by Joe Field
From my angle, I could see Roy ducked down behind his vehicle. He made it far enough to the edge of his front bumper so that he could shoot toward the attackers. Just beyond Roy was Pete, who was now set up by the log cabin and had a clear line of sight on the assailants. He fired two well-placed rounds back-to-back, and two more of the men collapsed. The remaining two men panicked and split up; one bolted southeast straight toward Roy, and the other headed west into the woods.
Pete disappeared back around the bunkhouse to catch up with the man in the woods, and I came around the other side of the picnic building, ready to dash for safety. Roy, you better move. Roy, he’s coming for you. The man was sprinting directly for Roy, but there was no way Roy would be able to see him in time from his position. “Look behind you!” I screamed. Roy turned around just in time to shoot the attacker. He went down.
I ran over to Roy. The other man was facedown and not moving.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
Roy stood up and looked out over his car toward the woods. “Yes, thanks for the heads up. Are there any more?”
I looked up to see if I could spot Pete or the last man who had come with the assailants. “I think there is one more.”
“Who is killing all these people?”
Before I could respond we both turned our heads slightly, focusing on a specific point in the woods where we heard a loud thud, followed by the sound of a man gasping for air. We then heard a crack, followed by silence.
“I’m getting out of here,” said Roy. He jumped in his car and took off down the ditch.
Relief flooded me as Pete walked out of the woods under a floodlight. He was smiling, his demeanor calm, as if he hadn’t just killed several men. In his hand was my axe, and it was dripping with blood.
“You have got to be kidding me,” I said. “You killed that last dude with my axe?”
“Well, you weren’t using it were you?”
“Are you serious? Did you, like, throw it at him, or what?”
“Yeah, just like in the movies. Then I ran up and broke his neck.”
A shiver went down my spine because I knew he was dead serious. “Did you learn how to do that back with the SEALs?”
“SEALs possess many skills, one of which is that we can kill a man with just about anything, including your chic tomahawk.”
“It’s good to have you on Team America, Pete. And, it’s good to have you on my team tonight,” I said, saluting him. “I wonder who they were…”
Pete saluted me back and walked over to the body next to me. “Who killed this one?”
“Roy Cloud did, just before he bolted.”
Pete searched the dead man and found his wallet. He tossed it to me.
I looked inside and found an ID. “White Earth Indian Reservation,” I said. “What were these guys doing here?”
“I don’t know, but we may want to get out of here before anyone else shows up. You might also want to leave a blank check to pay the caretakers for all of this mess.”
“Good idea, let’s go.”
“Hey, Coop,” said Pete as we headed toward his pickup. “Were you able to get your interview?”
I patted my pocket; amazingly, my voice recorder was still there. “Yes,” I said. “And with this tape, Smokey’s whole network is about to collapse.”
“Maybe, but until it does, Smokey is going to send all available resources to take you out once he hears about tonight. You need to find a safe house, and mine won’t cut it. You better call that DEA guy right away.”
“Okay,” I said, as the extent of what had just happened sank in. “I’ll give him a call, after I call Jesse and Soojin. What’s your plan?”
“Well, as much as I would love to walk away from this, we better tell all of your law enforcement friends what happened. Back to Bemidji?”
I sighed. “Yes. Back to Bemidji.”
Pete smiled. “Was this a memorable bachelor party or what?”
“You can bet I’ll never forget it. Thanks, Pete.”
Chapter 14
Minneapolis, MN
Smokey chucked his phone against the wall of his home office after his call with Jonathan Mason from White Earth. Jimmy, Tank, and Marcus knew something terrible had happened. They nervously waited to hear what the boss had to say.
“Eight of Mason’s guys were killed last night in Bagley while trying to take out Roy Cloud and that reporter from MPR,” said Smokey, clenching his teeth.
“How is that even possible?” asked Jimmy.
“Apparently, the reporter brought some special forces military guy with him. The trained killer wiped them all out. Eight dead Indians.” Smokey shook his head in disbelief.
“So, Cloud and Smith got away?” asked Marcus.
“Yes, and the reporter’s military friend, too.”
“What are you going to do now, boss?” asked Tank.
“Toss me my phone,” said Smokey, holding out his hand toward Marcus. “I’m going to call Jason Red Eagle and ask for updates.”
Marcus picked up the phone and was surprised to see it was still intact after hitting the wall. He threw it to Smokey, who dialed Jason, putting the call on speakerphone.
“Smokey, we’ve got some major problems,” said Jason.
“No shit. I know about the Cloud interview and the eight dead men from White Earth. Do you have any other updates for me?”
“Yes, the reporter Cloud met with was dropped off late last night at the Beltrami County Sherriff’s office in Bemidji by some military guy. The reporter is still at the Sherriff’s office, but the military guy left town after spending the night at the station. I heard the reporter’s cousin is a deputy in Beltrami, and he will likely keep the reporter at the office until the feds come in. They could be there already for all I know.”
“Anything else?” asked Smokey.
“Yeah. Cloud knew a lot about our operation. He was my right-hand man. Whatever that reporter has on his voice recorder could put us all behind bars for years. The thing that I don’t understand is, why were the White Earth thugs there to take him out? How did they know about the interview?”
“That’s for me to worry about,” growled Smokey.
Smokey had received a call a week earlier from a paid source who watched things closely in Bemidji. The source had been following Cloud and overhead him run his mouth while drinking at the Bemidji Brewery. Cloud bragged about having the Sherriff’s department in his pocket after he agreed to an interview with a reporter. Once Smokey had heard this, he hired the men from White Earth – without telling Jason – to kill Cloud and the reporter. He knew that if he had gone straight to Jason with this information, Jason would have just bumped Cloud off, and the reporter would have gone free. The White Earth men were supposed to surveil Cloud, and take him and the reporter out at the first opportune moment. The plan obviously backfired.
“What you have to do now is help me take the reporter down before he runs the interview,” said Smokey evenly. “I need you to put some of your best guys on the Sherriff’s office. Have them watch the place, and see if they can follow this reporter to whatever safe house the feds take him to. Once they get the exact location, send it to me.”
“Not a problem, I’ll get you the location soon,” said Jason. “What about the military guy?”
“Forget him for now. Focus on the reporter.”
“And about the next shipment?”
“We have the product, but we need to wait a week or so to let this all blow over. Be on standby, though. I’ll email you the details soon.”
“Okay, sounds good. I’ll send you the reporter’s location as soon as I get it.”
Smokey hung up the phone and set it down gently this time on his desk. He crossed his arms and stood up to face his crew.
“Here’s the new plan. Once Red Eagle finds the reporter’s position, I want Tank to go up and get the tape back.”
Smokey looked directly at Tank. “Use whatever means necessary to get it back.” Tu
rning back to the others, he added, “While Tank is taking care of them, Jimmy and Marcus will run up the next shipment to the reservations. Jimmy will go up to Red Lake with three kilos, and Marcus will take two kilos up to White Earth. It’s by far our biggest and most important shipment yet. We can’t screw this up. The shipment will be sometime next week. No mistakes!”
Smokey looked directly into each one of his men’s eyes in turn. “We put this all behind us, and then we expand our empire into the Dakotas. Everyone good with the plan?”
Smokey looked first at Marcus.
“Sounds good, boss,” said Marcus.
Then Smokey pointed at Jimmy for approval.
“Great plan, Smokey,” said Jimmy. “It’s smart to have both of us take up different shipments to the reservations to reduce the risk of losing the product.”
Smokey looked over at Tank.
“I’m going to kill that reporter slowly. He’s going to wish he had never been born once I get through with him.”
***
After the meeting, Jimmy drove his Cadillac out to Como Park in Saint Paul. He made several loops around the park to make sure he wasn’t being followed. Once he felt safe, he pulled out the phone Agent Sosa had given him. Jimmy typed his message furiously and hit send.
8:21: Smokey plans to make the dual shipment to the reservations sometime next week. I’m heading up to Red Lake and Marcus is going to White Earth. I’ll send specific details closer to the actual exchanges. Also, Smokey wants Tank to kill the reporter, Smith. You may want to keep him somewhere safe.
Jimmy waited for what seemed like an eternity. Then Sosa replied.
8:29: Thanks for the update. Continue to keep me posted, and start thinking about white sandy beaches down in the Florida Keys.
Chapter 15
Bemidji, MN
Agent Sosa finished typing a message on his phone as he walked back into the interrogation room at the Sheriff’s department in Bemidji. He tapped Agent Lindberg on the shoulder and showed him the message. Lindberg nodded and left the room. Once the door was closed, Sosa came around the table and stood over me as I sat in an uncomfortable metal chair. I caught a glance at the wall clock: 8:30 am. The DEA arrived, and Sosa and Lindberg interviewed me together for ninety minutes. The next hour was just Lindberg, who was trying to see if I would answer him differently alone. I guess he was playing the good cop role, but it sure didn’t feel that way. Now, it was just Sosa standing over me. I felt like I was a terrorist in Guantanamo Bay.
I had been up all night answering questions, and I was exhausted. Before the DEA arrived, Jesse talked to me for several hours, and then the Sheriff came in and did the same. I wondered how Pete was doing; I could hear him in the next room over. It sounded like they were letting him go for the day.
“You jeopardized our entire investigation,” Sosa barked. “And more people could have been killed, innocent people. What if your cousin Jesse had been there? He would be lying in a pool of blood right now. How would you explain that to your family?”
“I’m sorry, Sosa. We’ve been over this already – I know I screwed up by not listening to you.”
“You did more than screw up. Eight people are dead! And now what do you think Smokey and his crew will do? I’ll tell you what; they’ll go into hiding. If they do, we’ll be lucky if we ever get within three hundred miles of these guys.”
“They can’t just leave now,” I said. “Based on what Roy Cloud told me last night, they have a huge shipment coming up. They won’t flee before they deliver the goods and collect the money. They are sitting on too much heroin.”
“Look at you, Mr. Reporter, trying to play detective. They better make that next shipment or you can kiss your fairy tale life goodbye. Do you think your fiancée is going to be happy when you tell her you won’t be able to get married because you are sitting in a safe house in the middle of nowhere? Do you think she’ll even marry you at all?”
After I called Soojin the night before and told her what had happened, she asked the Governor to see if she could stay in one of his spare bedrooms so she could continue to work on the campaign without being pulled away by authorities. When Sosa found out, he was mad at first, but relented once he realized she was in a secure compound.
“Can I call Soojin?” I asked. “I want to make sure she is still doing all right.”
“You better thank me for being such a wonderful human being,” said Sosa. “She is absolutely fine. As long as she stays with the Governor, she should be too difficult for one of Smokey’s men to approach. You know, if Smokey knows about your relationship, he would love to use her as leverage to get this back.” Sosa held up the tape from my voice recorder.
“Hey, that’s mine. You can’t just take it.”
“Like hell I can’t. Don’t worry, Smith, you’ll get it back once we take Smokey and the network down. That way I know you can’t run the story before I let you.”
“What about freedom of the press?”
Sosa laughed. “Try pulling that card on me, and I’ll start to think a lot harder about that time I caught you with Brown Sugar. Would you care to explain that in front of a judge?”
“Just make sure I get the tape back soon. When are we leaving?”
“We are working through the logistics right now. Soon.”
“Where are we going?”
“That’s not something you need to know now, or even later. We will take all of your electronics and put blindfolds on you. The next thing you see is a house that’s somewhere safe.”
“How long will we be there?”
“As long as it takes to arrest Smokey and his network. Could be days, weeks, maybe even months.”
“They’re going to make the shipment soon,” I reminded him.
“Let me worry about that. Time to put your blindfold on.”
***
I could see out the bottom of my blindfold just enough to know Sosa was placing me into the back of a vehicle. Just before I stepped in, he told me to stop. I heard something jingle, and a moment later I had handcuffs tightly wrapped around my wrists. Sosa grabbed me by the arm and shirt collar and lowered my head into the car. I bumped it against the door on the way in, and Sosa laughed.
“What’s so funny?” asked Lindberg.
“Looks like our reporter has a big head,” Sosa replied.
Real funny, I thought. They assured me I wasn’t under arrest, but that the cuffs were necessary to keep me from pulling off the blindfold. When I asked how long it would be, all I got back was a sarcastic, “It won’t be long, Mr. Big Head.”
The Crown Victoria took off, and I tried to get comfortable. The cuffs kept cutting into my wrists. I was exhausted, but my mind raced. Was this story worth all this? It certainly wasn’t worth Ricky’s life. But maybe it would play a part in taking down his killers. I hoped the interview with Cloud gave Sosa and his team enough ammunition to arrest Smokey’s whole network. And highlighting the heroin problem in the state could save others from walking down that path. But it was tough to produce a story from the back of a police cruiser.
Just as I was about to fall asleep, Sosa slammed the Crown Victoria into park and said, “We’re here.”
Chapter 16
Minneapolis, MN
North Minneapolis was notorious for its crime, gang activity, and drugs. Smokey lived right in the center of it all, both in terms of location and the life of misconduct. He had called it home his whole life, and it was where he belonged. With all the money he made from the drug trade, he could afford to live anywhere in the city – but still he chose North Minneapolis.
His home was located on Lyndale Avenue and Twenty-Sixth Avenue on the southwest corner of Farview Park. It was a modest home by drug dealer standards, but it had sentimental value that money couldn’t buy. His parents bought it just before he was born. He had spent his entire youth in the house.
While he was locked away in the God-forsaken Stillwater Prison, his parents died in a car crash. They left the ho
use to Smokey in their will. Once Smokey was out of prison, he moved back into his childhood home. It helped ease the pain of missing the last few years of his parents’ lives.
It was late at night, but Smokey couldn’t sleep. He had too much on his mind. He decided to go for a stroll through the nearby park to get some fresh air and try to clear his head.
Just a little while earlier, Jason Red Eagle had called with an update from one of his guys who had been surveilling the MPR reporter. He was hiding out in a town called Thief River Falls, located in northwest Minnesota. It was actually an ideal location, because it was roughly a little over an hour from both White Earth and Red Lake reservations. He could send all three of his guys up at once, and they would all be close to each other in case something happened. Nothing is going to happen, he reassured himself, but to be safe...
The park was dead at this late hour except for the occasional homeless person stumbling through, or junkie getting high. Smokey decided to walk all the way to the far end of the park by the athletic field. Back in high school, he had played an instrumental role in helping his football team win the state championship. He was the starting defensive end, and he dominated the line. Plenty of scouts showed up to watch him play, and college football could have been his ticket out of there. He turned down every offer except for the Gophers, at the nearby University of Minnesota. A week before practice started his freshman year, he was caught dealing cocaine. He was immediately kicked off the team and sent straight to the slammer.
That was his first offense, so he wasn’t in jail long, but his second visit to the big house was Stillwater. That was after he was caught trying to sell thousands of OxyContin pills. He hated Stillwater worse than anything he had ever encountered. He suffered from claustrophobia, and while he was there he woke up every night with the same nightmare. The walls of his tiny cell closed in slowly, squeezing him to death. During the day, he was so bored he often found himself staring at those same walls for hours on end. His blood boiled every time he heard that name mentioned. Stillwater was hell. He was supposed to do five years there, but his parents had called in a favor with a well-respected minister who wrote the judge and had Smokey’s sentence dropped to three years. Three months too late to see his parents alive again on the outside. God rest their souls.
