by J. M. Hayes
“No, sir. It happened right before Brad called to give me this number. You’re the first to know.”
“Keep it that way. String crime tape at the entrances. Close the gate. Tape it, too. Then drive straight down here and bring me that letter. If you’re on the reservation, I can control the situation, make sure they question you as a duly constituted law enforcement officer operating under orders. I’ll start paving the way. Maybe the sheriff won’t be so angry by the time you get here. Lord knows, he’s got plenty of other things to be upset about.”
“What about Uncle Mad Dog?”
This time Matus was the one who paused. “You got more leads?”
Maybe if she searched this place. But that could take hours. “Not right now,” she admitted.
“Then get that letter down here. I’ll find a way to help with Mad Dog. Re-establish a little interdepartmental cooperation, maybe.”
Heather had a bad feeling. If she went in, she wouldn’t be allowed to look for her uncle once the sheriff’s department got its hands on her. But she didn’t know what else to do. Captain Matus seemed to read her mind.
“No buts. I’ll smuggle you out of here in an unmarked vehicle if it comes to that. Mad Dog is my friend and I won’t let him down. So, get yourself here right now.”
“Yes, sir,” she agreed. Her mind reserved the right to think more about those buts, though.
***
Mrs. Kraus wasn’t sure she could make herself kill either of them. But she was a good shot. She decided she’d shoot to wound if they tried to take her gun, then hunker down behind her desk because a great many bullets would likely fly into the sheriff’s office from all those guns out in the foyer.
“I can’t do it, Ned,” Zeke Evans said. “I mean, we’re trying to do to her just what we’re trying to prevent.”
“Yeah, Zeke, but she’s government. She’s one of Englishman’s people and he’s the one who started confiscating guns.”
“She’s not a deputy,” Zeke said.
Mrs. Kraus wasn’t surprised to see the pair arguing with each other. The brothers usually did that. But they usually argued about financial matters, the two being partners in a farming venture that had been one bad harvest away from bankruptcy for nearly as long as she could remember. This time, she was their subject, and they were treating her as if she weren’t there. Even though she stood right in front of them, 9 mm Glock in hand.
“She’s just Englishman’s secretary.”
“Office manager,” Mrs. Kraus corrected Ned and harrumphed at the insult. “And what’s that crap you said about seizing guns? Englishman isn’t seizing guns.”
Ned continued to ignore her. “Anybody works for Englishman has to be part of the plan. How we gonna stop it if we leave the enemies of freedom armed?”
“Well, you take her gun, then,” Zeke said. “I’m not gonna do it. She’s got just as much right to carry hers as we do to carry ours.”
“She’s not a militia,” Ned countered.
“And we’re not much of one ourselves. Not that we have to be. That’s not what the Second Amendment says. It says we get to keep our guns in case we need to form a milita. Mrs. Kraus has as much right to do that as you and me. You still wanna confiscate her gun?”
“Nah, I guess not,” Ned said. “You go ahead and watch your TV cartoons, Mrs. Kraus. We’ll just kind of take control of the courthouse until our free state is secure again. But that means you can’t use them phones.”
TV? Cartoons? That gave Mrs. Kraus an idea. But she still felt compelled to rip them new assholes first.
“Ned Evans,” she said. “You are a damn fool. What if your house gets broke into while you’re here playing soldier? What if your wife’s life is at risk? Who’s she gonna call? Sheriff’s office, that’s who. And if I don’t answer, how we gonna get help to her?”
“That’s not likely to happen,” Ned said.
“Probably not,” Mrs. Kraus said. “But I would have sworn this morning that our courthouse would not be invaded by a bunch of nitwits with their own flag on this Christmas Day. And yet here you are.”
“She’s got you there, Ned.” Zeke said. “So why don’t you stay here and keep an eye on her? Make sure she don’t warn the sheriff, and you take any calls she gets. How’s that?”
“What’re you gonna do, Zeke?”
“Me, I think I’ll find Commandant Koestel and see if he don’t think we should set up some kind of mess hall so’s we don’t miss our Christmas dinners.”
Ned seemed to think that was a fine idea and Zeke left the office. Mrs. Kraus sat in front of the computer, pistol in her lap. Her adrenaline rush was fading and her knees had turned a little wobbly.
On her screen, Femfatale hadn’t moved and the spiders on the staircase hadn’t found her yet. Not that Mrs. Kraus much cared about the game just now, not in the usual sense. But that thing they’d said about cartoons…. Maybe Fem, a level seventy-four Night Elf witch, could cast a spell that reached right out of the game to save Englishman. She looked at Ned sitting there with his goofy smile and assault rifle. Why not?
***
“Who are you?” Mad Dog whispered to the little voice in the dark. “Why are you here? What’s going on? Who are these people?”
He made himself shut up. That was too much to ask. He needed to reassure his fellow prisoner, not make things worse with his own panic.
“My name is Cassie,” she said. “Daddy and I got kidnapped. I don’t know who did it or why, and I don’t know why you’re here. Do you work for the state?”
The part about the state puzzled him. “No,” he said. “Why?”
She was silent for a moment. Wondering, he decided, whether she could trust him. At least that’s what her response indicated.
“Tell me who you are, first. Why you think you might be here.”
“My name is Mad Dog,” he said. Then realized how that might sound under the circumstances. Like he was some gangster himself. Or a member of a rival gang. “It’s my real name,” he explained, and went on to tell her how he changed it after picking up the nickname as a football player in high school. How his father had run off and his mother was Cheyenne and he wanted to be Cheyenne, too. How he’d tried, not just to find his place in the tribal culture, but to develop his skills as a shaman.
“What’s a shaman?” she asked.
“Kind of a magician,” he said. “A wizard. As to why I’m here…I don’t know. I think somebody confused me with someone else. A package got delivered to my house this morning.” He decided not to explain what was in it. “It wasn’t for me, but a sheriff’s deputy showed up and then a lawyer, and things got really confusing. I ended up going with the lawyer. She thought I was some criminal, so I left her place and got caught by a guy in a uniform with what I thought was a toy gun. He stunned me with it and brought me here.”
“You don’t have anything to do with Arizona government?”
“No. I’m from Kansas. Been living here awhile, but haven’t changed my residence.”
“Oh, I thought state government might be the link.” Her voice whispered right in his ear now. She’d crossed the room. She must not be bound. “Would you like me to help you get those plastic handcuffs off?”
“Sure, but you have to have scissors or a sharp knife, don’t you?”
“Not when you’ve got a safety pin.”
He felt her hand touch his face, his shoulder, then slide down his arm. “You’ll have to roll on your side so I can get at your hands.”
Mad Dog rolled.
“See,” Cassie said, “these draw tie things use a really strong roller lock. But if you’ve got something small enough, like my safety pin, you can push it in and release the lock. Pull the plastic cables back through, like this.”
Mad Dog felt the plastic relax ag
ainst his right wrist. He pulled his hand free.
“Don’t move too much. I’ve got to get the other side. Then your feet.”
“How did you know that?” Mad Dog asked.
“Daddy has bodyguards. Most of them are snooty. They don’t like kids. But this one guy is different. He showed me. You’d be surprised how many things you can do with a safety pin. So I always wear one.”
Mad Dog pulled his left hand free and she moved to his feet.
“Bodyguards? Why does your dad have bodyguards?”
“He’s the new Governor of Arizona,” she said. “I bet he’s sorry we didn’t bring along some of those guys.”
With his feet free, Mad Dog sat up on a sack, found the edge of the stack, and dropped his shoes to the floor. “Thanks,” he said. He thought about getting up, but he didn’t know where he should go. He couldn’t see a thing in here.
“I’ve already explored the room,” she said as she sat beside him. “There’s no way out but that door they brought you in.”
“Your dad’s the governor? Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, what were you two doing on Christmas Day when you got kidnapped? And why didn’t you have a bodyguard?”
“It was yesterday, actually. Daddy said he’d take me hiking. Just me and him, one last time before he takes office. It’s a zoo when he goes places now. So he slipped his security and the reporters in Phoenix and drove down here. I told Mom some friends were taking me to a movie and met him, instead. Only then he got a phone call. He said it was a guy he had to see but it wouldn’t take a minute. We pulled in behind a strip mall, and all of a sudden there were a bunch of men in uniforms with guns and….”
She snuffled a little and Mad Dog put his arm around her.
“They took Daddy somewhere else when they stuck me in here. They left me by myself ever since. Until they brought you. You didn’t see my daddy out there when they brought you in, did you?”
“No. I’m sorry. But are you saying they didn’t even feed you? They haven’t brought you water?”
“They left a few water bottles and some candy bars beside me. And my hands were cuffed in front, which made it a lot easier to get free. When I heard them at the door just now, I slipped the cuffs back on. Say, are you hungry or thirsty? I’ve still got some water and candy.”
“No, thanks,” Mad Dog said.
“I wonder if they’ll come again. Or if they’re just going to leave us here to die. I’m afraid for Daddy. I wish you could use some of your magic and get us out of here.”
Mad Dog hugged her. “Well, I can try.”
Most of Mad Dog’s magic was related to his wolf-hybrid, Hailey. He was convinced she was a Nissimon—a Cheyenne spirit animal much like a witch’s familiar. He closed his eyes—not that he needed to in this total darkness—and thought about her. Concentrated on her. His mind found a spark of brilliant light and took him to it. He recognized it. Hailey. He told her he was in trouble. She already knew.
“Do you hear that?” Cassie said.
Mad Dog opened his eyes and realized he did hear something. It sounded like someone was digging against the side of the building. Someone or something. Like a dog, maybe.
Or a wolf.
***
Sergeant Parker walked into Tucson Police Headquarters and put Mad Dog’s cell phone on her desk. The place was in total chaos. Her captain ran up, demanded, “Where have you been?”
He wasn’t angry, just agitated. Still, she felt compelled to justify her absence, even if she wasn’t on duty.
“Looking into a possible kidnapping,” she said. Mad Dog was an odd enough character that she’d planned to put in calls to his girlfriend and maybe his brother before making the matter official. The captain put all that on hold.
“I need you and Anderson to join your unit right now. They’re ready to roll. A series of bombs just leveled a residence up near the Arizona Inn. First responders report bags of what looks like cocaine all over the neighborhood. And the bullet-riddled body of a known soldier for one of the drug bosses. The fire has several sources. Probably incendiary devices. We need you and your people up there in case there are more.”
“Yes, sir,” Parker snapped. “On our way.”
The Captain put a hand on her arm before she could follow Anderson out the door to the bomb truck.
“Parker,” he said. “We don’t know what’s going on, but this could be big. The body—it’s one of Rabioso’s men. And we’ve got units at a storefront on North Stone where an anonymous caller told us we’d find one of Rabioso’s chief rivals. Mouse is dead. You know what that means, Sergeant?”
On a day that started when the flayed skin of Arizona’s governor elect had been discovered, it could mean almost anything.
“Right this minute,” the captain said, “what we’ve feared could actually be happening. Mexico’s drug wars may be spilling over the border. And Tucson, God help us, might be ground zero.”
***
Sheriff English examined the Porter’s lighted flag decoration—rope lights in patriotic red and white and blue, with several of the ropes shattered. He checked the smooth pebbles that had apparently caused the breaks. Dave still wouldn’t allow the sheriff onto his property, but Marian had given the sheriff a steaming mug of coffee and an apologetic smile when she brought out Dave’s bag full of evidence.
“Why do you say slingshot?” the sheriff asked. “Somebody could have sneaked up close to the house before you walled your yard off. Thrown these rocks.”
“I heard the stones hit,” Dave said. “Ran out the front door in time to see a car take off. Had to have been shot from clear out here. That’s way too far for an accurate throw.”
“You didn’t tell me you saw the car. Did you get a license number? Could you tell what make it was?”
“No. Dark night and their lights were off. American V8, though. From the sound of it. Big block Chevy, maybe.”
The sheriff had more questions but his cell rang.
“I’m sorry,” English said. “I’m always on duty.”
“Go right ahead, sheriff,” Marian said. Dave nodded and the sheriff took the call.
“Englishman?” an unfamiliar voice asked.
The sheriff didn’t much like the nickname. “Sheriff English,” he said.
“’Kay,” the voice said. “That’s cool.” He read off the sheriff’s number, area code included. “Is that who I’m talking to?”
The sheriff acknowledged that it was.
“Then I’ve got a message from Fem.”
The sheriff didn’t know a Fem. “Who?”
“Femfatale, she’s a Night Elf witch. Said it was real important.”
“Yes?” the sheriff said, though he may have sounded doubtful.
“Tell Englishman the courthouse has been taken by gun nuts. Tell him Kraus is a prisoner, but still armed. At least half-a-dozen men with automatic weapons, but Kraus will support from the rear.
“Sounds way cool. I’d like to hear more about this after I level my death knight. Taking a courthouse full of terrorists, man, that’s gotta be some kind of fun.”
“Uh, right,” the sheriff said.
“Whoa, just got an invitation to a random dungeon,” the voice said. “Gotta go. Good luck, man.”
“Wait, this Fem…?” the sheriff began, but the line had gone dead.
“Something wrong, Sheriff?” Dave Porter asked.
“Yeah. Somebody says the courthouse has been seized by a bunch of people with automatic weapons and they’re holding Mrs. Kraus hostage.”
“Dave isn’t part of that crazy militia,” Marian said. “We decided to just defend our own place. Dave’s not going out looking for trouble like them others.”
“You know about this?” the sher
iff said, incredulous. “You mean it’s real?”
Neither of the Porters would meet his eyes. Dave scuffed his feet in the snow again.
The sheriff had his answer. It was not one he liked.
***
When the claws stopped scratching dirt and metal, Mad Dog and Cassie were no longer in the dark. A small hole had appeared at the base of a wall. Mad Dog bent and examined it. The wall of the building overlapped its concrete floor by about an inch. The metal wall also extended a few inches below the concrete and beneath the ground’s surface. Or it had, before Hailey started digging.
“More, Hailey,” Mad Dog whispered into the hole. But no more digging occurred. In fact, there was no evidence his wolf was still out there. Though he felt sure he’d been in contact with her, somehow, he was no longer certain Hailey had done the digging. Some other dog, perhaps. Members of Canis lupus had seemed to do Hailey favors from time to time—even at the cost of their lives. “Who” actually dug the hole didn’t matter. He knew Hailey caused it. And now, they could see a little.
“Wow,” Cassie breathed in his ear. “That was cool. Will your magic make that dog dig us an escape route?”
“I don’t think so. It may have gotten us started, but I think we have to take it from here.”
Cassie didn’t seem disappointed. He got a look at her for the first time—cute kid, confident, with hope sparkling in her eyes.
“You’re bald,” she said. He realized she must be getting a good look at him for the first time, too.
“And you’re brunette, which is what I used to be before I started shaving my head like Yul Brynner.”
“Who?”
Fame, Mad Dog realized, was a generational thing.
“Never mind.” He stood and let his eyes adjust to the less-than-total darkness. The sacks they’d laid him on were horse feed. Fifty-pound bags, he thought. Several brands and varieties. Either someone raised horses here or whoever owned the place was in the business of supplying horse owners. Cassie had been on a stack of hay bales. The old fashioned rectangular bales, not the huge circular ones that had become the norm back in Kansas. But neither of those sights interested him as much as what he noticed hanging along the opposite wall—tools. A shovel, wide mouthed, the kind you’d scoop manure with. A broom. A pitchfork. And, as he got closer, a pair of hay hooks—short curved spikes of metal with handles so you could hook a hay bale and lift or drag it. Not ideal for what Mad Dog had in mind, but possibly adequate.