State of Defense (State of Arizona Book 1)

by Doug Ball

  “Am I under arrest?”

  “No, sir, I just want you to ride with me for a while.”

  “I would be honored.”

  Tan followed the DPS car out of the parking lot and out to the repair shop that maintained the units for DPS. The mechanic found nothing (“If you pull the dash, you might find something.”). Robert found nothing. Tan found nothing. The Indian wasn’t looking. “If you will climb in the car again, I will take you back to the IHOP. Would you tell me your name?”

  “I am called Warrior.”

  “Well, Warrior, let me take you home.”

  “I will walk from here, thank you. I hope we are in agreement with the outcome of this visit together. I have enjoyed our conversation and being with you. Goodbye.” He walked away at a steady pace with a slight limp favoring his left leg. The two peace officers and the mechanic watched him walk away until he went around a corner and out of sight.

  “I’ll take my unit over to the office and get forensics working on it. I want to know who that man is.” Robert pulled the door shut and rolled the window down. “I got a couple pics of him and I’ll add them to the case notes. See you tomorrow, same time, same place.”

  “Sounds good. My dash camera has been running since I pulled in behind your unit. I’ll make some still prints from the video. I think you are on to something and you’re going to have to be a lot more subtle in your investigation of this group, if that’s what you are doing.” He turned toward his unit.

  “You might have something they want, Tan. Look under your windshield wiper.” He was chuckling as he drove off.

  Under the left wiper was a large feather. It looked like an eagle feather. On the seat of his unit was a note which said, “Go home and burn the medicine pouch in your front yard.” Looking around he saw no one. The mechanic was Hispanic, or was he? Tan got to thinking about how an Indian uprising in the southwest could affect people, even he was already suspicious of a man with darker skin than his.

  A stretch limo with three DPS cars

  One leading and two following

  On Phoenix streets

  4:30 PM

  “Its okay, Art, I am just glad you weren’t hurt any worse than you are. Doc said that if that round had been two inches to the left it would have taken my head off, but we both know that if it had hit me in the head and my head was as hard as some of my past opponents say it is, it would have bounced off and killed some innocent individual. Sixteen stitches will just give you a couple of braggin’ scars to make up stories about.”

  “Governor, dear, I won’t have to make up stories about these two scars. The real thing is exciting enough, don’t you think.

  “Yes, dear.”

  “This is as exciting as I ever want it to get. Who do you think put them up to it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “This limo is nice. Little bourbon in that wet bar, is there?”

  “Help yourself, you’ve earned it.”

  She hit the intercom button, “Driver, check on the passenger in the car that attacked us, please. And, what’s your name.”

  “The passenger died right after they got him to the hospital. Guy named Edgar Suarez, went by the street name of Bingo and my name is Burt, Sergeant Burt Willis. I’ll be your driver for the duration.”

  “Thank you, Burt, or should I call you Sergeant Willis.”

  He laughed, “Burt will do, Ma’am.”

  “Don’t call me, Ma’am. Governor will do. Even ‘hey, you’ would be better than Ma’am.”

  “Yes, Governor.” He chuckled, bobbing his head. “They told me you would say that.”

  The Governor said, “You should have listened,” in a very flat tone of voice.

  7

  13 June

  Governor’s Conference Room

  10 AM

  The Governor sat at the middle of one long side of her conference table. Her secretary slightly behind her closer to the door was wearing a headset with one ear piece and a boom mike, whispering to someone. Her advisors and legislative leaders milled around the rest of the room, some sipping coffee and others just talking. As she looked around it was hard to find a listener, everyone was talking in concerned undertones and was not looking at her, yet.

  She nodded across the table to the Hawk. He slammed the gavel down none too gently, yelling, “Fill your cup, grab a seat, and let’s get started.” Folks moved in whatever direction it took to get to their seats. The conversation slowly withered away.

  When it was quiet enough, the Hawk called the meeting to order and turned the group’s attention to the Governor.

  “We have accomplished much,” she started, “and there is much to do. Our courts are still in trouble and the necessity to fix them lays heavy on me. Are there any suggestions for court reform that will really streamline the courts and still maintain the rights of the victims and the accused?”

  Everyone started talking at once.

  The gavel slammed the table and all went quiet.

  “One at a time, if you please. Let’s pretend we are in school and raise our hands. I will call on you one at a time.” The Hawk turned to his aide and stated, “Make a list of the hands as you see them and that’s the order we’ll go in.”

  He turned back to the table, “Who’s first?”

  At least ten hands went up.

  IHOP

  Flagstaff, AZ

  Noon

  DPS Sergeant Jaegar was seriously concerned. He found four bugs in his house, one in his patrol unit behind the radio and one at his desk. There was enough fear in him that he left them all where they were and had not reported them to his Lieutenant. From a throw away cell phone purchased at a dollar store he called Tan and asked him to be late to their meeting and instead of coming inside, look for anyone using a listening device to overhear any conversation he might be having. This explained why he was not sitting in his usual corner and had another friend sitting with him who knew nothing of the problem.

  They chatted about the most inane subjects. The friend was into model trains and Robert pretended he was really interested by leaning close as if all this was in secret and then sitting back and looking pensive in the lulls of the conversation. His friend, Wilson, was really into this conversation, because most of the time when he mentioned his trains, other men laughed at him for playing with toys. “Robert, would you like to come over and see my layout?”

  “Maybe tomorrow night around seven, would that work?”

  “Oh, yeah, seven would be great. I’ll have the wife fix us some dinner and then we can go to the train room and I’ll show you how to be a railroad tycoon for a few thousand dollars or more.”

  Robert looked around and then leaned into Wilson, “Forget the dinner and that sounds great. Give me your address and I’ll see you then.” Wilson rattled off his address as Robert wrote it all down making a show of getting it right.

  The friend looked around like the officer had been doing before adding, “I gotta get back to work. See ya tomorrow night, yeah?”

  “Yeah. Tomorrow night, seven.” Robert stood as he looked around, before shaking Wilson’s hand and watching him leave the restaurant. He watched him through the window until, half way across the parking lot Wilson was accosted by an apparently drunk Indian acting like he was homeless. The drunk hit Wilson up for a handout. Wilson shook his head from side to side and they separated. The drunk was left standing there scratching his head and looking around for another potential victim.

  “Just a moocher,” Robert said to himself.

  A guy at the next table said, “Yeah, he ought to be locked up, drunk and hitting folks up in public. Isn’t begging against the law?”

  “Not today it isn’t. I don’t want him barfing in my back seat.” Robert regained his seat as the waitress came around.

  “You ready to order yet, Sir?”

  “In a few minutes. Could I get a refill on the coffee, please?” He tossed a buck on her tray.

  “Yes, sir. Be right out.
”

  Tan parked in the strip mall lot across the street with a great view of the IHOP. He sat in the borrowed old beat up pickup with mud splatter everywhere including the windshield which did a great job of hiding him as he looked around. He spotted a man with the sound amplifier in his pocket and ear buds, his head banging like he was into heavy metal when in fact he was keeping no steady rhythm and never took a break. The drunk he had been watching for about ten minutes staggered around bumped into folks and pretended to panhandle. The giveaway was that he forgot he was supposed to be drunk, forgot to stagger on occasion, and didn’t cuss out the folks who gave him nothing. He didn’t even flip off the ones that ignored him. Best of all, Tan spotted the car sitting at the back of the IHOP, right outside the window where Robert usually sat, with a ‘big ear’ antenna pointed toward his usual seat. The Indian in that car was not a happy camper.

  Tan fired up the truck and drove through the parking lot, across the street into the Red Lobster lot, and changed cars. In his own civilian car and dressed in civvies, he drove into the IHOP lot and parked in a way that cramped the man with the ‘big ear’ antenna so he couldn’t get out. So intent was the man on watching for the DPS officer to move that he didn’t realize he was trapped until after the Deputy had gone inside.

  Les Brown made no attempt to sit with his friend inside the IHOP, instead he took a table in the corner behind the Sergeant, about ten feet away. Robert made no attempt at communicating with him, either, other than a cursory glance that he would give anybody who walked past him. Tan ordered coffee with creamer and a simple sausage with three eggs breakfast. The waitress stopped by Robert’s table on her way to the order screen. “You ready to order yet, sir?”

  “No, still waiting for my friend.” He grabbed his phone and dialed a number. Then he pretended to talk to the person on the other end, “Ben, you gonna make it?” He waited. “Damn, I been waiting here and now you tell me you can’t make it. That’s twice. Don’t worry, it won’t happen again.” He slammed his thumb down on the screen as if to hang up the phone as the sound of, “The time is . . .” came from the phone. “Waitress, check please,” as she went by with Tan’s coffee.

  On the way back she dropped his check on the table, “What’s wrong with you today? You have never been this way before. Can I help?” She cared.

  “It isn’t you. It’s that idiot, Ben. He’s done this before.” He glanced at the bill and threw a ten dollar bill on top for the coffee. “Thanks for asking though. See ya tomorrow, no, I’m off until Sunday, make that Sunday.”

  “You won’t see me on Sunday, maybe Monday.” She grabbed up the tab and the ten, and walked away.

  The DPS Sergeant got up and walked out. Halfway across the parking lot, he pushed the unlock button on his key ring. His car belched smoke from under the hood. He screamed, “Clear the parking lot. Everybody get back. Police. Get back and take cover. Do not go to your car.” He calmly pushed the button on the mike clipped near his chin and said, “Dispatch, I need fire, ambulance, wrecker, and backup to the IHOP. My car just poured out smoke from under the hood and the smoke continues.”

  Les sat calmly eating his breakfast as he watched the excitement outside from the safety of his chair. To go outside and play cop was to make Robert look like he had a co-conspirator in his investigation which could be a death warrant for both of them. ‘How did they pull that stunt?’ he wondered. “Looks like a smoke bomb or grenade,” he said out loud.

  The waitress ran through the kitchen and out the back door, crying.

  Governor’s Conference Room

  12:30 PM

  Hawk stood up and said, “Okay, we’ve done a lot of work with a bunch of good ideas. The sandwiches are here in the next room, drinks on the table in the corner, bathrooms around the corner in the hall. Take five and get back here with your lunch. We still have a long way to go.”

  The room emptied except for the Governor, the Hawk, and their aides. “Get the main ideas up on the wall so we can work on them,” the Governor said to her aide. “You can eat when the rest get back in here.”

  “Will do, Governor,” replied Josie as she started writing on a big flip chart sticky note pad with a black marker.

  The Hawk looked around with approval, knowing just how much work had been done. Everyone who had been in the room was working hard to make a court reform work, streamlining the system to a point where all rights were still in place for perps and victims, but still get from arrest to trial and, if necessary, sentencing in two short months with few reasons allowed for delay. He felt it would not take much to sell any of these ideas to the entire legislature.

  8

  Friday

  14 June

  FLAG DAY

  Flagstaff, AZ

  Just off the Northern Arizona University campus

  10 AM

  A small group of students began to gather on the corner of Route 66 and San Francisco Street where many of the red, white, and blue flags of the United States waved in a gentle breeze. Within minutes the group had grown to three groups, each on a corner. Six old cars chugged, smoked, and wheezed as they rolled to a stop in the intersection. The drivers got out and threw the car’s keys down a storm drain. Signs were pulled from the back seats and distributed to the crowd covering all four corners and the intersection itself. Those not fortunate enough to get a sign grabbed the red, white, and blue, lifted them high, and waved them above the heads of a rapidly gathering crowd of participants and spectators.

  A tall, curvaceous brunette lifted her sign, FREE NATIVE AMERICANS NOW, high above her head and started chanting the words on her sign. The crowd quickly took up the chant. A bullhorn came into play at the lips of a very stout looking young man of questionable descent, or maybe he just had a real good tan. Horns started blasting from the vehicles unfortunate enough to be caught in the blockage. A waiter from a nearby café began to peddle coffee to the protestors, receiving some healthy tips from the folks in and around the intersection.

  911 calls hit the local police station dispatchers’ phones telling of the protest, road blockage, and the loud chanting going on in their fair city. Officers were dispatched within seconds of the first call. The Mayor of Flagstaff was fortunate to be in the third car back on westbound 66 when the blockade began, his car cut off from every direction in the middle of the street. He shoved his car keys in his pocket after pushing the lock button in his Prius and moved to the sidewalk to watch the goings on go on.

  A passerby said to no one in particular, “Some fun, huh? These college kids will do anything to get out of classes.”

  No one responded.

  “FREE NATIVE AMERICANS NOW!”

  “FREE NATIVE AMERICANS NOW!”

  One white guy staggered out of an alley and shouted back, “Yeah, let’s turn them loose to fend for themselves, I’m tired of paying the taxes for their so called treaty money.” He then began chanting with the rest of the crowd in the street.

  A few folks heard him and for the most part believed that he was right, so they began to chant also. One dear little gray haired lady leaning on a walker was shouting with the best of them as the first Officer arrived on the scene. He made the mistake of trying to move her to a safer place. She took a swing at him with her purse sending its contents flying throughout the crowd and the intersection. He made his second mistake by trying to help her get her stuff back. A lovely young coed in Daisy Duke denim shorts and a halter top jumped on his back for a ride as he bent to pick things up, knocking him to the ground where someone promptly stepped on his hand. He arose in a rage, cuddling his bleeding hand to his chest and screaming into his lapel mike, “Officer assaulted. Send backup, lots of backup.” The crowd of protestors laughed, jeered, and yelled louder.

  Finally, six Indians in the full dress costumes of their respective tribes began to dance in the intersection where it had all begun. A fire was started on the pavement in the middle of the dancers. Within minutes dancers from other tribes began to join in the dem
onstration until there were over a hundred dancers and thirty drummers. The Mayor was still standing against a wall with a small smile and gleaming eyes watching the crowd and the dancers.

  A group of twenty officers in full riot gear came down San Francisco Street pushing the crowd ahead of them until it all packed up against the dancers in the intersection. Then the crowd stopped and would be pushed no more. The officers began arresting protestors from the back of the pack toward the intersection. Busload after busload were taken away to a collection and processing point in the dome of Northern Arizona University’s Lumberjack Stadium. Within an hour the riot squad had arrested over 200 and the Arizona Guard was rolling from Phoenix north to assist the Flagstaff and Coconino County officers with the riot which now raged roughly a half mile in all directions from its starting point. Everyone was surprised there was no looting or damage done to anyone or thing, except the first officer’s hand. They were just shouting their message and peacefully allowing themselves to be herded wherever they were led or pushed.

  The Mayor stood away from the wall, walked over to the brunette who signaled the start of the whole thing, and asked her, “I am the Mayor of Flagstaff, shall we work on your idea peacefully in my office?”

  Her reply was an instant dropping of her sign, which led to an end to the chant within three cycles. The crowd began to disperse. She looked the Mayor in the eye, “Lead on, Mr. Mayor. Let’s talk.”

  The Mayor, with a parade of six following, walked to the city hall.

  Governor’s office

  10:15

  The Governor and all her advisors were on high alert gathered in the conference room watching live feeds from the demonstration. Three more assistants arrived as the Governor called for silence, “Okay folks, we finally got some action we don’t want. Let’s watch and see how it plays out. DPS and Guard, I want kid gloves in this,- excuse the pun - even if it gets a bit rowdy, but as soon as they start damaging property or persons, lock it down. Are we in agreement and is that clear?”