by Ethan Cross
Marcus replied, “Fine, you may have to testify. But as long as what you’ve been telling me is true, then I can make that deal.”
“Even if you’re not able to get your missing agent back alive? Would I still have a deal then?”
The question and the tone in which it was asked made Marcus’s heart feel like it was trapped in a vise. Since all this began, since Maggie went missing, from the moment she had taken off, he had never truly felt that he wouldn’t get her back. They had been through so much. They had fought so much. He just couldn’t imagine a world without her. He asked, through clenched teeth, “What are you getting at?”
Yazzie wouldn’t meet Marcus’s gaze but said, “I’m just worried that you’re not going to like what I have to tell you.”
Marcus felt the rage building. The cloud of red was falling across his vision like a shade. His heart pounded so hard that he couldn’t hear himself think. He felt himself losing control. He had been worried about what Ackerman might do, if they were to find evidence that Maggie had been killed, but he had never allowed himself to consider what he would do. And from the way he felt right now, he couldn’t imagine that there were any dark secrets or ancient wisdom or knowledge of medieval torture devices that his brother could bring to the table that would be able to compare with the violence Marcus was contemplating.
Before he fully knew what he was doing, he was on his feet, nose to nose with Yazzie, his hands on each side of the captain’s head. As if in a dream, he felt himself squeezing Yazzie’s skull and screaming, “Tell me where she is!”
Grimacing in pain, Yazzie replied, “Okay, okay, I promise! I’ll tell you everything I know!”
62
One week earlier…
The Houston FBI field office sat off to itself on a lot enclosed by white pillars and a black rod-iron fence. It was as long as it was tall, and a grid of mirrored windows covered its entire front. Special Agent Victoria Vasques’s office was on the fourth floor against the south wall, overlooking a room full of agents working away at cubicles. The whole place smelled of fast food and Pine-sol.
The young agent who had escorted Maggie from the front door excused herself. Vasques stood and moved to meet Maggie. They exchanged an awkward handshake, and then the FBI agent directed her to a chair in front of her desk.
Maggie immediately said, “Isn’t this place a carbon copy of your office in Chicago?”
Vasques shrugged. “You know the FBI. They have a leaning toward uniformity. So, Maggie how is everything?”
“Everything’s great,” Maggie lied.
Opening up a drawer in her desk, Vicky Vasques pulled out a foot-long meatball sub sandwich and asked with her eyes if it was okay for her to eat. Maggie replied, “By all means. I know how busy you are. I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me and potentially help on the case.”
Vasques smiled. “After what you and your team did for me in Chicago, I definitely owe you one. Speaking of your team,” Vasques said as she unwrapped her sandwich. Then preparing to take a bite, she completed her statement, “How is Marcus doing?” The agent punctuated her sentence with what Maggie felt was an overly sensuous bite of the footlong.
Maggie wasn’t sure if Vasques was naturally territorial around other women or if she established dominance like this with everyone, but Maggie also wasn’t above bowing down a bit in order to get the information she needed. Maggie maintained her smile, but she wasn’t sure if she kept the look of offense from her eyes as she said, “We’re still together, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Vasques laughed. “Good for you, girl. You know, he may be the…hardest man I’ve ever known.”
“I’m not sure what you mean. Is that a euphemism for ‘he’s an asshole?’”
“No, I was actually thinking physically. We only kissed once, but I don’t believe I’ve ever been that close to a man who was quite so muscular. Not in a bodybuilder sense, but more that every inch of him was firm.”
Vicky took a bite of her sandwich and seemed to consider this.
Maggie, considering whether she would be able to shoot Vicky in the chest and then make it out of the building, said, “If you don’t mind, I’d rather not discuss you feeling up my man.”
Vasques seemed to shake herself awake and replied, “Of course. I’m sorry. I’ve been awake for seventy-two hours on a sting, trying to find a semi-truck full of kids coming across the border. They’re all meant for a life of prostitution in some US city. We haven’t found them yet, but anyway. Why don’t I chew and you talk and tell me why you’re here?”
Biting back her pride, Maggie explained from the beginning about her brother, some of which Vasques already knew. But the main thing that Maggie wanted the FBI agent’s help with was identifying the people in the photograph that she had received in the mail, the one that seemed to show her brother only slightly older than when he had been taken. She had run the print through facial recognition, but the databases she had access to without Stan’s help weren’t anything she wanted to rely on. Her hope was that Vasques, through her human trafficking work, may have firsthand or even tangential knowledge of the people shown.
Removing the photograph and sliding it across the desk to Vasques, Maggie said, “I received this picture in the mail a few months ago, and it’s sort of thrown my whole world into a tailspin.”
Vasques had put down her sandwich as soon as Maggie had told her that this wasn’t about a normal case, but about her brother. Maggie had to admit that after she had revealed that information, the agent’s demeanor had changed greatly.
Vasques closely examined the photo for a moment, and then Maggie saw the recognition pass over her face. She said, “Well, he’s much younger in this picture, but the initials you have here on the back would match up with who I believe this to be.”
“You noticed that? I hoped that it was initials, as you said, and that maybe it could help with a positive ID.”
Vasques turned the photograph over again and examined the back. “The JC you have here matches up with a man I know named John Canyon. And when I say, I ‘know,’ I mean that I’ve seen the surveillance reports. He runs pretty much the biggest criminal organization in the northern half of the Navajo Nation. But he’s smart. No one exactly knows how he fits into the larger picture.”
Maggie had already been scribbling notes in her notebook and verified the spelling on that name.
Vasques said, “I’ll have someone here in my office pull his file for you. The RC in your picture, that’s Reyna Canyon, John’s wife.”
The beautiful Hispanic agent was about to hand the photograph back but then spent another moment examining it and asked, “The initials that match up to JR, who do you think that is in the photograph?”
Maggie hated herself for the tear that fell down her cheek as she said, “It appears to be my younger brother, Tommy. His hair is long there, as if it was taken several months after he was taken.”
Still keeping hold of the photo, Vasques looked to the last initial in the code. The one merely marked as ‘X.’ The face on the other side was obscured by white, black, and red paint and a massive headdress of feathers, several of which shot down in front of the face. The person in the photograph also appeared to have closed their eyes from the flash.
Vasques asked, “What are you thinking about the last one here?”
Maggie shrugged. “I’m not sure. It’s hard to even see any of his face, and the way each one of them had two initials and that one’s just an X makes me wonder if it was just one of the dancers that they had taken a picture with and that was the way that whoever took the photograph with used to identify a stranger.”
Vasques nodded. “Makes sense. Would you like me to run it through the facial database, or have some of our computer guys look at it anyway.”
“How sure are you that the two people there are John and Reyna Canyon?”
Vasques hesitated a second but then said, “This isn’t something that holds up in court, but to
my eyes and with the initials matching, I don’t have any doubt that the two people you’re after from this photo are John and Reyna Canyon.”
Maggie picked up the photograph and slid it back into the pocket of her suit jacket. She stood and said, “Well, that’s really all I needed.”
Vasques didn’t seem convinced. “Maggie, you shouldn’t be going after this guy by yourself. You have backup, right?”
She smiled and said, “We might not have as much money as the FBI, but we make do.”
Vasques stood and offered, “Well, if you need anything, you let me know.”
Maggie smiled and shook Vasques’s hand. She was about to turn toward the door when abruptly she looked back and said, “Can I give you two pieces of advice, Vicky?”
Vasques cocked a half-smile and said, “I’d love to hear it.”
“The first piece of advice is that you go get some sleep. You look like shit. The second is that you should really quit smoking. If I recall, the last time we met you had switched from being a nicotine addict to a chewing gum addict, but apparently, that didn’t last.”
Vasques looked genuinely confused now and, scanning her desk for a stray pack or lighter, asked, “How did you know that I’m still smoking?”
Allowing just a little bit of malice to creep into her smile, Maggie winked and said, “Easy, dear. You have an odor.”
63
Liana involuntarily glanced at Frank in confusion but then quickly returned her gaze to the two armed men in front of her, sighting at them down the barrel of the MP5 she had snatched from one of the trading post’s tables. She surely hadn’t heard him correctly. The two men armed with 9mm Berettas also seemed perplexed by the proposal.
Frank said, “Or if you prefer you could take your chances with me, but it is my belief that Miss Liana would easily trump the both of you little girls in hand-to-hand combat.”
The gangbanger in the bandanna, the one who was obviously in command of his counterpart, said, “This is over, man. Just tell your girl to stand down.”
Liana’s aim didn’t waiver from the man’s head as he spoke, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of movement. At first, she thought that another threat had joined the fray, but then she realized that it was Frank who had moved, despite his frail condition. With a quick flick of his wrist, he sent the Bowie knife spinning through the air. It came to rest beside the gangbanger’s foot, embedding itself into the plank flooring.
The banger jumped back and screamed, “What the hell!”
Frank laughed and replied, “I want you to understand something, boy. Do not think for a second that you are alive for any other reason than because I will it to be so. With a tiny change in the way I just flicked my wrist, I could’ve embedded that knife into your crotch. I’m not allowing you choices. I’m giving you one option where you may have a favorable outcome. I suggest you take it. But I want to be clear on the fact that taking us in any other way is completely off the table. Now, I’m going to drop my gun, and I suggest that you accept my perhaps overly gracious offer and put down your weapons.”
The two gunman glanced at one another with obvious unease, but neither complied. Frank continued, “I can quickly analyze a person—their movements, demeanor, posture, eyes, etc—and accurately determine whether that person is predator or prey. The two of you stink of prey. You’re no different than the sheep that Canyon packs down with drugs and ships out across the country. You’re nothing but livestock. But my associate, Officer Liana, on the other hand, she has the potential to be a real predator. Personally, I’m itching to see her in action.”
The banger said, “You are batshit crazy, man.”
Frank glanced at Liana and winked. “Why are people always saying that?”
Leona looked down at the Bowie knife that was embedded into the floor at a perfect 90 degree angle in a spot right where do rag’s foot had been. She said, “Maybe it’s because you’re always trying to stab or hit someone.”
The banger said, “Fine, you put your guns down first.”
“I’ll drop mine now, but I suggest that you and Liana put your guns down at the same time just to be sure that everyone is adhering to the rules of the game. What should we call this little exhibition? How about ‘Last Lady Standing.’”
“We aren’t putting down our guns.”
Liana quickly added, “And neither am I. We have the two of you. Don’t make this any harder than it needs to be. Put your guns down, and I’ll let you walk out front and join your friends.”
A loud thud made every muscle in Liana’s body tense up. Frank had dropped the Glock to the plank flooring. He said, “I’ll give the three of you ten seconds to make the right decision before I intervene. Come on, boys, do you really believe about yourselves what I believe about you? Because I think that Liana will take down the two of you without either of you landing a single blow. I think you’re nothing more than a couple of little girl sheep. Baa baa.”
The gangbanger said, “Shut up.”
The other of Canyon’s minions, who had been relatively quiet, said, “I’m sick of this. You gonna let him talk to us like that?”
“Everyone shut up,” the main banger said. “Okay. The two of us versus the little lady. And she ties you up to make sure that you’re not going to interfere.”
Frank said, “Excellent, then we have an agreement.”
It seemed to Liana that the longer she was in proximity to Frank, the more surreal her world became. She considered Frank’s words about him seeing a predator in her. But in her heart, she had felt like she had always been nothing but prey. She wondered if that was really how Frank saw her, or if it was all just a ruse to disarm their opponents. He could have easily been lying to them, just as he had lied to her when they had first met and he told her that the batons were glued to his hands.
Either way, he somehow expected her to best these two armed men, who—if they are anything like Canyon’s other recruits—had been trained by the United States military. She didn’t recognize the two men, but Canyon had a sort of rotation between the ranch and his other endeavors, and so it wasn’t uncommon to see a lot of new faces in Roanhorse, New Mexico.
Moving behind Frank but keeping the MP5 trained on the gunmen, she crouched down behind his chair and with her left hand began to secure his hands using some of the zip ties that he had apparently brought with him. All the while, she kept the MP5 submachine gun trained on the men with her right hand. She whispered to him, “What the hell are you thinking?”
He whispered back, “Just roll with me, darling, I’ll take you everywhere you need to go.”
She stood up and returned to her original position, still covering the two gunmen. They both had their weapons trained on her now, completely ignoring Frank. Was that his plan all along?
The banger said, “Okay, we put them down at the same time.”
But Liana didn’t want to put her gun down. In fact, that was just about the last thing she wanted to do.
She couldn’t imagine how she was expected to best these military-trained, athletic young men with her bare hands. But Frank’s words came to mind, when he told her to use her resources and had implied that she should cheat in any way she could. So what were her resources? And how could she possibly cheat her way out of this.
As the gunmen slowly bent their knees and prepared to lay down their firearms, Liana followed suit. As she moved, she wracked her brain to think of what resources were at hand. Her best resource was the gun she was about to surrender. What else did she have at her disposal? There was the knife that Frank had thrown into floor. Was he expecting her to use that? Was he referring to her wits or intelligence as the resources she should be using?
She wondered if the two men would allow her the first strike out of some sort of gesture of chivalry or would they immediately charge at her once the weapons were on the ground?
And then, the answer came to her. When it did, she wasn’t sure what she had been thinking before. She was a po
lice officer and was wearing her body armor and uniform, which included a utility belt which held her pistol and handcuffs among other tools of the trade.
As she was about to place the gun on the ground, she felt confident that these were the resources to which Frank had referred, and using them in this instance would definitely be considering cheating. Which didn’t concern her in the least.
Once they all had their weapons on the ground and all had slowly stood up to full height, the two men raised their fists. The main banger motioned for her to attack. So she did. Liana, using her left hand, snatched the Taser, which she kept in a holster in the small of her back, and discharged the weapon into the gunman on the left. He jerked and screamed as fifty thousand volts coursed through his body. She kept the trigger depressed as her right hand moved to the small pouch just in front of where her Glock normally rested.
The main banger was already charging at her with fire in his eyes. Fingers fumbling over the pouch, trying to remain calm, Liana pulled out her pepper spray. The second gunman was three feet away when she unloaded the small canister into his face.
His hands shot to his eyes, and he screamed, but Liana wasn’t done yet. She proceeded to kick him three times in the crotch, and then, using the pepper spray as a fist pack, she punched the main gangbanger squarely in the temple.
The extra momentum and power added by the fist pack caused her blow to be an instant knockout.
The other gunman was on the floor but trying to push himself up, and so she squeezed the trigger of the Taser again to encourage him to stay down.
She looked over at Frank and found him smiling from ear to ear. He said, “You are poetry in motion, my dear. I couldn’t have handled that any better myself.”
She felt a strange sense of pride swell up in her, and she asked, “What we do with them now?”
“We take their pants off, put them on their heads, and send them back out to their leader.”