The Collector

by R. Allen Chappell

  The motel manager watched him go with an odd look on his face, and then jotted something on a paper.

  Back in his room Archie snapped the security chain in place and leaned the long box against a chair…he knew what it was…and who sent it.

  Taking off his jacket Archie directed his attention to the envelope. Fishing a small penknife from his pocket he sliced open the flap. Inside was a folder of dossiers complete with carefully documented photos. He glanced at the title “The S-4 Report”. He had no idea what that meant. He set himself down at the table and began reading. Thirty minutes later he sat back in his chair, rubbed his forehead a moment and again sifted through the photos. He took particular note of the detailed inscription on the back of each one and committed to memory as much of it as possible. Nibbling thoughtfully at his upper lip Archie slipped the packet of photos into his pocket and replaced the folder in the envelope.

  The report had been prepared by Percy’s private staff and encoded in terms no outsider was likely to decipher. It was not at all what Archie might have hoped it would be… He realized now that things were much worse than he had anticipated. There was no doubt this material had cost Percy a great deal, and not just in money, either. In a briefing, only days earlier, an intermediary had mentioned one of their foreign-service people had been compromised. Archie had worked with the woman from time to time and held her in high regard. She was well versed in international intrigue and an expert in the sketchier side of the art world—she would be missed. The loss weighed on Archie even now. The Vermeer Foundation demanded the very best people in their field, the sort of people who were neither easy to find…nor to replace. This might explain Carla being here.

  The Factor did not condone retribution in such instances, but despite his policy to the contrary, it sometimes happened. While he didn’t personally require satisfaction in that regard, he knew Archie Blumker would demand it. Percy seldom interfered with the man’s personal sense of duty—his loyalty, once given, was absolute. Archie’s methodology was always meticulously conceived and precisely executed. Percy felt he had little to fear from any retribution Archie might deem necessary. His organization was, of necessity, a tightly knit group. And it was Archie that held them together. Percy Vermeer understood what made him tick and knew Archie wouldn’t be Archie without his more primordial impulses.

  Now, sitting quietly in his room, Archie went back over the report in his mind…again and again. There was now a glimmer of understanding of Carla’s oddly fortuitous arrival. He removed the folio from the package and began rereading with a view to narrowing the field of operatives. The names wouldn’t matter, those would change as required. Even appearances could be altered to some extent. It was the carefully compiled personal information that would be key. There were detailed descriptions, mannerisms and special skills listed. Those were important. According to the report, only three people were known to be working for the opposing consortium as free agents, and just two of them with the level of expertise required. He doubted more than one would be sent… maybe only one…but he would be the best money could buy, and like Archie himself would have the advantage of unlimited resources.

  It took him over an hour to sift through the possibilities and pick the most probable operatives. They were impressive; youth aside, there was already enviable track records…something not taken lightly even by the likes of Archie Blumker. He couldn’t help dwelling a moment on his own reflection in the mirror. He did somehow look older, just in these last weeks if that was possible, and for the very first time ceded he might now be past his better days. There comes a point when wisdom gained is no longer a match for the resilience and stamina of youth. Faster, smarter, tougher was the name of the game. Disquieting as the thought was, Archie forced himself to brush it aside. It was not the mindset for so formidable an undertaking as this. He did still hold a few cards and while no one of them would give him a deciding edge, taken all together they might suffice. His main advantage at this point was that he knew both the country and the people.

  At least two of those on his list were from Europe. They would be out of their element—there was more to this game than intrigue and mayhem, he knew that for a fact. Prior knowledge of the playing field was essential to his way of thinking. He would beat them on experience.

  19

  The Awakening

  Lucy Tallwoman had reached a determination. Her continuing association with the more enlightened Sue Yazzie, coupled now with the more sophisticated Carla Meyor’s new friendship, had brought her to a completely different level of self-awareness. Carla’s entire outlook on life went beyond anything she had ever conceived for herself. In the end these were the things that decided her once and for all. I am through being that person who has no goal or life beyond this house and my weaving.

  Sue Yazzie had long recognized Lucy’s hidden abilities and often had counseled her to think of expanding her outlook on life.

  It is time my life took a different direction. The children will soon be grown, my father gone—what then? Carla’s interest in her growing fame as an artisan was further inspiration to use that recognition as a steppingstone to higher goals—goals that might make a real difference for her family and possibly, even her people.

  Lucy Tallwoman’s thoughts were racing as she sat at her loom, fingers flying, almost without conscious direction, Why, there was already one woman on the tribal council, a woman of common background, too, and much like herself. Why couldn’t she do something like that? The idea was so mind bending it caused a catch in her breath. She stopped, let her hands fall to her lap, and gazed out the window. Why am I thinking like this? I am not an educated person…I have no qualifications… But then, she thought, neither has that other woman on the Council. That one, in fact, had no credentials beyond a wide social circle and the support of a large clan. And look at her; she was already making her mark. The woman campaigned only for the one thing—advanced health care for the reservation— apparently that had been enough. Lucy narrowed an eye at the horizon. There was more than one desperate need on the Diné Bikeya.

  ~~~~~~

  Thomas Begay stood by the corrals quietly watching as Paul T’Sosi tried to separate a lamb from the gang of youngsters it ran with. It had a hurt foot and seemed thin to the old man. He wanted a look at it. Already the animal was trying to lie down. Sheep are easily discouraged when life doesn’t go their way and most are born quitters. Once one decides its sick enough to lie down it can be down hill from there. Paul, seeing he couldn’t catch the ailing animal, finally threw up his hands and came to the fence breathing in short bursts, his face grey with dust.

  “We need to get that lamb up to the shed and see what we can do for it,” Paul said between gasps.”

  Thomas pointed his chin at the injured animal. “I’ll catch him up when I feed, Paul. What are you doing out here so early anyway?”

  The old man eyed his son-in-law. “I was out taking a little walk to greet the sun when I noticed this lamb not being right.”

  “I been seeing you heading up the hill every morning at daylight, Paul. What’s that about?” Thomas didn’t look at the old man when he asked this, but it was plain he expected an answer.

  Paul moved closer to the fence and grasped the top rail for a moments support. “Someone’s been watching us from up there.” The old man looked over his shoulder at the ridge behind the house, “First one, and now another one…different tracks this time…watching us from the big shaggy-bark on the point.” After a moment the old man recovered his breath and continued, “I almost caught up with that one but he made off before I got a good look at him. He wasn’t a big man but he could move fast. The other one came the day before, I think, a smaller person by his track. Both of them came up the old trail along the ridge. I don’t know…maybe they are taking turns watching us. Why would someone go to so much trouble to keep an eye on us? Is it Lucy…?”

  Thomas Begay stared at the old man for a lingering moment, then shook his hea
d. “I don’t know, Paul. I think she has your breakfast ready though; you better go on up to the house. I’ll have Caleb catch up this sick lamb.” He paused, and sounded determined when he said, “Harley and I will look into this business up on the hill. It’s nothing for you to worry yourself about, Paul. We’ll take care of it.”

  Later, after Paul had eaten his breakfast and returned to the corrals, he supervised Caleb as the boy caught up the lamb and the two of them took it to the shed.

  “Did that friend of yours give you those coyote gitters, Grandfather? Lucy said you and Harley were in town yesterday.”

  “I got ‘em.”

  “Was there a good many of them?”

  “There was enough. He said he had more, should we someday need ‘em.”

  ~~~~~~

  Thomas took Lucy aside and told her what the old man had said about someone watching. “I don’t know if Paul saw anything up there on the hogback or not…he might have imagined it for all I know. But, I called over to Charlie’s place…Harley’s been staying over there the last few days while he works up their pasture. Charlie can’t seem to find time to do it himself.” He chuckled, “He still hasn’t figured that tractor out.” Thomas rolled his eyes toward the hogback. “Harley will have a look up there and see what he can find…if there is anything to find.” He said this last as though he somehow doubted Harley would find anything. “One thing I do know is the old man has no business climbing that hill. He’s getting to where his balance is off. The least misstep could cause him a fall that could be the end of him.”

  Lucy nodded thoughtfully and agreed, “I suppose you’re right, I’ll talk to him.” Secretly though, she was worried telling her father he couldn’t leave camp might further impact an already fragile self-image. “I don’t like it,” she said, finally. “But when he comes back in the house, I will try to ease into it and maybe see what’s on his mind.” What Thomas told her hit home. Charlie had advised caution and to stay inside—hold off going into town for a day or two. “Fred Smith at the FBI has reason to be uneasy with your situation. He’ll let us know if something changes.”

  As the sun passed its zenith and headed toward the mesas to the west, Thomas poked his head in the door. “Charlie’s coming… He’s got Harley with him.”

  Lucy stood under the shelter of the porch and watched as her husband walked out to meet the truck. She didn’t follow. This would be up to the men. Harley got down from the Chevy first, but Charlie remained looking toward the hogback, then shook his head and got down himself. The three of them stood behind the truck and talked, casting the occasional glance over the cab and up to the ridge above camp.

  Lucy watched for a moment, then turned and went inside to put on a pot of coffee. These men know what to do. They can handle this she thought.

  ~~~~~~

  Harley Ponyboy listened intently as Thomas filled them in on what Paul T’Sosi thought he saw up on the ridge, making it clear he had some doubt. He wound things up by saying “I decided to give Harley here a chance to look things over before we go tromping around up there and maybe confuse whatever sign might still be readable.”

  “That was the right way to think, Big Guy.” Harley’s uncanny ability to work his way past muddled indicators was well known, but in this instance less might be more. He nodded. “I’ll go up there alone first and try ta figure out what’s what before things get all torn up. If Charlie has to call in the FBI they’re going ta mess it up for sure—they always do. He cast a calculating gaze at the point above camp. “We can decide what ta do after we know more…it shouldn’t take long…at least I don’t think it will.”

  Thomas frowned at the thought of Charlie calling in Federal Agents. Hell, if the situation is like the old man says, the people spying on this camp might even be the FBI.

  Thomas turned to the tracker and nodded. “Okay, Harley, we’ll do it your way…that’s why we called you in on this, I guess.” He turned to Charlie with a toss of his head toward the house. “Let’s go inside and get some coffee.” He beckoned across the way to Paul T’Sosi who stood silently watching.

  The old man had just come out of the lambing shed where Caleb still worked on the injured lamb. At Thomas’s signal he waved back and then he too, headed towards the house. Paul turned before reaching the porch to follow Harley’s trudge up the hill; He remained staunch in his belief Harley Ponyboy would prove him right. Then, by God, we’ll see how crazy I am. The old man was fed up with everyone thinking he’d lost it.

  Inside, Paul, along with the other two, arranged themselves at the kitchen table sipping the coffee his daughter brought—none of them speaking, each with his own line of thought on what Harley might find on the ridge.

  Lucy Tallwoman, at the stove, watched the three through the steam from her own cup, waiting to see who would be first to speak. She caught her husband’s eye and for a moment thought he would say something, but Charlie Yazzie spoke before Thomas had a chance.

  Looking across the table at Thomas Begay the Investigator thought he saw those old familiar signs of rebellion. “You weren’t thinking of taking on this little problem by yourself, were you?” He knew how Thomas figured things and thought he’d best get out ahead of that curve. “That’s the last thing you need to be thinking.” Over the years, the two friends had been through a lot and each owed the other…neither was shy about saying what was on their mind.

  Thomas looked up at the ceiling through nearly closed eyes and mentally withdrew. That, in itself, was a bad sign, and everyone in the room knew it. Lucy shot him a hard look. She knew her husband wasn’t a talker. He was a doer, generally giving little thought to any consequences his actions might cause.

  Looking around the table with a frown, the lanky Navajo uncrossed his legs and rose to move to the window. He stood, not seeing anything beyond what was already in his mind—even that seemed fogged in a red mist. “We’ll see what Harley says.” He went to the stove for a refill.

  Charlie sighed. “Fair enough, but keep this in mind; there’s lawmen out here with long memories. They’re not likely to cut you any slack should you go out of bounds on this thing. The old days are gone. You have a family, kids, to think of now. Those are responsibilities that no one else may be able to handle.”

  Old Paul T’Sosi raised his coffee and eyed his son-in-law across the rim. He knew Thomas wasn’t listening to a word Charlie said. That was part of the reason Paul told him about the interlopers in the first place. Eventually this would be up to the head of the house, and that wasn’t him anymore. His daughter was strong willed and would do her best come what may, but in the end there might be things only Thomas could take care of.

  The three men sat at the table for over an hour, waiting for Harley Ponyboy, chatting quietly among themselves, mostly about horses and sheep—none willing to bring up what was really on their mind.

  Lucy, eventually tiring of man talk, left for the other part of the house where she sat at her loom to ease her worries in the comfort of what she knew best.

  On their way back and forth to the coffeepot each of the men would pause to gaze out the window for any sign Harley might be on his way back down. The dog may or may not bark; he’d known Harley since he was a pup. Charlie happened to look toward the corrals as he passed by the window and saw Caleb Begay and his sister. They had taken it upon themselves to move the sheep east of the camp to graze for a bit before dark. The recent rain had started the grass nearly everywhere. Good for them, Charlie thought, they’ll grow up to be good people. The longer he knew these kids, the more sure of this he became.

  Another half hour passed before the muffled sound of Harley stomping the mud off his boots came from the back entrance, causing them to look toward the kitchen door. Thomas glanced around the table, sat up straighter in his chair and tightened the grip on his cup. Harley would know something one way or the other.

  When Harley opened the door from the mudroom and saw three sets of eyes on him the little man blinked but without changi
ng expression. He had what looked like a short piece of pipe in one hand and stuck it in his hip pocket as he moved to the stove where he poured himself a cup. He turned to the table and nodded as Thomas kicked out a chair for him.

  Pulling the cylinder from his pocket, Harley sent Paul T’Sosi a questioning glance as he laid it on the table.

  Charlie canted his head and eyed the pipe with suspicion. “And that would be…?”

  Thomas was shaking his head as he stared at his father-in-law. “Paul, you didn’t…”

  The old man rose from the table without a word or a glance and left the room.

  Harley watched him go with an unhappy look on his face then sighed as he sat down and tested his coffee, even before adding milk and sugar. “It’s a coyote gitter, Charlie, and it’s damn lucky for me I knew what it was before I pulled it out of that knothole.”

  Charlie sat back and scratched the back of his head. “I didn’t think there were any of those left. They’ve been illegal for years as far as I know.” The Investigator had never actually seen one, but had heard the stories.

  Thomas eyed the gitter. “That damned thing isn’t armed is it, Harley?”

  Throwing a small beaded swatch on the table beside the pipe Harley grimaced. “Not anymore, it’s not.” He pointed at the beadwork. “That’s the trigger that was left hanging out of the tree-hole it was in. No Diné would have touched it—thinking it an offering of some sort. Even the kids would have known better than to bother it.” He averted his eyes as he spoke. “But, I’ll bet you, most whites wouldn’t have been able ta resist pulling it out for a look.”