White Thunder

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White Thunder Page 24

by Thurlo, Aimée


  As they returned to the lighted area beside the mine shaft, Ella turned Krause over to one of Blalock’s men. Seeing FB-Eyes standing beside the hole, aiming a flashlight down, she went to join him. “Simmons still down there?”

  “No. I had my guys give him first aid, then haul him away to the hospital. He’s lucky he’s alive. He was wearing a vest, or my shot would have killed him for sure.”

  “The bullet from the rifle should have penetrated anyway. He must have been wearing body armor.”

  “More like body armament. My bullet hit the cylinder of a backup revolver he had in a shoulder holster. Gonna leave an imprint for sure.” Blalock looked anxiously down at Neskahi who was climbing up the rope from inside the mine shaft.

  “No Agent Thomas,” Ella observed, seeing Neskahi alone and, as she glanced at Blalock, noted that he looked as discouraged as she felt.

  They both took hold of the rope and pulled Neskahi up the rest of the way. “Is Thomas dead?” she asked, her voice taut.

  Neskahi shook his head as they grabbed hold of him and helped the chunky officer to solid footing. “All I can tell you for sure is that he’s not there now. But he was in there earlier today. The shaft goes straight down, then at the bottom angles off in a steep slope for another twenty feet before ending with a solid wall. Down there, out of sight from above, Thomas scratched the date and some names into the sandstone. I also found his cell phone. Someone stomped it into pieces. I was hoping to get a camera so I could go back down and take photos.”

  “You’re sure he’s not buried down there somewhere? A lot of these mines are unstable,” Ella said, remembering her own experience in one. Even the memory left a bitter taste in her mouth.

  “Nope, the ground is intact and there are footprints everywhere. And judging from the fact that I saw two different size and type shoes, somebody was down there with him. But even the climb up the lower slope to the bottom of the main shaft would be difficult without a rope. He didn’t get out on his own, that’s for sure.”

  Ella glanced at Blalock. “Maybe the old man knows more than he told Simmons,” she said, gesturing toward Eltsosie’s hogan.

  “Sounds like it to me,” Blalock nodded. “But you or Neskahi should interview him. I’ve got a feeling an old traditionalist would be more comfortable speaking his own language, or at least to another Navajo.”

  “I’ll do it,” Ella said, then motioned to Neskahi, who was examining some marks on the ground. “Joe, take a look around for any sign of Agent Thomas or any previous visitor, then start processing the aboveground site.”

  Bringing out her cell phone, she got Justine on the line and explained the situation. “I need you and Tache here with the crime-scene van, and bring climbing gear. Also, do you know any of the tribal mining engineers? We need someone who’s very familiar with mines of this era.”

  “I’ll call my uncle Ernie. He worked as a mining engineer in the late ’60s. He’s retired now, but he’s sharp as a tack and knows his field.”

  “Get him here ASAP, then,” Ella said.

  “I’m going to the hospital to question Simmons,” Blalock said as she hung up. “I’ve already made a call to Big Ed, and he said he’d meet me there. Are you going to follow after you talk to the man in the hogan, or will you be staying here with your people?”

  “I’m staying. Simmons may or may not give us any answers that’ll help us find Agent Thomas, but Eltsosie or the evidence may tell us what we need to know.”

  “You plan on searching the area?” Blalock asked. “If so, I can send my guys back within the hour.”

  “Hang on until I speak to the old man. If there’s a chance Thomas is still around, I can use your people.”

  “If we get anything at my end, I’ll let you know immediately,” Blalock said.

  “Thanks. Same here.”

  Neskahi came back to where she was standing. “No sign of any footprints that match those I saw down in the mine, except at this one spot.” He pointed to the east side of the hole, away from the hogan. “I think you’ll find what’s there real interesting.”

  Ella walked over, and, using her flashlight, examined the marks. There were three sets of footprints and an indention at the rim of the mine opening that looked as if it had come from a rope.

  “One person was using a rope here,” Ella observed, “probably anchored to a vehicle, like Simmons did. Then there’s this long, connected trail, like a person was being pulled or dragged. I also see a set of footprints I’m guessing belong to Eltsosie. They’re small and look like they came from moccasins. Since they’re superimposed over the other two, that tells us he was here last.”

  “That’s the way I read this, too. A man hauled Thomas out, and carried or dragged him to a vehicle. Then Eltsosie came out to take a look,” Neskahi said.

  “So Thomas was rescued … but by whom, and what did they do with him?” Ella mused. “Looks like I need to talk to Hosteen Eltsosie,” she said, using the Navajo word for “mister.”

  “It’s odd that he still hasn’t come out,” Neskahi said thoughtfully.

  “Seeing Anglos on our land is often not a good sign, particularly to someone like him,” she reminded. “First, strangers disrupted his land when they came in with their mining equipment and pretty much did away with his chances to live a traditional life,” she explained. “And we don’t know if Simmons threatened to kill his animals or him if he didn’t stay away. The words ‘Trust me, I’m from the government’ are normally enough to make most people run away screaming—and it’s worse here on the Rez.”

  Ella saw him nodding as she walked away.

  Ella skirted the mine shaft and came up in a direct line to the hogan so she could be seen. She knew Eltsosie had been watching. She’d seen the blanket doorway moving the few times she’d looked over. But no one had come out.

  Fighting the temptation to simply walk up, she stopped, squatted down and studied the ground. Two sets of prints led to the entrance—one from new-looking shoes obviously belonging to Simmons. The other, close together, indicating small steps, came from soft-soled moccasins and were probably Eltsosie’s.

  Finally, an elderly man who must have been close to ninety came out, holding an ancient-looking thirty-thirty rifle. Though his face was weathered and lined deeply, his hand was steady and his eyes were clear. “What do you want?” he asked in a very loud voice.

  Right to the point. She couldn’t fault him for that. She held up her badge. “You haven’t come out, sir, so I was curious. Are you all right?”

  He held his hand cupped over one ear. “What?”

  Ella drew closer, and shouted the question again.

  “Yes, but the Anglo with the government badge said that there was a dead man in that old mine. He said he’d be getting the body out so I wanted to make sure I stayed away until it was gone,” he shouted back, unaware of the loudness of his own voice.

  She shook her head. “That wasn’t true,” she said, hoping to put him at ease. “But now I need to ask you a few questions.”

  Eltsosie nodded. “Come in.” He gestured to the doorway. As soon as they went inside, he went clockwise to the south side as was proper and she to the north of the roundish interior of the hogan. A small lantern hanging from a wire attached to a ceiling log provided a cozy glow, though the smell of kerosene was a bit distracting.

  Eltsosie walked over to a large plank shelf attached to one of the pine logs that comprised the walls and retrieved a hearing aid from atop an unopened can of sliced peaches.

  Ella looked at him with raised eyebrows and the old man grinned as he inserted it in his ear.

  “Sometimes I don’t want to hear,” he said, this time in a normal voice. “When I go to Shiprock, I make everyone shout, and they all hate it, except for the children and the really old Navajos. They just laugh. But I especially like to upset big shots like that Anglo with the gold badge. He thought I was stupid and didn’t know English, so I had fun with that. When he started shouting his face
turned as red as cactus fruit,” he said, laughing.

  Ella smiled, then heard a vehicle outside that she recognized from the engine noise. Justine and Ralph Tache had arrived. “So tell me. Have you seen anything unusual happening around here?”

  “A few hours ago, after sunset, someone came up in a dark blue carry-all with a tribal Forest Service sign on the door. He parked out there in the area of that hole for about a half hour. I thought it was just one of those engineers who are trying to do something to get the mines sealed up. When he tied a rope to his bumper and climbed down, I quit watching and had supper.”

  “Did he take anything out of the mine?”

  “I guess so, from all that’s happened after he drove off.”

  “When the guy in the Forest Service vehicle left, did you go out and take a look around?”

  “I sure did. He left his rope. It was still lying there next to the hole.” He reached behind a pile of blankets on the ground and handed it to her. “I looked down into the mine shaft with a lantern, wondering if he’d left anything else behind, but all I saw were some footprints at the bottom. After that I carried that piece of roofing over to cover the hole so people from the tribe wouldn’t file a complaint against me for having a hazard out here. But everyone sure seems to like that old mine now, don’t they?”

  “Thank you for telling me all this,” Ella said. “One more thing. I know it may sound strange, but the man in the vehicle with the Forest Service sign—did you notice if he walked like an old man or a young man.”

  “If you ask me, he walked like one of the punks you see in town sometimes—a kid who walks like he has all the time in the world. You know what I mean?”

  Ella nodded. “I think so. That’s a big help, thank you.”

  “Can I keep the rope? It’s perfectly good and the guy didn’t want it.”

  “After the case is over, I’m sure no one would mind. But for now, it’s evidence.”

  “That guy really wasn’t working for the Forest Service, was he?”

  Ella shook her head. The vehicle he’d described sounded like Melvin Rainwater’s too, except for the Forest Service sign, but that wouldn’t have been hard to fake. The fact that Thomas’s phone had been destroyed also pointed to Rainwater, considering the line she’d given him about the tracking signal.

  “Are you going to tell me what really happened here?”

  “No, not now, but I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

  He nodded once. “I’ll hold you to that.”

  Ella joined Justine at the mine shaft a moment later. Seeing the line leading down into the shaft, Ella surmised Tache was already down at the bottom, taking photos. The floodlights below, powered by a portable generator, radiated outward from the black hole casting an unearthly light into the trees, and eerie shadows across the piñon and juniper forest.

  “Anything new?” Ella asked her.

  “Joe had it pegged. Agent Thomas was definitely down there at one point, and the evidence that he was removed from here by one person is right on the money, too. Tache took close-up photos of the three names that Thomas had scratched into the sandstone while he was trapped, along with the words ‘dirty, SS fraud,’ and ‘Yellowhorse.’ Thomas also scratched his own name and the date. There’s one name on the list that has been rubbed out with a piece of metal, like a key or something, but from the length of it, I’d bet it’s Rainwater’s.”

  “Not a surprise. It just further confirms, in a backhanded way, that Melvin was here. Thomas was obviously trying to tell us about the social security scam in case he didn’t survive. Let me guess, the two names still there are Simmons and Krause.”

  Justine nodded. “Bingo. There are some chemicals I can use to try and restore the missing name. Hopefully that’ll work, because we’d have a heck of a time cutting out the rock face and bringing it to a lab. I also found a few hairs and drops of blood, so we’ll have DNA evidence too.”

  “Keep working.” Ella said, then stepping away, called Blalock. “I need your help. I believe I’m going to get a call very soon from Melvin Rainwater. I’m positive he snatched Agent Thomas before Simmons and Krause showed up. My guess is that he took the agent as leverage, hoping to cut a deal. Can you set up a trace?”

  “Sure thing. I’ve been able to pull in some real handy state-of-the-art hardware Homeland Security has made available for field testing. Even with cell phones, we’ll be able to get a fix inside sixty seconds. Uses satellite technology, GPS software, and maybe a little voodoo on the side. Much better than current Bureau issue.”

  “Great,” she said with a chuckle. As Teeny had indicated, the story she’d concocted for Rainwater was turning out to be dead on. “Get busy, ’cause I expect he’ll call as soon as he figures we’ve discovered that Agent Thomas was moved.”

  “On it now. If it’s not up and running in fifteen, I’ll call you.”

  “Will it kick in immediately, or do I have to let you know he’s on the line?”

  “You don’t have to do a thing. Once it’s set, the monitoring is automatic,” Blalock said, then disconnected.

  TWENTY

  Ella was helping Justine load up equipment thirty minutes later when her cell phone rang.

  “You know who this is?” he asked.

  Ella recognized Melvin’s voice immediately. “You’ve been a busy boy, Melvin,” she answered, “but did you know we can still read your name from the spot on the sandstone where you tried to scratch it off? The wonders of modern forensic science are amazing.” Uncertain whether the trace was working already, she wanted to stall to make sure they’d get a fix. At the same time she was hoping to undermine whatever confidence Melvin had in his own bargaining position.

  “Are you ready to deal? I’ve got something you want—the FBI agent—and you’ve got something I want—Betsy. I want her out of jail and a guarantee that we’ll both avoid prosecution. Let’s talk.”

  His words verified it. He’d seen Sheriff Taylor take Betsy into custody. “We already know that you removed Agent Thomas from the mine. But how do I know he’s still alive?”

  “You have to take my word for it. I rescued him, that’s enough. But he might get lost again unless you act quickly.”

  “Sorry. I need proof he’s alive and in your care before we cut a deal. And if he ends up dead not only will the deal be off, you’ll also have every law enforcement officer, local and federal, out looking for you. Your life—as you know it—will cease to exist. You get what I’m saying?”

  “Yeah? Well, talk fast. Thomas is running out of time.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Whatever you want to believe. It doesn’t matter. Do we have a deal or not?”

  “What do you want? Reduced sentence for testimony against Simmons and Krause? A window in your cell?”

  “Immunity from all charges in exchange for delivering Thomas—for Betsy and me both. Otherwise I’m hanging up.”

  “I’m not the district attorney. I don’t have the authority to grant something like that. I’ll have to check this out and get back to you.”

  “You’ve got fifteen minutes. I’ll call back.”

  “No, wait. Make it thirty. It’s late now and I don’t know the DA’s private number. It’ll take me at least one additional call to get it.”

  “I’ll give you twenty. That’s my final offer.”

  He hung up before Ella could say anything else. Without skipping a beat, Ella ran to her vehicle, waving good-bye to Justine. Once she was rolling, she switched to her headset so she could have both hands on the wheel, then called Blalock immediately. “Did you get his location?”

  “Not exactly, but it’s within a half-mile range of a particular cell tower in Shiprock, one on the east side and south of the highway.”

  Ella told him about the pen she’d had Justine rig up using the small microphone he’d loaned them a few months ago. “We can drive around that neighborhood and see if the equipment can pick up Melvin’s voice. My guess
is that he’s kept the pen as a trophy.”

  “Good thought. What’s the frequency?”

  Ella told him, then added, “Where can we meet? We should work as a team when this goes down.” She was back on the main highway again, making good time. Nobody was on the road this time of night and she could fly.

  “How about the parking lot of the convenience store at the western junction of Sixty-four and Four-ninety-one? It’s across town so Rainwater won’t be likely to spot us.”

  Ella called Big Ed next, filled him in quickly, then with his permission called the district attorney. Time was running out, but after a three-minute delay, she finally got the sleepy counselor on the phone and explained what was going on.

  “I’ll agree to those terms only on two conditions. Agent Thomas must be found alive and healthy, and Mr. Rainwater’s testimony has to be sufficient to convict the others of the charges filed. Miss Weaver is on her own.”

  “I’ll pass that along. Thanks, Counselor.”

  By now, she was close to Shiprock, so Ella cut her speed to fifty. To her right stood the high school, and beyond, the convenience store where Blalock would be waiting.

  Tires squealing, she braked, then pulled up next to a blue van and hopped out quickly. Three men were standing beside the Bureau vehicle, one of them Blalock, the other two, agents she’d seen earlier with FB-Eyes.

  “When this goes down, we’ll make the actual arrest,” Blalock said as everyone scrambled inside the vehicle.

  “Actually, that works just fine for us, too. No matter how you slice it, my department isn’t going to get any brownie points for rescuing a man who interrupted a Sing. Better that the FBI should take point on that,” Ella said.

  “Glad we’re on the same page.” Blalock was seated in the backseat beside her, and gave her the once-over as the van hurried east across the bridge. “You look like hell, Ella. Had any sleep?”

  “Yesterday, or maybe the day before. I’m okay.”

 

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