by Matt James
“Did you know,” Jack said, speaking softly to Bull and Hawk, “that the Hopi and the Maya believed in tunnels that led to the underworld?”
All three men were spread out around Chaska’s warm living room. The local had retired to his room for the night and left his guests to themselves. Now, it was just Jack and the Durhams, and no one could sleep.
“Don’t tell me you believe in that garbage,” Hawk scoffed.
“I’m not saying that I do, but I think that we have to understand that not all people were as educated as we are now. Chaska’s story would’ve taken place over a hundred years ago. His grandfather’s belief system would’ve still been strong.”
“I still don’t follow,” Hawk replied, sitting up.
Jack also sat up, but it was Bull who spoke next.
Still flat on his back, he said, “Jack thinks that there’s a real tunnel that leads to a cave system beneath Devils Tower and that Chaska’s grandfather’s interpretation, while farfetched, has merit.”
Jack shrugged. “Yeah, we’ll go with that.”
It wasn’t exactly what he was thinking, but it was close enough. Jack was also going to add that Chaska’s ancestor might’ve been inebriated when he had retold the story. Alcohol abuse was common in several Native American cultures, especially for those people who had lived a century ago. Just like Hawk’s father, Jack thought. It was why Jack didn’t bring it up. There was no reason to stir ‘that’ pot.
“You guys didn’t see anything to suggest that there’s a passage beneath Devils Tower today, did you?”
“No,” Bull and Hawk replied in one voice.
“Then again,” Hawk continued, “we didn’t get far before Zietz grabbed us. It’s certainly possible that we missed something.”
“But is it possible that the thousands upon thousands of people that have visited the monument over the last hundred years have also missed something?”
Jack’s question went unanswered—which meant, no, it wasn’t possible. Somebody would’ve found something eventually. The odds were too great.
“Now what?” Hawk asked, lying back down. “I can’t go home tomorrow with Zietz still out there.”
“I’m not sure, to be honest,” Jack said, plopping down. “But no, you can’t go home yet.” He rolled onto his side, toward the front window of the home. “Either way, we should head back to Devils Tower in the morning, just in case.”
Cascade officers Nate Franklin and Oliver Sizemore sat in an unmarked police cruiser outside Chaska Adams’ property. Sizemore was currently serving a suspension as a result of “rough play” that had occurred during a traffic stop. As Zietz had wanted, they had been able to track down the driver’s address based on security camera footage from both the casino and two traffic lights. The old man’s license plate was as clear as day on all of them. Running the tag was a cinch.
The duo checked over their sidearms while idling off to the side of the road. Sizemore also had a shotgun leaning against the seat—nestled between his knees. Cascade PD wasn’t like other towns’ police departments. They had very little in the way of high-tech gadgets, mostly because they never had a reason to need them. Almost nothing of interest took place within Cascade city limits, and if it had, it usually involved Creed and Zietz, two men that paid well.
“Are we really going to rough up some old Indian?” Sizemore asked. His bigotry against the Native American population was well documented.
“If we have to, yes,” Franklin replied, shifting the car into drive.
With the headlights off, they slowly rolled up the local’s driveway, keeping their eyes peeled for anything suspicious. Shadows danced in the moonlight all around them. The eerie scene made the men more nervous than it should have. The job wasn’t the issue. It was who had given it to them that spooked the officers. Zietz wasn’t a man to fail. Earlier, he had warned Franklin that the homeowner might not be alone. The outsiders—a man named Jack Reilly, in particular—had concerned Zietz the most. Franklin was hearing rumblings about how he had singlehandedly defeated Zietz and two of his men with his bare hands.
When the house came into view, Franklin wasn’t sure what to make of it all.
“Only one car,” Sizemore pointed out.
“I’m happy you can count.” Franklin didn’t look at his partner. He was too focused on the situation. “Still… Zietz seemed awfully bothered.” Franklin leaned in close to the windshield to get a better look. He even scanned the angled rooftop. “Be ready for anything.”
13
Jack awoke to a large specter standing over him. Typically, being startled awake in a strange place should’ve sent him into more of a panic. But happily, for him and everyone else in the house, he instantly recognized the broad man’s silhouette. If he hadn’t, he might’ve shot him.
“Dammit, Bull.” Jack closed his eyes and dropped his head back down onto his pillow. He rubbed his face. “What the hell, man?”
Bull was standing in front of the living room window, just barely peeking through the shut curtains. The man didn’t flinch. Jack wasn’t even sure Bull had heard him react. Whatever he was looking at, it was fascinating enough to have his full, undivided attention.
Finally, Bull gave Jack a sign that he was alive and let out a long breath. He closed the curtains and turned around. Peering down at his partner, he said, “We are not alone.”
It took Jack a second to figure it out. He groaned and rolled over and climbed to his feet within a chorus of popping joints. He limped up next to his partner and saw what he was talking about. An unmarked car was parked outside of Chaska’s place. The make and model could be clearly seen, as could the two men sitting inside its darkened interior. If they were trying not to be seen, then they were doing a poor job. The cloudless sky allowed the moonbeams to cast a brilliant aura on top of them. The automobile was a Chevrolet Impala, one of the most commonly used undercover cop cars in the United States.
“The crunching of gravel woke me,” Bull explained.
“You can hear that from here?” a third voice asked.
Both men spun and found Hawk standing behind them. Jack had now been caught off guard twice in less than a minute. His exhaustion was making him extra jumpy. He looked down at his watch and understood why. He had only been asleep for a couple of hours. It explained the tidal wave of fatigue that was quickly washing over him. Soon, he would drown beneath it and be useless to his compatriots.
He yawned. “Police.”
Hawk peered through the curtains. “More dirty cops?”
“Looks like it,” Bull replied.
“What do we do?” Hawk asked. “What about Chaska?”
“Let him sleep,” Jack said, thinking quickly. He looked at Hawk. “Stay out of sight. They might recognize you.” The younger man didn’t look happy about it, but nor did he argue. Jack gripped Bull’s shoulder. “I need you to stall them for as long as you can.” He headed for the rear of the home. “Under no circumstances are they to make it inside. We can’t risk Chaska being harmed.”
“What should I do?” Bull asked, quietly calling after him.
Jack winked. “You’ll think of something.”
Bull was having trouble coming up with a plan. His nephew wasn’t being any help either. Bull shushed Hawk when he asked him what he was going to do for the fourth time and swung open the door just as one of the uniformed police officers was about to knock and wake up Chaska. It frightened the cop into drawing his sidearm, but after realizing that Bull wasn’t a threat, he holstered it and blew out a long, nervous breath.
“Can I help you?” Bull asked, crossing his arms.
The small-statured cop looked up at the much larger Bull and swallowed. He blinked out of his stupor and glanced at his partner, who had yet to ascend the front steps. It was just Bull and him on the porch, though Hawk was only a foot away, tucked just inside the door. The tech-savvy Durham had quickly produced his phone and was recording the entire exchange.
Hawk’s presence gav
e Bull an idea.
“Who are you?” the officer asked.
Bull noticed that his nametag was missing. In fact, both men’s nametags were missing. They weren’t here for a simple conversation. These two planned on getting physical. Bull needed to squelch that idea quickly.
“I’m Chaska’s nephew,” Bull replied. Hawk chuckled softly off to his left. “I’m staying with him for a while.”
“I didn’t realize Mr. Adams had any family,” the cop said, trying to look around Bull. He stepped in front of him.
“It’s late.”
“Yes, well, we have reason to believe that your uncle was involved in a dangerous, high-speed traffic altercation.”
Bull laughed, even though he knew it was true.
“A ‘traffic altercation?’ You do realize how ridiculous that sounds, right?”
“I do, but we have video evidence of that truck,” he pointed to Chaska’s beater, “being involved.”
His eyes flicked to the front yard, but there was no Jack anywhere. Bull needed to keep up the charade. “And does that same evidence ID my ninety-year-old uncle behind the wheel?”
The cop’s face blanked. “Well, no.”
Bull stepped outside and shut the door. It caused the nearest police officer to descend the steps and join his partner. “And is that enough to warrant you coming here, in the middle of the night, to ask him about it?” Bull cut him off with a raised hand. He spied a shadowy aberration coming up from behind the second cop. Jack had, indeed, exited the home through the back door and circled around to the front. “It doesn’t seem like it to me, now, does it?”
Bull had no idea what the correct procedure would be for a situation like this, but it kept both policemen’s focus on him.
“Come on, Injun Joe,” the second cop said, stepping closer to the bottom step. He was trying to rile up Bull. “Why don’t you do us a favor and waddle your red ass back into the house and retrieve your uncle before this gets messier than it needs to be.”
His attempt failed. Bull was to0 mentally strong for someone like this to make him lose it. And before he, or anyone else, could say another word, Jack struck. Neither men saw, nor heard, their attacker close in from behind. When Jack wanted to, he could move like a ghost. It both impressed and terrified Bull.
Jack slammed a thick tree limb down on the back of the second cop’s head. He instantly dropped. The man who had led the failed interrogation turned to see what the ruckus was all about. He barely got halfway before Jack went airborne and drove a heavyweight fist into his temple. And just like that. Two strikes. Two men down and out cold.
Hawk threw open the door and stepped outside. “That was badass.”
“Thanks,” Jack said, dusting himself off.
“You too, Uncle. Those guys bought what you were selling big time.”
Jack noticed Hawk was holding his phone. “You filmed the whole thing?”
Hawk shook his head. “I stopped recording just as you showed up.” He smiled wide. “There’s no evidence of their attacker.”
Jack nodded approvingly. “Nice job.” He motioned for Bull to join him below. “Help me move them.” He looked at Hawk. “Get me a hand towel. The dirtier, the better.”
“Jack?” Bull asked, unsure.
“Trust me.”
Jack grabbed one of the unconscious men’s wrists while Bull held onto his ankles. Together, they carried him over to a thick pine tree and dropped him. His partner was next. Once there, Jack and Bull went about sitting the two men up, one on either side of the tree. As one of the cops began to stir, Jack quickly cuffed them to one another with the tree to their backs.
“Here,” Hawk said, handing Jack the hand towel he had requested.
“Ugh,” one of the cops moaned.
“Get inside,” he hissed at both Durhams. “They didn’t see me.”
Bull and Hawk hurriedly headed back indoors. And through the living room window, they watched Jack kneel in front of the lead cop. He was the one who had initially greeted Bull at the door. Unlike his asshole buddy, this one had given Bull the time of day and some respect. The prejudice some people still felt toward the Native American people boggled Jack’s mind.
“What’s Jack going do to them?” Hawk asked, looking up at his uncle.
Bull shook his head. “I don’t know, but Jack has a way with people.”
Hawk snorted out a laugh. “Yeah, I’ve noticed.”
Jack quietly waited for the two men to be fully cognizant before saying anything. He squatted like a catcher off to the side. He was centered between the pair. Both would be able to see him if they turned their heads. In fact, he didn’t have to say anything at all. It was the lead cop who greeted him first.
“Wh—what the hell?” His eyes found Jack. “Who the hell are you?”
“Me? No one. Just a friend of Injun Joe.” Jack eyed the second man. “That’s what you called him, right?”
“Eat me, prick!”
As if on cue, a soft howl resonated around them. The call belonged to one of the region’s fiercest hunters. The gray wolf wasn’t close, but the timing had been perfect.
Jack smiled. “Sorry, but I won’t be the one eating you tonight.”
Cop 1 thrashed at his bonds. The movement earned a shouted curse from Cop 2. “Dammit, Nate, stop it! You’re cuttin’ up my wrists!”
“So, it’s Nate, is it?”
The named man glared up at Jack as he stood. Nate didn’t speak. Jack shrugged and walked toward their police cruiser. He looked back and winked, casually opening the driver’s side door and getting in. He didn’t plan on doing anything with the car. Jack was interested in its belongings. Lifting his right elbow, he opened the console and found a jackpot of information. He procured two nametags and quickly exited the car.
He read off the first one, flicking it at the chest of its owner. “N. Franklin.”
Then, he held up the next one and read it aloud. “O. Sizemore.”
Sizemore attempted to shout at Jack again but was quieted by his metal nametag. Jack had hurled it at his face just as he went to speak. He had aimed for Sizemore’s open mouth but missed and doinked it off his forehead instead.
“Let us go!” Franklin yelled, trying to free himself. “You’ve got nothing on us!”
“Besides a video of your racist remarks.”
“Pfft. And?”
“And,” Jack continued, “in that same video, you threatened my friend and a senior citizen with physical violence. I believe Sizemore said something about him waddling his red ass back into the house to retrieve his uncle before things get messier than they need to be—I’m paraphrasing, of course.”
Caught, Franklin calmed. “What do you want?”
“You’re going to help me.”
Both cops laughed but quickly quieted when Jack drew his pistol. He squatted just out of arms reach and laid it on the ground next to him. He waited for them to shut all the way up before speaking again. And when he did, he threw some bull.
“I represent a group of very agitated investors.”
Both cops’ eyes opened wide.
So, they know about the investors too.
“Needless to say, they aren’t happy with Mr. Creed right now.” He picked up his weapon and fingered the trigger. “And that means that I’m not happy with any of his associates either, including you two.”
“We don’t work for Creed,” Sizemore said.
“But you do cash his checks.”
“Those are from Zie—”
“And who pays him?”
He had no intention of killing these men, but he did want them to think he was going to. He produced the hand towel that Hawk had retrieved for him and swiftly tore it in two. He reached forward and grabbed Franklin’s greasy face, jamming the makeshift gag deep into his mouth.
Sizemore didn’t react as nicely about it. He yanked his head back and forth before Jack kneed him in the face. The back of his head bounced off the tree, dazing him long enoug
h for Jack to render him speechless.
“There.” He nodded and placed his hands on his hips. “Quiet as church mice.”
With both men effectively silenced, Jack headed back inside. Just as he turned away, the wolves howled again. He stopped and glanced over his shoulder.
“Sleep tight, you two. Don’t let the gray wolves bite.”
Keeping up with his tough-guy routine, he stomped away, never once looking back at the bound police officers. Luckily, neither of the men seemed to know who he was. It took a lot for Jack to play the villainous hooligan. Zietz, however, was a natural at it. Jack doubted the guy had ever laughed a day in his life.
He nearly stumbled up the steps but caught himself before completely ruining the moment. All he could hear was a pair of soft moans and whimpers. If Jack’s act hadn’t scared the men to death, then the prospect of being eaten alive by a hungry wolf did. And where there was one wolf, there were many. The hairs on Jack’s arms stood on end just thinking about it.
He opened the door, quickly stepped through, and closed it before anyone inside could be seen. Bull stood as he typically did, arms crossed in front of his chest. His eyes were hard, but he gave Jack a curt nod. In his eyes, Jack had done well.
Hawk was a little more animated than that.
“Holy crap!” He playfully punched Jack in the arm. “That was freaking awesome!”
Jack let out a long breath and leaned back against the door. He eyed Bull. “Did I just leave two unarmed policemen to fend for themselves while cuffed to a tree?”
“Yeah,” Hawk said, “but they’re assholes.”
That didn’t make Jack feel any better about his decision. If he was identified, he could be thrown behind bars for a very long time.
Bull reached out and put a reassuring hand on Jack’s shoulder. “If it makes you feel better, they are cuffed to one another, not the tree.”
Hawk snickered softly and playfully jabbed Jack with his elbow. “I think you’re rubbing off on him.”
