setting it down in the grass. “Pretty harmless by itself now. Needs an igniter to start the detonation chain.”
“Stonewall Rangers?”
“Maybe, although this work’s pretty clean. Has to be someone with experience.”
Next he moved to Farraday’s Scout.
“Same thing here,” he said from under the vehicle. “Not as well done though. Sloppy … they crossed a couple of wires. This one would’ve been a dud. Must’ve been in a hurry.”
He slid back out from beneath the Scout with the second device.
“You see anybody when you were driving in here?” I asked.
Toronto shook his head.
“How long had you been waiting for us?”
“I don’t know. Fifteen, twenty minutes maybe.”
Sirens could be heard in the distance. Darkness was gathering and the glow from flashing lights appeared over the nearby hills.
“Look, man,” he said. “This dirt road continues all the way through to another highway on the other side of the ridge. I can make it in the Suburban so I’m out of here.”
“You’re what? Jake, we just had a bombing and a murder here. The sheriff, the FBI … they’re going to be all over this.”
“I know. That’s why I can’t stick around.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’ll explain later,” he said, trotting to the Suburban.
“You’ll what?”
Farraday was still talking to someone on the phone. The skeleton of the Jeep was still burning and the sirens were getting louder. Toronto hopped into the vehicle, fired up the engine, and kicked up a cloud of dust and stone as he disappeared over a rise up the road.
15
“Pavlicek, I want to talk to you. Inside. Now.”
Two hours later, our macabre gathering in the woods still included a fire captain, two big red pumpers, several firemen, about a half dozen Kanawha County sheriff’s deputies and their cruisers, not to mention the state police bomb squad, a gaggle of swarming FBI agents, and my newfound friend, ATF Agent Grooms. Darkness had fallen. Flood lamps and headlights lit up the cold. Some kind soul had stuck a cup of hot black coffee in my hands.
Grooms pointed toward the back of a large black panel van parked in the line of rescue vehicles. I took another sip of coffee and followed him. The van’s doors opened as if by magic to reveal a mobile command post of sorts. Radios and terminals and sensitive monitoring equipment, most of the uses for which I could imagine but not precisely identify.
“This some kind of game to you, Pavlicek?” The doors closed behind us. With a gesture he bid me sit down in a rolling desk chair by one of the consoles while he took another opposite.
I kept my mouth shut. Shook my head.
“Now we’ve got a West Virginia Department of Natural Resources conservation officer murdered.”
“You finally ready to start arresting anybody?”
“Shit. You don’t even know what you’ve stuck your foot into and you want me to start arresting people.”
“Somebody put those bombs under our vehicles.”
“You’re right. Somebody did. And we’re going to find out who it was.” He looked at a screen on the console for a moment. “What the hell were y’all doing up here in these woods this afternoon?” he asked.
“Hunting.”
“Hunting.”
“Yeah. You saw Farraday and the redtail.”
An ambulance had whisked the apprentice falconer off to the hospital for a checkup. The bird was calm and quiet now, sitting inside its giant hood in the back of Farraday’s Scout.
Grooms rubbed his hands together. “What was Hallston doing up here with you then?”
“Helping us look for Elo.”
“Elo?”
“The missing falcon that had been ill. Remember, I asked you about him?”
“Right. So what’s the big deal about a missing bird?”
“Well, I’m still curious about what caused Elo to get sick in the first place. So was Hallston.”
He thought about that for a moment. Then he appeared to dismiss it. “Mighty impressive the way you defused those other two bombs,” he said.
I shrugged, wondering if Farraday would back my story the way I’d asked him to, that he and I and Hallston had been the only ones present at the bombing.
“Something seems to be missing here.”
“You can say that again,” I said.
“Where’s your buddy Toronto?”
“I haven’t seen him this afternoon. He’s supposed to be following up with Chester’s veterinarian.”
“Back to the bird thing again.”
“Right.”
He propped his big foot on the counter and retied his shoe, then let it slide back down to the floor again. “So you think by us moving on the Stonewall Rangers now we can end all this, huh?”
“I don’t know. You still know a lot more than I do and I’m beginning to wonder. … But it sure seems like it would make a great start.”
He leaned forward in his chair with his elbows resting on top of his knees. He put his head down for a
moment and massaged his forehead. He looked tired.
“All right, Pavlicek. Look, what I’m going to tell you right now is a matter of homeland security. You understand?”
I nodded.
“If it leaves this trailer, in any way whatsoever, both your ass and my ass will be so hard fried the charcoal will look worse than what’s left of that Jeep out there.”
“I get it.”
He let out a long sigh. “I can tell you we’re on the inside of this one and we think we’re ahead of the curve.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“The Rangers are definitely up to something then.”
“Yes.”
“And you’ve infiltrated their organization.”
“Not exactly. Better than that.”
I wondered what he meant, but knew better than to probe further about it. “So you think they’re feeling the heat and have started killing people?” I asked.
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know?”
“I honestly don’t know.” He stared at me, looking a little uncertain.
“But it sure is making the waters muddy for you at the moment, isn’t it?”
“It damn sure is.”
“So you’re saying, don’t let finding out who killed an old man flying his bird in the woods get in the way of catching some terrorists.”
“In the short run, maybe I am. Yes. If there were anything illicit about Chester Carew’s shooting, I can almost guarantee you it will come out in the wash.”
“But now they’re killing people with bombs.”
“You must’ve really pissed them off then. You’re just lucky it wasn’t you and your friend Farraday too.”
“The bombs were all on timers.”
“Appears that way … random … hoped to kill as many of you as they can.”
“When are you going to make your move?”
“Soon,” he said. “Very soon.”
“Seems to me we’re right back to where we were a couple of hours ago. You want me to trust that you guys have got it all correct.”
“That’s right,” he said.