by Ted Clifton
He pushed Kee out to the truck and into the cab. His mind was racing. He went back inside again and looked at Barbara. My god, what have I done?
He had to get back to the camp. He knew that. I’ve screwed up everything for everybody. All he could do for his dad was give him money. He drove his dad to an old hotel to get a room, stopping to buy some whiskey at a drive-thru liquor store.
“Chris Kee,” he whispered to the barely conscious man, “I hope you don’t remember anything you saw tonight. I’m sorry your life has been so miserable—but it’s almost over.”
He left.
“Sounds like the FBI and ATF guys know what they’re doing.” Ray only said that to reassure himself.
“I guess so,” Tyee answered. “Still seem a little vague on how many people are in that camp. They say maybe thirty or sixty, or more, or less. Not a very precise estimate from the people who’re supposed to be in charge.”
Ray knew Tyee still fretted about the helicopter flight. He chose another subject. “Wouldn’t surprise me at all if our sheriff was no longer there. He’s the most likely suspect in the death of his wife. That could mean he left the camp site some time ago. Maybe he’s in Mexico by now. If he’s guilty, it wouldn’t make sense for him to wait around for the feds to show up.”
They were standing in the hall of the FBI offices in Albuquerque, outside a conference room where they’d just attended a briefing about what would happen the next morning. As observers, they’d been told by no fewer than three people that they were not to get involved. That was starting to be annoying.
Crawford, the lead FBI agent, walked up. “Ray, you and Tyee do understand you must stay way back from any sort of confrontation.”
Ray sighed. “My goodness. Yes, we understand. Look, we’re not fragile. We’ll stay out of the way. Just stop acting like we’re stupid or something.”
Crawford waved his hands apologetically. “Okay. Sorry. I know it seems like we’re being overly protective. But if we get some civilian hurt—or heaven forbid, killed—I’ll spend the next six months on paperwork.”
Ray had to laugh. “Well, that makes sense. I can understand your concern, now.”
The next morning was all business. Everyone boarded the helicopters, all equipped with automatic weapons—except Ray and Tyee—and geared for battle. It seemed very possible that within the next few hours someone could be killed.
Being a federal law enforcement operation using National Guard helicopters, they were given priority clearance to fly directly to their target. They maintained a fairly low altitude for the first part of the flight, but soon they approached impressive mountains and had to climb. The temperature began to drop.
Ray and Tyee sat next to one another but had not said anything. The noise made conversation almost impossible. Besides, there wasn’t much to say.
They had learned in the pre-op meetings there would be no attempt to sneak up on the militia’s camp. In fact, the plan was to fly around it and come up on its back side to land. They intended for the camp to be alerted by the noise. They hoped the show of force would be enough to persuade the militia members to surrender.
Near the back side of the camp they saw the landing zone, marked by flares. Ray peered through a small window to see SUVs and crew-cab pickups waiting for them. The helicopters paused over the landing zone and abruptly made hard landings. The doors quickly slid open and everyone leaped out toward the vehicles. Ray and Tyee were pointed to one of the SUVs. Some agents stayed back to guard the helicopters.
The vehicles bounced down a primitive road and stopped about a half-mile from the landing zone. Crawford and several men got out to gather around the opened rear hatch of an SUV. Ray and Tyee walked up to observe.
An agent who’d stayed near the camp for the past few days gave a report. “The only in-out traffic we’ve seen for the last several days was one old pickup entering their encampment. There was only one occupant. We could not identify the driver. Last night they sent out scouts who got fairly close to us, and we observed them on the video. They had mostly hunting rifles; one had a side arm. They stuck around a couple of hours and left. We’ve been able to recon the whole area and have not found any defense perimeters. We can approach the camp from any direction you want. We can even just drive in down the main road. We have not seen any guards or regular patrols.”
Crawford frowned. “How can we communicate with them?”
“We’ve secured two speakers near the camp that work for about three hundred yards. Of course, the problem is you can’t hear them if they answer. Another approach would be to have at least one of us move nearer the camp with a radio. You could use the speakers to talk to them, and the lead guy could give you their response.”
“Okay, let’s go with that. And do it now.”
Soon the speakers and the advance agent were in place.
“This is the FBI and ATF,” Crawford announced. “We have your camp surrounded. If you’ll surrender all weapons and come out, no one will be hurt. If you don’t comply with our requests, we’ll be forced to take action to close this camp. We are able to hear your response. Who is leading this encampment?”
Nothing happened. They waited.
“Well, looks like we’ll have to go in and see if we can make contact.” Agent Crawford didn’t look happy about it.
The radio popped. “Sir,” the advance agent spoke over it, “I can see someone standing in the middle of the entrance. He’s saying the sheriff left yesterday with about twelve people and went up into the mountains. He says they don’t want trouble. They’ll put down their guns, walk out and surrender.”
Over the speakers Crawford answered. “Very good. Walk out slowly with your hands in the air.” Within an hour the feds had secured about forty people, identified each, and read them their rights.
Ray noticed how subdued the group looked. All hung their heads. “What about the sheriff and those other men?” he asked Crawford.
The agent grimaced. “Yeah, that’s a problem. I’m not going to send anyone up into the mountains for them to ambush. We’ll establish a base here and bring in more resources while we decide the next course of action. Unless, of course, you have a better suggestion.”
Ray and Tyee had no alternative plan. They just wanted to go home. “No,” Ray confessed. “I’d thought they’d all give up once you guys showed up, so this is a surprise. As I told you, the sheriff is a suspect in his wife’s death. He could be on some kind of suicide mission, and the guys who went with him likely are the most extreme members of his group.” He thought a moment. “One thing I was wondering—could those speakers be repositioned and turned up enough to try and talk to them from here?”
Crawford nodded. “Sure. They can blast out pretty damned loud. Not sure what I’d say, other than threatening them.”
Ray looked at him. “Let me talk to him. I have some info about his wife’s murder he might at least want to talk to me about.”
Crawford thought about it and shrugged. “Okay.” He instructed his men to reposition the speakers to face the mountain and had the advance agent with the radio move closer to where they thought Jackson and his men were.
Ray took the mike. “Sheriff Jackson? My name is Ray Pacheco. I’m working with the governor of New Mexico to help with your department in Farmington. I’ve also been somewhat involved in the investigation of your wife’s death. I thought you should be aware a man named Chris Kee has confessed. Maybe you don’t care about that, but if you have information that would help, I’d like to hear it. I can meet you alone if you want to talk about it. The feds will not interfere.”
Crawford exploded. “What the hell are you doing? I can’t let you go meet with this guy. My god, Ray—what sort of grandstand play is this?”
Ray knew he had stretched his friendship with the agent, but still thought the best course of action was to get Jackson to come down for a parley, if he was alone. “Sorry. Seemed like the thing to say at the time.” Ray shrugged. He hoped Cra
wford would let it play out.
Crawford glared at Ray with a look of admiration mixed with a hint of hate. He walked off.
“Looks like you’ve volunteered to be bait,” Tyee muttered. “Maybe you should learn to keep your ideas to yourself. Indian will now have to find new sidekick.”
“Let’s hope not. I think if the sheriff will talk to me alone, there’ll be little risk. At least that’s what my gut tells me.”
Tyee looked at him. “Your gut ever been wrong?”
“Yeah, a few times.”
Crawford hurried back, still fuming. “Advance man says Jackson responded, and he’s agreeable to meet with you. I just can’t tell you how pissed-off I am. This is exactly why you should have never been along on this mission. There’s no way we can fully protect you. If this guy wants to take you hostage, we won’t be able to prevent it. I hope to hell you know what you’re doing.”
The fact was that Ray suddenly felt very unsure about the whole thing. Should he just call it off? Of course there was no way in hell he could back down. For better or worse, he’d put his foot in it, and there was no way out of what his big mouth had gotten him into. “Agent Crawford,” he confessed, “I’m sorry. I should have talked to you about it first. It just felt like something different had to be done, or people were going to die. Look, there are some things I know that you don’t. The man I mentioned, Chris Kee, who confessed to the murder of the wife—he’s Sheriff Jackson’s father. He may want to meet with me to straighten out some things about that, and then go back to his men. But if I can talk to him, maybe I can make him see how foolish it is to get those guys killed just because of his personal problems. The sheriff has a troubling history, but I’m told he’s not a bad person. If he’s trapped, he and his men will fight. But there has to be another way.”
Crawford stared like he was trying to make up his mind. “I shouldn’t do this. It’s my ass if something goes wrong. And if I ask my boss for clearance, he’ll say, ‘Hell no.’ But he always says that. I’ve got a stupid government form that says you’re doing this on your own, and you understand the risks. You will have to sign it to release the FBI of responsibility. If you don’t, I can’t let you do it.” Crawford paused, still not sure he was doing the right thing. “I sure as hell don’t want you to take this risk. But maybe you’re right. Maybe there is no other way. Just, please—don’t get yourself killed.”
“I know. The paperwork.” They smiled at one another while Ray signed the form.
“We have an area that’s fairly clear where you can meet the sheriff. It’s about a quarter-mile directly south of where we think they’re holed up. It will take you about ten minutes to walk there; take him about the same to walk down.” Crawford handed Ray a hand-drawn map.
Ray headed out. It was a cool day in the mountains, but he was sweating. No one can walk into a situation of life-and-death possibilities and not be nervous. His thoughts turned to Sue, and how his life had taken on new meaning after his marriage to her. And he was risking everything. For what? He knew it probably wasn’t a good time to have such thoughts, but he couldn’t help it.
A small clearing seemed to jump up before him. And Jackson was there.
“Sheriff Pacheco?”
“Over here, Sheriff Jackson.” Ray felt reassured by Jackson’s voice. He sounded calm and, more important, sane.
They shook hands and traded manly nods to reassure each other that no one faced immediate risk of being killed.
Jackson spoke first and was remarkably composed, considering what he had to say. “I’ve fucked up a lot of things. Most of what’s happened is my fault. I have no delusions about myself or my circumstances. I’m sorry I’ve caused so much trouble. But my father’s innocent. If he’s confessed to Barbara’s death, I imagine it’s because he’s just confused about what he saw, and somehow he either believes he actually did it, or,” he sighed, “he’s trying to help me. He’s hollowed out from years of grief and alcohol. He should be released.”
“Trujillo is holding him because he has to—not because he thinks he did it. It would be helpful to your father for you to tell me what actually happened.”
Sherriff Jackson paused for a moment, peering down at the ground. He then told Ray the story of how, in a fit of rage, he killed his wife with the frying pan. “I didn’t know it,” he said, “but my dad was standing in the doorway. Even in his lifeless eyes, I could see he saw what happened. I didn’t mean to kill Barbara. I’d gone to ask her to help my dad, and that was all. Then the argument started, and something snapped. I knew my life was over.”
The calm with which Jackson told him the story chilled Ray’s blood. But he had to make his appeal. “You still have lives in your hands, Jake. What you told me is enough to clear your dad. I’ll do everything I can to get him into a place where he can get help and be safe. But you need to think of those men who followed you up here, and what’s going to happen next.”
Jackson only shook his head. “I will not surrender. Those guys with me now are ready to fight.”
“You fight,” Ray pressed, “and a lot of people will die. They can try and wait you out, but you know it will have to end. Your guys could die, and these federal officers could die, and all for what? Right now, no shots have been fired. This could all end with minor charges and no one hurt.”
Jackson looked away. “You mentioned Deputy Trujillo. You should know he’s not clean.”
“What do you mean?”
“He comes off all friendly and everything, but he has his own agenda. He and the mayor have been buddies since grade school. You trust him, and you’ll get burned.” He took a step back. “I’ll talk to the men. If the mood’s right, I’ll encourage them to surrender.”
“And you?”
“I’m already a dead man.”
He left, quickly. Ray headed back to report to Crawford.
They waited.
Big Jack was at the screen door of the cabin. “Where the hell is Ray?”
Sue fired back from the kitchen, “Don’t yell at me, Big Jack!”
Big Jack deflated. “Sorry. Guess I was anxious to talk to him. And he’s never here anymore.”
“No shit.” Sue flipped an egg with more emphasis than necessary. “I am sick and tired of him being gone all the time. He’s supposed to be semi-retired.” She stopped herself. “Oh, damn. Sorry, Big Jack. Guess I’m on edge. I sense something’s wrong.” She had not slept well for days.
“Shouldn’t worry. Ray can take care of himself.”
“Come inside, and I’ll fix you a cup of coffee.”
Their shared tension made for an uncomfortable few minutes while she made coffee.
“Damn.” Big Jack wiped his face. “I don’t know why I’m being such an ass. You’ve got real things to worry about, and I come around bellowing like it’s all about me. Sorry.”
“Oh, don’t worry about it. I’m sure Ray’s fine. I’m just a little edgy. Tell me what’s on your mind this morning.”
“Well,” Big Jack began, “it has to do with the Hot Springs Inn. You know I’ve been analyzing whether there’s a way to buy it and fix it up, a way that would fit into some kind of logical financial model. Bill’s willing to sell it cheap, but it needs a ton of improvements. No matter how I squeeze or bully the numbers around, it just doesn’t make economic sense. The cost to upgrade is too much. The Inn’s been grandfathered into every new building requirement to meet code for over forty years, and it’s a money pit just waiting for some damned fool to start pumping it in. I guess I wanted this to happen, but now it looks foolish.”
“That’s too bad. I think it would really help the town if the Inn was more of an attraction. But you sure can’t just toss money at it. Have you thought of any options?”
“Yeah, a couple. You can get around some building codes by having the Inn declared a historical landmark. The problem with that is, once it becomes a landmark you’re limited in what you can do to improve. You can restore, which is the most expensive
option, but you can’t alter the basic design. There’s just no way around the cost.”
“Does sound like you need to talk to Ray. He always has good ideas about how to solve problems.”
“Well,” Big Jack sighed, “that isn’t all. I wanted to talk to Ray about what I’m doing. At one time, all I wanted to do was drink beer and run the bait shop. But since I became mayor and turned the store over to Chester, I’ve felt like I’m kind of lost. Before all the changes with Ray and my new identity, my whole purpose in life was just to hide and keep up my Big Jack act. But now it seems to me I should do more. So I’ve been thinking about moving up to Albuquerque and opening a law office.”
“You could do that?”
“Seems I can. The FBI gave me a new identity along with a valid attorney license. I haven’t tested that, but I’d guess there’s no reason I shouldn’t be able to practice law again if I want.”
“What about Beverly? And being mayor?”
“Not sure about her. But being mayor is just a pain in the butt. It was a great honor to be elected, and beating that asshole Martinez was great. But being the actual mayor is just a tedious job with more headaches than it’s worth.”
“How about all the people who worked for you and helped you win the election? Wouldn’t you be letting them down?”
“Yeah. Geez. You know, you’re about as irritating as your husband. I never said I was honorable or some kind of dependable person. My goodness. I think I’ll go to the bait shop and drink beer. If you hear from Ray, tell him I need to talk.”
Big Jack left Sue feeling troubled by what he’d said. Since they’d all come together and bonded, their group had begun to feel like family. Now the family seemed to be coming apart. She didn’t like that. And she was angry with Ray because he wasn’t there to help make everything okay.
