Anointed (Vanished Book 3)

by Michael Arches

  Isabella shook her head. “That never works. Even when a singer tries to lip-sync his own music, he can never match it exactly. In this case, Heidi won’t even know what Viola is saying because Heidi’s Spanish is terrible. Your best option is to help free Viola then take her back.”

  Isabella had a smart, devious head on her shoulders. Carlotta shooed the others away and wondered who she knew, besides the DOJ spy, who could pressure the US Attorney into letting Viola go. She’d paid off several important local politicos with secret campaign contributions and started making calls.

  -o-o-o-

  Byron Rogers United States Courthouse, Denver

  Viola met with Alexander for over an hour. He listened patiently the entire time.

  When she finished, he grinned. “Damn, girl, that’s quite a story. I’ll bet I can help you get a few million for the movie rights.”

  That wasn’t what she’d wanted to hear. “To tell you the truth, I know my life is never going to be the same. I’ll probably never work as an accountant again. That’s actually fine because I may have found a very rewarding new calling—spiritual work, preaching the gospel of Santa Muerte.”

  He nodded. “No reason why you can’t use the proceeds from selling your story to help the poor and downtrodden. Actually, now that I think of it, you’d be better off moving to LA. Niña Blanca is wildly popular in Southern Cal. Literally millions of followers there.”

  Alexander offered some great ideas, but they didn’t match up with Viola’s humble view of the world. “We’ll see. A lot depends on my mom. She really likes Colorado. She’s a fourth-generation native. And I know there’re lots of Hispanic people along the Front Range. I should be able to make something work here.”

  “You’re the boss. I’ll focus on busting you out of jail. How safe do you feel there?”

  She had to think about it for a moment. “I know too much. Carlotta might believe I’m keeping my mouth shut, but soon, she’s got to ask, why take a risk? The safest approach is to shut me up for good.”

  “You’re right,” he said. “We gotta get you out of there quick. I’ll contact you again as soon as I’ve made any progress.”

  Chapter 22

  South Park, Colorado

  Beau, Athena, and Leo finally arrived at a broad, grassy valley an hour southwest of Denver. It reminded Athena of Wyoming, but South Park was a treeless plain nine thousand feet above sea level. They were surrounded on every side by jagged mountains still covered with snow in the middle of summer. Strangest of all, although South Park was relatively close to Denver, it was virtually empty of people.

  Thank God, Leo had mostly slept through most of their roundabout trip. The kid was a born traveler. But their good luck couldn’t last forever.

  After leaving the main highway cutting through the valley, they drove for several miles up a bumpy dirt road until they reached a wooden arch made of logs silver with age. A sign hanging over them read Townsend Ranch.

  Beau punched in a code to open the steel gate. “Remember, 5-8-3-6-3, so you can get in. There’s no intercom. If you forget the numbers, you’ll have to climb the gate and walk half a mile to the house. Might not be a lot of fun if you’re carrying the bambino.”

  Smart ass, but she memorized the code. “These ranches remind me of home, except a lot greener.”

  A barbed wire fence surrounded a large rectangle, about a thousand acres of pasture according to Beau. A house and a few other buildings were a hundred yards from the road. Their nearest neighbor was a good mile away on an adjoining ranch. Luckily, the land was flat and empty in all directions for miles. Nobody could sneak up on them, not like they could at her place near Ward.

  The large property made her think about her mutts. “We should get Hagrid and Barney up here. They’d love to roam the fields and keep us safe.”

  “Maybe not a good idea,” Beau said. “The first thing an assassin would do is to shoot them using a silenced rifle.”

  “Oh, right, damn. We can’t risk that.”

  A cool breeze tossed her hair around, and billowing white clouds shaded them from the harsh rays of the sun. Up in this thin air, the sun would burn their skin in no time.

  “I’ll bet it’s as cold as a witch’s tit in the winter,” Beau said. “Hopefully, we’ll be long gone by then.”

  She groaned. Having grown up in Wyoming, she knew how to dress for cold weather. “Yeah, it probably gets down to at least thirty below here. Maybe forty. A bit nippy for a Cajun.”

  “My teeth are already chattering.”

  “Toughen up, Boudreau. Leo and I might have to hang out up here for years.”

  Beau sighed and drove them to a weathered, two-story, ranch house with white clapboard siding and a steeply sloped metal roof. The paint on the red barn behind the house was peeling badly.

  “According to the owner,” Beau said, “both buildings were erected at least a century ago. The house was updated back in the seventies with all the modern conveniences. Electricity, indoor plumbing, it’s got everything. We’ll get our phone, TV, and Internet service from a dish. The owners keep the account active because family members used to come up here a lot on weekends. Then, their kids grew up and moved away.”

  “Sounds like the house I grew up in, except without the dish. Our only connections to the outside world were a landline and shortwave radio.”

  Beau crinkled his nose. “Let’s hope the inside isn’t too rustic. I grew up as po’ white trash, and I prefer to leave that lifestyle back in the bayou.”

  Beau parked in front of the house. Within seconds after he turned off the engine, Leo woke up and whimpered.

  Athena stroked his head. Perfect timing. “I’ll take him in to nurse. Can you bring in the blue bag? It has most of the baby stuff.”

  “You betcha.”

  She held her bundle of joy with one arm and her cane with the other. Beau opened the front door. First thing, she looked for a comfortable chair where she could nurse the baby.

  It was an old house, with a narrow hall, high ceilings, and lots of small rooms. Thank God, it was clean. She was in no mood to perform housework. The long hallway led back into the house, and the first door she came to opened into a parlor with several old wingback chairs and a matching burgundy sofa. She settled into the closest chair, sinking a little further than she’d expected. Thankfully, nothing stabbed her in the butt. This was the perfect spot to take care of Leo.

  When he finished nursing, she changed his diaper, burped him, and took him for a tour of their new home. She walked slowly so she could get used to holding him with one hand and her cane in the other.

  Beau brought in all their luggage, leaving most of it at the foot of a steep old wooden staircase. The varnish on the railings had been worn by decades of hands, and the carpeted treads were heavily worn in the center. This place was more like home than she’d expected. “It’ll do.”

  Athena found the kitchen, and her heart warmed upon seeing typical appliances for a modern middle-class house. The toaster was in the worst shape—could’ve been fifty years old. In contrast, the microwave looked brand new. The counters had been laminated with avocado Formica from before Athena was born.

  “Is this going to be okay?” Beau asked.

  “Absolutely, and look. The window over the sink has a great view of the mountains to the west.”

  He beamed. “Our happy new home on the range.”

  Leo had dropped off to sleep again. She carried him as Beau led her to a home office on the ground floor and put him in a bassinet she’d bought on Amazon.

  He slept, she returned to work. The first thing on her mind was setting up a new account within her encrypted email system so Beau could communicate securely with Denver’s FBI office.

  After that was done, Athena checked her emails and found two messages, one from Roger, the other from Cici.

  She read Roger’s first. Hopefully, you got the word earlier about the Viper and have foun
d somewhere safe. I know you warned me that someone was snooping around my accounts, but I never imagined in my wildest dreams that he’d come after me personally. I’m lucky to be alive. Please, you need more protection than the Cajun. Hire round-the-clock guards. I know a guy in town I’d trust with my life. Herman Mann is an old Marine buddy and runs Mann Security. Call him or somebody comparable soon. And let me know how you are. Your idiot friend, Roger.

  It was a relief to know he was well enough to send the message. She replied. Thank God, you’re still alive. I was so shocked about what happened. More than ever, I’m convinced the cartel has at least one person working within DOJ. Nobody else could’ve known how close you are to me. We’ve put up with this shit long enough. It’s time for the Army or the CIA or somebody to drop a Predator drone on Fernando’s headquarters in Nicaragua.

  Roger replied quickly. I agree with you about a raid, but the pansies in the White House aren’t sure. They claim any attack would constitute an act of war—to which I said, ‘who cares?’ Anyway, unfortunately, armed drones are only stationed in war zones like the Middle East. Even worse, they only pack enough explosives to destroy a single small building. Our intelligence says Fernando never goes outside his palatial mansion, so we’ll need a lot more firepower to take him out. Our task force is supposed to come up with a better plan, but you know how that goes. In the meantime, don’t forget to arrange for better security.

  She showed Beau what Roger had said, and her boyfriend agreed about the need for professional guards.

  -o-o-o-

  Athena called Herman Mann, and he claimed to be wholly ignorant of her situation. But he just happened to have a comprehensive security plan ready for such occasions. It included two highly trained guards who’d each work twelve-hour shifts. Every week, they’d be replaced by a fresh team. She just needed to provide an enclosed building where they could bivouac out of sight from the public. And because Roger had referred her, she was entitled to the good ol’ war buddy discount. That meant he’d only charge her seventeen hundred bucks a day.

  And that wasn’t all. Herman would supply the house with food and necessities, at her expense, so she and Beau never needed to leave their secure location.

  Athena finalized the arrangements, happy to have one more burden lifted from her shoulders.

  Finally, she got a chance to read Cici’s message. The turnout was piss-poor at noon, so I arranged for interviews with CNN, USA Today, and Fox News to talk up the crisis for American womanhood. Also, I promised on social media to pick ten people out of the crowd to appear on my reality show during the next season. That should improve the turnout. We’ll find out at five.

  Athena hoped for Viola’s sake that she was right. Next, Athena checked with Beau about the supposed raid on the Santiago cartel.

  “We can’t get approval,” Beau said. “Everybody within DOJ and DEA has agreed for months that the cartel has to go, but we can’t risk any more Wacos.”

  She’d been thinking about that problem, too, and her abundance part-time. And she realized he already mentioned the best answer. “Doofus, you know what to do—imitate Grant at the Battle of Vicksburg.”

  Beau was proud of his Southern roots, and he froze for a second before saying, “No. Grant attacked the city and failed miserably. Proves my point.”

  “But instead of giving up,” she said with a triumphant voice, “he surrounded the city and waited them out. The Feds could lay siege to Casa Santiago. Cut off their utilities. They won’t last long, not once their water runs out.”

  “Unless they’ve stockpiled. But hell, it’s worth a try.”

  -o-o-o-

  Denver County Jail

  Viola spent her afternoon reading something she’d never paid much attention to before, the Holy Bible. She started with In the beginning… It was the foundation for all three of the world’s major monotheistic religions, Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. But she had no idea how well it fit in with the Santa Muerte world.

  Prisoners occasionally dropped by her cell to ask for help, but in between visitors, she read until the late afternoon.

  When Juanita dropped by, she asked, “How did you get to know Cici Brodie?”

  “I don’t. I’ve seen her show, like everybody else. It’s crack for TV viewers.”

  Juanita nodded. “Then, why’s she making such a big deal over you? She’s on the news right now saying she’s gonna take over the city until they let you go.”

  That was a surprise, but a happy one. “I had no idea, but God bless her if it’s true.”

  Juanita put a hand on her hip like she was annoyed. “If you do get out, you ain’t gonna cause us trouble, are you? We never meant you no harm, and we’ve helped you a lot. You know all that, right?”

  What utter bullshit. All of a sudden they were worried that the lowly worm might turn on them. Wouldn’t that be what they deserve? But she had to look at the long-term. “Listen, I’ll keep my promises to you and Carlotta. Just chill.”

  Juanita smiled. “I knew you would. I even told Carlotta you weren’t no lying, fucking bitch, not like some of the whores who stroll through here.”

  “A deal’s a deal, but let’s be extra-clear on one thing. I’ve told my lawyer everything about what’s happened since Diego grabbed me. And Alexander recorded it all. He’ll keep three copies, each in different places. So, if anything bad was to happen to either of us, the whole world will know the truth. It’d be a danged shame if all that ugly stuff that happened to me ended up on YouTube.”

  Juanita’s face grew longer as Viola spoke, but when she got to the end, the woman stood and laughed. “You right, girl, everybody’s gotta do the deal. You smarter than you look.”

  She sashayed out of the cell still laughing.

  Thanks to that weird conversation, Viola couldn’t concentrate on her reading anymore. Instead, she strolled to the common area to where a couple of TVs were always on.

  One showed Civic Center Park downtown. It was packed with people, a huge turnout. In a split-screen on the right was Viola’s newest favorite reality TV star. Cici had changed clothes and was wearing a super-sexy short pink dress with a plunging neckline. She was being interviewed by Wolf Blitzer on CNN.

  A half dozen of the other prisoners sat on the common room sofas near the TV. Viola asked nobody in particular, “What’s she saying?”

  Several women turned then grinned. One of them said, “Damn, girl, you got your mojo workin’. Cici already shut down all the roads around the capitol and city hall. And there’s another crowd at the Federal courthouse. Those fucking judges and everybody’s stuck inside!”

  That provoked lots of laughter. Viola sat next to a thin black woman with the distinctly ravaged face of a meth head. She asked, “You magic or something? You think you can get us out, too?”

  “We’re all stuck here,” Viola said. “This isn’t going to make any difference. The cops can’t let people out of jail just because some mob starts yelling.”

  The black woman just shook her head. “Didn’t think so. Thanks for nothing.”

  Viola’s face warmed. Toughen up! If you’re really going to do this Santa Muerte thing, lots of people are going to be upset when they find out you can’t make miracles.

  Chapter 23

  Casa Santiago

  Carlotta received a text from Juanita. Good news. Viola had promised to keep her story quiet as long as Carlotta left her alone. But the jefa knew she could grab Viola again, so long as she kept her alive. The lawyer would keep his big mouth shut as long as Viola remained a hostage.

  Carlotta summoned Tito to her office. “It appears likely that meddler Cici Brodie will force the judge to free our Santa Muerte. If he does, I’m counting on you and your compadres to bring her back home.”

  He grinned. “Do we get the same bounty as Diego and the others?”

  She hated paying for the same thing twice, but she had to have Viola under her thumb. “Yes, but only if you move q
uickly. My sources tell me Brodie is staying at the Four Seasons downtown. She’ll likely take our Niña Blanca there. Get moving.”

  After Tito left, the jefa returned to a much bigger problem, consolidating her control over all her new businesses. If she could pull it off, this could be a fantastic year. Her three states weren’t the biggest in terms of population, far from it, but she had no more competition in the market for street drug sales. She could dramatically increase her prices. The addicts would always pay. Fernando would be thrilled with her profits.

  That brought a warm glow to her heart. She texted Pablo to ask who was available to take over a distribution center in Cheyenne.

  His response was immediate. Nobody. We’ve only got eighteen fighters left, and we need every one of them to guard this place. That’s only six men per shift to cover over two thousand acres. I’m spending all my time training new people, but it’ll be two weeks before any are ready to share in the work.

  Two weeks was too long. She texted back, If we don’t get people up to Cheyenne, Jackson, and Rock Springs quickly, some other cartel will. Then, we’ll have to fight them for our new territory. Send me three people ASAP. You can restrict the guards to the fenced area for now, and you’ll only need four men per shift.

  He fired back, Fine, but if somebody steals your horses, don’t blame me.

  She grinned. Nobody would dare, and according to Donald Martin, their DOJ mole in DC, the Feds would leave them alone for a while. Their drones had watched as Pablo’s men had buried dozens of bodies after the last attack. The US government wouldn’t risk suffering the same casualties, certainly not anytime soon.

  -o-o-o-

  Athena’s South Park ranch

  True to his word, Herman dispatched two guards who made Arnold Schwarzenegger look like a girly man. Brent and Lance were bald and burly. In fact, she was willing to bet they were each muscular enough to flip Beau’s sedan onto its roof. And they were equipped for battle, with full-body armor, pistols on their hips, and big-bore assault rifles with extra-large magazines.