“That don’t sound legal.”
“It isn’t until you tack the phrase, ‘threat to national security’ to a situation. Then every-fucking-thing is legal.”
“What threats are we talking about?”
“Money.”
She crossed her arms. “Money is a threat to national security?”
“The money that passes from corporate America to lawmakers, yes.”
“You’re gonna have to get off this roundabout and come out with it sooner or later.”
He dug deep and forced himself to let go of the last little bit of the secret he’d been sworn to keep. “We are called OROs, Mac and me. Off-radar operatives. We work in pairs. I was the inside contact. Mac followed the financial transactions from outside the bubble. I fed her leads, and she ran them down.”
Dani’s mind grabbed on to his use of “ORO.” It led her to believe that he was finally telling her the truth. “So, NGI?”
“As far as they are concerned, I am a loyal employee.”
“But you’re really spying on them for the government?”
“Technically, I’m spying on them for the contracting firm I work for. They sell the information I collect to Homeland Security as domestic abstract terrorist analysis, or DATA. The word ‘abstract’ is used so no one outside of the agency will bother reading the reports. It’s anything but abstract. It’s hard data that connects money to actual terror threats to this country.”
“Wait. You’re saying that companies in America are funding terrorism?”
He nodded. “Sometimes directly. Sometimes indirectly. They chase profits wherever they can find them. That chase usually leads them to make deals with some very bad individuals.”
“So, Mac was following a lead you gave her about what?”
“Payments NGI was making to one Luna Conway. She was a woman who lived in a trailer park in the middle of fucking nowhere. One day I’d never heard of her. The next day I’m arranging sizable payments to her for consulting work.
“Mac was supposed to keep tabs on her from a distance and report back, but she never really did follow the rules. She befriended Luna instead. Saved her from a beating by one of Luna’s brothers. The two started…a relationship.”
Dani nodded. “I don’t get it. Why the ATF ID if she’s not with the ATF?”
“It’s a system she and I worked out. She had three IDs. CIA, FBI, and ATF. If she…If she thought there was a chance she might end up dead, she’d make sure one of those IDs made its way to me, so I’d have a heads-up on what to look for. CIA ID meant foreign threat. FBI meant domestic threat, lone gunman. Your basic nutjob. ATF meant domestic insurgents. Militia.”
Dani looked at him intently. “Gun club.”
He nodded. “Gun club.”
Chapter 50
The Gray Rise did not look like members of a backwoods militia. They did not look like rabid gun enthusiasts. The twenty members exited a bus dressed as typical college students on their way to class. No one on campus paid attention to them. They moved through the courtyards and buildings taking note of exits, foot traffic, open areas, etc. Snapping strategic selfies that gave a visual record of the best vantage points. Every detail of the campus was tapped into a notes app on their phones. As far as everyone else on campus was concerned, they were just texting their buddies about inane shit.
A security guard spotted one of the Gray Rise members and approached with a look of scorn. His hands held tight to a two-way radio. When he was close enough that he wouldn’t be overheard, he said to one of the faux students, “Master general says to wrap it up.”
The Gray Rise member gave a single nod and started to walk away, but stopped when the security guard called after him.
“Fucking bullshit what those women been doing, man.”
The Gray Rise member didn’t answer. He appeared puzzled by the comment.
“Those women,” the security guard said, recognizing the man’s look of confusion. “The Mothers for Sensible Gun Laws. They’ve been protesting off and on across the street now for about three months.”
The Gray Rise member once again nodded and headed for the buses.
“Open carry means open carry any-fucking-where,” the security guard said in a loud whisper. “We’ll shut those un-American bitches up.”
A half dozen of the fake students left the college bookstore with bags of shirts and backpacks with the college’s mascot and name prominently displayed. They now had their camouflage.
Chapter 51
Doc Elliot was pissed. He stood in the poorly lit motel room, flanked by Step and Kenny. A tall black woman dressed in what appeared to be a hastily put together police uniform positioned herself between him and someone lying on the bed. A deputy with a bulging belly stood guard over the TV remote in the back of the room.
“Who the fuck are you? What do you want?” Nola asked without taking a breath in between questions.
“They call me Doc Elliot. As to what I’m doing here, you’ll have to ask my escorts because I did not volunteer to come.”
“Dani sent us,” Kenny said. “We’re her…” He looked to Step to help him finish his thought.
“We’re independent contractors.”
Friar snickered.
Kenny gave the bill of his cap a quick flex and smiled. “Dani said we’re to meet up with a Nola. She did not say you’d be…”
“Black?” Nola said.
“Pretty,” Kenny answered with a goofy grin. “You like to dance?”
Doc Elliot groaned. “You stir me out of bed and drive me across the mountains just so I could hear chubby chat up a woman that’s about a mile out of his league?”
Luna screamed and sat up in bed before collapsing and curling into the fetal position.
“I gather she needs medical attention,” Doc said.
Nola stepped out of the way. “Yeah.”
Doc approached the bed. “Y’all do know there are doctors in Baptist Flats you can kidnap, right?” He sat on the edge of the bed and tried to coax Luna onto her back.
“Where’s Dani?” Nola asked.
Step stopped short of answering. “Doc, you ain’t heard nothing you’re about to hear. Understand?”
“I do. Poor grammar, veiled threat, and all.”
Step ignored his insult. “Don’t know where Dani’s at. We were directed to bring you a doctor. That’s all we know.”
“She’s most likely doing a bit of a rethink,” Kenny said. “On account of that boy killing himself.”
Step sent a sharp elbow into Kenny’s gut.
“What boy?” Nola asked.
There was a moment of silence before Step decided there was no reason not to answer her question. “Boy with a mangled face.”
“He killed himself?”
“You know him?”
“I mangled his face.”
Step was impressed.
“You did a fine job,” Kenny said.
“He say anything before he died?”
“Said he had to take a shit,” Step said.
Doc interrupted them. “What happened to this girl?”
No one answered him.
“How do you expect me to help her if I don’t know what I’m dealing with? She looks like someone ran her over with a truck.”
“We don’t know what happened to her,” Nola said. “Not exactly. She most likely sustained a beating. I’m guessing sexual assault. Who knows what else?”
“I’d say you’re missing the plural out of your equation,” Doc said, examining bruises on Luna’s neck.
“Plural?” Friar asked.
“She’s taken several beatings. The variation of coloring in the bruises suggests they occurred over a period of days or weeks. And knowing this area like I do, I’d say the same is probably true of the sexual assault you suspect.”
“Can you do anything for her?” Nola asked.
“I can give her a sedative.” He snapped his fingers at Friar. “I assume she wasn’t wearing this
robe when you brought her in.”
Friar looked surprised that the doctor was addressing him. “No, sir. She was wearing clothes. They were covered in mud and shit and blood and piss, so I tossed them in the trunk of my cruiser.”
“Toss them back in,” Doc Elliot said.
“What for?” Friar asked.
“I need to see them. The pants or skirt or whatever she was wearing to cover up her bottom half in particular. I want to see the blood. I might be able to tell by the coloring if it’s the result of internal bleeding or superficial wounds.”
“But they’re covered in shit,” Friar said.
“Fine. All the better. If the blood is mixed in with the stool, we need to get this girl to the hospital ASAP.”
“But…” Nola started.
Doc Elliot pointed at her defiantly. “If I determine she’s bleeding internally, she’s going to the hospital. You can shoot me now if that’s going to be a problem.”
Nola backed off.
Luna sat up with a start. “My dog! My dog! My poor dog!” She collapsed just as suddenly.
Chapter 52
Randle had tipped back enough alcohol to sterilize three counties. He stumbled from corridor to corridor in the hospital until he reached Laura’s room. Once there, he didn’t enter right away. He stared at the metal door and became mesmerized by the way the paint had dried with streaks that looked like white trails of blood making a path to the floor.
At some point, a nurse pushed past him to check on Laura. When she opened the door, Randle saw Otis sitting bedside, his eyes cast down toward Laura’s hand in his.
When the nurse exited the room a few minutes later, Randle entered. He fought to walk without impairment. It had not mattered to him before, but now, for whatever reason, he didn’t want Otis to see him drunk.
Otis looked up at the approaching deputy, but he didn’t say a word.
“How…How’s…Is she getting any better?” Randle asked, hoping the scent of fermented grains didn’t travel across the room.
Otis didn’t answer.
“Sarah? Is little bit…Is she okay?”
Otis sat back in his chair, still holding on to Laura’s hand.
Randle nodded as if no answer was answer enough. “I’ve been thinking…You said something…Back at the station, you said you made a promise…”
“Now’s not the time, Deputy.”
“No, I know. I just…It’s made me think. I just…I figured out what I am…to you, and I just…”
“What you are to me?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What did you figure out, Deputy? What are you to me?”
Randle found a spot on the linoleum floor and fixated on it. “I’m a promise, Otis, an obligation, something you said you’d look after.”
Otis didn’t answer because Randle was right.
“You’re an honorable man, a good man, and it’s become clear to me that there ain’t nothing I could do that would make you go back on that promise.”
“What do you want me to say, Terry?”
“I want you to say you hate me! Tell me you give up on me, Otis! I got Jeannie killed, goddamn it!”
There was a long moment of silence before Otis said, “Let’s say I do hate you. Let’s say I gave up on you a long time ago. How does that help you, son? What does that do for you?”
Randle shook his head. “It will make…this easier.”
“What?”
“Failing. I’m the opposite of you, Otis. I ain’t a good man. There ain’t an honorable bone in my body. I need to let go, so I can fall all the way down.”
“Terry, you’re not—”
“Don’t give me a pep talk, Otis. Don’t. I can’t…You’re the only person I respect on this planet. As soon as you stop believing there’s something in me…I can be who I was meant to be. I can stop struggling. I can just let go.”
Otis sighed and smiled. “You’re in a chicken-and-egg-type riddle, Terry, because when you stop struggling to be a better man, that’s the day I’ll stop believing in you, son.”
Chapter 53
Luna’s trailer had been ransacked. The work of Vinton Pike, no doubt. Spivey guessed the old cracker hadn’t told anyone about her money. He wanted it all to himself, so he let his feeble old ass into his daughter’s trailer and tore it apart looking for it, all the while knowing his daughter was tied to a chair in a cave for what was probably weeks, and she wasn’t handled with kid gloves. They worked her over like she was a stranger.
That’s what now convinced Spivey beyond a reasonable doubt that there was no hope in finding Mac alive. Luna was a Pike and look what they did to her. Mac had no chance.
Technically that meant he was no longer looking for his partner, just what happened to her, and who made it happen. If he’d had a heart, it would have been broken.
Spivey went to the freezer and checked the ice cream container. The money was gone. He chuckled and showed it to Dani. “You know what this is?”
She shrugged and said, “Backwoods vault. Everyone around here knows that.”
“Everyone including Vinton Pike.”
“What’re you saying?”
“I’m saying this is the first place he’d look. He didn’t find the money, so he tore the place apart looking for it.”
“How much money we talking about?”
“Enough for a fat partway preacher, full-time lawyer to live off of for a couple of years.”
“You paid Luna all that money, and you didn’t ever know what it was for?”
Spivey surveyed the upturned kitchen. “That’s how it works.”
“How what works?”
“Plausible deniability.”
She looked at him with a smirk. “You’re gonna have to explain it better than that.”
Spivey sighed. “Layers give you cover. Nolen uses me to deliver money to a shitty lawyer, who hands money off to Luna the consultant, who makes a donation to her favorite political-action group, who funnels the money to everyone’s favorite gun-rights group, who sponsors local gun clubs that really turn out to be militias.”
“I get that,” Dani said, joining him in the kitchen. “But what I don’t get is the why. Why does Nolen have to have plausible deniability?”
“That’s what Mac and I were trying to figure out. There is only one thing I know for sure. Nolen doesn’t get involved unless it’s profitable, or he’s covering his own ass.” Spivey gave the area one more quick examination and then headed for the front door. “This is a dead end. We won’t find anything here.”
Dani turned on her heel to follow him out of the trailer when her eyes landed on the refrigerator. A note referencing a kennel in Chattanooga caught her attention. Remembering how Luna had been babbling about a dog, she grabbed it and stuck it into her pocket.
Chapter 54
The sound of a vehicle pulling into the parking lot didn’t alarm her. They were in a motel that housed more than a few working girls. Vehicles of every size had been coming and going all night.
What worried Nola was the silence that followed. She didn’t hear a door open. She didn’t hear luggage being retrieved from the trunk. No chatter. Nothing.
She lifted her head off of the pillow and listened more intently. A few seconds passed and still nothing. The thin carpet covering the unforgiving concrete flooring was starting to tweak her back, so she sat up and took the opportunity to check on Luna. Whatever Doc Elliot had given her to help her sleep was working like a charm.
She was about to forget the silent motel guests when the soles of a couple of pairs of shoes scraping against the sidewalk set the hairs on the back of her neck on end.
Nola froze.
A whisper. A single word. She couldn’t make it out. It was just the breathy beat of a two-syllable sound. She stood and started to make her way to the shotgun leaning against the wall near the bathroom, but stopped when a keycard slipped into the slot on the door. She strained to look through the dimly lit room to see if she had
engaged the deadbolt. She hadn’t. What the hell had she been thinking?
The knob started to turn, and Nola ran to place herself between the wall and the door as it slowly opened. Her only chance was to surprise the first trespasser as he came through the door.
She spotted the shoulder easing into view. The bulk of it told her it belonged to a man. The black clothes told her he was interested in blending in with the darkness. The knife in his hand told her he had bad intentions.
Another whisper. This time she heard the voice. “In and out, Bucky. Cut the bitch’s throat.”
Nola listened for another voice, any sign that there were more than two.
When Bucky was past the door, Nola slammed it shut, secured the deadbolt, and planted the heel of her foot to the back of Bucky’s knee. He staggered briefly, but quickly recovered and attempted to spin in Nola’s direction and thrust the knife into her rib cage.
Nola anticipated his move and used his momentum against him. She grabbed his wrist and spun him into the table. He moaned and fell to the floor. She rushed him, trying to find the position of the knife. It was no longer in his hand. She backed off, searching the floor for it. Bucky stood and did a half turn in her direction. The mystery of the missing knife was solved. It was jammed deeply into his abdomen. He coughed, spraying blood across the room in the process, and then collapsed on the floor.
Nola had only a second to reflect on what happened before she was startled by two quick gunshots just outside the room. Shortly after, a pounding came at the door.
“No-Nola?” Friar said. “You okay? Miss Luna okay?”
Nola opened the door and spotted a man dressed like Bucky bleeding out on the sidewalk.
Friar, looking ashen, said, “Figured I’d better check up on you.”
Chapter 55
The heat from the early morning sun clashed with the waning coolness that had governed Baptist Flats during the pre-dawn hours. Randle rifled through the pockets of the dead man Friar had shot, while Nola did the same with the dead man named Bucky.
When Dani and Spivey arrived, they found Friar leaning against the trunk of his cruiser, tussling with the fact that he had killed a man, only looking up when Dani asked him what had happened.
Savage Rising Page 23
