B01M7O5JG6 EBOK

by Scott Blade

  Widow said, “He’s here now.”

  “Yeah. This guy Sheridan was in the DEA and now has a sterling political record. We have to assume he hired Glock. We have to assume they’re partners.”

  “So Glock handles the criminal side of the business. And Sheridan is the public face. How much money is in this wall?”

  Cameron paused a beat and gulped like the number was big, and it was. She said, “Widow, the wall has been estimated to cost twenty-five billion.”

  Widow stayed quiet.

  Cameron said, “Sheridan is pushing his political candidate to build the wall. He’s out there convincing Americans. Glock is out there behind the scenes, probably buying up all of this construction equipment and supplies. Which many failing business owners are probably selling. Happily.”

  “But the ones that won’t, that’s where he uses his talents of persuasion?”

  “Probably. If I dig some more, I wouldn’t be surprised to find some mysterious deaths involved.”

  Widow said, “Don’t bother digging. Let the FBI worry about evidence. I’ve got enough for me.”

  “Auckland is out there buying up land or forcing out landowners and gathering all of the local equipment. They’re making it so that they’re the only ones who can handle building the wall in South Texas. So when the time comes for bidding for contracts, the senator will be able to say, ‘Hey, Auckland already has everything. Auckland is ready to build now.’”

  Widow asked, “How much money is involved in just the South Texas part of the wall?”

  “Texas has the longest border with Mexico. I’d say more than half of the money would go to them.”

  “Fifteen billion?”

  “At least.”

  Widow said, “I need something else. I need your help to find the girl.”

  “I was just thinking that.”

  “Can you find out where they might’ve taken her?”

  “I don’t need to. I can tell you.”

  “Where?”

  “Auckland owns a lot of the land along the border already.”

  Widow nodded to himself.

  Cameron said, “About two hours from Romanth, to the northwest, they’ve got land with something on it.”

  “What?”

  “Ever heard of the Jericho Militia?”

  “No,” he said, but then he thought and said, “Militia? Glock did have a small force with him last night.”

  “They’re typical militia gun nuts, trying to police the border. But these guys are different than usual. Most militias round up illegals that cross the border and then turn them over to the Border Patrol. Not these guys. They’ve never turned in a single alien.”

  Widow said nothing, but he doubted that they were capturing illegal aliens and just setting them free. He knew that the guys he saw the night before were probably killing them.

  Cameron said, “The Jericho Militia’s headquarters are on this land.”

  “Okay. I’m headed there now. That’s where they have her.”

  “Want the coordinates?”

  “No. I have no way of using them. This phone is outdated. No maps.”

  “It’s a lot of land. How’ll you find them?”

  Widow thought for a moment. Then he said, “I need a favor.”

  “I’m already doing you favors.”

  “Yeah, but this is a big one.”

  “How big?”

  “Are there some bases around here?”

  Cameron said, “The Naval base is far.”

  “Not Naval. Air Force.”

  Cameron typed on the keyboard, and the clicks sounded over the phone. She said, “Near you, there’s Laughlin and Lackland.”

  “Check them out. Bribe. Pull in favors. Whatever you have to do. But I’m going to need some air support.”

  “What the hell are you talking about? You know they’ll never commit pilots or jets or helicopters to you!”

  “Not that kind of support. But maybe one of them can spare a spy drone.”

  Cameron was silent for a moment then said, “Lackland might have one. There’ll be no payload.”

  “Don’t need it. Just the recon. Tell them to call it a military exercise.”

  “It’s possible.”

  “I know you must know someone high up the chain of command.”

  “Not in Texas, but maybe in the DOD’s office.”

  Widow said, “Good. Make it happen. I need to know the layout.”

  “It’ll take a while. What you gonna do for now?”

  “You said it was about a two-hour drive from me?”

  “Yep.”

  “Guess I’m driving. Call me as soon as you have the drone.”

  Cameron said nothing back.

  He asked for Leon’s cell number and Cameron gave it to him and then she hung up the phone and was gone.

  Widow called Leon.

  CHAPTER 26

  IT TURNED OUT Leon was only about ninety minutes away from a point between Widow and the Jericho location. He updated her, and she agreed to meet with him. She told him the whole thing sounded unbelievable, but her boss’s boss had called him and explained to him that his boss had called him. And the chain of command had sent down the message that Leon was on loan to the Department of the Navy for the day. Which was something she had never heard of before.

  The reason she was so close to him already was that after she had gotten the message, she had been ordered to drive to Romanth, and so she had already been driving for an hour when he had finally reached her by phone.

  Widow was still driving along a bumpy track of dirt road that didn’t really qualify as a dirt road because grass had completely grown over it and died. Now it was a dead grass road more than anything else.

  An hour had passed since he had spoken to Cameron, and a half hour had passed since he’d spoken with Leon. He was ahead of her, technically. But she was driving a much newer vehicle, and most of the road ahead of her was actual road. She’d be at the meeting place at about the same time as he arrived.

  Widow was generalizing about the direction, but it wasn’t hard because the dead grass road he was on didn’t have many options other than straight.

  Suddenly, his phone rang. He reached down and picked it up and clicked the green button.

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s Cameron. Do you see it yet?”

  “See what?”

  And right then as he answered, he heard it. A loud boom from overhead. He looked up through the windshield and gazed at the blue sky. A small, thin plane flew overhead. He took a second look at it and realized it was the drone, unmanned and hawkish, like a predator.

  He said, “Great. I need to follow it to their headquarters. But first I’ve got to meet Leon.”

  “Where is she?”

  “I don’t know, but we’re meeting at a crossroad between a highway and this road.”

  Cameron said, “Okay, I’m sure we can locate that.” And then she stopped speaking to Widow but left him on the line as she switched over to speak to someone else. She gave orders for someone to pilot the drone and lead Widow to the highway. Widow realized she was probably connected by Bluetooth with the Air Force pilot who was manning the drone. The guy was probably sitting in an old shipping container in Nellis Air Force Base in Las Vegas, where he had just been. He imagined that because most spy drones were operated from there. The Nellis base was a primary operating center for these drones. It was amazing. The drones were typically out on the sea, parked on Naval carriers. They’d launch from the ships and be piloted from way back in Nellis.

  Things had changed a lot since Widow had first joined the Navy.

  Cameron came back on the line, and Widow said, “What happened to pilots flying with their jets?”

  “Everything’s going digital now. Like a video game.”

  “I feel bad for him.”

  “He’s the least of our problems.”

  “You should tell him he’s helping to rescue a little girl.”

&n
bsp; Cameron said, “I could, but I don’t know him. I’m not in his chain of command. He could blurt it out. He could get my guy who told him to do this in trouble.”

  “Guess we’d better keep him in the dark then.”

  “He’s used to that. These guys fly missions all day long. They’re always in the dark about them.”

  “All right, I see the drone. Will he fly it slowly?”

  “He’ll keep it in your eyesight.”

  Widow said, “Good. I can only go so fast on this road.”

  Cameron yawned a heavy yawn and said, “Widow, I’ve got to get some more Red Bull or I’ll be asleep before we even get her.”

  Widow said, “I’m okay for now. I can see the plane.”

  “Drone. Don’t call it a plane. These guys hate that. It’s like someone calling a battle carrier a boat.”

  “Drone,” Widow corrected.

  “I’m going to go offline for a while. I’ll be back in forty-five.”

  “Got it.”

  Cameron hung up the phone.

  WIDOW DIDN’T know the model name for the drone. He didn’t know a lot about them. He knew there were different shapes and sizes. He knew there were different kinds built for different missions. He assumed this one was a spy drone because it had that bulky front end with windows around it like a little cockpit. But there were no pilots in it. It was equipped with incredible lenses for the onboard cameras. He imagined it had incredible zoom range and picture clarity. He had seen some of the images captured by them in the past. He had been told that they never flew low. They usually flew so high in the sky that they couldn’t be seen with the naked eye. And they were often painted to disappear into the sky. Night drones were black and day drones were white.

  Widow floored the truck and took it up to the highest speed he was comfortable with, which was about fifty miles per hour. He wanted to go faster, but the truck was already bouncing. The suspensions were working overtime.

  He followed the drone, which kept flying low and then swooping away. When it got too far, the pilot circled it around, passing over the truck again and again.

  He continued on past some more rock formations and grassy lands and dying trees to the north. He headed into this no-man’s land, always keeping the Rio Grande on his left. He knew that because he could see the Rio Grande on the horizon to his left.

  Occasionally, he passed far-off signs of life like structures and windmills and power lines, but the cables on the lines weren’t there. And the windmills were spinning, but the structures looked hollowed out. Everything was abandoned and lost and forgotten.

  Widow’s mind wandered to John Sheridan. He thought back to the guy in the coffee shop he had met in Las Vegas. The idealist who looked down his nose at Widow and poked at him, telling him how to vote and how to think. Sheridan’s people. Truth was, whoever was voting for a huge border wall wasn’t doing so because of racism or some kind of misguided fear. Most Americans in the heartland were furious with the way government was going. They’d vote for anything. Widow didn’t care about politics, but he had seen what massive unrest could do to a country. He had seen revolution firsthand.

  A border wall was dangerous, almost reckless. But his focus wasn’t on the politics of it. His focus was on the liar behind the lie. Sheridan. A man who sat comfortably on a stockpile of wealth and public respect. Widow had known such corruption before.

  Cameron wanted to find the evidence. For what? To have a powerful senator arrested for conspiracy and murder charges? In Widow’s experience, these things hardly ever led to justice. The dark things that lived under rocks hardly ever saw their day in court when they were part of a system that could be bought.

  Widow shook his head, thinking about Claire and James and now Jemma. Lives lost for money and a lie.

  CHAPTER 27

  DONNA LEON stood outside her Tahoe and leaned on the front end. The windows were rolled all the way down, and Jake had his head stuck out the driver side window. Even though she had left the air conditioner blasting inside, Jake was still panting. His head was huge, and his fur was thick. He was definitely hot.

  She had her sunglasses on and her Kevlar vest and full uniform. She waited for Widow. Part of her was excited to see him again because she had thought about him. The other part of her was curious as to what the hell was going on.

  Her boss had told her to show up, meet him, and provide him with whatever support he needed. One unusual thing that had been relayed to her was that this was a no-questions-asked type of situation.

  She continued to wait. She wished she had a cigarette. She had quit smoking three months earlier and now was regretting it. But she didn’t have any cigarettes.

  Just then, she heard a noise. It was loud, like a cracking or booming. She stared across the empty highway at the dirt road and saw nothing. Then she looked up in the air and saw a small jet barreling toward her. It was clearly a military jet. She surmised that because she had never seen a plane that moved like this. She stood up and took off her sunglasses. The thing was headed right toward her. She watched with her mouth open as it flew very low and then was relieved when it jetted straight over her Tahoe. She followed it with her gaze and watched it yaw, and then the nose went up, and it flew straight up like it was making a turn.

  A moment later, she heard a loud, rusty noise behind her. She turned and saw an old police truck bouncing on worn-out tires. Smoke rose up behind it. The truck barreled up onto the highway. She saw that Widow was driving it. No one had told her he was a sheriff.

  Widow switched on the light bar, gunned across the blacktop and the median, and parked the truck in front of Leon’s Tahoe. Smoke emerged from under the hood and shot out of the grill. The engine clicked. It was either out of gas or out of radiator fluid, but either way, it was definitely out of time. It needed maintenance if it was going to continue on.

  He stepped out and left the door open behind him. He walked over to her and gave her a hug, which was a little weird because she wasn’t expecting it.

  He pulled back and said, “Sorry about that. I’ve had a bad night. I’m glad to see you again.”

  She said, “Me too. You must have some friends in high places to get my boss all amped up.”

  “What did they tell you?”

  “Nothing. They don’t know a thing. All they know was that an order came down from someone higher than my boss’s boss, and here I am.” She looked back at his truck and asked, “Are you…like…a cop?”

  Widow shook his head and said, “Forget about the truck. You don’t wanna know that part of the story.”

  “What the hell is going on?”

  “Remember I was looking for someone?”

  “Right. I thought you were a PI.”

  “Something like that. Turns out this person I was looking for was into something deep and in way over his head.”

  “Where’s this guy now?”

  “He’s dead.”

  “What?”

  “Dead. Look we’re pressed for time. This is a clock-ticking scenario.”

  She gazed up at him and asked, “Are you okay?”

  “More or less.”

  She asked, “More more, or more less?”

  Widow paused a beat and said, “More less, I suppose, but listen. Long story short—there’s a little girl out there, and there are some bad guys armed to the teeth, and they’re gonna kill her.”

  “What? We gotta call this in!” she said. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her cell phone.

  He clamped his hand on it, gently enough not to scare her, but hard enough to make a point. He said, “We can’t.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “Trust me. We can’t. That’s why I need your help.”

  She looked distrustful. She said, “I don’t know, Widow.”

  “Look, these people are connected. We can’t involve anyone. Not yet. After we got her, then you can call the cavalry.”

  “I don’t like this. I don’t feel right about it.�
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  “Trust me,” he said again.

  The spy drone came swooping back around and buzzed over them. Leon watched it, intensely.

  Widow said, “We’re not alone anyway. They’re with us.”

  “Who? Who’s with us?”

  He pointed at the drone and said, “Them.”

  She looked at him sideways and asked, “Who the hell is them?”

  “The United States Air Force.”

  “Are you serious? What are you, some kind of big deal?”

  “No. I’m just a guy trying to do the right thing.”

  Her sideways look intensified, and he said, “I used to be something. Never a big deal. I had a long career in the Navy. I got friends left in the military.”

  “Where’s this little girl?”

  “That’s why we got the drone. It’ll lead us there.”

  “What am I walking into? How many bad guys?”

  “That I don’t know for sure. At least eight.”

  “Great.”

  “Ever heard of the Jericho Militia?”

  She looked at him with disgust in her eyes. Widow watched them narrow, and she said, “You mean the Jericho Men?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “It’s a militia that operates along the border. Their territory is about a hundred miles long.”

  “That could be them.”

  “It is. They’re not a normal militia group. These guys are hardcore. They have firepower, and they’re very, very racist. They think they’re fighting for a cause, but their cause is white supremacy. We don’t mess with them without at least four convoys with agents armed and strapped with Kevlar.”

  “Well, the good news is you’ll probably get to kill some today.”

  “I’m not killing anyone.”

  Widow asked, “Have you ever fired your service weapon? In the line?”

  “Of course.”

  “Ever shoot anyone?”

  “No. Only warning shots.”

  Widow paused for a moment and then asked, “Can you shoot?”

  “Of course!”

  “I’d suggest that you let me do the wetwork.”

  “Wetwork?”

  “Dirty work. I need you for backup.”

  She nodded and said, “They told me to do whatever you need. I guess I’m obligated now.”