Thunderbird

by Susan Slater

  He knew all the structures by heart. He had wanted to be an anthropologist—being a cop was practical. But it was a dream not quite dead, just one that eating, and feeding Harley, made impossible.

  Yet, even being this close to the ancient houses was exciting. He remembered that the rounded outer wall of Pueblo Bonito hid a giant kiva, a circular room used for ceremonial purposes. What kinds of things went on in there a thousand years ago? Was it true that human sacrifices were made? Marrow-less bones were turning up with signs of being gnawed by two-footed animals. Humans were predators. And times hadn’t changed that much. Nothing made the Ancient Ones any different from men today—except, perhaps, their taste for human flesh.

  Tommy shivered and tried to superimpose some happy thoughts. But he couldn’t seem to come up with any.

  + + +

  Brenda didn’t look at him. She simply knew that the gun was still pointed at her back and Tommy’s gun was tucked in his belt. They climbed in silence. Once, he had reached out to steady her when she’d lost her footing, left leg skittering out from the wall. He’d let her get her breath before motioning her on. When they reached the first stretch of level land, they kept to the rocks and skirted the first two dwellings.

  Who was he? He’d remained in the shadows and she couldn’t see clearly. She thought he was an older man. Older than she anyway. It was difficult to tell. He was dressed all in black—some kind of jumpsuit. And he seemed to be a walking arsenal. The butt of the rifle slung over his shoulder bounced against the rocks, dislodging a sprinkling of pebbles when he’d leaned over to steady her. There was no trying to get away.

  She knew Tommy was out there. But what had he thought when he found her gone? Would he suspect wrongdoing? She didn’t think so. He’d see the second set of tracks and believe that Ronnie had found her. And he would find the gun gone. That would be the clincher—he’d think she’d abandoned him, taken the gun for protection, or maybe that Ronnie had taken it. She knew Tommy. He’d let her go—wouldn’t follow. He’d step aside to let her be with Ronnie, but his heart would be broken.

  Tommy had kissed her earlier. And she’d responded. She hadn’t consciously compared him to Ronnie but it had been there—the man she’d made love to last night, the man she was kissing now. She had thought once she had warned Ronnie, she could just walk away. Start over. Begin a new dream.

  “This way.”

  It was the first time the man had spoken in twenty minutes and, roughly grabbing her elbow, he steered her away from the rock overhang.

  “Are we almost there?” She had no idea where “there” was but it seemed important to ask. She half-turned before the barrel of the gun pressed behind her right ear. There was no turning around to get a good look at him.

  “Maybe.” This time he grabbed her hand and pulled her to the right where they left the path and, slipping down a short incline, stumbled onto a wash—a narrow arroyo that twisted around several large boulders before disappearing into the distance. Where was he taking her? They’d be above the ruins in another fifteen minutes.

  “In here.”

  The pistol was frigid on her neck raising goosebumps down her arms, but Brenda didn’t complain to its owner. They had reached the first of several plateaus that slanted to her left. The man motioned for her to climb down the steps of a small kiva. This one had been restored to show the latillas, the rounded wooden sticks that laced the roof. The air that rushed up was dank and almost sour. This was a room below ground that never saw sunlight. She stumbled on the last step and a hand roughly jerked her upright.

  “Sit here.”

  Brenda sat on the ground that sloped slightly to meet the wall. The wall was one stone thick and covered with generous applications of mud mortar. It was old construction. They were in an area that dated back to before 1100 AD—before they had raised their walls using thick inner cores of rubble and relatively thin veneers of facing stone.

  She shuddered. Was Ronnie dead? Had this man killed him? If so, why hadn’t he just killed her? No. She couldn’t think that way. Ronnie was alive.

  The dimness of the cave shrouded her vision, but there was someone leaning against the far wall.

  “Colonel?” The shadow stepped into view.

  “Ronnie?”

  She called out before she thought then slumped against the wall as a hand clipped the side of her head.

  “Now, bitch, you want to try that again?”

  She shook her head. Roughly, her captor grabbed her hair and, wrenching her head forward, tied a rag over her eyes. Then trussed her wrists with rope after jerking her arms behind her. Where was Ronnie? He’d never let anyone treat her this way. Her cheek stung. The rope chafed her skin. She didn’t dare wiggle the blindfold, but she sensed movement more than she heard it. The man was moving away from her. And there seemed to be others.

  + + +

  Ben parked in the front lot of the Information Center. He didn’t know where else to go. He’d come rushing out to the ruins without really thinking things through—not knowing where Tommy might be or how to find him. There was a phone in back. He could call the dispatcher and get a message to Tommy’s boss. Give him a brief account of what was happening, maybe get some help. That idea had merit.

  The Center was darker than usual, he thought. When he found the pay phone in back, he realized that not one of the back lights was on. Well, he could remedy that. The lights, some four in number, were just within reach. Surely, there was a switch close by. He ran his hands along the wall on both sides of the phone booth. Nothing. Then on a whim, he reached up and twisted a bulb. Light. He twisted the remaining three and then stood back in the halo of pale light. The bulbs must be no more than 40 watts apiece. But it was something.

  He couldn’t imagine the rangers unscrewing these bulbs every night. And this was a pretty out of the way place for kids … Suddenly, Ben wasn’t sure what he had done was the right thing. The light around the phone booth might be dim but it could be seen for miles—of that he was certain. Before “easy target” had time to fully register on his brain, he quickly stepped into the shadows.

  But what now? For the first time since he came chasing out here, his idea of finding Tommy seemed stupid. He didn’t even think he’d have nerve enough to step out into the light to use the phone. Could he find his way to the caves? Tommy thought Mariah had given them a clue—was that where he had gone? Ben had to do something. He couldn’t just stand around now that he was here.

  Ben worked his way around the south side of the building.

  “What the—” A figure stepped from the shadows.

  “Ben? What are you doing out here?”

  “Thought I’d help. I mean, I don’t know exactly how, but I thought you ought to know about Colonel Anderson and the guy who killed Amos Manygoats’ goat—hey, where’s Brenda? I thought you said that she was with you.”

  “She was. I came here to make the call to the colonel and she took off. I should say she and Ronnie took off”

  “Did you talk to him?”

  “Didn’t get a chance.”

  “Why didn’t you go after them?”

  “Guess I thought I’d give them the opportunity to get away.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “If she wants to be with him, they deserve a chance.”

  “And if he’s guilty? If she’s taken off with a felon?”

  “I don’t believe Ronnie killed Edwina.” Tommy filled Ben in on what Brenda had told him. “Nor did he kill that pilot. Brenda was there. She saw the men who dismantled the plane drag the body out of the truck and leave it beside the wreckage.”

  “And I have proof that Colonel Anderson was at the hogan bed-and-breakfast the night of the crash. I also know that he was the one Ronnie called from Edwina’s office. In addition, there are pictures of the crash“

  “Pictures?”

  “Pictures that support Brenda’s story.”

  Ben told Tommy about Nate and Bruce, finishing with their being h
eld in Gallup. The results of Bruce’s night photography locked up in his office in Farmington was soon to be federal property.

  “I talked to both of those guys. Who would have thought? I feel badly for the ‘believers’.”

  “I wouldn’t worry. There will be something else to get everyone excited.”

  “What’s your make on the colonel?”

  Ben thought a moment. “Truthfully, I don’t know. If we think on the positive side, he could have set a trap to catch the real crooks and Ronnie was a part of the plan. There could have been a totally legitimate reason for him to be at the B&B and to have been in touch with Ronnie. There would be no reason for the Air Force to share any of this with us. Then Brenda got in the way, and Amos, not to mention Bruce and things got sticky.”

  “Maybe we’ll get a chance to ask him. He’s supposed to meet me here, at the Center.”

  “What time was that?”

  “He should have been here by now. Said he was only an hour away. And he’s already almost an hour late.”

  “Already heading in this direction? What was it you said about Ronnie meeting someone to hand over the last piece of equipment? It’s beginning to sound like that contact might have been good ol’ Colonel Hap. I’m not sure he planned on talking with you first.”

  “Shit. It’d be a good way to keep me out of the way. Make me promise to stay at the Center.”

  “It’s your call, Tommy. What do you want to do?”

  “Check the caves.”

  Ben fell silent. Tommy had put his job on the line to help Brenda. Not a smart thing to do, but something a person in love would do, he thought. But still there were only two of them—they needed to be thinking about that.

  “How about a deal?”

  “Such as?”

  “Let’s make sure we have backup—that we can trust. Get a hold of your boss. Tell him where we are.”

  Tommy hesitated.

  “I didn’t say you had to tell Leonard about Brenda. But it might be a good thing.”

  “Backup makes sense.” Tommy dug in his pocket for a quarter. “But so does total darkness.” He reached up and twisted a bulb, then another and another before moving into the shadows next to the phone.

  “I don’t know who’s dispatcher tonight but guess I’ll find out.”

  Whoever the dispatcher was, he or she was chatty.

  Tommy was obviously being treated to some long-winded account of something. Ben wasn’t listening closely until he heard the word, “rollover” just before Tommy hung up.

  “What was that all about?”

  “Single car accident on 371.” Tommy seemed lost in thought. “Driver’s dead. Looks like it was a forced accident. Couple tires shot out. Ben, Hap Anderson was the driver.”

  “I didn’t like the guy, but I find it hard to believe that he’s dead. But, if he was involved—if he was the person in a position to set up the crash landing, coerce Ronnie, cover up his tracks … there’s only one person who stands to gain now. This is just a hypothetical question … okay? Was Ronnie any kind of a marksman that you knew of?”

  “Try Indian All American two years in a row. I came in second.”

  “Could Ronnie have hiked down to the highway, caused the rollover, hiked back up here, picked up Brenda and taken off?”

  “Anything is possible. For a man in good condition, maybe even probable. I just find it impossible to believe that Brenda would become an accomplice—take off with him. Ben, she didn’t know anything about the death of Edwina. She made a good case for someone threatening Ronnie, someone who wanted the headgear. But she’s an adult. It’s her life to live. Or throw away.”

  Ben could hear the misery in Tommy’s voice.

  “It’s probably safe to assume that Brenda’s out of danger. If they decide to run and not come forward, that’s another story. I don’t think it should be up to you to track them down. Let the Feds get involved.”

  Tommy just nodded.

  “I don’t know about you, but a cup of coffee sounds good.”

  “I don’t want to leave. I mean since we’re out here anyway, what harm is there in just taking a look around? Just make sure that—”

  “Brenda’s really gone?”

  Tommy shrugged, “Maybe. Something like that, I guess.”

  “You might want some backup.” Colonel Bertrand stepped out of the shadows. “Ronnie Cachini is one mean SOB.”

  “Colonel—” Tommy started.

  “Hey, sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. At ease gentlemen, you’re just the two I’ve been looking for.”

  “Uh, we heard that Colonel Anderson—”

  “Yes. That’s why I’m here. He left a message with his wife that he was meeting you here.”

  “Do you know what happened?” Ben asked.

  “Won’t be a secret now. Guess I can share. Hap was a short timer, would have retired in a matter of months—not necessarily his idea, but the Air Force has a way of thinning its ranks. That was hard for Hap to take—go out without a star.” He paused and seemed to be considering what he should say. “You want my opinion? I think I can trust you boys. Hap just snapped, developed a ‘get even’ mentality. I watched it happen. When the opportunity came along to screw over the Service, he took it—masterminded a plot to become very, very rich. Pity. But he was in over his head. We’ve been onto him ever since the Stealth took a dive. I was assigned to double-team him from the start on this one. We’ve been monitoring his activities. We just needed to be there when the money exchanged hands.” The colonel paused. “I have to say no one saw the Cachini thing coming. We all thought he was in Hap’s hip pocket. He’s a bit of a maverick but to kill Hap, well, what is it they say? No honor among thieves? I’m sure the two of you find it shocking to work closely with someone in authority and then find out he was on the other side.”

  “Everything was pointing in that direction,” Ben offered. “We know that Colonel Anderson was at the crash site that night and that Ronnie called him two days later. I still find it difficult to believe that a retiring officer who’d had a great career would risk everything—”

  “Greed. As I said, once in a lifetime opportunity. I’ve known Hap for years—always on the ragged edge of right versus wrong. There was a time when his kind of bravado was revered—men would follow him into a snake-pit and up the other side.”

  “So, forced retirement made him snap?” Ben was curious—clinical curiosity, actually. The retaliating worker going postal. It wasn’t out of the question. There seemed to be a case a month.

  “He should have realized that he’d outstayed his usefulness. The Air Force has changed. The Services are all big businesses today. The Pattons don’t have a place. It’s no longer an act-first, think-later kind of organization. Engineers and MBAs are the new breed. Yahoos are a thing of the past.”

  Ben wasn’t too sure about that.

  “It’ll be tough on his widow and son—late in life baby. He’s only about fifteen now. But Hap should have thought about that. Another good example of his M.O.”

  “Is there proof? I mean do you know for a fact that Colonel Anderson was the mastermind?”

  “Oh yes, an Iranian professor from back East came forward. Seems he valued his U.S. citizenship enough to give up a terrorist group who had planned the whole thing— with help, of course. Well documented help that puts everything in Hap’s lap.”

  “Do you think Colonel Anderson had any idea that you were onto him?”

  “I’ve wondered about that. Could have. Might have shared that with Cachini. That would explain the need to narrow the playing field. Look, I’m sorry about the girl. But let’s give her the benefit of the doubt for now. Let’s just say she’s standing by her man. We’ll know more once we get them down here.”

  “You believe they’re still out there?” Tommy asked.

  “No way out or we’d have seen them.”

  Ben wasn’t sure who the ‘we’ were, but sounded like the colonel had company.

&nbs
p; “I’m going with you. You in?” Tommy turned to Ben.

  “Sorry, I appreciate the support but this is a federal case now. I can’t be responsible for civilians—even local law enforcement. I mean it men—this is an order, stay out of the way.”

  Tommy just nodded. Ben had been afraid of that. It was going to be all Air Force, big Government from now on.

  “I’ve got the number of your supervisor. I’ll let him know exactly what happens. And, hey, I appreciate your help.” With that, Colonel Bertrand turned abruptly and trotted briskly away from the Center. The rifle case slung over his shoulder barely jiggled as his black jumpsuit melded with the shadows.

  “If he thinks I’m staying here, he’s got another think coming. You with me?”

  Ben grinned. “Now why did I know that was what you were going to say?”

  “We’re a little undermanned when it comes to firepower—unless you’re packing?”

  “Oh yeah, first order of clinical requirements—stay armed at all times.”

  Tommy grinned. “I didn’t think so. But that’s all right. I’ve got a little support.”

  Tommy held out the automatic with two extra magazines. “I can’t risk Brenda getting in the way—accidentally getting killed just trying to do the right thing. I’ve got to be there. You’d do the same for Julie.”

  Ben thought of saying that things were a little different with Julie, they were engaged. But maybe things weren’t that different.

  “Do you know where we’re going?”

  “I still think they’ve been holed up near the large house—Pueblo Bonita. I know a path that will keep us out of sight. We’ll come in over the top, not too far behind them if we hustle.”

  Ben took a deep breath. This wasn’t going to be easy.

  The going was smooth to start with just up and around the empty gray-black monuments that had been dwellings. The moon, now not necessarily on their side, boomed out from wispy clouds, fully illuminating their path.