“Think of this, Enos, what is important, preserving the integrity of this operation, or keeping ourselves isolated? No matter what, if she arrests Zaim, the whole operation is blown, kaput. She may get shot. She may lose her job, but two years of work by a lot of good people will go down the drain because of your misogynistic slant on the world.”
John wasn’t sure if Enos comprehended the word misogynistic, but he knew the tone of his voice probably told the story. Enos glared at John for several seconds, and John didn’t flinch. He was tired of taking guff from this pompous, self-righteous clod.
Eventually Enos cleared his throat. “I’ll overlook your insubordination this time, John. Don’t let it happen again. I suppose that woman has us over a barrel. Let her in on why we have the bunch in Brimson under watch. Let her know the importance of our having them continue with their plan.
“But John, you are not to tell her about David Craine’s involvement in this. We both know her attachment to him, and I don’t want her running to him for any reason. Do you understand me?”
John walked to the door and over his shoulder, answered, “Yes, sir.”
Before he left the room, Enos had one more word for John. “I don’t like this ‘Deidre’ crap. She is ‘Sheriff Johnson.’ Do you understand?”
Again, over his shoulder, John answered, “Yes, sir.”
John went to his car, and from the parking lot called the Lake County Law Enforcement Center. The phone was answered by the dispatcher.
“This is Special Agent Erickson out of the Duluth FBI office. I’d like to speak with Sheriff Johnson, please?” John always found that the mention of FBI got faster results.
“I’m sorry. Sheriff Johnson isn’t in her office. She is on her way to Brimson with a deputy, but she left a message for you. ‘John, call me on my cell phone with any news about Zaim.’”
Panicked, John used his phone’s speed dial option, and listened as it rang, then heard Deidre’s voice. “I’m sorry. I am not available to take your call at this time. Please leave a message at the tone.”
As calmly as he could, he left a message. “Deidre, this is John. Please do not go after Zaim until we have a chance to talk. My supervisor wants me to fill you in about those guys up there. Again, I’m asking, please don’t go to the hunting shack. I’ll call again in a few minutes.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Within minutes John’s phone rang. It was Deidre.
“Hey, John, what’s up?” Deidre’s voice sounded agitated.
“I hope I’m not too late with this call. You haven’t been up to the shack have you? Tell me no.”
Deidre let out a sigh. “No, John, I’m being a good player, even if I don’t know the rules. We had an incident up at Big Jimbo’s Tavern. Do you know the one at the intersection of County Road 150 and Rock Lake Road?”
“I think I do,” John answered, relief flooding his voice. “What’s going on up there?”
“Nothing … now. We had a domestic that got way out of hand. Some logger was half in the bag and beating his girlfriend around in the bar. A stranger stepped in to stop him. He threw the logger out on his ear and then got back to the bar to finish his beer.
“The bartender told the stranger to watch out, because the guy he threw out is a mean one when he is drunk. Sure enough, when the stranger stepped out of the tavern a little later, the logger was waiting for him with a double-bit axe. Took a swing with it, too. Luckily the guy ducked enough only to catch a glancing blow off his shoulder. Cut him bad though.
“That was when someone called 911, and our deputy got there in about three minutes. Lucky for the guy who got cut up, Jeff was on route to make a pass by the hunting shack. Jeff had to draw his gun to get the logger to put down the axe. For the three minutes it took Jeff to get there, the stranger danced around, avoiding the axe swings and bleeding like a stuck hog.
“I got there about the same time the ambulance did. Typically, the girlfriend accused the stranger of attacking her boyfriend and said he reacted in self-defense. There were a lot of other witnesses, though, who gave us the real story.
“That’s tough country up there, not what you city boys are used to.” Deidre smirked—John could sense it even though he couldn’t see the look on her face.
“So, John, what’s the big news that couldn’t wait until I was back at the office?”
“First, I was really worried that you had gone to Brimson to pick up Zaim. In fact, in my mind I was sure that’s where you were headed, and I wanted to talk you out of doing something that would not only be foolish, but also dangerous.
“Second, I talked to my supervisor. It wasn’t a pleasant conversation, but he finally decided it was better to let you in on what we have going up there than let you stumble into something you aren’t prepared to handle.”
As the words were leaving his mouth, John knew they weren’t the right ones. Even over the miles between Brimson and Duluth, John could feel Deidre’s hackles rise.
“Whoa there, John. What do you mean something we’re not prepared to handle. You still think we’re a bunch of Keystone Cops, don’t you? You come up here and face a drunk with an axe sometime and see how well you’re prepared to meet a situation.”
As had happened before when he and Deidre were talking, John found himself on the defensive. “Wait a minute, Deidre. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I meant you don’t know what you’d be facing, and you wouldn’t be prepared for what’s up there.
“I want to have another face-to-face talk. Once you know the whole truth, you’ll understand what I’m talking about.”
“So you’re going to give me the entire scoop this time?” Deidre asked, her temper cooling down almost as fast as it had heated up.
“Everything,” John said, knowing that wasn’t quite the truth.
Deidre looked at her watch. “It’s 3:30 now. I’ll be back in Two Harbors by 4:00. Can we meet at 5:30? I’ll need some time to make out a report on the incident at the tavern.
“Let’s see, we’ve been to the Scenic, to Chester Park, to the Sucker River. How about spreading our presence around? We could meet at the Rocky Point Cafe. They don’t get much business, because the food and service isn’t the greatest, but we’d have some privacy there”
John responded immediately, too quickly he thought afterward. “Sounds, great. See you at 5:30,” and he heard Deidre hang up the phone.
Chapter Twenty-Six
At 5:00, Deidre was still scrambling to finish her report. Why is it that women allow themselves to get into abusive relationships and then alibi for the bums instead of filing charges? She shook her head, because she had no answers.
Finally she put the file into its proper slot and drove out to Rocky Point. It took her fifteen minutes to get there, and John had a table next to the window overlooking Lake Superior by the time she arrived. He rose to meet her.
“Deidre, or should I say Sheriff Johnson?” he said as he extended his hand. “It’s good to see you again.”
“What’s with this formality, John,” Deidre threw back at him. “Suddenly I go from Deidre to Sheriff Johnson. I suppose I should be a little leery of what’s coming next.” Deidre smiled at him.
“Oh, nothing. I just don’t want to be too informal if you want formal. Which do you prefer?”
“Deidre’s fine,” she responded, wondering why he would be concerned about it now.
“Good,” John said. “Anyway, have a seat. Why don’t we order and enjoy our meal. It sounded like you could use a few minutes away from the job when we spoke earlier, and we can go down by the lake after dinner. That way we can be sure no one’s eavesdropping. Did you get everything done that needed doing?”
Deidre had to agree that a few minutes of small talk over dinner might be nice. “That’s okay with me. By the way, if I were you, I’d stay away from their ground beef. They make some real belly bombs here. My advice is to stick with the chicken.”
When the disheveled waiter came to thei
r table, his shirt tail hanging out in back, Deidre took her own advice. “I’ll have the grilled chicken salad, with a side of honey mustard dressing,” she ordered. “And ice tea.”
The waiter turned to John. “And you?”
John looked at him and then at Deidre.
“Oh, what the heck. I want a hamburger with an order of onion rings and root beer.”
The waiter turned to leave, and John hollered at his departing figure, “And make sure the burger’s well done.” He looked at Deidre and chuckled.
“You’re going to be sorry tomorrow,” Deidre laughed back at him.
Throughout the meal, neither of them brought up work, and the conversation centered around the weather, the changing shades of color in the lake, and if the Minnesota Twins were going to fold by the time playoffs rolled around.
Finally their meal was done and they paid the waiter, leaving an obligatory tip.
John was the first to get out of his chair. “We better go see the lake before it gets too late,” he said to Deidre, and they walked side by side down to the rocky outcrop that formed the shoreline.
Out of earshot from anyone else, John broke the silence first. “I spoke to Enos Pratt, my supervisor. I think I told you that already. I convinced him that if you’re going to continue to help us, you have to know what’s going on. If you don’t, it could be extremely dangerous for your people. It took some convincing, but he finally came around.”
Deidre looked at him in surprise. “I thought these were just some minor drug dealers in Brimson. You mean they might be connected to the mob?”
“It’s a lot more than that, Deidre. They might not look it, but that group is considered to be as dangerous as anything to ever hit Lake County. We suspect they are heavily armed with more firepower than anything your deputies have.”
Deidre’s eyes opened wider. “So what’s the deal? What are we up against here?” Suddenly, realization hit her. Zaim Hassad Zayad was not your usual northern Minnesota name.
“Are you telling me these are terrorists? That can’t be. There’s nothing in this county they’d …” Her words trailed off. “The docks!”
John looked at her and nodded. “The docks.”
“But how can you be so sure? Do you have evidence against them? And when is this anything supposed to happen?”
“Slow down, Deidre. One question at a time,” and he began to explain. “We have a reliable informant, and we’re dead certain about who these men are and what they intend to do. We even know how they plan to bring the docks down. What we don’t know is when it’s going to happen.”
“If you’re so certain, why don’t you arrest them now? According to what you’re telling me, and if it’s true, then you have enough on them to charge them with terrorist acts. What are you waiting for?” Deidre asked, incredulous.
“It’s not as cut and dried as it may seem. First, we want to catch them committing the act so the warrant against them will carry more weight. We want to send them away for a long time. Second, we have been able to intercept their communications. There’s only one cell tower that can be reached from the Brimson area. It’s near Highland Lake, and all their calls run through that tower, making them easy to trace. We’re trying to develop a data bank of all the communications going on between those five and the outside world.”
Deidre had one last question. “Who is this informant you’re so sure about?”
John looked away. “I don’t know,” he lied. He looked Deidre square in the eyes. “For security reasons, that knowledge is known to only a few within the department.” Once again he looked away. “And I’m not one of them.”
Deidre let the air escape from her lungs. “What am I supposed to do?” she wanted to know. “What are my deputies supposed to do?”
“What you’ve been doing. Now you’re in the know, and I’ll have more freedom to keep you in the loop. The ice has been broken, and I’m sure we can more easily work together from now on. We’ll keep in touch,” and he reached out and touched her shoulder. “My boss said he would have a directive for your mission drawn up for you in a few days. I’ll get it to you as soon as it’s done.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
It was 5:00 in the morning when the bright rays of the rising sun streamed through a crack between the shade and the window frame next to where Zaim was sleeping. They found his eyes, and he jerked abruptly awake. He sat up in his bed and ran his hand over his arm. The ache was not too bad this morning.
He rolled out of the top bunk, gripped the side rail and lowered himself so his feet touched the floor.
“Come on, you four. Wake up,” he urged.
“Jabril, Afu, get up. It’s time we get our work done,” Zaim demanded. He peeled the blankets off Murad.
“Imad, it’s getting late, and we have a long hike before us today. Come on, Murad, fix some breakfast and get a lunch ready for us to take with.”
The four men grumbled and cursed under their breath at Zaim, but they didn’t linger in bed. Each stumbled outside and relieved himself behind the shack.
“At least this is one benefit of being so far out,” Imad commented to the others as he zipped up his pants. The others ignored his optimism.
Murad busied himself at the kitchen counter and soon had a plate of scrambled eggs and toast ready for the group. In the increasing light from the rising sun, they ate in silence. Zaim was particularly sullen, and he barked at the others, “Don’t be long. It will take us an hour to get to the bridge and then more time to set the charges. It is necessary to be ready at exactly 3:30 when the shift in the mine changes. I have timed the explosions, and they set off their blasts exactly on the second.”
Not taking time to clean up the breakfast mess in the sink, the five men thrust their arms through backpack straps and headed outside. From there they followed Zaim as he strode down a narrow path that wended its way between jack pines, around patches of sedges, and eventually came to the Cloquet River. There, the trail they were using joined with another that followed the riverbank and they worked their way upstream, away from the hunting shack and the county road running past it.
There was no talking between them. Zaim moved forward with such determination that the others were breathless in a short time, sucking for air as their pack straps dug deeply into their shoulders.
After an hour of walking, they came to an abandoned railroad trestle that spanned the river. It was made of steel beams—large beams that at one time had supported the huge Mallet steam locomotives that pulled railroad car after railroad car of iron ore dug from the underground mines near Ely. Those mines had long since gone dead, depleted of the high grade ore running in drifts below the earth’s surface.
Once the ore had stopped being mined, there was nothing to haul along the route, and the route had been abandoned. The railroad bed had soon begun to revert back to nature.
No longer needed, the rails of this particular run had been pulled and sent to steel mills that consumed scrap iron. Only the rail bed, partially overgrown with aspen saplings and the huge trestle remained. A few deer hunters who dared venture this far into the wilderness even knew of its presence, and no one really cared about it one way or the other.
“There it is,” Zaim announced, “our target,” and he smiled for the first time in several days.
Each man shed his pack and flopped down on the river bank. They inhaled the sweet smell of the river sedges, a pungent, almost perfume-like tang that hung in the air. As they wiped the sweat from their faces, a kingfisher dove into the water from a branch draped over the river’s surface. A trout broke the surface and grabbed a dragonfly out of the air.
After a few minutes of rest, Zaim again began ordering the others into action.
“Today is a training day for us. We are going to practice taking down these steel girders with charges that will detonate simultaneously, causing the trestle to completely collapse. No one will miss it until the hunting season begins in three months, and only then if a hu
nter manages to get back this far.
“Carry the packs down to the river’s edge, and pile them on that rock outcrop. They’ll be dry there.”
“Aren’t you fearful that the blast will be heard? It’s a long way back here, but certainly someone will hear,” Jabril said as he fiddled with a loose thread on his pack.
Zaim looked at Jabril as though he should have been aware of something so obvious. “That is why we are going to detonate the explosives at exactly 3:30. If you haven’t noticed, sound travels a long way out here,” he said, his voice laced with impatience.
“Aren’t you aware that you hear a distant blast every weekday at 3:30? Only twenty-five miles to the west is a mine pit, and everyday at exactly 3:30, when the day shift has left and before the afternoon shift has begun, they blast to loosen rock to be dug out.”
“You are right, Zaim,” Afu interrupted. “We’ve been here so long, the blasts have become routine. We don’t even notice them anymore.”
“And neither do any of the people who live up here,” Zaim added. “The trees will muffle the sound of this blast, making it difficult to judge distances. If we time it to coincide with the mine blast, probably no one will pay attention.”
Then he added, “Take another half hour to rest. I want you calm when you begin to strap the plastic explosives to the steel uprights and especially when you insert the detonators into the charges.”
The five lay on their backs, staring at the blue sky and listening to the chirp of squirrels and the songs of warblers in the brush.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Habitually, David was an early riser. He seldom slept later than 6:00 a.m., but since the incident with the Latinos he had helped get out of the country, he usually woke with a start much earlier than that. This morning had been no exception, and he waited for daybreak.
Convergence at Two Harbors Page 12
