The Assassin's Wife

by Roger Weston

  “That sounds lucrative.” Sikes nodded as if impressed. “Few years back, I heard a story that Dillinger bought up a few hundred head of cattle. He lived in Brazil for years before he moved up here.”

  “Brazil, huh?”

  “He was in some business or other, but he was the family black sheep, so nobody kept in contact with him from what I hear. It was a sad situation. Hopefully this genealogy can rebuild some bridges.”

  “You never know.” Roy pulled at his mustache and looked to the side as if he was thinking. “Come to think of it …” He paused. “No, no, can’t be that.”

  “What?”

  “Oh.” Roy shook his head. “Well, your mentioning Brazil reminds me of somebody, but that can’t be right.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Oh, a couple years back I talked to a dude at an auction we held in Pocatello. He mentioned living in Brazil, but his name wasn’t Dillinger, sorry.”

  “You remember his name after all this time?”

  “Yeah, he was an unusual guy. I mean, how often do you run into someone from Brazil in Idaho?” Roy gestured around the park at the picnic tables. “Not the typical cowboy.”

  “Pocatello at that.” Sikes smirked. “What’s the guy’s name?”

  “Dirks. Yeah, some coincidence, two ranchers from Brazil running cows in Idaho. I guess that’s the new immigration laws at work.”

  “You never know.” Sikes took a pull off his import. “Could be the same guy. Where did Dirks say his ranch is?”

  Roy shrugged. “Can’t remember. Sorry, bud.”

  Sikes felt his heart rate pick up. His cold trail had just gotten warmer. “Did he mention a town or even a county?”

  “Nope. Can’t recall.” Roy patted him on the back of his shoulders as he walked away from Tom. “Talk to you later, bud. I see some empty hands over there.”

  Tom followed the man until the barrel of his pistol was touching Roy right between his shoulder blades. Tom whispered in his ear: “See that shack over there? Keep walking towards it unless you want to tell me where this Dillinger guy is from right now. You know everybody right, bud? Networking is a wonderful thing, isn’t it?”

  “Hey, calm down. I didn’t know it meant that much to you. Look, I heard he has a ranch in Hells Canyon. Not many folks still ranch down there. Shouldn’t be hard to find.” Roy turned to face him. “Now, I’m going to go back to join my friends, and I suggest you get out of here before I tell them about your tactics for finding lost relatives.”

  CHAPTER 39

  Meg sat in front of the post office in Lewiston all day watching Harding Corporation’s P.O. Box. She fanned herself with the file she’d gotten from the dead farmer’s now dead wife. The sun blared through the truck’s glass. Beads of sweat dripped down her face. Her scalp tingled under her wig, and she longed to yank the damn thing off and throw it as far away as she could. She doubted she would ever act again. She’d had enough deception for a lifetime. Lomax was a loser like all the rest. So much for Eric’s great friend who would help her. No, she figured in this world you were on your own. Wasn’t that the lesson her dad had taught her early on?

  At 3:37 p.m., a huge man with sunglasses and a blue button-down shirt entered the post office. Meg watched him closely. He went right to Harding Corp’s P.O. Box and opened it. She could have used John’s help at this moment, but she would handle this man by herself.

  Meg heard a little tap on the driver’s side window. She spun around with her gun drawn. It was Lomax. She smiled and kicked open the passenger door without taking her eyes off the man in the post office. Lomax ran around the car and jumped in. Meg looked over at him and said, “So, you changed your mind?”

  “Yeah, I promised Eric.”

  “Good, I’m glad to hear it. See that man. Here’s what we’re gonna do.” She told Lomax her plan and gave him a newspaper with a gun tucked under it. He got out of the car and closed the passenger door. He grabbed the handle on the rear door and pulled it open, leaving it slightly ajar.

  Meg released the emergency brake and waited. She watched the man open the glass door and step out of the post office. Lomax held the pistol under the newspaper and approached the man from the back. The man turned around.

  “What the hell you doing?”

  “I’m your ride,” Lomax said, adjusting the newspaper to reveal the point of his pistol. “Get in.”

  “Oh, this is a robbery, huh? Here, I’ll give you cash.” He held out a wad of dollar bills. “That should get you a fix.”

  Lomax lifted the gun for emphasis. “You’re going to join me and my lady friend for a Sunday ride. Got it?”

  The man made eye contact with Meg, who was coasting in the car alongside them.

  Meg stopped the car so the rear door swung open.

  John pushed the man in with more force than necessary.

  Meg drove out of town, then turned onto a dirt road that led into the national forest. “Tell us about the Harding Corporation.”

  He found Meg’s gaze in the rear view mirror. “Oh, shit.”

  “Yeah,” Meg said, “that’s right.”

  The man put his fingertips against his temples. “Harding Corporation is just a small time meat and dairy operation.”

  “Meat?” Lomax said.

  “We fatten up cattle on the range. We ship them to the slaughterhouse. Meat.”

  Lomax smiled mildly. “Then you must need grazing leases.”

  “What’s this all about?”

  “What else you doing, huh?”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  Lomax nodded, set down his newspaper, and held his gun in full view.

  Meg continued driving until she saw a clearing in the woods and pulled over. Lomax got out, pulling the man with him and shoved him against the car. He pushed the man down onto his knees.

  Meg walked around the car and stared at the man while she screwed the silencer on without even looking at what she was doing. She could see the man’s respect for her grow.

  “Who are you, lady?”

  Meg’s thigh muscles flexed as her foot lifted off the ground and made contact with his groin. The man yelled in pain and doubled over, falling face first onto the dirt. He curled up in the fetal position.

  “John, will you mind hog tying this gentleman for me?”

  Lomax tied the man’s hands and legs together and left him lying in a ball.

  The man spat on the ground.

  After scanning the landscape for a moment, Lomax lifted the man up by the rope crisscrossing his belly and sat him down with his back to a tree.

  “What is it you’re after?” the man said.

  Lomax glanced down the tree-lined road. “Why does the Harding Corporation find it necessary to kill old men who only want to lease land to graze their cattle? Why don’t we start there?”

  “What?” The man looked at Lomax like he was stupid. “You’re blowing it, man. Blowing it.”

  Meg walked toward the man and touched the side of his face with her gun barrel. “Do you want to talk now? Who’s behind Harding?”

  The man seemed eager to talk now. “The coldest man I’ve ever met. A skunk named Carl. You don’t want to get involved with him.”

  Lomax stared at him for a moment. “Carl who? What’s this guy up to?”

  “How the hell would I know?”

  Meg pressed the gun harder against his temple. “What about the land that Harding has been buying up?”

  The man looked up at her, even more eager to talk. “Those pieces of shit aren’t buying nothing. They’re leasing, and most of it in Idaho. Latest one is north of Fruitland. Sand and gravel pit.”

  “What’s so special about this land?”

  “How the hell do I know what those bastards are doing? I’m their friggen real estate acquisitions executive.”

  Meg jammed the gun against the man’s face until his other cheek touched the bark of the tree. “Why don’t you tell us where we can find this pit?”
>
  He told them.

  When Meg removed the gun from the side of his face, his head swung forward and he spat at her.

  Meg slammed his head against the tree with the butt of her gun.

  CHAPTER 40

  Gravel Quarry

  Meg drove down a narrow dirt road toward a large shaded canyon. She parked the car next to some shrubs and got out. Lomax followed her as she navigated with a GPS. She hiked over four miles, finally taking cover in the dead grass on a plateau, in the hills north of the small windy town of Fruitland, Idaho. The natural bench was a quarter mile across and twice as long. She put the GPS into her pocket and crawled on her hands and knees the last ten feet to the top of the mesa with Lomax right behind her.

  Buried in the tall dead grass Meg used field glasses and checked out the sand and gravel quarry.

  “Why would Harding Corporation kill to lease land from the federal government?” she asked.

  Lomax looked over at her. “And why here of all places?”

  On one end of the plateau, corroded, rusted conveyors flanked a superstructure like the arms of a robot. Several gigantic piles of sand had been smoothed and leveled by years of wind, but next to them were piles that looked newer. They were round and dark and formed a dozen long rows extending a quarter mile. A truck dumped its load at the end, extending the column. Dust curled up into gusts and dissipated, obscuring the view of the distant town in the valley beyond.

  Between some of the rows were long stacks of shipping containers, also lined up. Between other rows were pallets of barrels stacked atop one another. Oddly, a bulldozer with a glass cab was pushing dirt over the shipping containers, burying them.

  Meg watched more trucks arrive with loads of sand, dumping their cargo in one area, then taking on rock from another area to haul off. Big yellow tractors with massive jackhammer attachments on the ends of their hydraulic arms chipped away at the mountainside while earthmovers carried off rock. Meg couldn’t even hear the trucks under the din of the rock breakers.

  A couple of trucks unloaded pallets of barrels—all of which were marked “Caution. Hazardous Material.”

  Lomax tapped Meg on the shoulder and pointed. Meg looked through the field glasses. She saw men in white body suits and white hoods with clear face masks—air tight radiation suits. She also saw what appeared to be private security forces. Just upwind of the quarry was a group of mobile homes which appeared to be the offices for the operation. Three men in radiation suits paced around watching the activity.

  A fierce wind rose and kicked up clouds of dust, obscuring a beautiful pink and orange sunset. Lomax coughed several times.

  Meg saw a man emerge from one of the mobile homes. He wasn’t wearing a radiation suit. He simply held a handkerchief over his mouth, motioning one of the armed guards inside and quickly retreating himself.

  “They’re burying hazardous waste,” Meg said.

  Lomax nodded. “When their grazing lease on this and all the surrounding grassland expires, they can move on and turn the property back over to the federal government. Except now it’s an environmental disaster, and taxpayers are left with the bill.”

  “We need to figure out who’s behind Harding Corp.”

  “These guys probably don’t even know.” Lomax coughed. “Let’s get out of here. Who knows what we’re being exposed to? We can track down Harding from Spokane.”

  Meg sighed. “We have to get a closer look.”

  “I don’t think so. Not a good idea. I’m not getting any closer without a radiation suit on.”

  “Come on. We have to.” Staying low, Meg crawled toward the pit.

  Lomax sighed. “Alright, Meg, but let’s go that way.” He pointed to a lone stand of trees that covered the slope to the south.

  There was a snap behind them. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  Meg gasped. She turned around and saw two men in radiation suits with assault rifles trained on them.

  “Hands in the air—now.”

  Lomax complied immediately. Meg hesitated, but slowly raised her palms.

  “We’re not trespassing, are we?” Meg looked around at the valley. “I thought this was public land.”

  Meg heard footsteps behind her, and glancing over her shoulder, she saw another man approaching from the other direction. Even in his protective suit Meg could tell he was much bigger than the other guys.

  He yelled at them. “Get on your knees.”

  Meg didn’t move. “What are you doing?”

  “I said down.” The husky guy jogged toward her.

  Lomax kneeled down. “Do what he says.”

  The brawny guy slowed and walked toward her. “Get your ass down.”

  Meg kneeled as he approached. As he came up behind her, he raised his knee and slammed the sole of his boot into her spine. She heard a cracking sound as a shaft of pain sprang all the way up into her brain. Her face hit the gravel covering the ground and she slid a few feet.

  “You listen to me next time.” He put the sole of his boot on the back of her neck and applied pressure.

  Meg squirmed and flailed and grabbed at his leg. He pulled his leg free of her grasp, but rewarded her efforts by kicking her in the side of the face. This time the cracking sensation was straight in her neck.

  Lomax tried to spring at the attacker, but the other assailant slammed the butt of his rifle into Lomax’s back, knocking him onto his chest.

  The big man kept his gun trained on Lomax. “Stupid move. Next time I put a bullet in your head.” The man let that sink in for a moment. “Go ahead, boys.”

  The two men in the radiation suits grabbed Meg and Lomax and pulled them up onto their knees.

  One of them said, “You want us to soften them up, Doug?”

  The big man’s expression showed irritation. “I want you to shut up and do your job.”

  Meg and Lomax were promptly searched and disarmed.

  The men led them towards the mobile homes, which were caked with a layer of dust. Inside they were clean. A few file cabinets lined the wall along with a desk and computer. The men hustled Meg and Lomax to a room with a table and chairs.

  “Sit down.” The guard gestured toward the table with his assault rifle. He frowned behind the clear plastic face shield of his suit.

  They took their places at the table.

  The guard turned and went outside, leaving them alone.

  “I wish Eric was here right now so I could kill the bastard.”

  “Meg, you really need to forgive him. Hating him isn’t going to help us now.”

  “Forgive him? For what? Ruining my life?” She put her head down on the table, and John put a hand on her shoulder.

  Several minutes later a tall, lean man with piercing, dark eyes came in dressed in jeans and a button down shirt. He was followed by two armed escorts, but he dismissed them.

  A toothpick hanging out of the corner of his mouth, the tall man sat down across the table from Meg and Lomax. Meg thought he was kind of good looking, and she was surprised that a man like him would be involved in a tainted operation like this. Wait a minute. Didn’t her own husband get mixed up in this deal? No, she would never forgive Eric. She didn’t care what Lomax said. She looked at her tormentor and wondered if he’d ever met Eric.

  “So, what brings you here today?” He leaned back in his chair in a casual and disarming way.

  She didn’t answer.

  “We don’t get many visitors.” It was a narrow table, and he was sitting directly across from Meg. He chewed on his toothpick a little. “Call me Don.”

  Meg gazed vaguely out the window.

  “What do you want to drink?” he said. “Coffee? Juice?”

  Meg made eye contact for a moment. “Nothing.”

  Lomax was resting his chin in his palm and watching their captor in silence.

  “Hey,” Don said, “we’re just talking here. Nobody’s going to get hurt, so don’t worry. Just wondering what you’re doing here. Once you tell us what your
business here is, we’ll let you go. This is a private operation, and we like to keep it that way.”

  “And if we don’t?” Meg leaned back in her chair and looked directly into his dark eyes.

  “Then we kill you just like we did your husband.” He winked at her.

  Underneath the table, Meg lifted her knee and rammed her foot into the man’s crotch with the force of freight train. The man’s chair flipped over backwards and broke on impact. The racket was accompanied by a pitiful groan, and the man curled up, shoving his arms between his legs. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and he continued to moan shamelessly.

  Meg was on him in an instant, removing the pistol from his ankle holster. This roused his anger enough to overcome his pain, and he backhanded her across the face. “Bitch,” he yelled.

  The blow knocked Meg to the floor, but she got up fast and pistol-whipped the interrogator in retribution. The blow knocked him out.

  Lomax ghosted for the door, pressing his back up against the wall to the side. A moment later, the door burst open. A guard in a radiation suit jumped in, aiming his assault rifle at Meg.

  Lomax crashed into him from the blind side like a mad college tackle. The guard crumbled against the wall, his gun falling harmlessly from his hands.

  Meg aimed her pistol at the attacker.

  Lomax’s kick crashed into the man’s solar plexus with devastating force. It left the man completely out of the fight. Meg lowered her pistol somewhat in confidence that he wouldn’t be getting up anytime soon.

  The front door slammed, and Meg knew instantly that the other guard had bolted.

  Lomax bounded to the window and peered out. He shook his head. “He’s getting help. He’ll be back.”

  “We’re armed now. I guess we can hold them back.” Meg ejected the clip of her pistol, looked it over, and slammed it back in.

  “For how long?” Lomax said.

  “The rest of our life. Maybe an hour or two.”

  They watched the man disappear behind an excavator. The driver stopped his rig and leaped down, also taking cover behind the heavy machinery. A window hung open, and Meg listened for yelling, but she heard none.