Cold Quarry

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Cold Quarry Page 18

by Andy Straka


  It didn’t take a huge leap of logic, however, to imagine someone with clandestine and sinister motives putting Toronto’s talents to use for their own purposes. They would have to be good. Very good, in order to pull the wool over Toronto’s eyes about their intentions. Or they would’ve had to somehow tap into Toronto’s loyalty or something that was important to him.

  And that left only one option: the contact he’d said was on the inside of their sting operation and had given him all the details about the Rangers’ plans. Problem was, that wasn’t something I could talk to these two about.

  Not yet, anyway.

  Nolestar rubbed the growing stubble on his youngish face. “Your choice now, Pavlicek. Either agree to our request to stay out of this business from now on, or join your friend outside in handcuffs in the van.”

  “I’m not so sure I feel comfortable giving this man any kind of choice,” Briggs said.

  The other agent in the room, who’d been standing against the far wall like a mannequin during our conversation, seemed to twitch involuntarily, as if anticipating the opportunity to throw me in with their other catch.

  “You haven’t got any real evidence to hold him, do you?” Nolestar asked. I didn’t know why he was suddenly sticking up for me, but I was thankful for it.

  Briggs said nothing.

  “I’m telling you right now Jake Toronto is no terrorist,” I said. “Sure, he may have been involved with the wrong people from time to time, but you both know as well as I do, that’s sometimes the nature of getting things done. If all of you only dealt with upstanding citizens, you wouldn’t have a clue what was going on in some of these groups, would you? So who’s to say Jake Toronto hasn’t been trying to accomplish the same sort of thing? I go back more than twenty years with this guy.”

  “Oh, yes.” Briggs snickered. “We know all about that. You two shot to death an unarmed African-American teenager years ago in New York, isn’t that correct? It just could be that the seeds of that anger were—”

  “You’re kidding, right? What, you just get that off one of your daily intelligence faxes? I suppose you’ve never had to make a decision like that. You probably would’ve already labeled that kid a terrorist and had him in custody as a threat to national security. We did not have that luxury. We did what had to be done. And in case you haven’t read the complete record, that was over fifteen years ago and we were both exonerated. Completely.”

  Exonerated, at least, in the courts. My heart and my sleep at night were another matter, but I wasn’t about to give her any quarter on this one, not when it came to my partner. I’d been the senior detective on the scene that night. If there were any seeds of subversion growing in Toronto since then, I and I alone would be responsible.

  Except that there weren’t. She couldn’t have been more wrong.

  “Most of us can’t work outside the system, Mr. Pavlicek,” she said. “We have to work from inside, utilizing all the resources at our disposal, as imperfect as they may be.”

  “Spare me, will you? I know all about the system. Just look what it did for Toronto and me. You don’t see me sitting here and complaining. You’re the one who brought it up, in fact.”

  She said nothing.

  “Okay, let’s say I agree to what you want. When do I get to talk to Jake?”

  “You don’t,” Briggs said. “Not until this operation is over.”

  Again I thought of the lawyer in Charlottesville, but I realized even he wouldn’t do much good. At this point, she had all the cards in her favor. And if it helped her stop a bunch of white supremacists from dropping nerve gas on a bunch of people, or whatever they were planning to do, who was I to say she wasn’t right?

  In the end, just so I could walk out of there, I ranted and raved a little more for show before agreeing to their demand. Thankfully, they didn’t make me put anything in writing.

  I’d agreed to a lot worse in my time, compromises good and bad. Some, maybe half, were the source of a lot of pain and frustration in my life, decisions I’d regretted at the time and some of which I was regretting still.

  I tried to think about the other half as I walked back outside toward my truck, past the van with the blacked-out windows where they were holding my best friend.

  24

  “I’m coming back out there, Dad.”

  I could visualize my daughter’s pout through the phone and her blowing an errant strand of hair from in front of her face. After giving her a few more details about the night before, I was just coming fully awake, torn between memory and reality. I’d called and left word on her personal voice mail from the truck on my way back to the Carew place in the wee hours of the morning. When I got back to the house, I’d plugged in the cell phone for charging overnight, but had left it on. Sleep had been slow in coming, and even when it finally did come, had lasted only a couple of hours.

  Out the window though I could see that it had snowed a little while I’d slept. An inch or so of the white stuff coated the lawn, the driveway, and the branches of the trees.

  “Look, Nicky. I still need you back in the office.”

  “While Jake is in jail? No, you don’t, Dad. You just want me to be back here where you think I’ll be safe or something. Besides, it’s Sunday. Nobody’s in their office today and my classes don’t start up again for another week.”

  “What do you have for me on those backgrounds I asked you to check?”

  “I’ve been working on them. The cops you gave me all check out.”

  “Yeah, well, I have another one to add to the list, but go on.”

  “Tony Warnock looks like your run-of-the-mill attorney, as far as I can tell. I did find something from about twenty years ago when he was just out of law school. He represented a member of the Ku Klux Klan regarding a cross burning. But he’s done nothing that looks that controversial since that I can find.”

  “How about Higgins?”

  “Well, you already know about him and the Stone-wallers, right? I also found a property tax lien that had been placed on his property.”

  “Conscientious objector?”

  “Not sure. Looks more like it might be simple financial problems to me.”

  “Figures.” No way a guy like that came up with a few million to finance a bunch of chemical weapons without Warnock. The question was, where was the money’s ultimate source, and who did that give the leverage to?

  “Let’s see,” she said. “Damon Farraday is just a plumber, but you know that too. Nothing unusual on his record, financial or otherwise. I did talk to his boss on the phone—told him I was from a credit reporting company verifying information. He said Farraday’s a good worker. Always shows up on time and does his work, even if he does wear an earring, the guy said.”

  “Earring? I’ve never seen him wear an earring.”

  “Maybe he took it out for the funeral. I think he’s kind of cute. And I hate to tell you this, Dad, but you and Jake are kind of like, thirty-years-ago sometimes. You know?”

  It was way too early and I was too tired to deal with being thirty years ago.

  “Okay,” she said. “Moving on to the conservation agent, Gwen Hallston—”

  “She’s dead, Nicky.”

  “Oh.” There was a new edginess to her voice.

  “She’s the woman who was killed in the bombing on Friday.”

  “Right. I don’t know why, I didn’t make the connection.”

  “It’s okay. You have anything on her?”

  “Nothing unusual. She had four kids. …” Her voice caught in her throat.

  “You all right, Nicky?”

  “Yeah. Sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it. The best way we can help her now is to find out who did this.”

  “Sure. I know.”

  “You come up with anything on anybody else?”

  “Nope. Nothing so far.”

  “How about Felipe, Toronto’s father?”

  “Just that he’s retired and receives a pension—dul
l—but that’s about it.”

  “I hate to ask, but how about Chester? Skeletons in the closet?”

  “Nope. No marks or dings or anything. And his credit report’s practically perfect.”

  “All right,” I said. “Good job. Keep at it.”

  “What about me coming out there?”

  I ignored her question. “How’s your boyfriend?” I asked.

  “What?”

  “How’s Mark?” Mark Burke was a solid electrical engineering major, an amiable, square-jawed young fellow with a four-point-oh GPA whom Nicole had been dating since the end of her junior year.

  “He’s gone skiing up at Snowshoe with a bunch of our friends. What difference does that make?”

  “Just guys, or guys and girls both?”

  “Guys and girls both.”

  “Why didn’t you go with them?”

  “We’ve had this discussion before, Dad. You said yourself I shouldn’t be sleeping with him if we’re not married.”

  “Going skiing with a bunch of friends doesn’t mean sleeping together, does it? Or is Mark starting to put pressure on you?”

  “He’s not putting any pressure on me, Dad. How’d we get into this anyway? Besides, I promised I’d help you in the office while I’m on break and it cost almost five hundred dollars for the long weekend with lift tickets and all. I don’t have it myself and I didn’t want to have to ask you for the money. And you know Mark’s family is not rich.”

  “Where’d he get the extra money then?”

  “He’s working extra shifts in the computer lab this month.” She sounded exasperated. “Could we get back to my coming out there?”

  “Am I paying you enough for helping me out in the office?” I asked. “I know you’re only still a student and all, but—”

  “The pay is just fine, Dad!”

  I said nothing.

  “You need me out there,” she said.

  “We’ve got other clients to take care of,” I countered.

  “Most of them can be put on hold, can’t they?”

  “They’re not paying us to put them on hold, honey.”

  “But Da-ad! Jake’s in trouble!”

  Why do kids, especially grown kids, have this way of getting under our skin with the truth sometimes?

  “All right. Listen, this is not some form of entertainment.”

  “I know it’s not.”

  “At least three people now may have already died over this situation out here.”

  “But why would they arrest Jake? No way would he have shot Chester, not in a million years.”

  I hoped she was right. Then again there was the not trivial matter of his rifle being used to commit the crime.

  “You understand that, and I understand that. But the police don’t. They’re just following the evidence the way any investigator would. And right now the trail happens to be leading to Jake. The real question is why does someone want the police and the Feds to think Jake did it?”

  “Maybe it’s these Ranger militia people.”

  “Maybe. But I’ve got an idea it may be somebody else.”

  “Who?”

  “Can’t get into it over the phone.”

  “Then when do you want me out there?”

  “I’ll tell you what,” I said. “First thing I’m going to do is have another talk with Betty again after it gets light and she’s awake. I need to know more about what Chester might or might not have been doing with the Stonewall Rangers.”

  “How about the vet who was killed?” she asked.

  “I think he may have been murdered over some pending lab results. I’ll call a reporter I’ve met out here who does volunteer work for his clinic. She was actually there last night too. She may know the name of the lab where they send their tests.”

  “If you get a name and address I can run it down when they open up first thing tomorrow morning.”

  “Good. After that, I’m going to drive back over to Felipe’s cabin. The Feds claim that’s where they found the gun that killed Chester. Haven’t heard anything about it from the old man and I don’t think Jake had either, and that concerns me. And after that, I’m going to head on over to Leonardston—it’s only a couple of hours from here. You can meet me there.”

  “Leonardston? How come?”

  “I’m sure the Feds either have already or are about to search Jake’s place. If somebody’s trying to frame him, I want to have a look around the place myself. If we’re lucky, maybe we’ll even beat them there. I also want to make sure whoever is taking care of his birds for him doesn’t freak out about everything.”

  “Couldn’t that get you into trouble, Dad? I mean, didn’t you say in your message that you told that FBI agent you would stay out of things now?”

  “You let me worry about that, honey.”

  “I know! You could just send me in. / didn’t make any promises to the FBI.”

  I found myself shaking my head. “We’ll discuss it in Leonardston,” I said.

  “What about Mom? She’s right down the road and it’s been a couple of months, you know. I got a letter from her a few days ago she dictated to her nurse.”

  “Sure, we can stop by to see her too for a few minutes, if you’d like.”

  “I’ll meet you at Jake’s place in Leonardston then. What time?”

  I checked my watch. “How about three o’clock? I should be able to get over to Leonardston by then.”

  “All right.”

  “After we go over the situation at Jake’s and visit your mom, we can head back out here together. We’ll have to be careful knowing the Feds are all over the place now, but I want to start visiting a few of these Rangers, one in particular Jake and I didn’t get to last night. I’ve got a strong suspicion he’s the one who stuck that Mossberg up my nose the other day.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “And remember what I said. These people are playing for keeps. You have your weapon with you?” I’d spent a lot of time with Nicole on the range over the previous year, getting her certified and bringing her up to speed on a slick little Glock 27. Not that I relished the idea of my daughter playing with guns, but she seemed determined to be in this business when she finished school, and if that were going to be the case, I was going to make sure she was prepared. Let alone the fact she’d also begun studying tae kwan do on her own.

  “All set,” she said.

  “Good. I’ll see you at Jake’s place at three then. If you get there before I do, do not attempt to enter on your own. If the Feds haven’t served their warrant there yet—and even if they have—we’re going to have to be cautious.”

  “Okay.”

  “And leave Jake’s bike at home. Bring your car instead. You may need it. Plus, you’ve got that painting you want to bring for your Mom too, right?”

  “Right … and Dad?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you too, sweetheart. Call me if anything comes up in the meantime.”

  We said our good-byes and broke the connection.

  I rolled over in bed and peeked out the bedroom window through the curtains to what was becoming another wintry steel dawn. I’d just given Nicole a somewhat precise account of how I saw things progressing over the next twenty-four hours if we were to attempt to help Toronto. A plan, neat and orderly—I thought it might give her some confidence that things could work out as intended in this business, at least on occasion, that you could always try to anticipate your obstacles and out-think the objects of your investigation.

  I should’ve known better than to try to give her an idea like that.

  25

  His mother stroked the boy’s long dark hair. “Jason has something he wants to talk to you about, Frank.”

  “He does?” I said. “Okay.”

  The boy said nothing.

  We were standing by the windows in the dining room, Jason holding his mother’s hand. A mantel clock ticked in the other room.

  “Go ah
ead, honey,” Betty Carew said. “Remember you said you could only tell Mr. Toronto or Mr. Pavlicek and nobody else?”

  The boy let go of her hand but still said nothing.

  “He won’t even talk to me about whatever it is, Frank.”

  I squatted down in front of the boy and searched his eyes. “Something about your daddy’s birds, pal?”

  He shook his head.

  “Is it about what happened to your father?”

  He pushed his lips into a pout and nodded.

  “Betty, maybe I, uh … ought to take him in the other room, see if he’ll talk to me in there alone.”

  She smoothed out the apron she had tied around her waist. “It’s all right,” she said. “I’ll just be in the kitchen.” She turned and left the room.

  “Okay now?” I asked when she was gone.

  “Yes, sir,” he said. “I don’t wanna tell nothing in front of my momma. They might hurt her.”

  “Who might hurt her, Jason?”

  The boy finally looked up at me with a pleading expression. “I know who killed my daddy,” he said.

  Half an hour later our breaths pushed rolling clouds of smoke up the hill below the stream where Jason’s father had died. The sun angled a bit higher in a sky changing from pale to cerulean blue.

  “All right,” I said. “We’re almost there. Can you tell me now?”

  Jason stopped and listened. The woods were quiet, except for the faint sound some crows were making over the nearby field.

  “The men in the masks. That’s who killed my daddy,” he said.

  Hairs rose to attention on the back of my neck. “Men in masks?”

  “The men who come up here.”

  “How many men?”

  “Two men.”

  “What kind of masks?”

  “The kind you wear when you ride a sled. You know, it covers up your head.”

  “How do you know they killed your daddy?”

  “I know ‘cause I saw them. I saw them and they said if I ever told anybody, they’d kill me and my daddy and my momma too.”

  “But you didn’t tell anybody, did you?”

  He shook his head.

 

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