Wounded Falcon: Brotherhood Protectors World

by Jesse Jacobson

  “Good, I will take it from here.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Ellie asked.

  “You have done enough. Thank you again. Go home.”

  Ellie smiled and left.

  He watched his dear friend get into her car, start it, put it into gear and drive away. He waved after her, not knowing whether she saw him or not.

  He then proceeded into the kitchen, a casually made a pot of coffee. He poured a cup and mixed four teaspoons of sugar into the hot beverage. He took a sip, nodded approval to himself, and ambled into the bedroom, where Greg Alt waited.

  “Who’s there?” Alt demanded to know, moving his head as if it might help him see through the bag that blocked his vision.

  Rainhorse turned off the television.

  “I know it’s not the woman who has been here,” he noted.

  “You are good,” Rainhorse snarked. “You recognized the heavier footsteps.”

  “Are you the big son-of-a-bitch who took me down?” he asked.

  “That would be me,” the Cheyenne replied.

  “I’m going to kill you,” Alt promised.

  “I do not think so.”

  “I recognized the choke hold you put on me,” Alt said. “It’s military. You’re Navy SEAL, Marine Force Recon or Rangers, I suspect. Which is it?”

  “Let us talk about something more interesting, shall we?” Rainhorse offered. “I assume you have been listening to the news.”

  Alt fell quiet for a moment before speaking, “I have.”

  “Then you know Director Rice is completely screwed, and Kelsey will be in jail alongside him before the day is done.”

  “I heard he was arrested already,” he acknowledged, solemnly. “The news reported me missing. They think I’m dead, right?”

  “You are presumed to be dead. Their current thinking is that you attacked Agent Love, but she gained an advantage and killed you.”

  Alt guffawed, “Like that little cracker fanny bitch Julie Love could take me down. What bullshit.”

  “I guess the point is, depending on how this conversation goes, we will see if you live through the day or not. The authorities already think you are dead. What difference would a day make?”

  “Go to hell.”

  “In due time that may happen, but not for a long while,” Rainhorse said.

  “What do you want?”

  “I want my friends to go free and retain their jobs with a stainless record,” the former assassin said. “Hell, I think they deserve a medal.”

  “That’s not up to me,” Alt said.

  “You can help.”

  Alt chuckled, “Why the hell would I do that?”

  “Because I can help you?” Rainhorse said.

  Alt choked back a laugh, “That’s rich. You help me?”

  “Stranger things have happened.”

  “I’ve seen the news, Indian man. Rice is under arrest. Kelsey will follow. It’s only a matter of time before they give me up. I know that you know I killed Falcon and I tried to kill a Federal agent. I’m looking at the electric chair. We both know it.”

  “I happen to know that Agent Andrews found no actual evidence that you killed Falcon,” Rainhorse replied. “There is only one person who could provide testimony to that and that is me. As far as attempting to kill a Federal agent, the only people who know that for certain is you, me, and Agent Love. You help me and that story can be nuanced.”

  Alt paused and studied Rainhorse’s face.

  “What about Blackshear?”

  “Was that the stooge who met Love initially and the fairgrounds?”

  “Yes.”

  “Blackshear is a businessman. His testimony can be bought for a price. He might need a little persuasion, but you are in luck. I can be very persuasive.”

  “So, if I help you, I walk?”

  Rainhorse shook his head, “No. You will do a little time to keep the media happy. We can spin the story to your favor, though. You were a loyal government worker. You were only doing what Rice and Kelsey demanded, but when it came down to murdering a Federal agent, you could not do it—and so on and so forth. That is when you actually helped Andrews and Love bring Rice down. The media will eat it up. You will get five years—out in two.”

  “How could you convince the Attorney General’s Office to buy into it?” Alt asked.

  “We will change Love’s rhetoric. Julie Love’s testimony about you attempting to murder her will change. In the new version, Kelsey ordered you to kill Agent Love, but you actually approached her, told her about it, spilled the beans on Rice and Kelsey and convinced her to help Andrews. You will be a hero.”

  “Why are you doing this?” Alt asked. “I did murder Falcon.”

  “You know, off the subject for a moment, why would you agree to kill Falcon?” Rainhorse asked. “The man was a patriot. He risked his life for our country.”

  “Killing Falcon was a pleasure,” Alt spat back. “He was Middle Eastern by birth. Men like him always show their true colors in the end. It was only a matter of time before he switched loyalties. I did the country a favor by killing him.”

  “So, what is your opinion about Native Americans?” Rainhorse asked.

  He glared at Rainhorse, “Do you really want me to tell you?”

  “No. Just do as I say. I only care about Andrews and Love. I will keep my end of the bargain.”

  “This is a trick. You’re lying.”

  “It is not a trick. If you help me, I will do exactly as I said I would,” Rainhorse promised.

  Alt began tapping his foot nervously. His breathing deepened and he mulled his limited options.

  “What is it you want me to do?” he asked, finally.

  “I want you to testify against Rice and Kelsey.”

  Alt formed a confused expression, “What for? You don’t need me for that. Rice and Kelsey are going to prison for life, anyway. All I could do is rub salt into their wounds.”

  “I know that,” Rainhorse said. “There are other people out there that Rice and Kelsey wronged. You know all the dirt on them. It all needs to come to light.”

  Alt thought for a moment then nodded, “Okay, what else?”

  “I also need you to testify on behalf of Agents Love and Andrews.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Agent Love could be charged with reckless endangerment and kidnapping with regard to you. We need to change the narrative so that it appears you had a crisis of conscience and couldn’t go through with the act, then it benefits you both.”

  “But you kidnapped me, or rather your Indian bitch did.”

  “There was never a kidnapping,” Rainhorse said. “In our new storyline, you spilled the beans on Rice and Kelsey to Agent Love, then agreed to lay low.”

  “How do I explain you?”

  “For the purposes of this event, I was never here. Neither was my friend who has been hosting you. That is also part of the deal.”

  “Okay, I get it,” Alt said. “I get the heat off Love. What about Andrews?”

  “Andrews was accused of colluding with me on two occasions. That investigation will likely continue under the new FBI leadership. He will be in hot water for failing to surrender when the SWAT team arrived at our safe house.”

  “So what? That’s all bullshit,” Alt said. “He’ll get a mild suspension—six months tops.”

  “He will also get an unnecessary blemish on an otherwise stainless record. That is not acceptable. I want it all to go away, Alt. I need you to explain how Rice and Kelsey systematically tried to pin dirt on Andrews to get rid of him to cover up their activities.”

  “That’s it?” he asked.

  Rainhorse nodded.

  “What about Falcon’s murder?”

  “As I said, Andrews found no physical evidence of the murder. If I testified, maybe they could dig something up. Maybe not. You do this and I will not testify.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “I will see to it that Falcon’s murde
r lands in your lap and that the world knows you actually tried to kill a female Federal agent, in addition to all your conspiracy violations. I’ll be in the audience at your execution. Ever seen a Cheyenne do a war dance at an execution, Alt?”

  Alt sighed and fell silent for a moment once again. Finally, he looked up at the large Cheyenne, “Okay, Indian man. You have a deal.”

  “Good. I will make the arrangements, and Alt?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I was in prison, too. I know how the system works. If you try to cut a different deal later, I will see to it that you are somebody’s bitch in prison—someone even bigger and meaner than you, and of course, a few of his very best friends. That, I promise.”

  Alt nodded, “I won’t change my mind. Kelsey is a pussy and I never liked Rice much, anyway.”

  Rainhorse stood, “I am afraid I have to leave you tied up for a couple of more hours while I make some arrangements to keep my end of the bargain. I will be back soon.”

  “Hurry up, will you?” Alt spat, “I’m hungry.”

  “You will live. I will be back.”

  Chapter 24

  Twenty minutes later Rainhorse was seated in the corner of the Black Walnut Café, the same breakfast place he’d eaten at with Agent Love before. He was holding a padded manila envelope.

  “I remember you,” the waitress said, smiling. She poured a glass of water from the pitcher she carried, “You were here yesterday with your girlfriend.”

  “She was not my girlfriend,” Rainhorse replied.

  The waitress raised her eyebrows, “Oh really? That’s very interesting. Are you in the market for one?”

  She winked at Rainhorse. He smiled and blushed a little, “I am happily married.”

  “How happily?” she asked.

  “Very.”

  Vivian snapped her fingers in faux disappointment, “Damn. Struck out again. So, big fella, you want the same thing as yesterday?”

  “No eggs. I want two orders of the chocolate chip pancakes,” he said.

  Vivian chuckled, “Sausage with that?”

  Rainhorse smiled, “How did you know?”

  “I’m psychic,” she replied. “I’ll put your order in and come back with coffee.”

  “Thank you.”

  Vivian began to walk away.

  “Wait,” he called out. “Is there a mailbox around here?”

  She looked down at the envelope he was holding, “Post office is about two miles, down the road to your right.”

  “Thank you,” he said.

  “Or. . . I could just put it with our outgoing mail, here at the restaurant. Mail carrier comes inside in about an hour.”

  “You would do that?”

  “For you, sweetheart, anything. All I need is an extra five bucks on my tip, a smile and you take my phone number just in case you change your mind about how happily married you are.”

  “How about a smile and an extra twenty bucks right now. I cannot use the number, though. What do you say—deal?”

  He held up a twenty-dollar bill.

  She smiled and shrugged, “Sold.”

  She took the twenty from the Cheyenne and picked up the envelope.

  “Gracias, amigo,” she replied, waving the envelope. “Back with coffee in a snap.”

  Rainhorse pulled his burner cell from his pocket and dialed a number. It was answered on the second ring.

  “Rainhorse?”

  It was his attorney, Summer Rose Red Feather.

  “Summer Rose. Good. I see you got the burner phone I asked Ellie to send.”

  “I did. What’s going on? I’ve been watching the news. Looks like all hell broke loose in Texas. Where are you?”

  “In the middle of it, of course,” he said. “Where else would I be when all hell breaks loose?”

  “Jesus, Rain, we’re you part of this?”

  “Not much,” he lied. “You say you’ve been watching the news. Have you heard my name mentioned?”

  “No, not once.”

  “How about the name of a man called Swede? Or the Brotherhood Protectors?”

  “No.”

  “Best news I have heard today,” he said.

  “Andrews and Love used their phone calls to speak to me,” Summer Rose said. “They are both hiring me as their attorney. They wouldn’t confirm it, but I suspect this was your influence.”

  ‘You are going to do a great job.”

  “I’m a small-town attorney,” she objected. “This is way over my head.”

  “Do not worry. If the worst should happen, you can bring in high-powered support, but I do not think it will come to that.”

  “They will be fine,” Rainhorse asserted. “They just need to sort a few things out. Listen, I need your help.”

  “Talk to me.”

  “There is a security agent at the FBI named Alt.” he began.

  “He’s the one missing and believed to be dead?”

  “He is not dead,” Rainhorse said. “He is very much alive.”

  “And you know this how? Wait! Do I really want to know?”

  “Probably not. I just mailed a package to Ellie Limberhand. It is addressed to you but I did not know if the FBI would be still be monitoring your phone and mail.”

  “I understand,” Summer Rose said.

  “When you get the package, you will find three thumb drives in it,” Rainhorse continued.

  “Oh, Jeez, here we go with the thumb drives, again,” Summer Rose scoffed.

  “Hold on,” he said.

  Vivian sat Rainhorse’s coffee down. He smiled at her. She winked again and left. He noted there was a little shimmy to her gait as she walked away, undoubtedly for his benefit. He took a sip of his coffee.

  “Alt is going to testify against Rice and Kelsey,” Rainhorse continued. “When he does that, two things will happen. It will free Agents Love and Andrews of any wrongdoing and will allow them to go back to work with a stainless record.”

  “And two?” Summer Rose asked.

  “Alt is going to receive a very light sentence.”

  “Really?” she asked with an objectionable tone. “What dumbass thought that was a good idea?”

  “Me,” he admitted.

  “You? That doesn’t sound like you at all.”

  “Which brings me to the thumb drives,” Rainhorse said. “Andrews and Love will have to, at a minimum, endure a long, formal investigation. When you interview them in a secure setting, play the audio file on thumb drive number one.”

  “Which contains . . .?”

  “A set of instructions from me that I recorded this morning on the way to the restaurant,” Rainhorse said. “They will object to what I am proposing they do, as I have said on the audio file, because it will allow Alt to get a really light sentence, but it’s important they do it anyway. I need them to trust me.”

  “I’m sure they trust you just like I do, but can you tell me what you have planned?”

  “Yes. After Love and Andrews are fully exonerated, I want you to send thumb drive two to the Attorney General of the United States and thumb drive three to the new Director of the FBI, whoever that may be.”

  “And what is on thumb drives two and three?”

  “Another audio-video file of my former boss, Barnabas Quince, speaking with Rice.”

  “Holy shit,” exclaimed Summer Rose. “Another video? Is he doing what I think he’s doing?”

  “He is,” Rainhorse affirmed. “The tape shows Rice ordering a hit on a prominent member of a political party eight years ago—one of his political enemies, and there is bonus footage.”

  “What bonus footage?”

  “With Rice at this particular meeting was Greg Alt,” Rainhorse said. “The video will clearly implicate Alt in a conspiracy to kill a high-ranking member of Congress.”

  “Did the hit happen?”

  “It did. The victim fell asleep one night and died of a heart attack.”

  “So, when this video comes out, Alt will be arrested and
tried for murder?”

  “And when he’s convicted, he’s going to prison for the rest of his life, that is, if he escapes the electric chair.”

  “So, you lied to Alt about helping him?”

  “I certainly did not,” Rainhorse contended. “I promised him I would arrange a lighter sentence if he testified against Rice and Kelsey. I said nothing about any other case.”

  “Remind me to never piss you off,” Summer Rose said.

  “You need to be reminded?”

  “How is it that you have all these tapes, anyway?”

  “I was once Barnabas Quince’s go-to guy, remember?” he said. “I knew about the recordings and I knew where he stored them. Once I killed him in Seattle, I took them. I thought they might come in handy. I was right.”

  “How many more of these do you have?” she asked.

  “I am losing your signal. I cannot hear you,” he answered.

  “Okay, I guess it’s better I don’t know anyway.”

  “You will take care of it, then?”

  “Of course. You know . . . you have not asked me about Lindsay.”

  “I know.”

  “Don’t you want to know how she’s doing?”

  “Neha has Facebook. I check on her every day. I see her pictures and what she writes. I see little Jackie. She is doing well.”

  “On the outside, perhaps,” Summer Rose said. “She’s very hurt that you left without saying goodbye and cut her out of your life.”

  “I have not cut her out,” he said.

  “Tell her that. I don’t think she agrees.”

  “I will tell her, when I see her.”

  “When will that be?”

  “When it is time.”

  “You know, for a guy who is normally plainspoken, you speak in a lot of riddles.”

  “It is all part of my charm.”

  Summer Rose chuckled, “That must be it. Lindsay is going to know that you and I have been contact.”

  “I know.”

  “She’s going to ask me about you.”

  “I know that, too.”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “Tell her I think of her and miss her every day,” he said. “Tell her I will call her . . . when it is time.”

  “Is that it?”

  “No. Tell her every time she posts a selfie of herself and little Jackie on Facebook, it makes me smile.”