by Marvin Tyson
“You’ll have to do what you think is best for you and your people, just as we will,” stated Pat. “If you feel your people are best served by walking out, you’ll have our blessing. But neither you nor Senator Mitchell will tell us what to do or when to do it. Now you can take that message back to Senator Mitchell.”
When the Texas delegation regrouped, they walked into the main meeting room, where the U.S. delegation was already seated. Senator Mitchell’s chair was occupied by someone the team didn’t recognize. As the meeting opened, President Thorson explained that Senator Mitchell had been called away unexpectedly.
The Texas team understood that the remainder of the meeting would be an exercise in futility, full of accusations from both sides, politics as usual, but no progress at all except to put some political pressure on the U.S. side through the UN. After all, the U.S. had not said that Texas had done anything wrong, or that any laws had been broken by them.
The Texas delegation was in a somber mood as they flew back to Austin. They felt that an opportunity to bring President Jackson, Senator Mitchell, Attorney General Smart, and the rest to justice had been lost. Any Chinese citizens involved were likely on a plane bound for China that would have left Dulles International before any of President Barker’s people could get there.
When they arrived back in Austin, there were several debriefing meetings with Marty. They shared what they knew and what they believed, then left Marty with the task of dealing with the media.
Chapter 51
That was the way it remained for three days, then Sheila and Raymond called Pat with a theory.
“Pat,” Raymond started, “I believe there’s a chance that some evidence was left behind at the abandoned mine office where Sheila and I were held captive. I think Sam, J.P. and I should go back out there and give the place a good going over for any evidence to tie Senator Mitchell or the AG to this plot or the kidnapping.”
Pat, who was leaning against her desk, her face thoughtful as she listened to Raymond’s reasoning, said, “I suppose that’s possible, but anything significant should have been found by the FBI team that went out there. Besides, any evidence still there has probably been contaminated, and might not be useful.”
Raymond glanced at Sheila, then told Pat, “Maybe it won’t be useful, but me, J.P. and Sam haven’t been able to get away for a while. We have a mutual friend with a farm and ranch just outside Alpine that’s infested with feral hogs, and we could go help with that problem as soon as we completed our little investigation at the mine office.”
“Okay, so you need a little ‘bro’ time, is that what you’re telling me?” Pat chuckled.
“Yup,” Raymond confirmed. “We’d just do a thorough search of the mine office, then head for the ranch and do a little nighttime hunting and hog eradication.”
Pat suggested calling the entire team together with Marty to see what he thought about it all. While they believed there might be some key evidence left behind at that mine office south of Sanderson, what they liked most was the idea that this would be the first hunting trip the three of them had taken together in over a decade.
They met with Marty, and explained the three old friends intended to take two or three days to hunt after a single day of sleuthing around the old mine property.
Pat and Sheila had other ideas, however. “Here’s the thing,” Pat said, “we have no intention of intruding on your hunting or manly stuff, but the three of you have no experience whatsoever in crime scene investigation. So there is every possibility you will overlook or compromise any clue that doesn’t jump up and bite you on the nose. That’s where I come in. I have spent most of my adult life involved in investigations and searching for clues; it just makes sense that I would be a part of this.
“Also, my folks with the Texas Parks and Wildlife Bighorn Sheep program volunteers are going out to Hudspeth County for several days next week to work on infrastructure for the desert Bighorn sheep restocking program that’s been going on for the past several years. Since Raymond was going to be gone for a few days anyway, Sheila volunteered to go with us. We’ll have some time to get to know one another. While you guys are goofing off shooting those evil pigs, we’ll finish sifting through the building for evidence. You guys can go hunting, and Sheila and I will be building water tanks for the sheep.”
“That’s fine with me,” said Sam, “and I’m sure Raymond won’t have any objection. How about you, J.P.? Do you have any objection to these two little ladies tagging along until we finish at the old mining office?”
“Not at all,” J.P. laughed, “that’ll give me something to look at besides your ugly mug.”
Marty spoke up. “You do realize you’re going to be leaving me with several potential crises cooking, right?”
They all grinned at him a little sheepishly.
“Oh, get out of here,” he smiled, “and be sure you have your cellphones with you in case I need help.”
Chapter 52
Everything needed for the volunteer work with Texas Parks and Wildlife was hauled out in two box bed trucks, so Sheila and Pat only had to pack their clothes and bath supplies. The three men, on the other hand, scurried around for the better part of three hours, gathering up firearms, cutlery, ammo, lighting, night vision gear, food, camping gear, and beer and other adult beverages.
The guys rode out in Raymond’s old, beat-up hunting van, driving south out of Austin with Pat’s shiny new one-ton diesel truck close behind. Finally, turning west on Highway 90, they came to a sign indicating the small community of Sanderson was coming up. They turned south on a gravel mining road for about eighteen miles until they reached the parking lot and the old mining building.
Eighteen miles south of State Highway 90 in that part of Texas is about a hundred miles from nowhere. The international space station was closer to civilization, and that’s just the way the three old amigos wanted it. It had been years since they had taken time to relax and do something they all loved together. They talked a lot about Mrs. Travis as the miles rolled by on the lonely Texas highway, about how much they all missed her and what she meant to them. Each of them choked up a little as they talked about her. For a very long time, she had been the glue that held Texas together. She was the First Lady of Texas and always would be.
They also talked about the deer lease they once had together outside the little town of Llano on the Llano River. They had kept that lease together for more than ten years, but the world and work had finally made it too difficult to find time to schedule hunting trips together, so they gave it up. Since then, the only real time they spent together was working in politics or, only lately, chasing bad guys for Marty.
The three old friends were excited about the chance to spend some relaxing time together, just hunting and enjoying each other’s company. In fact, they were so excited that they didn’t notice that a van had been following them ever since they turned on Highway 90 at Dryden.
When they pulled into the caliche parking lot, Raymond backed up to the front door, the only door still operable. The side and rear doors in the building had been welded shut in an effort to prevent vandalism from Mexicans crossing the border on foot and making their way north.
They got out of the vehicle and strode quickly up to the door. J.P. grabbed what he called his “night key,” a small pry bar, and popped the padlock off the door.
As they walked inside, they didn’t notice the other van parked out on the dirt road. The road was on the west side of the parking lot, and the setting sun shone directly into their eyes.
Inside, the three men looked for anything that might be evidence tying any one of the main players to the kidnapping of Raymond and Sheila, and thus to the plans of the Chinese. The three amateurs hoped to find something before Pat and Sheila arrived to spoil their fun.
“Over here,” Raymond yelled, bending down to pick up some camouflage cloth that turned out to be a shirt. “I’m pretty sure one of my guards was wearing this,” he said. “It’s defi
nitely been out here a while.” He stuffed it into a backpack and continued with his search.
“Here’s a couple of old spoons,” Sam said. He leaned down, picked the two eating utensils up, and held his flashlight on them. “Do you think these might have DNA on them?”
“Possible,” Raymond said, “but there’s probably been a thousand or more illegals using this old building for shelter on their way north, so any one of them could have used those spoons, or anything else lying around.”
So they still had nothing concrete that would tie the ex-president, Senator Mitchell, or the attorney general to the mining office.
Chapter 53
Pat and Sheila, who had been involved in continuous conversation for the four-hour trip, drove up the dirt road onto the gravel lot, but were in no hurry to get inside.
“Even my sunglasses don’t help in this blasted sun,” Pat complained, lifting her hand to help shade her eyes. Sheila had not even worn sunglasses, and she was struggling to see. Pat finally parked around the corner of the building about one hundred feet from Raymond’s old van.
“Let’s don’t park too close to something that looks and smells as bad as that old hunting and fishing van!” The two women giggled as they started to exit the truck.
The dome light in the van on the road came on just as Pat and Sheila stepped out of Pat’s truck, and they immediately ducked behind the shiny new Ford. “We got company, Raymond!” Pat screamed to warn the men inside that they were being watched.
In the waning light, Pat checked out the van’s occupants and, in the dim light provided when the door was opened, she was pretty sure they carried rifles. That wasn’t a good omen. All farmers and ranchers out here had a rifle or two in their trucks, but they only pulled them out when they intended to use them. Because the van was parked off to the side of the road in the dusk instead of in the parking lot, she decided they were up to no good.
J.P. and Raymond carried pistols in side holsters, but that was it. J.P. was unarmed. They had to get back to the van to get bigger and better firepower.
When two of the men on the road started shooting at the building, Sam fired through the window and Raymond stood in the doorway and emptied two magazines across the parking lot in the general direction of the van.
“Just keep ’em pinned down,” J.P. yelled. “We don’t have to hit anyone or anything in particular; just keep those guys’ heads down. I’m going to get our stuff out of the van!”
It had gotten darker, and they had no idea who they were shooting at or where they were exactly, but they needed their rifles, night vision scopes, monoculars, and ammo.
In the minute or so it took Sam and Raymond to fire those thirty or forty rounds, J.P. scurried to the van and retrieved their night vision gear, four rifles, and at least a thousand rounds of ammo from the van. As they hunkered down behind the wall, Sam laughed and said he had never seen J.P. move so fast in his life.
Raymond and J.P. put on night vision goggles, and Sam had a night vision scope on his 7 mm mag hunting rifle. Sam had also brought a new toy, his infrared monocular, or “FLIR.” It was intended to let a hunter see an animal through heavy brush because of the body’s heat differential from its surroundings, and here it would let them see the bad guys, even when they were inside their vehicle.
One by one, everyone on the team tried to get a connection on their cellphones to call for help, but nothing went through. They were on their own.
Chapter 54
Pat cursed under her breath about her lack of preparation. She hadn’t anticipated encountering anything more dangerous than a coyote as they worked in the Davis Mountains to set up water tanks for the desert Bighorn sheep. For one of very few times in her life, she was woefully unprepared for what confronted her now. She wanted to slap herself. She honestly thought all the shooting was over.
She had her side arm, a .45 ACP Colt Defender, but only a single seven-round magazine, plus one in the chamber. That would give her a total of eight shots to protect she and Sheila if the bad guys decided to come at them―a huge mismatch and unacceptable. She knew they had to get to the building where the men were, but they would have to have covering fire from inside to have any chance at all to get there.
“Raymond,” she screamed, “you guys are going to have to lay down cover while we try to get to you. We can’t stay out here all night.”
“We don’t want to start shooting unless they do. You girls just hang on tight until we see what’s up,” Raymond replied.
A couple of seconds later, a dozen or more rounds impacted the sides of Pat’s new truck.
“Well, do you know what’s up now, Raymond?” Pat yelled at the top of her lungs. “Bust some caps downrange; we’re coming into that concrete building!”
The men inside started firing as fast as they could toward the road and Raymond hollered, “Come on! Come on! Come on!”
“Stay low,” Pat said to Sheila, “and follow me as fast as you can!”
They geared up to run, but had taken less than three steps when Pat cried out as she took a hit in the upper thigh and fell hard on the gravel. It was all Sheila could do to get her back behind the truck.
“Sheila, there’s a first aid kit underneath the passenger side seat,” Pat gasped in pain. “See if you can get to it.” She gripped her leg tightly while Sheila opened the door, keeping her head down. The dome lights came on, and bullets thumped into the vehicle. It sounded like World War III had broken out. The sheet metal body of the truck was only a little better than cardboard as protection, but Sheila managed to grab the first aid kit before slamming the door.
Sheila worked quickly, cutting the pants leg away from Pat’s wound and bandaging it as best she could. “I don’t think any major arteries have been hit,” she said, “but you’re still losing blood through the bandage. We need a tourniquet.”
Silently, she knew Pat would need more advanced medical help very soon.
Chapter 55
Sam and Raymond saw Pat go down, but they didn’t know how bad her wound was. J.P. had to restrain them as they headed for the door on what would’ve been an ill-fated rescue attempt.
“The last thing we need is you two guys wounded or dead trying to get around the corner of this building. You would be in plain view with no cover whatsoever. Not good!”
The old building was concrete “tilt wall” construction, which meant the walls were solid concrete almost six inches thick. The walls were poured directly on top of the previously poured and cured slab then “tilted” up into the vertical to make the walls. This made for a very secure place, hard to get into or out of except through a door or window. And, while it meant that nothing less than an artillery round would make it through the walls, it would take hours to chisel a hole large enough to get out of in the back. The lone front door was the only way in or out for anyone.
“I have an idea,” Raymond said. “We have to get the gasoline out of my van. I just replaced the rusty old steel fuel line with rubber all the way from the engine fuel pump to the tank, and it’s running through some loose clamps on the way. I have to get under the van to the engine, then one quick slice with the knife and we can pull that rubber fuel hose all the way back through this door.”
He pointed toward one corner of the room. “There’s an old five-gallon bucket in the bathroom over there that was probably used to haul flush water to the toilet after the water was turned off in this building. We can use it to carry the gasoline back to that toilet, five gallons at a time, then give it time enough to run down to the old septic tank out by the road. A few well-placed rounds will provide enough of a spark to set it off. If nothing else, it will sure distract those guys long enough for us to get to Sheila and Pat.”
“I knew there was a reason we brought you along,” said Sam, “and it sure wasn’t for your looks. If we can get that gasoline, I believe that idea could work.”
“Yep, even a broke clock is right twice a day,” laughed Raymond.
They said a
s much as they could to Pat and Sheila without giving away their plans, and told them to stay exactly where they were. Then Raymond crawled under the van and slithered up to the engine. He managed to cut the fuel line without being seen. Sam grabbed the five- gallon bucket out of the bathroom while Raymond hooked up the rubber tube and waited until gravity delivered the gasoline to the bucket. The van had a huge tank that they had filled up back in Dryden, so they would have at least thirty gallons of gasoline and maybe as much as thirty-five, certainly enough to fray the nerves of those men out by the road.
It only took a few minutes to get all the gasoline poured down the toilet, but it was a long way down the sewer pipe to the septic tank.
“I have no idea how long it’ll take for the gasoline to get out there,” Raymond said, feeling helpless.
That question was answered for them when one of the men on the road said, “Damn! I smell gasoline. A round must have hit our gas tank!”
At the same time, they heard the unmistakable sound of rotor blades chopping up the night sky as it passed directly over the building.
“Wonder where that came from,” Raymond said, and then ducked as the shooters on the road opened up with everything they had, firing wildly at the building.
“I think those guys are laying down covering fire for that chopper,” J.P. said.
The chopper hovered over the gravel parking lot, and ten or eleven well-armed men jumped out even before it landed and headed toward the old van on the road. One man was barking orders to those from the van and those that had just gotten off the helicopter.
The team got a nasty surprise when somebody yelled, “I don’t want anyone leaving that building alive! Whatever you do, those people have to be dead before we leave here!”