“What?”
“Guess what our boy Wolf also stuck in the car?”
“Surprise me,” Soraces said, mildly irritated at this game.
“A statue of that looked like that bandito thing you told me about.”
The bandito … Apparently, Wolf had little or no intention of re-contacting him regarding the transaction proposal. And with what Fallotti had told him about Cummins claiming to be close to acquiring the item, it sounded like he was on the way to make a separate deal.
But if so, Soraces thought, what could Cummins offer that could top my offer?
Maybe a written confession?
Not likely. Cummins would be setting himself up for a prison sentence.
Fallotti and Von Dien wanted Cummins eliminated, too, so this might just present an off-hand choice to get the bandito and do them both at once.
Two for the price of one …
No, he thought. It would be more lucrative to handle each one separately. Naturally, he’d include McNamara and the girl in Wolf’s termination session. It would just be a matter of charging a little more for that hit. Three for the price of three.
Soraces felt a thrill run up his spine.
Was it really going to be this easy?
Chapter Twelve
Southbound Interstate 10
Southern Arizona
Wolf kept the speed at around eighty or so, occasionally creeping upward to ninety when he was approaching a cluster of vehicles, figuring the grouping would make it harder for some radar cop to zero in on him. They had to make it down to the location Cummins had specified: Desolation City. Kasey’s tablet had said it was approximately an hour and fifty-five minutes away but the last part of that was on side roads. Wolf figured he could trim at least ten to fifteen off of that on the freeway with his skillful driving and given that they wouldn’t have to stop for gas. McNamara always made it a point to maintain a full tank, and the traffic had thinned out considerably once they’d gotten out of the greater Phoenix area.
Mac had insisted Wolf drive and he’d spent the first thirty minutes on his phone calling an associate he knew at the Pentagon, his old army buddies, and anyone else he could think of that might know something about the abandoned Fort Lemand, the Freedom Brigade, or former army captain Timothy Herald Best. Nobody knew much about the latter two but he was able to track down a phone number for one of the guys he’d served with back in the Nam named Gus Martinez. He tried the number and it went to voice mail.
Wolf could hear the stress in McNamara’ voice as he left a stumbling message:
“Gus, it’s Mac. Jim McNamara, from the Hundred and First. I need a favor, ah, to talk to you. So, I’d appreciate it… Ah, please call me back ASAP. Thanks.” He recited the number for his cell and then added, “It’s an emergency.” He set his cell phone in the cup holder in the console and sighed. “Gus was supply sergeant in our company. Resourceful as hell at finding us stuff on the sly. I think I remember him talking about some old fort in Arizona. Maybe he knows something.”
Wolf was doubtful but it gave Mac something to do besides worrying about his grandson.
McNamara told Kasey to pass him the small duffle bag with the ammunition and extra magazines. She’d taken her tablet but did seem to be using it. She’d had barely said half a dozen words since they’d left. He kept catching an occasional glimpse of her in the rearview mirror her arms crossed, one hand on her forehead covering her eyes. Mac had done his best trying to get her to stay home but she was having none of that. Wolf recalled her fierce expression of defiance, the tears running down her cheeks, and she told her father in no uncertain terms that she was coming along.
A mother’s love, he thought, not to mention her protective maternal instincts.
He’d stepped up and told Mac that she had a right to come along and he’d relented.
Wolf wondered if it was going to make a difference. He wondered if any of it, like going there and bringing the bandito, was going to make a difference. The call from Cummins had sounded stressed as well, with the son of a bitch instructing him to make his way to Desolation City immediately, to bring the bandito, to come alone, and not bring the cops.
Nothing else was said except, “Wait there for my call and I’ll tell you more.”
“Where’s the boy?” Wolf asked.
“He’s safe,” Cummins said. “For now.”
Then he’d hung up.
Another blocked number…They couldn’t even try to trace it.
Wolf felt an immense frustration and the worst part was not knowing how in the hell this had all come about. It was a still a mystery that stretched from a dirty Baghdad street, to some Incan ruins in Mexico, to some South African mercenaries holding them hostage in their own home, to here. It was a cloak of madness draped over their lives. And now, it had somehow swept up poor little Chad into the maelstrom.
Wolf felt totally responsible but knew that wasn’t completely accurate. Kasey’s ex was somehow involved, too. But how this all fit together was incomprehensible. It was like trying to solve one of those old Rubik’s Cubes with someone timing you while holding a gun to your head.
McNamara finished topping off another magazine and grabbed a roll of duct tape out of his bag. After tearing off a long strip of tape, he stuck it on the dashboard in front of him. He then placed the two mags together with the feeding ends at opposite directions. He slid them fractionally until the edge of the one facing downward was against a measured black line on the other magazine, held them in place, and then used the duct tape to secure them in that position.
It was an old army combat method, allowing the shooter to eject the spent magazine and merely rotate the taped pack to slam the new loaded one in place. Wolf knew Mac’s smaller duffel bag contained six more similarly fashioned magazines. The big duffel contained a relatively new AR-15 and an old M-16 that McNamara nicknamed “Jamming Jenny.” He’d smuggled the rifle out of Vietnam by disassembling it and concealing the upper and lower receivers in two large, plaster statues of Buddha, which he had mailed home in his hold baggage.
Wolf remembered asking him how he accounted for the missing weapon when he was in-country.
“Combat loss,” he said with a grin.
Ironic, Wolf thought. Plaster statutes.
Now they were in this mess because the asshole they’d sought in Mexico, Thomas Accondras, had pulled a similar stunt concealing something in a plaster statue of his own.
A mystery concealed in an enigma, wrapped in a conundrum, he thought.
“How close are we?” McNamara asked.
Before Kasey could answer, Mac’s cell phone rang. He glanced at the number and then answered it.
“Hey, Gus,” he said. “Thanks for calling back.”
Wolf didn’t know how helpful this old guy on the phone would be but, at this point, they needed all the intel they could get. This was too important.
Failure, as the saying went, was not an option.
Fort Lemand
Southern Arizona
Cummins excused himself to go to the latrine again. This time the excuse was real, not a subterfuge to make any more phone calls. Keller, who sat in a chair in front of the podium with Best, made another of his snarky comments.
“You spend more time in the shitter than a woman,” he said.
Once again, Cummins let the remark go, despite the growing anger and resentment he felt building inside him. He had to stay in the good graces of these psychos, especially for the moment. Tagging along with Smith and Riley’s escape was his only chance out of here. From there, he’d hopefully get a ride to Desolation City where he could rent a car and venture off on his own. All he’d need to do would be to steal an article of clothing from the kid … Use that as proof that he knew where the boy was, in exchange for Wolf giving him the bandito. That was if he couldn’t find a way to grab the kid somehow and sneak off. But having Riley and Smith on his trail wouldn’t be something he’d want to deal with either.
Anyway, at this point, it was all a moot question. He finished urinating and picked up the bucket to complete the flush but it was practically empty. Apparently, no one had replaced the water after the last usage.
Sloppy discipline, Colonel, he thought. Your Devil’s Brigade is starting to fall apart.
As he walked back to the door leading to the auditorium he paused and didn’t go in. Instead, he leaned forward and placed his ear against it. He heard muffled conversation, one of them Keller’s unmistakable gruff tones. Twisting the knob, he pulled the door open ever so slightly and leaned forward again, trying to distinguish what was being said.
This proved impossible. All he could distinguish was a word or two.
Sighing, he pulled the door open the rest of the way and entered.
Keller cast him a sideways glance, looked at his watch, and winked.
The front door opened and one of the uniformed men hustled in, holding his rifle at port arms. He stopped in front of Best and Keller.
“Sir,” the uniformed man said, sounding a bit out of breath. The guy looked young, perhaps not yet twenty.
Young and green, Cummins thought.
Not the best qualifications to hold the line in a siege. But was there going to be one? It was looking more and more like the clock was running out. Perhaps he should try to make a run for it now, try to find this secret tunnel and escape to the old ghost town.
But then what?
Riley’s stupid junk car was parked there but he had no keys. It would be a matter of hiding there and perhaps trying to make his way to Desolation City after dark. But that was a good ten miles and he’d never be able to traverse that distance on foot. Not through the desert, even on his best day.
No, he had no choice but to try and find Smith and Riley.
He shuddered as his whole ransom plan began to crumble before him.
Damn this place. Damn this militia bullshit.
“Report,” Keller said, standing.
“The enemy’s force has advanced to within a hundred feet of the perimeter, sir,” the uniformed man said. He looked scared to death. “On all sides.”
On all sides?
Shit, Cummins thought. They’ve got us surrounded. But who are they?
He got his answer in the next moment as the uniformed man said, “They’re communicating with a bullhorn, identifying themselves as the FBI.”
Best got to his feet. “What are they saying?”
“That the wish to speak to you, sir. They’re requesting the commander in charge.”
The colonel eyed the man for several seconds.
“They asked for me by name?”
“Well, no, sir. They asked to speak to whoever’s in charge.”
“That’s a good sign,” Keller said. “Shows they want to talk rather than fight.”
Cummins doubted it. It sounded like standard operating procedure before a raid. The feds probably had a full dossier on Colonel Best. They just didn’t want to divulge how much they knew. Of course, they had the upper hand, too. They had the fort surrounded and totally cut off from the world. Sure, they wanted to avoid another Waco but all they had to do was wait. What were they after? Why were they here? And why now?
Did they know about the armored car robbery?
And more importantly, he thought, do they know about me?
“Said they were going to send a robot up to the front gate with a cell phone to communicate,” the uniformed man said. “Do you want us to open fire on it?”
Best contemplated this and then said, “Negative. Go out there and retrieve it. But only open the gate enough for one man to go out. This might be a ruse to advance. And then bring it back here.”
“On the double,” Keller added.
The young uniformed guy did a rifle salute and then ran back to the exit.
“What do you think they want?” Best asked.
“If it’s the feds,” Keller said, “More than likely it’s about one of them bank robberies. That armored car was federally insured if they were going to fill those ATMs.”
“That means they probably have a search warrant.”
Keller shrugged. “Guess we’ll have to wait and ask ’em.”
“You take the call,” Best said. “Buy us some time. And be careful what you say.”
“Me? I ain’t no good talker.” He glanced over toward Cummins. “How about him. He’s a lawyer, ain’t he? He should know how to bullshit ’em.”
Best turned and stared at Cummins, then motioned him over.
“Do you have any experience in this sort of thing?” he asked.
Cummins knew that if he said no, which was the truth, they might just execute him on the spot. Plus, it was a way to stay in this inner circle for the time being.
“I’ve argued criminal cases in court,” Cummins said, once again exaggerating his legal prowess substantially. “I’ll do my best but you’ll have to tell me what you want me to do.”
“Stall,” Keller said. “Buy us some time. We need to make some adjustments here.”
Cummins wasn’t exactly sure what that meant but he was sure it involved the money in the vault.
The colonel’s next words confirmed that.
“How long do you estimate it’ll take us to load and remove the acquisitions?”
Keller shrugged. “Not that long, once we get all of us working. I gotta go get the bags.”
So that’s it, Cummins thought. The captain and the colonel were planning their own little back door exit. But why were they including him and the others?
To not leave any incriminating witnesses, perhaps? He remembered Keller’s casual disposal of the two armored car guards.
After using us as beasts of burden, he thought, they probably line us up and shoot us.
Cummins felt the fear grip him again but he knew he couldn’t show it.
Best nodded to Keller, then turned back to Cummins.
“Go get Smith and Riley,” he said. “Bring them back here immediately.”
“What about the woman and the child, sir?” Cummins asked.
“Leave them there,” Best said. “Tell Riley and Smith it’s for their safety.”
That was going to make it harder to grab the kid. Plus, he doubted either Smith or Riley would try to make an escape without them and he needed those two to offset Keller and the colonel.
“Begging your pardon again, sir,” Cummins said.
Both the colonel and Keller turned to glare at him and Cummins felt the sweat burst from his pores.
“It might be advantageous,” he said haltingly, “if we kept them at hand, the boy and the woman. To use as bargaining chips. The authorities might be more restrained if we can convince them that we have civilians present. Besides, this might be about the boy, for all we know.”
“Horseshit,” Keller said. “They ain’t sending no large group equipped with a negotiator and a fucking robot delivery boy to recover some missing kid. It’s got to be about the money.”
“Which,” Best said, “If they find here with a search warrant, will send us all up the river.”
Cummins wondered if Keller had told Best about the murder of the two guards. That would up the stakes enough to fit the scenario that was now playing out.
“What you waiting on?” Keller said, his voice a growl. “Go get ’em and bring ’em back.”
Best lifted his hand.
“Bring the boy and the woman, too,” he said.
Keller rolled his eyes.
Cummins turned and left.
Maybe, just maybe, he thought. The right cards were once again beginning to be dealt my way.
Southbound Interstate 10
Southern Arizona
They whizzed past Desolation City and kept driving on the route that Kasey’s tablet said would take them to Leesville, the now-defunct town next to the now-defunct army base. It was perhaps a ten- or fifteen-minute drive.
“Gus said they used to called it Diseaseville,” McNamara said. “On account of everybody
having to show up at the dispensary for penicillin shots after a weekend pass.”
Wolf smirked and tried to check Kasey’s reaction in the mirror. If she had one she didn’t show it. Her face was pulled taut as she stared at the tablet and kept manipulating the mouse with her fingertip.
“I still can’t find anything about any secret tunnel,” she said. “But from what I can tell from Google Earth, the town, or what’s left of it, is about half a mile from the west end of the base.”
It’s good the search is giving her something to do, Wolf thought, then resumed his worry about what to do with her if the fireworks started. He was sure the Mac wouldn’t be at the top of his game, either, having to worry about both his grandson and his daughter.
Then again, he thought, maybe I’m underestimating him.
After all, Mac was Special Forces and had taken out two of those South African mercenaries at the Ranch. Both Kasey and Chad had been in danger then, too. But there were a lot more intangibles to deal with now. Was Cummins armed? Was he alone? How many might be backing him up? Was this militia involved? Plus, if they had to use the tunnel to try and sneak into the fort, what kind of condition might the tunnel be in?
He’d expressed this last concern to McNamara earlier, right after the phone call with Gus.
“Gus said the army engineers did a job that would’ve made some VC tunnel rats proud.” He frowned, then added, “Actually, we called our guys the tunnel rats.”
“El Chapo, then,” Wolf said. “That drug lord that had that long tunnel built to escape from prison in Mexico.”
McNamara winced. “Don’t mention Mexico to me.” He shook his head. “You know, those poor fuckers in Nam had it pretty rough going down in those damn VC tunnels alone with nothing but a forty-five and a flashlight. They had balls, lemme tell ya. I couldn’t do it, even as skinny as I was back then. I was too big.”
Now we’re the tunnel rats, Wolf thought. The next generation.
He listened to McNamara’s reminiscence, remembering the times as a young, inexperienced GI, how the old-timers would talk about bygone missions with a certain fondness right before everybody was ready to ship out. It helped to ease the tension a bit and Wolf was sure that’s what Mac was trying to do now.
Devil's Brigade (Trackdown Book 3) Page 24
