“What does becoming a serious liability mean in protector-speak?”
“Like they’re thinking of getting rid of him. Killing him.”
Joe did a mental doubletake. “Does he know that?”
“I doubt it. He’s a pretty dense son of a bitch. Nuts. They say I gotta go.” The line went dead.
Johnny uncapped another Negro Modelo. “By the way, that reporter from KOMO asked a good one; what the hell were you thinking on the seventeenth lap there?”
Joe forced the Stegener problem aside and shrugged. “Did it work?”
“Yeah, but…”
“Did the crowd like it?”
“Sure did, but…”
“They didn’t come to see who has the fastest car, Johnny, and you know that. They came to watch the high-speed crashes. I tried it and it worked. If it hadn’t worked I would have rolled spectacularly, and the crowd would like it just as much. You want the gate to improve. It’s all thrills and spills, right?”
Johnny scowled. “Yeah, but don’t wreck my nice car doin’ it.”
“Joe?” Janet James’s voice sounded disconsolate. That was not at all like Janet James. “I really, really hate to ask this.”
“Well do it anyway.” Joe watched Bridgid finishing up one of her Irish stews, sprinkling fresh parsley on it as Tommy and Gretchen came in the door.
“I know you quit and I don’t blame you. And I know how you hate supplementals. I know that. You were working on the Macy thing when you quit. You had talked to two or three people but you hadn’t written it up yet. Could you do that, pretty please? At least the notes. It would help me immensely, emphasize immensely.”
“Much as I hate to admit it, you’re right. I found some important stuff. Okay. But only because it’s you and you asked nicely.”
“Oh, thank you! Thank you!” she crowed effusively.
“Janet, you’re so damn easy to impress.” Which wasn’t true because he was going to have to go do that, nothing easy about it.
After dinner he and Tommy left the girls to their own devices and drove in to the Vulture’s Roost. Tommy’s annual evaluation was coming up, so he started gathering the info for that. Jerry wouldn’t be around to evaluate him, but someone would. Joe was about half through with Janet’s request when his phone rang. He was going to ignore it, but he simply could not.
“Rodriguez.”
“Hi, Joe.”
“Alicia! It’s good to hear from you.”
“Hey, I dumped this protective custody thing again. They’re so friggen easy to sneak out of. The food’s okay, but it’s too confining and they keep telling me what to do. Besides, Keith is here.”
“Who’s Keith?” He glanced at Tommy and Tommy nodded. He picked up his phone, asked the operator to trace Joe’s call, and switched to Joe’s line to listen in.
“You sound like Dad when I’d go out on a date. Keith was one of the protectors. Dad knew him. He’s really disenchanted and doesn’t want to be with them anymore. He thought the protectors had such ideals, and it turns out they’re sleazes. All of them. He’s a really good lover, not like those fat, pot-bellied guys who think they’re hot shit.”
“Wait. Wait. Back up. You escaped protective custody again? How?”
“You don’t think I’m gonna tell you. They’ll plug the hole and if they catch me again, I’m stuck. Anyway, Keith and I got together. The protectors know his car, so he parked in a grocery lot and walked here. Fuck, talk a while, fuck, talk awhile. You know. He says the protectors are going to kill Charlie Stegener. I thought you might want to know that.”
“Why, in heaven’s name? How good is his intelligence?”
“He was there when they talked about it. Walt and Miriam and some others. He’s just a kid and they don’t pay any attention to him.”
“A fly on the wall.”
“Huh? Oh, yeah. Right. Miriam kicked Charlie out of the house. She keeps finding out more and more about his shady stuff, and if she runs for office he can sink her again. What’s worse is her name is on some of the stuff. Keith says she’s so cold-hearted she makes Cruella look like the SPCA.”
Joe laughed out loud. “May I talk to Keith?”
Muttering.
“He says no. He says Miriam doesn’t want another death in her house, she’s under enough suspicion already, so Walt said he’ll take care of it.”
“Do you know where Charlie went?”
More muttering.”
“No.”
“Does Charlie realise he’s marked?”
She conferred with her source. “Keith thinks not.” Pause, “Keith, you animal.”
A voice in the distance playfully growled, “Grr.”
Alicia giggled. “Hey, I’m gonna hang up now. Do you need anything else?”
“No. You two stay holed up. It’s dangerous out there. I’ll take over the Stegener problem.”
“Okay.”
“And Alicia, thanks for letting me know. I’m grateful.”
But her phone clicked in the middle of his expression of gratitude.
Tommy thanked the operator and cradled his phone. “Flamingo Motel. Mought’s well leave her there. I’ll have a watch put on it. ” He sniggered. “Ah to be young again.” And he poked at his phone buttons.
“Whether she blabs or not, we’re going to have to find out where the hole in the detention center is. She slipped out three times in three days.”
“Quite so.”
Joe pondered this. Alicia, bless her dark little heart, had just put him in a very uncomfortable position, a major moral dilemma. She talked about a hit on Charlie. The bombastic Charlie had been terrified on the phone. Putting that together, someone wiping Charlie out, probably the protectors, seemed to be a strong possibility. What should Joe do about it if anything? That was the uncomfortable part. He was no longer a cop, at least on paper. Leaving Stegener to his fate might be convenient, but was it ethical? There’s the rub.
He was in no mood to tussle with abstracts, but tussle he must, and instantly. Stegener’s hours were numbered, apparently.
Alicia did not think Stegener was aware of the immediate danger. Joe could heartily agree that Stegener was dense. Where would he go if Miriam kicked him out of the house? His home away from home, most probably, the protectors’ camp.
Joe was no longer authorized to perform a police action. He could not call Jerry to get a guard on Stegener, and besides, Jerry was out of it too. He could tell Visneros, of course, but where was Stegener? No one knew. They could not pull Stegener out of harm’s way by detaining him on some minor infraction. Even if they put out an APB, they’d probably not find him before the protectors did. Stegener was an asshole, not worth the bother. Still. Whatever Joe would do now would need backup. Tommy, of course.
No, not Tommy. Keep him out of this.
Do what? How could he save Stegener? And he hit on a rough plan, even though Stegener was not worth saving.
Chapter 14 Charlie Stegener
It took Joe half an hour to work his way around behind the protectors’ trailer camp without climbing high enough to be seen, but he knew the lay of the land a lot better now. This was doable. He came down out of the rocks about where that grove of mesquites grew. Cautiously he worked his way closer behind the cover of the trees.
Under normal circumstances he would have backup for this, people who could shoot well stationed strategically along the way. No backup, no safety. He was on his own with this one. Thanks, Chief. Tommy was probably still in bed with his bride.
Joe got Linda’s borrowed FinePix camera out of his pocket. He might be able to save Stegener, a very long shot, or he could record the hit, leave the scene in haste, and bring the culprits to justice at leisure. A not-so-long shot.
Charlie’s pickup truck was parked out behind his trailer, so he had indeed come here. But was he still alive?
The aroma of wood smoke hung in the quiet air, and a few embers still glowed under the pile of ashes in the firepit. Walt stood in fr
ont of his trailer stoop chatting with two protectors carrying very menacing rifles. All three bobbed their heads now and then as they sucked on cigarettes.
Moving tree to tree, then rock to rock, Joe got behind the trailer where Stegener stayed, approximately. And almost exposed himself to Stegener, who was exposing himself out behind his trailer. Obviously the protectors considered the desert to be one vast latrine.
On the far side of the circle Walt flicked his cigarette butt away and went back up the steps into his trailer. The other two finished their smokes casually, conferring. They ground out their cigarettes, looked at each other, and turned toward Stegener’s trailer.
Joe might well be too late here for the save-Stegener part. He raised the camera.
Stegener came out from behind his trailer, still zipping his fly up.
“Damn he’s here!” “He came back!” “There he is!” “He’s right here!” One of the two swung his rifle up toward Stegener, but Joe was already darting forward; he tackled Stegener, throwing him down. A spray of bullets raked the trailer above them. Thank God the guy was a lousy shot.
Joe dragged Stegener to his feet and man-hauled him back behind his trailer. The other fellow loosed a volley that peppered the trailer much closer to home.
“They’re shooting at me!” Stegener shrieked. “They’re trying to kill me!”
Joe pushed the guy into the rocks up ahead, shoved him through a narrow spot, and dragged him toward better cover, but now Stegener was quite willingly being pushed and dragged. They scrambled down across a wash and up into bigger rocks.
Stegener was gasping, totally out of breath, and Joe was fast getting to that stage. He slowed to a rapid walk, leading Stegener farther away from camp out into the desert.
Eventually he picked a granite boulder as a rest stop and sank against it.
“What the hell are we doing, Rodriguez? What’s going on?!” Stegener flopped against the boulder bedside him, gasping for air.
“I’m trying to save your life, Buckwheat. Your buddies have decided you’re a liability.” Joe sucked in hot desert air.
“They just tried to kill me! I put over two hundred thousand in their bank account and they’re trying to kill me!”
“Right.” Joe took a few more deep breaths. “That’s how they deal with liabilities. You probably know that. When did you get here?”
“About two o’clock this morning. Two or three. Look, I got in a fight with Miriam and she’s mad at me, but she wouldn’t put a hit on me. It must be somebody else. There’s a mistake here.”
“The mistake was getting involved with a paramilitary organization who think they’re God.”
“It’s a worthy cause! Education is…”
“Bullshit. It’s illegal in Arizona or anywhere else in this country to modify a rifle so that it fires multiple rounds with one long pull of the trigger.”
“Sport guns. They’re just sporting guns.”
“They’re illegal tactical weapons. Which tells us you’re not teaching sweet little kids to shoot BB guns. You’re preparing and arming a paramilitary battalion.”
“We got kids’ classes! Kids should know how to shoot.”
“My kids can shoot better than most of the protectors. What’s your plan? Take Arizona by force? Today Arizona, tomorrow the world. Make it safe for white guys again.”
“But…”
“But nothing. It’s pretty transparent, Stegener. All the little clues and hints fit together.” Joe took off again and Stegener, dripping sweat, kept up behind, huffing and puffing.
They reached a point that Joe knew. From here he could take them any one of three ways. “Anybody in your outfit a good tracker?”
“Tracker? Uh, I don’t know. Walt maybe. I don’t think so. Nobody mentioned anything.”
“And you guys are all up on the latest in desert survival, right?”
Stegener shook his head. “We didn’t get to that yet. We have a curriculum, you know? A course of study. We’re learning jungle survival; tropics; ‘cause instructors are easier to find. Nam vets. Desert survival is coming up next, when we find an instructor.”
“Good.” Joe took off on the shortest way back that was also easiest for even a mediocre tracker to follow. Twenty minutes later, Stegener stopped cold. “What the…” He gazed open-mouthed at Joe’s little Midget waiting patiently beside a boulder.
“In!” Joe slid behind the wheel and cranked the key in the ignition. The car was moving before Stegener got his door closed. Joe took the car cross-country carefully until he came out on a faint track he’d found. “This old ranch road joins up with the road to your camp.”
“How’d you know where to find it?”
“Just lucky, I guess.” That and knowing from a topo map that there was an abandoned ranch about four miles to the west, and the rancher would surely have bulldozed a track out to the main Phoenix-to-Nogales highway.
They reached the protectors’ well-used road and Joe could speed up.
Stegener twisted to look behind. “They’re coming after us!”
Joe glanced in his rearview mirror. You couldn’t see the vehicle yet, but you could see the distant dust cloud it was kicking up. Distant or not, they were aware of him and closer than Joe would have liked.
And he was kicking up just as much telltale dust. The faster he went, the heavier the cloud, the louder that cloud shouted “Yoo hoo! Here! We’re right here!”
He forgot about the rearview mirror because driving was taking all his attention. Ruts and rocks lurked everywhere, just waiting for a chance to high-center his little MG.
He ducked aside into a broad, sandy wash. By keeping it cranked up, he could avoid bogging in the loose sand, although he fishtailed a couple times until the back wheels could find something to hook up to. They popped back out onto solid ground, scratching noisily past a catclaw acacia. By taking the wash as a shortcut, Joe had just cut off nearly half a mile of winding road.
“You armed?” Stegener asked. He was still twisted in his seat watching behind.
“Thirty-eight service revolver. It won’t do us much good.” Thank heaven Jerry quit before he thought to pull Joe’s teeth.
Stegener sneered, “Popgun.”
“All the same, I advise you don’t stand in front of it.”
He hit a rut so hard he half expected something to break. His alignment was shot now. The MG jerked so wildly that Joe nearly lost his grip on the steering wheel and Stegener bounced an inch off the seat. Belatedly, he snapped in his seatbelt and twisted around again to watch behind them.
“Oh God! I just caught a glimpse of them on that rise back there. I think they’re in the open four-by!”
“Half a mile; we only have to make it another half mile.”
Actually it wasn’t that far to the highway. Or was it? He had forgotten about this little dip. They roared down into the wash and out the other side. Over a rise they went airborne for a moment. He was going way too fast for conditions.
And then he saw the highway up ahead. He didn’t bother following the road around a bend and south to the exit ramp. He barged straight ahead, plowed through an ancient two-strand barbed wire fence, floored the accelerator, and ground his way up the bank onto the roadway. He bounced across the median and headed north toward the cities he knew best.
He took a hand off the wheel long enough to toss Stegener his cell phone. “In the glove tray is a pencil and any kind of paper. A map. Whatever. Write down the numbers I give you.”
Stegener did. Joe did. The four-by-four was up on the highway behind them now.
“Those are highway patrol dispatch numbers. Try to reach someone, either number. I tipped them off ahead of time, but they don’t know where we are.” I could have arranged for them to provide full-blown backup if you hadn’t caused my suspension. You have only yourself to blame.
Stegener was already punching numbers furiously.
The four-by was gaining on them.
“Found someone!” Stegene
r gave Joe the phone.
He gave the dispatcher his code and their location and called for backup ASAP.
The four-by was almost within rifle range.
Ages went by as Joe wove between and among cars as fast as this sweet little buggy would go. Well anyway, minutes. The tach was wound way up.
Stegener yelled, “The guy in the passenger seat is standing up. I think it’s Cuddy! He’s a good shot and he’s aiming a rifle at us! Go faster!”
Joe couldn’t go any faster and the four-by was gaining. He glanced in the rearview mirror.
The fellow was steadying himself as much as possible on the windshield. He fired; the road noise in an MG is such that they didn’t really hear the gun, but Joe sure heard the slug that hit his trunk.
“Flashing lights way back behind them there!” Stegener exclaimed. “Highway patrol is back there behind the Jeep! They’re coming!”
Joe glanced at the mirror. Yes!
Stegener mused, “I never thought the day would come when I was happy to see a police cruiser behind me.”
“They come in real handy sometimes. Get me dispatch again.”
Stegener punched in the number. Joe got back on the phone to tell dispatch about the heavy artillery in the Jeep behind them.
The cruiser was gaining on the four-by easily, of course. It was close enough behind the protectors now that for Joe, the chase was over. He flicked on his turn signal, hit the brakes, and glided to a stop in the roadside gravel as the cruiser and four-by dashed past. Brake lights flashed on all over the highway as motorists headed for the shoulder.
Almost a mile ahead in the approaching southbound lanes, more flashing lights appeared! A southbound highway patrolman was joining the party.
The four-by ducked aside, leaving the road, and raised a cloud of dust striking out cross country. The two cruisers, not to be outdone, left the road as well, still in hot pursuit.
Pony Up Page 16
