Never-ending-snake

by Thurlo, David

  “Do we know for sure that Adam was only lobbying on behalf of the tribe? Is it possible he was freelancing and getting paid to bring tribal contracts to other outside parties? Or maybe buying from our craftsmen for someone back East?” Ella asked, looking around the room.

  No one answered immediately, then Joe spoke. “I can see what other contracts the tribe has recently signed with outside firms. Business is kind of slow with the economy like it is, and there shouldn’t be too many coming in right now. Maybe I can get a list to follow up on from my cousin.”

  “I can check on the artisans angle,” Benny said.

  “There’s also the possibility that Adam was shaking someone down,” Ella added reluctantly. “He might have needed the bucks, and as a lobbyist, found himself in the position of knowing something he shouldn’t. Dig into that, too, but tread carefully. We’re not out to destroy a reputation. We’re out to get the suspects responsible for what went down.”

  As her team left her office Ella held Justine back. “Transport Kevin to my place before dawn tomorrow. Double- and triple-check to make sure you’re not followed.” Ella was about to say more, when Blalock called on her cell phone.

  “Meet me at my office. We’ve got a lead on Carl Perry’s residence, and we’ll need to coordinate the takedown.”

  “I’m on my way.” Ella flipped the cell phone shut, and gave Justine the highlights. “Once I know where I’ll be, I’ll phone in the location to dispatch. Call me on my direct line if you need me, but be prepared to leave a message.”

  “Wear a vest this time—okay cuz?”

  Ella nodded. “Count on it.”

  THIRTEEN

  Ella sat behind the unoccupied desk inside Blalock’s office. Over the years, he’d had several partners, but none had stayed more than a year or two. To move up the promotional ladder in the FBI you needed to handle high-profile cases, and those were found in big cities like Dallas, Los Angeles, and New York. To a young agent, the reservation was the equivalent of a career death sentence.

  Coordinating county’s SWAT and getting the permissions necessary for Ella to take part in the Bureau-directed operation took time—and, more importantly, a hefty dose of patience.

  “Do we know for sure that he’s there?” Ella asked Blalock. Nothing could move forward without first confirming Perry was present at the location.

  “The first address we attributed to him was a phony, so was the second, and now we’re working on the third. But it looks promising. MVD just sent his vehicle registration tags to that address, though his current driver’s license lists one of the other two locations. County’s using Google to check the layout right now for a tactical plan, but I think we need to take a real-time look for ourselves.” He stood, and she joined him at the door. “Are you making any progress on the case from your side?”

  As they walked to his vehicle, she briefed him on the dead end they’d reached following the money trail, but didn’t bring up Hattery. That was a departmental issue, and Blalock already knew how to deal with the press. Basically, Dwayne never commented until an arrest had been made.

  “I’ve got a feeling that once we narrow down the motive, everything else will fall into place,” Ella said. “Right now, I’d settle for just knowing if the crime’s connected to the casino or the Prickly Weed Project.”

  The drive took them east, off the Rez, and through the old farming communities of Waterflow and Fruitland.

  “Carl’s made darned sure to place himself well away from curious neighbors,” Ella said, riding with the Bureau agent down a narrow two-lane paved road, heading north from Kirtland. They’d just passed Flare Hill, an enormous mound of dirt crowned with a derrick that gave off a flame of waste gas. “We’re getting close. The building’s northwest of this road, about a mile beyond the asphalt,” she said, looking at the color printout of an area photo sent to Blalock’s computer by County.

  Blalock looked over at her. “The pavement peters out just ahead.”

  “There’s something off to the west—the house, I think. It’s hard to make out from this angle because of the setting sun.”

  “We’ll have to move slow. It’s too sandy out here. We haven’t had any rain for a few weeks. Good thing I’ve got extra wide tires on this car,” Blalock muttered.

  “Desert smart, and it only took, what, fifteen years? You could have saved yourself a lot of digging if you’d have wrangled a four-wheel drive from the Bureau instead of this town car,” Ella said. “Have you ever considered a body armor upgrade? On operations like this one, it would be nice added insurance. Our suspect’s bound to see us coming up that track, and an assault rifle can cut this car to pieces. Think of your SUV.”

  “I thought of that. Once I get to that small rise, I’m taking a short cut and making my own road. As for the body armor, I’ve got myself covered—literally.” He thumped his chest with his knuckles. “I’m wearing the upgrade.”

  “The Bureau shelled out for that?” Ella thought about the twenty-year-old department ballistic vest she had on.

  “They probably would have covered it, but by the time the paperwork went through, I would have been collecting my pension—or my son, his inheritance,” Blalock said, making a face. “I had some extra bucks, so I bought my own. I know a guy.”

  Ella looked at him thoughtfully. That wasn’t at all like the Agent Blalock she’d grown to know. “Does this new attention to self-preservation have something to do with Ruthann and Andy?”

  He shrugged.

  Ella heard volumes through his silence. Though she still hated wearing a vest during summer, she, too, had grown more cautious over the years, mostly because of Dawn. “After my daughter was born I stopped taking unnecessary chances. Family changes your perspective on everything.”

  He exhaled softly and nodded. “They’re my new beginning, Clah, just when I thought I was too old to care about stuff like that.” He shook his head. “Forget I said anything. I’m going senile. That’s all there is to it.”

  “No, you’re realizing what’s important—and what isn’t. About time, too.”

  He laughed. “Yeah, yeah. Maturity—it’s a real pain, at any age.”

  Blalock slowed as they neared the rise, then inched around the base of the hill, making sure he didn’t present a silhouette of the vehicle against the skyline. Although the route was bumpy they didn’t bog down. Finally easing over the top for a quick look, they spotted a small white house to the north in what could only be described as the middle of nowhere. The only other sign of civilization in the shallow depression was the forest green Jeep parked just out in front of the building.

  “This guy sure knows how to take care of himself,” Ella said. “Sneaking up on him here would only be possible after dark.”

  Though they now had the setting sun to their left, and the chances of being spotted at the moment were close to nil, Blalock eased back down the slope. The house was only a quarter mile away, but there wasn’t much they could use to hide their approach. The tallest vegetation consisted of knee-high shrubs and even shorter tufts of dry grass.

  “We left a trail of dust in our wake. We had no choice. You think he knows we’re coming?” Blalock asked.

  “There’s only one vehicle, but that doesn’t mean that O’Riley’s not here with him. If he is, then one of them would have been keeping watch for sure,” Ella said. “Either way, we shouldn’t go in any closer—not without backup. We could get picked off with one of those assault rifles before we make it halfway down the hill. Once it gets dark, we’ll have a much better chance.”

  “You don’t think this is going to go down easy, do you?” he said, after radioing their position.

  “It’s not,” she said, feeling the warmth coming from the badger fetish around her neck. She’d never figured out if it was simply her own body temperature that heated it up, but it never failed to predict trouble.

  “I can see a light, so it’s likely somebody’s at home,” he said.

  “Let�
��s try and confirm that we’re not just staking out some hermit oil field worker. Do you have a good set of binoculars?”

  “Sure,” he said.

  “Let’s circle left and get the sunset to our backs. We should be able to get a look through one of those windows,” Ella said. “At the same time we can study the rear and west end of the building before we move in. If I were him, I’d have a back door and an escape route that would keep me out of view of anyone approaching down the driveway. If there’s an arroyo behind that house, for example, he could take off and we’d never know.”

  “Good idea,” he said, getting the binoculars out of the glove compartment and handing them to her. “I’ll notify SWAT. They can stay out of sight below the ridge until we give them the signal to move in.”

  Ella left the sedan and circled left, staying low. Once she had the sun to her back, she crawled forward on her stomach, minimizing her profile.

  Blalock followed ten feet behind her and to the left, wearing a cap and holding an M-16 assault rifle with a small, newer-model night scope. “Just in case,” he said. “By the way, we need to pace ourselves. SWAT has been delayed by a TA.”

  “Can’t they just go around the wreck?”

  “They were involved in the accident. A truck driver ignored their emergency lights and spun the van completely around in an intersection.”

  “Any injuries?”

  “That’s not clear, but a backup unit has been dispatched from Aztec.”

  “That’ll take an hour, maybe.”

  Blalock nodded. “So we take it slow.”

  The sun was at about the right angle now, making them hard to see from the house, and even harder to shoot. But their opponent, or opponents, were well trained and even better armed. She’d faced these men before and had been lucky to walk away both times.

  Hoping her luck would hold, Ella switched magazines in her pistol, choosing the rarely used clip with the armor-piercing rounds. Though a head shot would be her best option, she’d have to be too close for comfort to rely on that tactic, and in low light, the upper torso was the target of choice.

  They took turns advancing, staying low and covering each other as they moved to new positions. “He chose this place carefully, and yet I can’t locate a back door. What is it that we don’t know . . .”

  “. . . that could get us killed,” Blalock added in a whisper, finishing her thought.

  Ella worked her way toward the west side of the house. About two hundred yards from the building she found a shallow wash that ran parallel to the structure and circled around to the south-facing entrance. She slipped down into it, then circled to the right, trying to get a close-up look at the front. Once in line with a window, she rose to her knees and brought the binoculars up to her eyes. “He’s inside—Carl Perry. Right now he’s pouring coffee into a thermos bottle. There’s no back or side door. The house looks like one big living area and a bathroom. That door’s open, and it’s unoccupied.”

  “It sounds to me like Carl’s getting ready to leave,” Blalock commented from about ten feet to her left. “Do you see O’Riley anywhere?”

  “No. Carl may be going to meet him. We need to move fast and take him into custody before he gets to the highway and can endanger someone else. Where’s SWAT?” She turned and looked up the slope. The sun had set minutes ago and everything was in shadow down in this low spot.

  “They were going to give me a buzz when they were within a quarter mile. They’ve got us on their GPS—at least my cell phone. They sure picked one helluva time to be running late.”

  “Stay low,” Ella whispered as the house went dark. “Carl’s going to be taking a close look around before he comes outside.”

  “If he reaches that Jeep, it’s over. He’ll take off and we’re not going to be able to catch him. By the time we get back to the car, he’ll be long gone,” Blalock said.

  “So we have to make our move before he gets to the Jeep.”

  “Okay, let’s do this. Since it’s my jurisdiction, stay where you are, and cover me,” Blalock said.

  “No, let me do this. I’m closer, faster—and less bulky.”

  “All right. Go for it. I’ve got your back,” Blalock whispered.

  Ella sprinted to the now-darkened house, crouched low, and as she glanced around the corner, Carl stepped out the door holding something in each hand. He turned in her direction, and she was suddenly blinded by the beam of a powerful flashlight.

  Ella ducked back just before he fired several shots at her. The bullets from his pistol struck the corner inches from her face. Then she heard the front door slam.

  “You okay, Clah?” Blalock called out.

  “Yeah. His flashlight blinded me for a second, that’s all,” she said, edging around the corner of the house. “He’s back inside, right?”

  “Yeah. He screwed up my optics and I didn’t have a shot. Damn nightscope.” Blalock was at the passenger side of the Jeep now, down on his knees and using the vehicle for cover. “Guess we wait for SWAT.”

  “At least we know we have the right guy,” Ella said.

  “And he’s not going anywhere,” Blalock answered. “No back door.”

  Suddenly the glass on the front window shattered and a burst of bullets erupted from within, striking the front of the Jeep. A few bullets went high flew across the flats, whining into the distance.

  Ella recognized the distinctive whistle of a .223 round. He was using the assault rifle now. She looked over to see if Dwayne had been hit, and saw him turn toward her and shake his head.

  Ella considered her options. She couldn’t return fire, the angle was wrong with him still inside and at the far end of the building. The window at the east end, behind her, was too small to enter or exit, and too high off the ground to give her a shot to the interior.

  Stepping to the back corner of the house, she checked the rear. The small window back there was closed, covered by a curtain she couldn’t see through. Returning to the front corner, she looked over at Blalock. He was on one knee beside the passenger-side front tire, protected by the engine block, his M-16 held at eye level. He gave her a thumbs-up.

  Ella crouched low and kept her aim on the front door, grateful she’d settled years ago on a tritium night sight system for her pistol that gave her the edge in low light conditions. But she might not need to fire a shot tonight—SWAT would arrive soon. All they had to do was keep Perry pinned inside.

  Suddenly something flew out the broken window, bounced off the Jeep, then burst into flames. Three seconds later Perry rushed out the door, firing from the hip. Ella returned fire instinctively, aiming at the body mass. Blalock was shooting back as well.

  Their enemy fell to the ground, then rolled to a sitting position and swung his assault rifle around in Ella’s direction.

  She fired twice in rapid succession aiming at Perry’s head. Blalock, on his feet now, continued to shoot across the hood of the Jeep. Perry pitched forward, dropping the rifle as he fell on his face.

  For a moment Ella remained frozen to the spot, her hand shaking. Then, at long last, she moved her finger away from the trigger. Taking a breath, she stepped forward, pistol still aimed at the body.

  Blalock came around the front of the bullet-riddled Jeep and studied the burning object Perry had thrown out. “It’s a kerosene lamp,” he said, though no explanation was necessary. The scattered flames leapt off the ground and gave an eerie surrealism to the whole scene.

  The awkward angle of the body lying on the ground assured Ella the man was dead. Up close now, she could see a pistol sticking out of his jacket pocket. It was a Beretta Model 92 similar to U.S. Army issue. The assault rifle in the sand was an AR-180B, just as she’d expected.

  Blalock crouched, felt the pulse point at Perry’s neck, and cursed. “We needed him alive to find O’Riley and whoever hired both of them.”

  “He didn’t give us a choice,” Ella said.

  Blalock nodded. “Carl must have known he had to make his move be
fore our backup arrived. I might as well call off SWAT and get a crime scene team here.”

  As Blalock called it in, Ella holstered her gun and brought out two pairs of latex gloves from her jacket pocket. Fumbling to pull them on over still-shaking hands, she stepped past the shot-up front door and switched on the lights.

  The kerosene fire on the ground outside was smoldering now but another, acrid scent caught her attention. A ribbon of black smoke was curling upwards in a corner of the kitchen. Ella soon spotted an odd-shaped object burning on top of one of the burners of the stove.

  Rushing over, she grabbed a dish towel and pushed the smoldering mass into the sink, then turned on the water. There was a rush of steam and the fire went out, revealing the melted remains of a smashed cell phone.

  Hearing footsteps, she glanced back and saw Blalock. “He obviously didn’t want his cell phone to fall into our hands,” she said.

  “So he knew we were out there, and that he might not get away,” Blalock said in a low, thoughtful voice. “Loyal to the end.”

  The entire cottage consisted of the combination living, sleeping, and cooking area, and a small bathroom with a tiny shower. There wasn’t much space to search. While she went through the cabinets, Blalock looked beneath the bed and found Carl’s food supply—boxes of military surplus MREs. In the wardrobe against the wall were several shirts and pairs of jeans along with underwear and socks, all folded neatly, but no more weapons. The contents suggested that Perry had lived alone.

  “The only thing in here is an empty twenty-round .223 magazine. The metal’s bent, which probably makes the feed unreliable,” Blalock said.

  As Ella’s gaze traveled around the small living room, what struck her most was the total absence of personal items. She was about to comment to Blalock when she realized he’d gone back outside and was crouched by the body.

  He looked up as she came out. “Assuming he was planning to make a run for it, he would have probably grabbed whatever was most important to him.” He reached for Perry’s wallet, opened it, and whistled low. “This is some wad of cash.”