Legacy of Evil

by Sharon Buchbinder

  The crowd swarmed the boxes, tearing at them like a pack of wolves. Each one grabbed a weapon, some staggering under its weight, others lifting them above their heads like a boxing championship belt. “It’s a feeding frenzy. Every one of these nutters has to have a chance playing with the toys. They are dangerous, but don’t appear to be particularly organized. Who’s in charge here?”

  Almost as in answer, the crowd parted like the Red Sea, and a man in a Nazi officer’s uniform—black peaked hat with a death’s head, black jacket with red armband and black swastika in a white circle on his left arm strode through the minions. Black pants—jodhpurs really—tapered into jack boots. “I think the boss just showed up. Lightning bolts and an oak leaf cluster on his lapels—he’s the Reichsführer, the leader.”

  All the other faces were sharp as photographs. He could have picked each one of those guys out of a line-up—except the one in the SS uniform. “That guy’s face is a blur. I can’t make out a single identifying characteristic.” He tried to hover closer, but something pulsed, pushing him away and out of his remote viewing session.

  He sat up, ripped his headphones and eye mask off, and turned on Emma, shouting, “Did you just do something?”

  Emma stared at him, her mouth open, pen poised over the pad of paper on her knee. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Dripping in sweat, he leaped out of the bed and strode into the bathroom. “Are you in here? What did you do? Why did you pull me out?”

  Nothing appeared in the mirror, not even a pair of brown eyes.

  Someone pounded at the door like a jackhammer. “Everything okay in there?”

  Bronco yanked it open. Gaucho chirped in concern, stood, put his front paws on his thighs.

  A red-faced Lucius gasped, “Your cat dragged me upstairs. Is there something wrong?”

  Dazed and confused, Bronco petted the bobcat’s head and rubbed his ears. “I—I don’t know. Something strange just happened. This has never occurred before. A force of some kind—like a pulse of electricity or magnetism—just threw me out of my remote viewing session. Tossed me like a bunch of rags. The guy in the SS uniform. He knew I was there.”

  What the hell?

  ****

  Emma snapped the notepad shut and rubbed her temples. This was scary stuff. Every fiber of her body screamed “Run away!” but her honor told her she had to continue on this path.

  “You’re drenched. Let’s get you something to drink.”

  Lucius frowned. “You look terrible.” He thundered down the steps ahead of them.

  She grabbed Bronco’s hand and led the glassy eyed man down the stairs into the cheerful kitchen.

  Lucius passed an ice cold bottle to Bronco. “Sit down before you fall over. I’m gonna go check on Tallulah, make sure she didn’t get any of those bad vibes.”

  Falling into a chair, Bronco chugged the liter of water. “This is a first. I’ve never been detected before.”

  “It sounded like a lot was going on. Crazy people generate a lot of negative energy. Maybe your mind pulled you out because it was too much for you? Maybe it had nothing to do with the guy in the SS uniform.”

  He glared at her. “Please.”

  “Just saying.” She drummed her fingers on the wooden tabletop. “I never made it overseas, but many of those who do come back with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, PTSD. You might have a form of it. Maybe something triggered an old memory?”

  Bronco swallowed hard and sat across from her. “Perhaps.”

  She raised an eyebrow, “And?”

  “There was a young woman with twins. She was very loving. Reminded me of my mother. She died last year. Cancer.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss. Your mother must have been a great lady.”

  “She was incredibly resilient. Overcame a lot of obstacles in her life, until the last one.”

  “Shitty disease.” It came out a little more vehemently than intended. But, for her own reasons, Emma hated cancer, too. Her mother had died of one of the most treatable cancers, for God’s sake. Her mother had hated going to doctors, hated having her female parts examined, even by a woman doctor. If only she’d gotten screened earlier, Emma would have had more time with her. Instead, at the age of ten, her mother was taken away from her. If not for her grandmother, who knew which relative would have raised her.

  A look of surprise crossed his face. “You, too?”

  “Lost my mother to cervical cancer.”

  “Sucks, doesn’t it?”

  “Yup. And grief has a lot of ways of showing up when least expected. Kinda sneaks up on you.” She sipped her now tepid coffee. “I’ll be braiding my hair and just like that, I’m a kid again, and it’s my mother’s hands, soft and gentle, stroking my head, repeating, ‘Under and over, under and over’ teaching me.” She brushed a tear off her cheek. “Jeez. Here I go again.”

  He reached over and squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry for your loss. And, I’m sorry I was a jerk earlier. My ego—”

  She turned her hand over, holding onto his larger one, enjoying the comfort of his warmth and maybe something more. “Ego, what ego?” She chuckled. “I think we both have enough to go around. I wasn’t exactly a paragon of virtue. I’m sorry. I’ll try to be easier to work with. This—stuff—it’s all pretty overwhelming.”

  He nodded. “You got that right.”

  “By the way, the feather on the neck tattoo?”

  “Yeah, I’ve never seen that before.”

  “I have.” She relayed her training as a Marine recruiter. “Native Americans who have served prison time like to get those. If he served time, I’m guessing he came from out of state, because that’s usually found in Texas, Arizona, and Missouri state prisons. Each feather stands for the commission of a crime against white society.” She paused. “Of course, he may just be some idiot kid who doesn’t know what it stands for.”

  “What the hell is he doing with a bunch of Neo-Nazis, much less as an officer?”

  “White supremacists aren’t the only ones who advocate for racial purity,” she said pulling her hand back, but he held tight. Her heart lurched and stuttered. He just needed comforting. Nothing more. “There are some Native Americans who want to cut ties with the United States, bring back the old ways, and have their own country. They want independence, self-government. Sovereignty. Some of those kind of people could be attracted to the Nazis.”

  Disbelief etched in his face, Bronco asked, “And they really believe the Nazis would embrace them?”

  “Remember, if it suits their purpose, the Nazis will do whatever they need to do. Means justifies the end. The enemy of my enemy is my friend and all that.” She took a deep breath. “I have a little confession to make.”

  His brow quirked. “Oh?”

  “Before I insisted on joining you on the mission, I did some research and became a card-carrying member of the Neo-Nazi Party.”

  “You did what? How is that even possible?”

  “Well, if you go to their website, you will find an application form for Non-Aryans.” She laughed at his open-mouthed expression. “Yes, even I can become a Nazi—not one that can vote, mind you, but I’m permitted to support them.”

  His face twisted with disgust. “You’re joking. Why would you do such a thing?”

  “Thought it might be helpful.” She shrugged. “It was simple. All I had to do was give them a minimum of ten dollars and my affidavit that I wanted to become an official sympathizer for the Neo-Nazi Party and state that I’m in basic agreement with their aims and that a Neo-Nazi success will end the dishonesty and mistreatment that affects people of all races.”

  “I can’t believe this.”

  “Nope, all true. There are even lots of photos on the Nazi website of Der Führer with Arabs, Asians, and, yes, even Jews. The poster child is a mischlinge, a mixed blood, half-Jewish military man, Field Marshall Edhard Milch. He had a Jewish father and an Aryan mother. Adolf Hitler liked him so much, he had him reclassified a
s Aryan.”

  “This is all so messed up. The world is turning upside down, I swear.” He rubbed his temple with his free hand. “I have a splitting headache.”

  “You’ve got a lot going on,” she said in a low voice. “This is a stressful assignment. No one knows that better than I do.”

  “No, this is different. I feel hungover, without having a drop of booze.”

  “Did I hear you say you needed an espresso?” Lucius strode into the kitchen. “You are in luck, I was just getting one for me, happy to make one for you.” He glanced down at their hands and smiled. “Did I interrupt something?”

  Bronco pulled his hand away, and Emma immediately missed his touch. She wondered what it would be like to be with him, skin to skin, head to toe. Would they be separate or one? She shook her head. No point even going there.

  “Espresso sounds good to me, too,” she said. “We’ve had a hell of a day—and it’s not even lunch. Got any aspirin in the house? My friend here has a doozy of a migraine.”

  “I sure do.” He reached into a cabinet, pulled out a green and white bottle, and handed it to her. “Any word on those tourists?” Lucius asked as he ground coffee and twisted knobs.

  “I haven’t checked my phone all morning,” Bronco said. “Five missed calls. How did that happen?” Pressing buttons, he put the cell up to his ear.

  “Service is pretty spotty out here.” Lucius placed two steaming cups on the table along with a plate of fresh homemade oatmeal cookies. “My wife’s in a baking mood today. Got all tuckered out, now she’s taking a nap. Wonder if that means anything about the baby?”

  “My grandmother said if a pregnant woman starts hanging curtains or cleaning, that means it’s gonna happen soon. The nesting instinct kicking in.” Emma bit into a caramelized raisin and moaned. “These are my favorite.”

  Bronco put the phone down and reached for a sweet. “Maybe my blood sugar is too low.”

  “Were the voicemails related to the case?”

  “Cases.” He chewed thoughtfully, then dipped the baked crescent in the tiny cup. “The tourists are wanted robbers. Bert found them using facial recognition.”

  Lucius fell into a chair. “You don’t say. They sure don’t look like the violent type.”

  “White collar crime. These four have been embezzling from a large medical insurance company in Chicago called BestHealth.” He grinned. “And they really are accountants. So, we nailed that. They’ve been at this for a while. But they got greedy and dumb, their goals exceeded their grasping hands.”

  Fascinated by criminals, especially stupid ones, Emma asked, “How’d they do it?”

  “Dummy medical corporations. They set up clinics in the poor parts of Chicago and employed a shady physician to order blood tests, X-rays, that sort of thing that can be done on location, even a crappy one.” He sipped his coffee.

  “BestHealth is the largest provider of insurance for the elderly, poor, and disabled in Illinois. A huge corporation. Since these guys worked for BestHealth and had access to all their billing information, they knew who was covered by the company. They recruited insurance recipients to participate in phony medical tests. The patients received ten percent of what BestHealth paid. So if BestHealth paid one hundred dollars for a blood test, the patient received ten dollars and the crooks got ninety.”

  “How long have they been doing this?”

  “As far as the feds can tell, it’s been going on for seven years, maybe longer. On the one hand, they were smart to set up dummy corporations. On the other hand, they were stupid and misjudged the people they hired to pull it off.”

  Emma reached for another cookie. The hell with the calories, she’d skip lunch. “What happened?”

  “Never underestimate the power of a woman scorned. Seems the sleazy doctor promised the receptionist he was going to leave his wife right after he got a big payout from our buddies, the CPAs. He told her he was going to marry her.” He laughed. “Instead, he went to Reno and returned with a divorce—and a different wife. Not the receptionist.”

  Emma spewed coffee and couldn’t speak because she was laughing too hard.

  Lucius choked out, “Hot damn, that was dumb.”

  “But wait, there’s more.”

  “No.” Emma slapped the table. “Stop.”

  “The reason your guests have been so cagey with you about fishing guides is because they’ve been driving around with a realtor, looking for a location for a new clinic. They figured if they moved out of town and changed their names, all would be forgotten. And they might have gotten away with it. Thanks to you, Lucius, they are currently under arrest.”

  “Whoo-hoo,” Emma whooped. “Lucius for county sheriff. You and Otterlegs can be a team.”

  “Bert told me they’re going to be guests of the Yellowstone County Detention Center.”

  “Oh, I know that place. I hope they like the accommodations. A bit different from Hotel LaBelle.” Lucius snickered. “When I was there, they were over-crowded, had three-hundred more inmates than they were supposed to have. The roof was leaking, the toilets weren’t much better than outhouses, and there were no solitary cells. Even the women’s areas were full up—female inmates were sleeping on portable beds in the day room. And the smells.” He shuddered. “I still have nightmares about the stench in that place.”

  “I seem to recall you said the food was good,” Emma smirked. “Powdered eggs and stale bread.”

  “Nice company, too.” Lucius guffawed. “The gangs will welcome them with open arms.”

  “A job well done.” Emma clapped him on the back. “But you said cases.”

  “Wait a minute. What were all the spy books about? If they were paper thieves, not real robbers, what were they going to do with that stuff?”

  “You won’t believe this.” Bronco smiled. “The one who drank too much, I think his name was Mark?”

  Lucius nodded. “That would be the one.”

  “Seems he fancies himself the next best-selling male adventure novelist. He has self-published ten books, some of which have the lovely titles of The Spy Who Came in from the Heat, Silver Finger, Doctor Maybe, Wunderball, and, my favorite, The Alien Who Loved Me. As I suggested, those spy craft books were research for his next thriller.”

  Lucius snorted. “I can’t wait to tell Tallulah when she gets up from her nap.”

  “Come back a minute,” Emma insisted. “Did Bert have intel for us on the Nazis?”

  “Yes.” Bronco nodded. “Not sure what I think of it. Seems the FBI has a guy in deep undercover with them. Been there for a couple of years. They won’t tell us who, of course.”

  “Does that mean we’re out?” Emma wondered what would happen to the horses, eagles, buffalo—who would be their protectors?

  “Bert still wants us to go in, feels the other agency is playing it too close to the vest. Telling him it’s only horses and eagles, not humans, so not terrorism.”

  He drummed his fingers on the table—again. Emma was tempted to call him Fidgety Fred once more, but held her tongue. “These crazies are escalating. It’s only a matter of time before they go after people, maybe even hospitals or schools.”

  Bronco nodded. “Bert agrees. Homeland outranks all the other alphabet soup agencies, so he has the upper hand. Even if he didn’t have the upper hand, we’re a clandestine agency, so the rules aren’t quite the same for us. He said, as of this moment, unless we hear otherwise, we should still go in.”

  Cotton-mouthed, she asked, “What do you want me to do? What’s the plan?”

  Bronco stood, got down on one knee, and said, “Emma Horserider, will you marry me?”

  Chapter Ten

  Emma burst out laughing, and Bronco’s dismayed expression made her snort. “Ohmigod, where is Tallulah when we need her? Lucius, go wake your wife up and tell her to get down here. Beautiful Blackfeather needs her for this special moment.”

  “She did ask me to wake her in an hour.” Lucius ambled out of the room, mumbling, “I kn
ew they were sweet on each other…”

  Standing with a sheepish expression on his face, Bronco stood and rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry for the surprise. It just occurred to me that it would make a better cover if we posed as a married couple.”

  “Yes, yes, I understand completely.” She wiped tears of mirth from her cheek. “The problem is, my ancestor has been, shall we say, riding me like a stubborn mule, telling Tallulah I wasn’t getting any younger, and I needed to get hitched.”

  “Oh jeez.” He glanced around the kitchen. “Is she here now? I don’t see her.”

  “I have no idea. I can’t see or hear her, remember?” Emma shook her head. “You are in trouble now, my friend. You had better find some horses and a couple of rifles soon, or she’s gonna be all over you.”

  “How about we go out shopping today? Find cheap wedding bands? Take some photos of the two of us? We can send them to Bert so he can get one of our master forgers to create our wedding day, at the same time he gives us a wedding certificate. I’m thinking Vegas.”

  “Oh, yes, perfect,” Emma chortled. “With an Elvis impersonator as the chaplain, please, pretty please? That’s my dream wedding.”

  “Consider it done.”

  “There’s just one thing.”

  “What?”

  “I have to keep my maiden name, the one I put on the Neo-Nazi sympathizer application.”

  “Horserider?”

  “No, that’s much too tame.” She grinned. “Emma Bearkiller. And if they ask, I’ve got the scars to prove it.”

  “Damn, you’re good.” He shook his head, “That’s a great cover. We need to add another layer now and make sure everyone in this area knows we’re a couple. Since they’re only half a day’s drive away from us, my guess is they do some local recruiting. Just in case they’ve got some spies hanging around Billings, let’s go find some rings, shall we?”