Never-ending-snake

by Thurlo, David

  “Those are pretty strong words,” Blalock said, “particularly in a business where there are few—if any—moral absolutes.”

  “Money doesn’t matter to my husband as much as doing something that makes a real difference. That’s why he enlisted and why he took the job with the tribe after his discharge. He wants his life to count for something, and that’s what drives him.”

  They continued to ask her questions, but after twenty minutes it was clear they were only going over old ground. Marie had told them all she knew.

  They waited until Adam’s parents came back from their walk, then Ella and Blalock spoke to them. They had no additional information to share, but wanted answers and demanded that she find whoever had shot their son.

  “We will find the ones responsible,” Ella assured them, unable to tell them about Carl Perry’s fate. The plan to keep Carl Perry’s connection to the shooting under wraps until they had O’Riley in custody was still in operation.

  “What happened to my son—does it have anything to do with that Prickly Weed Project he was promoting?” Lila Lonewolf asked.

  “Did he talk to you about that?” Blalock asked.

  “No, but we’ve been hearing all about that from the ones back on the Rez,” Lila said.

  Ella’s heart froze. “Have you been in contact with people back home?” she asked quickly.

  “No,” Melvin Lonewolf said firmly.

  Lila Lonewolf stared at the floor.

  Ella held her breath. “Ma’am?”

  When she said nothing, Melvin looked at his wife curiously.

  “We have to know, ma’am. This is extremely important. You might have inadvertently given your location away,” Blalock said immediately.

  “I only spoke to my brother,” Lila whispered. “He’s been so worried about my son.”

  “We need his name,” Ella said.

  “Anádlohí,” she answered.

  It meant “one who laughed.” But he wouldn’t be doing much of that after they spoke to him. “We’ll need his Anglo name,” Ella insisted.

  “Fred Benn,” she whispered.

  “Did you warn him not to tell anyone where you are?” Ella asked quickly.

  “Yes, and he swore he’d keep our secret. That Anglo TV reporter who’s been talking to people on the Rez goes to visit him ever so often, so my brother’s decided not to come here. He’s afraid the reporter will find out.”

  Ella exhaled loudly. “You cannot have him come here—not under any circumstances. He might be followed, and that could place your son—and all of you—in danger.”

  After they left the house, Ella felt Blalock’s anger as clearly as she did her own.

  “You see this all the time with protected witnesses,” Blalock grumbled as the airman drove them back to the restricted portion of the shared military and civilian airfield. “They just can’t resist the temptation to contact people back home.”

  Ella called the station and spoke to Big Ed, adding her suggestion. “I should have expected this, Chief, but I didn’t see it coming.”

  “No one did,” he said. “But on the Rez, family’s everything, and having them contact one member back home . . . it was only one, right?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. We’ll contain the situation,” Big Ed said.

  “You might consider sending my brother to talk to Mr. Benn. Clifford wouldn’t arouse any suspicion. Though I haven’t confirmed it for him, I’m certain my brother already knows that Adam’s alive.”

  “Do you want to ask him, or shall I?”

  “I can take care of it, Chief,” she answered.

  Ella hung up, pressed the button for automatic dialing, and called her brother’s home. Clifford, to this day, still refused to carry a cell phone. He had a million excuses, but the bottom line was he didn’t want to be available constantly. She didn’t blame him. There were times when she would have cheerfully chucked her cell phone out the nearest window.

  It was on the flight back, about ninety minutes later, that Ella finally reached her brother. “I need a favor,” she said, explaining. “The most important part is finding out if Fred’s told anyone at all.”

  “I’ll go, and I’ll also make sure I’m not followed or seen,” Clifford said.

  “The presence of a hataalii at the house shouldn’t be cause for alarm, but you’ll need to make sure no one overhears your conversation with him.”

  “I’ll take all the precautions necessary,” he said, then after a brief pause, added, “Before I go, there’s something you should know. Earlier today I heard that IFT’s project director, a man named Williams, is flying into the Farmington airport tonight. Things have been really buzzing at the landowner’s place ever since the news got out, too.”

  “How did they find out about this?” she asked.

  “An article written by that Anglo reporter came out in the Diné Times.”

  After hanging up, Ella looked at Blalock and filled him in. “I need your help, Dwayne. I want you to use Bureau sources and get me all you can on Hattery. If he’s got an Achilles’ heel, I need to know.”

  “Done.”

  Ella stared out the small plane’s window, her hand on the badger fetish. Every muscle in her body felt tense. She hated that airstrip at Shiprock, and would never forget how things had gone from normal to total chaos in a matter of seconds. Although it wasn’t likely to ever happen again, she couldn’t quite erase the memory or the fear that came with it.

  Trying to push back her uncertainties, she thought of her daughter, of Rose and Herman, and even Kevin, all safe back home. Family. She couldn’t really blame Lila Lonewolf wanting to reach out to blood at a time like this. Sometimes family was the only thing that kept you strong. Without them, there was no walking in beauty.

  As Blalock spoke on his cell phone, Ella glanced at the badge on her belt and quietly replaced the standard-load magazine in her handgun with the armor piercing rounds.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Ella wasn’t at ease again until they landed at the Shiprock airstrip sometime later. Justine was there, waiting. While Blalock took off in his own set of wheels, Ella joined her partner.

  “Everything’s coming to a head here this evening,” Justine said as Ella fastened her seat belt. “The Morgans know that IFT employees are coming to do some survey work and that Charles Williams, their project director, plans to take a closer look at the site. The Morgans have already posted clan members around the property, practically daring anyone to trespass. The survey crew and Williams have been advised to remain off the site, but Big Ed wants you to make sure Williams stays safe.”

  “How, exactly, are the Morgans planning to stop IFT’s people?”

  “I don’t know. Williams isn’t scheduled to be here for another hour, so I figured you’d want to go have a look for yourself,” Justine said.

  “Good idea. Let’s go now.”

  “I brought a couple of Tasers, just in case,” Justine said, gesturing to the back.

  Thirty minutes later, when they reached the gravel road leading onto the Morgans’ land, Ella noticed at least a hundred sheep and goats foraging on the native grasses and shrubs. Closer to the house were several pickups with stock racks and a long trailer beside several large and small canvas tents. There must have been fifty people gathered around one open tent where food was being prepared on large, commercial-type grills. It was like a church picnic, if one could overlook the rifles and shotguns several of the Navajo men carried.

  “Oh, crap,” Ella muttered. “Half the clan is here. If those surveyors come down this road there’s going to be one major confrontation.”

  Justine slowed as they passed the onlookers and continued directly to the Morgans’ house. Before they’d even parked, Emerson Lee came out, followed by Chester Morgan. Both were holding rifles.

  “Let’s get this on video and audio,” Ella said.

  Justine placed a video camera on the dash, turning it on so it covered a large arc in front of t
he vehicle, then pulled out her audio recorder. “All set.”

  “Put down your weapons,” Ella said, getting out of the car.

  Emerson leaned the rifle against a post on the porch, and Chester did the same. “We’re not at fault here. The one that’s to blame is that snake, Billy Garnenez,” Emerson said, purposely using his enemy’s name. “He pretended he was going to work with us, but all he did was lie, hoping to keep us quiet for a while.” He waved his hand toward the section of land closest to the house, which was now filled with livestock and his supporters. “But we aren’t going to go down easy. My clan’s here and the press is due shortly. We called them, too.”

  Even as Emerson spoke, Norm Hattery came out of the house, aiming what looked like a cell phone on steroids. A cameraman followed, filming with more conventional equipment bearing the logo of the Farmington television station.

  “What are you doing here?” Ella asked Hattery. “When did you become so interested in tribal business?”

  “Since I found out it’s linked to a shooting incident that left one man dead, Officer Clah,” Hattery replied.

  “Have you been withholding evidence that suggests a connection between this and the shooting?” Ella countered.

  “You’re the one who’s been withholding information from the public. We’ll be presenting the details on the evening news. You might want to tune in and learn, Investigator Clah.”

  Ella turned back to Emerson, who’d now been joined by his daughter, Trina. “You were supposed to receive an offer from the tribal government, a compromise land deal,” Ella said. “What happened?”

  “When I asked Billy Garnenez, he said that the survey work IFT was doing was just groundwork for the inevitable,” Emerson said, turning toward the camera. “He also told me to face facts—that, one way or another, the tribe was going to take back our family’s land.”

  Ella was still trying to figure out how to respond when her cell phone vibrated. She ignored it, but then Justine’s rang.

  Her partner answered it, then came forward and handed the phone to Ella. “You need to hear this.”

  When Ella answered, she heard Kevin’s voice on the other end. “It’s a done deal,” he said. “The Morgans will get a fair amount of land—and a fence—but only if they allow Williams to complete what he came to do, which includes surveying the land to be set aside for them. The paperwork’s been signed and it’s on the way over by tribal courier. All Trina Morgan has to do is countersign and date the agreement. I’m sending the key points to your cell as a series of text messages.”

  “Thanks,” Ella said. “Your call came in at just the right time.”

  “I know,” Kevin said.

  “How?” Ella asked immediately.

  “There’s a Web feed on the computer,” Kevin said. “You’re coming through live on our daughter’s laptop.”

  Ella looked at Hattery, and even though he hadn’t heard the other end of the conversation, he smiled. “Yeah, I’m running a live feed to my station’s Web page. You should stay tuned, too. I’ve got some news you’re really going to want to see.”

  Ella gave him a look of complete disgust, then focused on Emerson and told him what she’d just learned, speaking loudly enough for everything to be heard clearly on the TV feed. “The tribe has offered you a good compromise. It’s a win for everyone. The paperwork’s on its way and ready for your signature.”

  “Is it the deal you’d suggested before?” Trina asked.

  Ella showed her the highlights by retrieving the text messages in sequence. “You’ll be able to see the complete document for yourself soon enough.”

  “If the document contains all this, we’ll take it,” Trina said.

  When her husband looked at her and started to protest, Trina shook her head. “If we turn this into an outright war, we’ll lose. The police will move in and the tribe will take everything. This way we get to keep what’s most important to us—our home and enough land to meet our needs. We’ll accept the compromise,” she repeated, looking into the big camera.

  “The Salt People Clan have won a victory for The People,” Emerson said loudly, but after he spoke, his head sagged and his eyes grew moist. Being forced to accept a partial victory had killed something inside him.

  Trina and Chester left to tell the rest of their supporters and the reporter followed. Emerson remained behind, staring at a distant mesa. Ella felt sorry for the old man, but at least this issue was settled and nobody had gone away empty-handed.

  “Let’s go,” Ella said, turning to Justine. “Mr. Williams should be able to conduct his business without getting shot now. I’m still going to ask Big Ed to provide him with security, just to be on the safe side, but our work here is done.”

  “Where to next?” Justine asked, as they climbed back into the SUV.

  “Back to the station. From the evidence we’ve gathered and what we’ve seen of Emerson and his supporters, I’m more convinced than ever that none of them were involved in the airport shooting. They would have gone for Garnenez and Begaye, not Adam, and they would have done it themselves. Hiring talent—particularly Anglo talent—would go against the grain for this group,” Ella said. “What’s worrying me now is Hattery’s so-called news. When he mentioned it, Norm had this smug look on his face that practically begged for a knee to the groin. I’m absolutely certain he’s found out something that’s going to complicate our investigation.”

  On the drive back to Shiprock, Ella’s cell phone vibrated. When she picked it up, she heard her brother’s voice. “We have to meet. There’s something you need to see. I’m close to the station right now. When will you be there?”

  “In about ten minutes,” Ella answered. “Is this connected to your meeting with Fred?”

  “Yes.”

  “Has he told someone else about his sister’s whereabouts?” Ella asked instantly.

  “Not on purpose. I’ll explain when I see you.”

  Ella closed up the phone and told her partner what Clifford had said. “Step on it, partner. This isn’t good news.”

  Clifford entered Ella’s office a short time later. Before she could say anything, he held a finger to his lips and placed a small listening device on the table.

  Ella recognized it instantly and mouthed the word “Fred?”

  Clifford nodded.

  Justine put on a latex glove, picked up the device, then walked down the hall to the lab.

  “Okay, brother, tell me how and where you found that.”

  Clifford took a seat. “I went to speak to the hero’s uncle. All in all, it was an interesting visit.”

  Ella didn’t interrupt the silence that followed, but her patience had been stretched to the limit already today and it took all her will power to keep quiet.

  “The man had a prairie dog he’d befriended,” Clifford began. “It was apparently born below the deck of his screened-in front porch, and though the mother and the rest of the litter moved on, the pup stayed around and has become a pet. It’s even allowed inside the house.”

  “That’s not good. They can carry things like rabies and plague,” Ella said.

  “I mentioned that, too, but he said that when the vet pays a visit to his neighbor’s horses, he also comes by his home and makes sure everything’s okay.”

  Ella said nothing, but the idea of turning a wild creature into a pet still bothered her.

  “While he and I were talking, I asked him about his sister. He said that she’d called because she’d needed someone to talk to since her husband never has much to say. He assured me that neither of them mentioned where she was,” Clifford said. “Relieved, I was getting ready to leave when I noticed the half-chewed, button-sized piece of metal on the floor. At first I didn’t realize what it was, but when I got close, I knew. I have no idea where it had been placed originally, or if it’s still working, but I knew you’d want to see it.”

  “My guess is that the prairie dog found it, chewed on it, then lost interest. Did you ask you
r host if he knew what it was?”

  “Yes, but only after I took it to my truck,” Clifford said. “He’d never seen it before, and told me that he had no idea where the prairie dog had found it. The only other guest he’d had in the last few weeks was the reporter.”

  Ella sat back in her chair, wondering if there was something her brother had missed or Fred had forgotten to mention. It was possible—maybe even likely—that Hattery’s promised newsflash was connected to the device.

  Justine came in a short time later. “The microphone is damaged beyond repair, but it’s the type of device that can be purchased easily over the Internet. It transmits to a recorder placed in another location, up to a mile away under optimal conditions. Unfortunately, that doesn’t narrow the field much. There’s a lot of ground to cover.”

  “Tell Neskahi about this. He might be on duty elsewhere, but I want him to drop whatever it is and go see if he can turn up anything like footprints or vehicle tracks at Fred Benn’s place.”

  “Once the listening device was damaged, Hattery probably picked up the equipment and moved on. You are thinking he was the one who planted the device, right?” Justine asked.

  Ella nodded. “Have Joe try anyway.”

  Clifford stood. “If you don’t need me anymore . . .”

  “Have you been able to get any leads on the money the shooting victim was carrying?” Ella asked her brother.

  “No. All I can tell you for sure is that the hero isn’t a gambler. In fact, he won’t even buy a state lottery ticket or a scratcher. I know he met the Anglo head of casino management once at a tribal function, but they didn’t talk for very long, according to my source.”

  “Good to know, brother. Thanks.”

  “You want me to keep at it?”

  “Yes. There are still too many unanswered questions about the hero.”

  After Clifford left, Ella leaned back in her chair. Maybe it was time to look more closely at the time discrepancy surrounding the IFT deal. Garnenez had said one thing, Begaye another. The difference wasn’t just a few hours either. It was at least a few days, and in that gap of time Adam and Kevin had both been gunned down.