by Jeff Carson
She stared skyward.
He took a deep breath, letting the tension dissipate from his jaw. “I’m sorry.”
She closed her eyes and rolled her neck.
He walked to the back of the truck and felt his jeans were cold and damp.
“Aiding and abetting.” He returned and laid the pants down next to the fire. “How did I go from a respectable sheriff of Sluice County to you guys thinking I killed Sarah, a Bureau agent, and now Gail Olson? And what about these guys watching my house? They’re the real-deal cartel? With men on the inside waiting to shiv me? Sorry I’m lost, Kristen. How is it that the FBI is unaware of them and going after me?”
“Let me start from the beginning.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Good idea.”
“Sit. You’re freakin’ me out.”
He exhaled and sat down.
“As long as I’ve known Smith and Tedescu, since I came to the Denver FO a few years ago, they’d both been on a drug task force. You know, Mexican cartel activity, marijuana grow sites in the national forests, that kind of thing, and now that weed is legal, they were monitoring fraud activity—people trying to circumvent the crop-tracking software, point-of-sale monitoring, stuff like that.
“A few years before legalization, when I was still up in Glenwood Springs, apparently Tedescu and Smith were involved in a big operation that went nuclear down in southern Colorado. I guess they’d encountered a few strains of pot in huge quantities that couldn’t be traced to the normal list of suspects south of the border. They took what they had to the SAC. The SAC gave them the go-ahead and a few men to monitor closer, and they concluded that there was a big widespread operation happening right under every official nose in the state.
“Smith and Tedescu were calling these unknowns the ‘Ghost Cartel.’ The problem was, they had no solid evidence of its existence. But they had plenty of indirect clues. They worked on it for a number of months, six or seven, and eventually one day came out triumphant because they’d recruited an informant. Their new asset wanted immunity and federal protection for himself and his family if he gave them the location of the Ghost Cartel’s main distribution center. We agreed, and the guy pointed us to some huge farm property in southern Colorado, southeast of Durango, near the New Mexico border.
“Armed with a SWAT team, a grip load of agents, and the information everyone thought was legit, the SAC led an operation to the farm compound. But the informant went silent on the day of the bust, never showing up at the agreed meeting spot. Just changed his mind or, they thought, more likely he’d been silenced. Whatever happened to the guy, the operation went ahead, and they sent everyone in.
“Long story short, the place blew up, turning the sand to glass for a square mile. Huge freaking explosion. Eleven SWAT-team members killed instantly, six agents, and a lot of casualties.”
“I heard about this,” Wolf said. “We were told it was a Mexican cartel responsible for the explosion.”
Luke nodded. “After the smoke settled, literally and figuratively, they looked closer into the informant and found that he was a well-known commander in one of the cartels in Mexico, and not a low-level lackey they’d all thought. He’d been up in the States on business under a different name. Big screw-up. None of the brass could figure out how they’d messed up so big. In the end, the Special Agent in Charge took the blame and got canned, and Agents Tedescu and Smith were suspended and kicked down a GS level. And that was basically that. Until the whole Gail Olson thing.”
Wolf narrowed his eyes. “Our famous drug runner from Byron County.”
She nodded. “Yep.”
“Our famous dead drug runner.”
“Yeah. So she is.” Luke massaged her neck. “Anyway, when she was pulled over nine months ago, the Bureau’s ears perked up at the details of her case. She had over twenty pounds of weed, no license of any kind to be carrying or distributing it, and it looked to be a hybrid of the same strain of pot Tedescu and Smith had been tracking years ago. And then this third-year college student brought in a team of high-priced lawyers who managed to get all charges dropped completely.”
Wolf frowned. “I thought she’d been charged and somehow had her record expunged with MacLean’s help.”
“Nope. Never even had a record. Not with the team of lawyers she had. They ended up proving she had no knowledge of what was in the car. They slapped a counter-suit on the Ashland PD for unlawful search and seizure, and everything ended up getting washed.”
Wolf shook his head. “That’s not what Baine found out.”
“Well, that’s what happened. The point is, after Gail Olson, Tedescu and Smith got a second chance and were somewhat vindicated, because it was clear that something big was going on, just like they’d said a few years ago. So Tedescu and Smith were partnered up again, and the first thing they did was start following Gail Olson’s activities, which eventually led them to Deputy Rachette, and the Sluice County Sheriff’s Department.”
Wolf straightened. “Are you saying they thought we were the Ghost Cartel?”
“They’ve been looking into you and the department. Let’s just put it that way.”
He stood and laughed out loud. “So what? That’s what this is? They think I’m some sort of drug lord?”
“I’m not sure what the brass really think about you. But I know that the consensus with the agents is that you definitely had something to do with Agent Smith’s death.”
Wolf glared at the flames.
“And this anonymous tip didn’t help.”
He shook his head. “They got a warrant to go in with this anonymous tip?”
“To find a weapon that killed one of ours? We pretty much have a warrant print button on our computer keyboards for situations like that.”
“What did they find?”
“I don’t know. I’m incommunicado. But I’m betting my career that they found a pistol that shoots 9 mm Parabellums. Matching the gun that shot Sarah and Agent Smith, and probably Gail Olson. Like you heard Frye say on that phone call, the first half of the tip was right. They found Gail Olson’s body right where the caller said they would.”
“But this guy, Tedescu, Smith’s old partner, he told you I was innocent.”
She nodded.
“So what? These guys, Tedescu and Smith, were caught up with the cartel?”
She fished in her pocket and pulled out a key. “We have to go to a storage unit in Gunnison that supposedly explains everything.”
He stared at the glimmering key. “Where’d you get that?”
“Tedescu.”
“Where’s he? With the rest of them, coming after us?”
“I don’t think so. He gave me this, told me, ‘Smith and I were right, and the proof is in that storage unit,’ and then he took off, clearly freaked out for the safety of his family after seeing that quad murder.”
“What quad murder?”
She exhaled and looked up, as though shuffling thoughts in her head. “Agent Tedescu came to my apartment and got me out of bed at four a.m. yesterday morning, and then he drove me to Park Hill, where DPD was working a family of four found shot in their home. A lawyer and his wife and kids. Real messed-up stuff. The DPD didn’t call us in. I have no clue why we were there, other than Tedescu just wanted to see the scene. Had some sort of personal interest. I could see it in his eyes.
“We went in, checked the bodies, and then he stormed out like he was spooked. Then that’s when we got the call for the emergency meeting. Everyone was mobilizing to come up after you. Tedescu handed me this key, and told me you were innocent. He said whatever they found, it didn’t matter, that you were innocent, and it was all a set-up, and it would all be explained if we went to this storage unit.” She pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of her pocket. “Gunnison. Trout Creek Moving and Storage. Number 62.”
Wolf looked at the piece of paper in her hand. “Tedescu was spooked, and then knew that I was about to be framed. Why didn’t he go to the Agent in Charg
e with this?”
She shrugged. “Like I said, he was spooked. He called his wife, told her to stay put where she was, and then he hung up and told me he had to get his oldest son, and drove away in a cloud of smoke.”
“Why didn’t you tell your SAC about this?”
“About a key and information in a storage unit that may or may not exist in the middle of the mountains? Not likely to sway the momentum this morning.” She lowered her voice. “You met Agent Frye, right?”
He nodded.
“He’s partnered with an agent named Cumberland most of the time.”
“Yeah, I’ve met him, too. Hell of a guy.”
“I watched him staple a picture of you on a target and empty a clip into it once. That’s the general attitude about you in the Bureau. I’m not sure you would’ve survived the raid.”
He exhaled. “Thanks.”
She stretched her arms overhead and yawned. “Whatever. Listen, if I’m going to be lugging you across Colorado tomorrow then I need to sleep.” She held up the key and dangled it. “So we’ll go here at sunrise, and we’ll get some answers. Until then, goodnight.”
He was wired and still had questions. Lots of them. But he held back at the sight of her drooping eyelids. “Goodnight.”
She crawled into the tent, zipped it shut, rustled around for a second, and then was still.
The fire crackled and a shower of embers swirled. Like the questions in his mind, they burned bright, full of glowing energy, and then they were gone as more arose underneath.
Carter Willis had been FBI, and had been following Gail Olson. That meant MacLean was somehow involved with the FBI, because it had been MacLean who’d taken those pictures of the fake Gail and Rachette drug-drop.
Agent Tedescu had known that Wolf was being framed. A frame job that made Wolf look like he was some sort of drug lord running a cartel. How exactly was Tedescu involved? How had Smith been involved, and why was he with Sarah?
Then there was the dead family in Denver. They clearly had something to do with all of this.
It was futile trying to come up with answers when he knew he lacked pieces of the puzzle.
Luke was right. They had a destination, one that would hopefully explain everything. They needed more answers to a lot more questions, and that key might help.
He shifted his thoughts to Jack, as he did at least ten times every waking hour. He thought of his son’s youthful flop of hair, his lanky build due to his huge growth spurt that Wolf and Sarah had marveled at behind his back. And he thought about the pain on his face yesterday.
Wolf pulled another granola bar out of his pocket and forced it down. He found a bottle of water standing near the tent and guzzled it all. Then he unzipped the tent, took off his shoes, and crawled inside. He lay on the hard ground, stared at the tent ceiling for a couple of hours listening to Luke’s soft snoring, and then finally drifted off to sleep.
Chapter 15
Pope stood still inside the house, looking through the tiny sliver between the wood slat blinds.
The SUV pulled into the driveway outside and screeched to a halt. The driver stayed inside the vehicle, rummaging around for something.
His prey had finally arrived.
The top-of-the-line Audi SUV was decked out with all the bells and whistles, a car that could theoretically match up with an eighteen-year veteran of the FBI who was savvy with his money. But Pope knew better.
Pope was unaware of the agent’s GS level or the salary associated with it, but he was certain it could not pay for this house, with its one-acre plot, three stories, four bedrooms, six baths, and more granite in it than on the slopes of Pike’s Peak—which was now a pink monolith in the light of the sunrise out the southern windows.
Tack on the Lexus SUV in the three-car garage, which his jobless wife drove, all while paying for two children in private schools in Douglas County, and it was downright ridiculous other people had failed to wonder about the agent’s extracurricular activities.
The man outside finally climbed out of the vehicle and stepped quickly to the front of the house.
The front door lock twisted and the door silently glided open.
The agent stepped in and shut the door fast, twisting the lock. He stepped to the illuminated alarm keypad.
Dropping his briefcase on the ground, the agent stared at the keypad in disbelief for an instant and then pulled his pistol and twirled around.
Pope was already there. With a precise and powerful movement, he blocked the agent’s gun. The pair of muffled cracks beneath the skin told him the radius and ulna had broken even before the agent howled in pain.
As the gun clattered onto the hardwood floor, Pope kicked it away and stepped back.
The man sank to his knees, cradling his arm, and looked up with equal parts disbelief and agony.
“Special Agent Terrence Tedescu. Nice to finally meet you.”
“Ah, my arm. Who are you?” Tedescu’s voice was a whimper.
“I’m the man who’s going to kill you and your entire family.”
The agent’s eyes narrowed and widened with fear. “Pope?”
Pope said nothing, letting his previous statement burrow into the man.
“My family’s not—”
“Not safe in Missouri, I’m afraid. We have quite a presence in the Midwest. I’m sure you’re aware of that.”
Agent Tedescu shook his head. “Please. Please don’t hurt them.”
Pope paced and glared down.
“I’m not sure what’s going on,” Tedescu said. “I thought everything was going fine. I thought we had a deal. It was win–win. We did everything you wanted.”
“Win–win?” Pope knelt down and clamped the agent’s face between thumb and fingers. His leather gloves were tacky on the man’s sweaty face. “No. Ever since you assholes poked your heads into our business, it’s definitely been a win–lose situation, with us on the losing end. You had to have seen this coming. This is the inevitable end to what you started.”
He hurled the man back and his head thudded against the wall.
“You have a choice, however.” Pope pulled his phone out of his pocket. “You can choose the finale. I’m going to call my men.” He pushed the number and listened to the ringing. “And one of two things is going to happen.”
“What are you doing?”
“You are either going to tell me who else you’ve told about all this, or I’m going to … hold on … Hey. It’s me. Are you in position? Okay. Hold on … This is my Midwest team leader on the line. You want to say hi?” Pope shoved the phone in Tedescu’s face.
Tedescu closed his eyes and shook his head. Sweat slid down his cheeks onto his neck.
“He says your two daughters are cute. Says he’d rather not go through with this.”
Tedescu kept his eyes closed tight, as if still refusing to believe the situation.
Pope narrowed his eyes. “Hey, you listening to me?”
“Just shoot me, you asshole. There’s no way you’re getting my family. They’re with the FBI—I made sure of that today. You’re not getting to them. I don’t care how powerful you assholes think you are, you’re not getting them. Just shoot me. It’s me you want.”
“Joplin.”
Tedescu’s eyes sprang open.
Pope shook his head. “They’re in Joplin, Terrence. Once again, your disrespect is mind-boggling. We’ve been on them for days, watching them visit your sister-in-law, at that nice countryside manor of theirs. We followed them to the airport, and then back to the house. And then we followed the FBI team as they took them to the safe house. And now,” he held up the phone, “we’re there. In Joplin. We might have lost you all day but, believe me, we never lost your family for a moment.”
Tedescu’s eyes clamped shut again and he sagged into the wall.
“You’re in the middle of a well-executed plan, here, Terrence. Not some short-sighted shit show you and your partner would’ve concocted.”
“Ho
ld your position,” Pope said into the phone.
Tedescu opened his eyes and glared at him.
“You have a choice. Tell me who else you told about all this, or else I give the word. Did you hear about your lawyer and his family yesterday?”
“I saw them.” Tedescu clenched his teeth. “I saw them, you sick bastard.”
“You made me do that.” Pope pulled out his pistol and pressed it against his head. “You made me. You made me do that.” Pope’s hand shook. His whole body trembled and his breath came in short gasps as he remembered what he’d done. “Now tell me who else you told.”
“About what?”
Pope stepped away and his face went slack.
“Nobody.” Tedescu gritted his teeth. Defiant. “I didn’t tell anyone.”
The agent’s eyes glimmered, and then he convulsed, a small shot of saliva shooting from his lips.
Pope wondered whether the man was having some sort of seizure.
Then the agent smiled. “You idiot. My family’s not in Joplin. You’ll never get my family.” Then Tedescu laughed like a maniac.
Pope shot him in the eye and then twice more in the side of the head as he dropped.
He stood breathing hard, his ears ringing, the acrid smoke choking his nostrils.
“Sir? Hey, you there?”
He pressed the phone to his ear. “Yeah?”
“What was that all about? I thought I told you they lost the family in Joplin. Not that they were holding them in Joplin. You knew that, right, sir?”
Pope stepped back from the encroaching pool of blood. “I know. I was bluffing this asshole.”
“Oh.”
He turned and stared out the window at the majestic fourteen-thousand-foot Pike’s Peak. It was really quite a view in the first light of day. Only the top half of the mountain glowed.