Redback

by Kirk Russell

  ‘Game over, Nate,’ Marquez said. ‘We videotaped you getting the horns out of the trunk.’

  Thompson looked from Marquez to Muller. His face said Marquez was right. His plea was to Muller.

  ‘Warden, you know that my sister died of cancer last winter. It’s her boy I’ve got to raise. Everyone knows that.’

  ‘Then, if you care at all about the boy,’ Marquez said, ‘get the horns out right now.’

  If not for his nephew, Marquez doubted Thompson would have done it. He unfolded the blanket on his truck hood.

  ‘I was going to sell them and put the money in a college account for the boy.’

  They were white-yellow with the half-moon curve and striations of bighorn. Marquez ran his finger along the horn. ‘What did you cut them off with?’

  ‘A battery-powered surgical saw he had. It’s for amputating in wars.’

  ‘Who is he, your client?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Marquez turned one of the horns in his hands. He felt the weight of it. Thompson confessed that his plan was to take the horns to Los Angeles where he knew a broker who could sell them. But neither the horns nor his confession got them any closer to identifying Thompson’s client, and it soon became obvious that Thompson wasn’t just trying to protect the man.

  ‘He didn’t tell me anything,’ Thompson said. ‘I was just a mule to him.’

  ‘When he left here where did he go?’

  Thompson pointed toward Nevada. ‘Drove off that way.’

  ‘I’m going to show you an old photo,’ Marquez said, and then borrowed Muller’s keys and retrieved the charcoal sketch the Round Valley artist made and the faxed photo Anderson had sent. He studied the photo again and felt heat rise to his face and saw Billy Takado in the late afternoon in the bull ring. If Thompson recognized the photo his decision to join Desault’s task force would be made.

  ‘Where did you get that?’ Thompson asked after picking it up and squinting at it.

  ‘Is that him?’

  Thompson nodded. He stared at Marquez.

  ‘Oh, yeah, that’s Maitland.’

  When they left Thompson they drove back to Alice Durrell’s house. They found her in the studio. She didn’t look at the photo for more than a second before saying, ‘That’s him, and you’re better off not looking for him.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Alice, we can handle him,’ Muller said.

  ‘Of course, you can.’

  She studied Marquez’s eyes, smiled a sad smile, touched his arm, and then turned back to her studio.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  Marquez pulled off on to the road shoulder near Mammoth Lakes Airport. He called Desault.

  ‘Stoval was here and he may be in Vegas now. It’s worth checking.’

  ‘Why Vegas?’

  Marquez recounted Terri Delgado’s story of being invited along on the hunt that would end with a long weekend in Las Vegas. He went slowly through the chain of events with Desault.

  ‘Where are you?’ Desault asked.

  ‘North of Bishop at Mammoth Lakes. I’m on my way home. Stoval is traveling under an alias. Patrick Maitland. M-A-I-T-L-A-N-D.’

  ‘OK, I got it.’

  ‘He hired a local guide down here named Nate Thompson and shot two bighorn sheep on the Mount Williamson Zoological Preserve. He used the name Patrick Maitland with both the guide and the woman that tipped us. Anderson faxed me a photo I showed them and both ID’ed him.’

  ‘If he’s traveling under an alias I can hold him. If I can prove it, I can keep him out of the country. How do I reach the woman with the Vegas story?’

  Marquez pulled his logbook and then read off Delgado’s cell number.

  ‘When he left Thompson’s house he had a bighorn head with him. I’ve called Nevada’s Department of Wildlife as well as US Fish and Wildlife, so they’re looking for him, too.’

  ‘I wish you hadn’t done that.’

  ‘Well, Ted, this is about wildlife. I don’t know what plans he has for the head, but he can’t carry it around indefinitely and there are only a handful of taxidermists in that area, so between Nevada’s and Fish and Wildlife they should know where to look. Let me give you the names and numbers of who I talked to in those departments.’

  He heard Desault’s pen scratching. Then a question came.

  ‘What made you show this guide a photo of Stoval?’

  ‘A bunch of small things I’ll run through with you later. If Nevada Wildlife can tie him to the horns then they can make an arrest and the guide here will testify against him.’

  ‘I’ll call the Field Office in Vegas and talk to you later.’

  When he hung up with Desault he pulled back on to the road and started to believe they had a real chance to take Stoval down. He drove north up 395 and then over Monitor Pass and on into the Tahoe Basin. After he was out of the mountains and just a couple of hours from home, Muller called and said, ‘I found it. Coyote dragged it away from where Alice saw them dump it, but it’s bighorn. There’s something else that’s bizarre and with it. I’ll have to drive back out and ask Alice Durrell about it.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘A postcard with a skewer through it, like a shish kebab skewer. When I look at the drag marks I can tell it was near where they dropped the head. The postcard was skewered into the ground between two sage bushes. I haven’t touched it yet and I’ve got an evidence bag in my truck. I’ll get it and bring it back.’

  ‘You’re saying it was stuck in the ground near where the head was before the coyotes got it?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘OK, what’s on the postcard?’

  ‘You want me to handle it? I bagged it as evidence.’

  ‘Go ahead and take a look at it.’

  Marquez listened as Muller opened the plastic evidence bag. He could tell Muller was holding his cell to his ear with his shoulder.

  ‘The picture is mountains, ocean, and boats. It’s torn though.’ He laughed. ‘Looks like one of the coyotes bit through it.’

  Marquez heard him muttering to himself and then wind gusting was loud and made Muller hard to hear as he said, ‘It’s a town in Alaska. I thought it was Alaska. What do you make of that, a bighorn head and a postcard from Seward, Alaska?’

  ‘I don’t make anything of it yet, but my sister lives there.’

  ‘Then you ought to see this. It’s a weird thing.’

  ‘Has your cell phone got a camera?’

  ‘You want me to email a photo?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘I’ll do it right now.’

  Marquez emailed the photo to Desault and got ready to call him. He punched in Desault’s number, then erased it and called Darcey instead.

  THIRTY-NINE

  The next day Marquez drove to Sacramento so they didn’t have to do it over the phone. The morning was already hot and the lawns around the capitol building humid as he and Chief Blakely walked to a place on J Street she liked. They took an outdoor table in the shade of a plane tree and the chief ordered a mineral water, Marquez black coffee.

  ‘They’re calling it a failure at the supervisory level,’ she said, ‘but it’s not as bad as it sounds. They acknowledge that you were pulled away by an ongoing operation, and that Brad disobeyed a standing order that would have kept him from crossing the slope without backup in place.’

  ‘What’s the bottom line?’

  ‘That I want you to remain as head of the SOU, the director wants you replaced, and the legislators who fund the budget feel you have to be replaced or we’re going to run into trouble this year. Personally, I don’t believe that.’

  ‘Director Morgan wants me replaced.’

  ‘Yes, but he understands what happened. There’s not going to be any disciplinary action and they understand how stretched the SOU gets. No one has any illusions about that.’

  If the Director of Fish and Game wanted him out of the SOU, then it was done. Nothing Chief Blakely could do would change that and he got it a
bout the legislature. Every year it was a battle to prove the money for the undercover team was well spent. If he remained in place after a finding of supervisory negligence it would create an opening for those who wanted to cut the budget.

  His coffee and the chief’s mineral water arrived, and suddenly coffee was the last thing he needed. Even knowing this was coming, it was very hard.

  ‘When does all this come out?’

  ‘Monday.’

  ‘So everybody would like to get clear this week?’ When she didn’t answer that he said, ‘I’ll step aside today.’

  She shook her head and he read real emotion there and it touched him.

  ‘I’m going to talk to the press about you and tell them what you’ve done for California, and I’m going to say again to you, don’t leave the department.’

  ‘What would I do here, Janet?’

  ‘You’re not leaving.’

  ‘Even after I’m gone I’ll keep working with the team to make sure the cases go in whole. I think Melinda Roberts should step in for me.’

  She looked pained and older and answered, ‘You’ve already told me that.’

  The chief didn’t refuse to accept that his long run was over, but Marquez continued talking about the open cases, the court appearances he’d have to make, time he should spend with Roberts or whoever got the nod to replace him. He looked across the table at his old friend. It felt strange to work so many years and have it end as simply as this. But he didn’t know what else to do other than talk about the open cases, the things that would need taking care of.

  He talked with Katherine the whole drive home and she said, ‘I can’t change you. I know that, and that’s how it is, but, John, there are always going to be people like Stoval. That’ll never end and I feel like you’re being used. Seems to me the FBI is starting to outsource and you fit what they’re looking for. I’m not going to get all emotional right now, but I wish you weren’t going to do this, though I know you are.’

  ‘I am about to call Desault.’

  He didn’t get a call back from Darcey yesterday, but he got one now.

  ‘John, I’m not worried about it and I’ve got a gun that I know how to use.’

  Seward wasn’t a big town. There was fishing, tourism, and the jump-off point for Kenai Fjords National Park. Her restaurant and bar was right there in the small boat harbor and anyone coming into town would only have to ask, ‘Where do I find Darcey Marquez?’

  ‘What can I do about it anyway?’ she asked.

  ‘Watch for anything unusual. Call me and I’ll get on the next flight.’

  ‘Come on, John, in what movie? And what does that mean anyway? Watch for anything unusual. Everyone around here is unusual. This place attracts unusual. And I don’t have time to watch out for it, let alone avoid it. Do you know what I’m doing right now? I’m deep frying halibut and French fries. I’ve got five orders for fish and chips, two for halibut sandwiches, and one grilled salmon. I don’t have any vegetables prepped yet, or anyone to do it. I’ve got a half-ass bartender who got fired off a fishing boat last week and is out there over-pouring for his friends right now. I’ve got my cell phone in my left hand. What am I going to do, watch out the window or just keep an eye on the people who come in?’

  He called Desault after he hung up with Darcey.

  ‘How long will it take you to get the creds, the passport, and the rest?’

  ‘Not long at all.’

  ‘All right, I’m in.’

  ‘That’s great news. I mean, that’s great news. The Department of Justice just got itself wildlife enforcement. Let’s meet here tomorrow. Welcome aboard, no, welcome home, welcome back to the Feds. This really makes me happy, John. This is a good decision.’

  If it made Desault happy, it made Katherine sad and his promises to her sounded hollow. He stayed in Sacramento, stalled until late afternoon, and then he parked outside the Water Resources building and rode the elevator up to Fish and Game headquarters. Chief Blakely wasn’t in her office, but her assistant let him in and he put the six green logbooks on her desk. He stacked them one on top of the other, the oldest on the bottom. He laid his resignation letter next to the books, started to leave the room, and then walked back from the door to the green logbooks and rested his hand on the warm cover of the top one. He kept his hand there for several minutes, standing alone in the late sunlight in the chief’s office, emotion coursing through him as he let go.

  III

  Angel of the Wild

  FORTY

  They flew low and fast, skimming the tundra, hoping to startle a bear. It was Stoval who spotted a big grizzly feeding on a caribou carcass. He shouted to the pilot, ‘Right side, three o’clock.’

  The pilot banked hard as the bear ran and now willows bent under the rotor wash as the helicopter settled lower and Xian Liu, rifle raised, waited for the helicopter noise to flush the bear out of the willows. When it did, the pilot held the copter steady and Liu’s shot caught the bear in the hindquarters. But the bear hardly slowed.

  A half mile later they hovered close enough again, though the bear was only partially visible under another stand of stubby low trees. Stoval had the pilot bring the helicopter down fifty feet. He wasn’t sure Liu could make the shot and turned to him and asked, ‘Want us to put you on the ground?’

  ‘No, he’ll come out.’

  ‘He’s done moving for now. You hit something with that first shot. He bled a lot.’

  ‘He’ll come out.’

  ‘We’ll put you down and he might come at you, but you’ll get a shot.’

  Liu wasn’t going to do that, but Stoval stayed with it until they all understood that Liu was too cowardly to leave the safety of the helicopter. Liu took another shot and a tree branch dropped. He fired four more times before striking the bear. When it left the willows, it moved more slowly. Stoval found the new wound with binoculars, a lucky shot that had caught the bear near the right front shoulder, and it was easy to stay with the bear now. The pilot nosed lower, pulled in front of the big grizzly, and turned so that Liu’s next two shots were straight on. Both hit the bear but neither killed it. A fist-sized hole bled from its left side and still it kept moving. The big head swung looking for a foe on the ground that wasn’t there.

  The next shot dropped the bear and after they landed Liu still didn’t want to get out of the helicopter. So it was Stoval who made sure the bear was dead, walking up to it unarmed with Liu watching him. Then he left Liu alone with his Chinese medical myths and ate a sandwich and drank a beer, talking to the pilot as Liu carved out the gall bladder he imagined would save his mistress from terminal cancer. She was already as good as dead, but Stoval still needed Liu a little longer so he’d set up the hunt.

  Steam rose from the bear’s carcass as Liu lifted the gall bladder out. He slid it into a large Ziploc bag and the bag went in the cooler with the cold drinks and salmon sandwiches the pilot had packed for them. The other thousand pounds of bear they left to the wolves.

  Liu’s jet was in Anchorage waiting, and all that really mattered here was that Liu’s gratitude for the hunt got Liu past any remaining worries he had about retribution from the Taiwanese government. Sooner or later, the Taiwanese would track things back to Liu and Liu was afraid the Americans with their paranoia over terrorism would then come for him. He was getting fat and fearful. Liu was not the man Stoval had first worked with. He was distracted by his mistress and had become cautious and self-important.

  Stoval carried the cooler on to the jet. He rarely carried anything for anyone, but did this as a gesture Liu couldn’t mistake. They embraced and he watched Liu’s plane take off before driving to Seward. In the two hours it took to make the drive he decided he would do this last deal and not go any farther with Liu. After this deal he would throw his business to Liu’s rival and then prove his intentions to the rival by working to destroy Liu. It was time.

  In Seward he found Darcey Marquez’s restaurant within minutes. Inside, he went upstairs
to the bar. A large window looked out over the small boat harbor, allowing drinkers to enjoy the dismal gray clouds and cold water. A woman in a red flannel shirt and jeans cleaned glasses behind the bar and Stoval knew immediately she was Darcey Marquez. He smiled as he slid on to a stool. He picked up a menu. He made small talk, got her name and told her it was a pretty sounding name, but really it was a name typical of the new American peasant.

  ‘What kind of local beer should I order?’

  ‘You choose.’

  ‘Don’t you want to recommend something?’

  It offended him slightly that she didn’t. Her offhand rejection irritated him and he ignored her joking now as he ordered a whiskey rather than a beer. He studied her legs in the tight jeans. There was always something sexual in this, but he didn’t desire this woman. He drank the whiskey and ordered a halibut sandwich and beer and watched her put the order in, then go retrieve it. After she returned and was behind the bar again she was watchful. He made her nervous and she was so right to be scared because he was studying her now as he did an animal he was hunting. When she turned to meet his gaze directly he smiled and imagined how she would look when they found her.

  FORTY-ONE

  ‘Dad, where are you now?’

  ‘Crossing the Golden Gate on my way to the FBI Field Office to get sworn in. I start working with the task force in a couple of days.’

  ‘Did you hear about the condo fire in Arizona yesterday?’

  ‘Sure.’

  It was all over the news and the FBI was calling it ecoterrorism. The fire burned seventy-two condos under construction in an Arizona canyon and now was burning through drought-weakened, beetle-infested national forest.

  ‘I might know something about it,’ Maria said.

  ‘What do you mean? How?’

  Marquez slowed. He adjusted his ear piece so he could hear her better.

  ‘I overheard something in July when I was still going out with Jack that I want to talk to you about. When I heard about the fire last night on TV it all clicked. Jack was talking to a friend of his, Ben Marsten, the guy that founded 1+1Earth. But I don’t want to tell you over the phone, and I have to tell the FBI, but I want to talk to you first.’