Bloody Basin

by John R Cuneo

  “There are sixteen boxes in here, honey. I hope we have room for them,” I said.

  I took the boxes and filled the remaining space in the bed of the truck. I had to put the last two boxes inside the cab with us. Then I took a rag I had and wiped down everything I had touched. I looked around; there was nothing left in the unit. Carolyn reminded me to take a broom and sweep the place out to destroy any footprints I might have left behind. “That’s a great idea, honey.”

  In every storage facility we’d been to, there was an empty fifty-five-gallon drum filled with rakes, shovels, and brooms, so I went down, got one of the brooms, and swept everything clean in the storage unit. When I was finished, I replaced the broom into the barrel and closed the door to the storage unit, securing the lock, making sure it snapped closed.

  Carolyn said, “It’s time to go. We’ve been here over fifteen minutes, and we have to get out just in case we’re being watched.”

  I entered the truck and started the engine, and we were off. To exit the storage facility, we once again keyed in the security code. We left the property and made our way out onto a side street. Then we found a quiet place surrounded by empty fields. I got out of the truck and took the paper license plate off. Carolyn came out from under the blanket and reaching over the seat onto the back window, removed the California sticker we had taped in place. This was just to add to the deception of being a pickup truck from California.

  “It looks like we have a full load, sweetheart. We better stop and fill up the gas tank before we head down the mountain,” I said.

  “That’s a great idea, Jack, and let’s not break the speed limit going down the hill.” She chuckled.

  In her office, Fena LaStrange was in the process of removing more FBI operational files and securing them in her purse. All she could think was if she kept this up for a year or so, she would be a millionaire! She was a brazen bitch that would stop at nothing to get what she wanted, and if she needed to fuck a couple of security guards at the FBI, well then, that was fine with her.

  “Are you going to stop for a cocktail tonight?” asked one of her coworkers.

  “Oh, I can’t tonight. I have some other plans, but I guess you could say they do include a cocktail.” Fena giggled.

  Her coworker shook her head and smiled, saying, “Honey, you are playing with fire.”

  Fena giggled again and said, “Wait a minute, I’ll walk out with you.”

  As the two women worked their way out of the building, they approached the security checkpoint. Fena told her friend, “You go ahead. I’m going to be a few minutes.”

  The women winked at each other as Fena lagged behind the group of FBI employees quickly approaching the security checkpoint. Fena saw her boy toy was on duty and waiting for her.

  The young security guard glanced up and down the hallway, making sure Fena was by herself, then leaned close to her and asked, “Are we on for tonight?”

  “Of course, we are, baby. Actually, I’m ready for you right now!”

  The young guard said, “I’m off duty in fifteen minutes. Why don’t you meet me in the lobby of my apartment building?”

  Fena winked, blew him a kiss, and said, “I’ll be waiting for you, sweetie” She exited the building and slowly walked in the direction of her unknowing accomplice’s apartment.

  Before driving down the mountain from Flagstaff, Detective Gore thought of ways to get the names of all the owners of storage units in Flagstaff and the surrounding area. Then it came to him. It was still early; why not try city hall and see if he could get some cooperation from the business license office?

  He made a U-turn and drove to the office of business license applications. The detective introduced himself, showed his credentials to the young lady at the desk, and asked if he could see the business license manager.

  The young lady picked up the phone, and after a moment, said, “Detective Gore, please go right in. The manager will see you.”

  “Thank you very much,” replied the detective.

  A middle-aged man with graying temples and wearing a blue business suit greeted Detective Gore with a handshake. “Please come in. How can I help you today, Detective?”

  Detective Gore told the man what he was looking for and if it was possible to get that information without a court-issued warrant.

  “Of course, it is,” replied the man. “It’s all public knowledge.”

  The manager then suggested he and the detective go to the archive room, and the clerk on duty would retrieve the specific information immediately.

  “That sounds wonderful,” said Detective Gore. “I really appreciate your help.”

  After the clerk in the archive room had heard what the detective needed, she replied, “That’s not a problem. Please have a seat, and I will get the information for you.”

  Detective Gore was pleasantly surprised and happy that he’d thought of doing this while still in Flagstaff. About ten minutes later, the clerk reappeared with several pieces of paper, each of which were owner information on the storage facilities within Flagstaff jurisdiction.

  “Here you go, Detective. I hope this is what you want,” the young lady said.

  “How accurate is this information?” asked the detective.

  “It’s all up to date because we need this information to coincide with any taxes levied by the city, so it’s all one-hundred-percent accurate.”

  “Thank you very much,” said Detective Gore. “You’ve been very helpful.”

  Driving back to Phoenix, Detective Gore tried to make sense of all he had learned from the professor. Now that he had a clearer understanding of how Nicholas Salazar’s empire might be organized, he looked forward to sharing his information with Special Agent Tygard. The detective wondered, could it really be as easy as looking for storage facilities? Tomorrow at his office, he would start matching the names of the storage-facility owners with the known relatives of Nicholas Salazar.

  Chapter 9

  Can You Say Cash?

  In retrospect, it was an uneventful ride down the mountain. I was careful not to go beyond the speed limit and attract the attention of any law enforcement officers that had their radar guns working that afternoon. Carolyn reclined in her seat and tried to rest as I drove the truck around the winding curves and steep declines of the road. There were dark clouds in the sky that afternoon, and strong crosswinds caused the truck to sway back and forth as we drove home.

  Little did we know that all hell was breaking loose within the organized crime world because of the missing drug kings. Turf wars and internal rivalries were shaking the underworld apart right down to its very foundation. As fast as law enforcement picked people off the streets for interrogation, the criminals were cutting deals to stay out of jail by ratting on their friends. It was just the type of internal fallout that Agent Tygard and Detective Gore were counting on.

  After the better part of three hours of concentrating on my driving, we found ourselves entering our neighborhood, but before we could go home, we had to stop at our own storage unit and unload our precious cash cargo. We arrived at our storage locker, which was located less than a mile from our house. It had been a long day, and we were both tired and ready to put our feet up for the evening.

  Carolyn took the lead and unlocked our storage unit while I opened the cover that secured the bed of the truck. We were so tired we didn’t even count the boxes as we placed them in our storage unit. The more boxes we unloaded, the heavier they seemed to get, and toward the end, it was all I could do to unload the last box from the bed of the pickup truck.

  Once that was done, we still had two more boxes inside the cab. Carolyn suggested we take a box home with us.

  “You never know when a little bit of extra cash will come in handy,” she said, and we laughed. “If that’s what you consider a little extra cash,” I told her, “then I don’t know who you ar
e anymore.”

  I gave her a wink, and Carolyn closed the door to the storage unit and secured the locks, making sure we had closed the door properly. Fifteen minutes later, we found ourselves back home and removing our dirty clothes.

  “I get the shower first,” called Carolyn, and she bolted into the warm water and began to soap herself up and down. Not wanting to stand by and wait for my turn, I opened the shower door and entered the warm, wet downpour.

  “Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” Carolyn said.

  “I just thought I would wash your back, sweetheart.” I took the soapy washcloth from her and began to enjoy myself.

  On the other side of town, Detective Gore drove his car into a quiet neighborhood and, as if on autopilot, went up his driveway and placed his car in park. He too had had a long day, and he was also glad to get back home. Tomorrow he would contact Agent Tygard and compare notes on the progress they had made, but for now, all he wanted to do was take off his shoes, put his feet up on the ottoman, and close his eyes for a while.

  And at this very time back in Flagstaff, Professor Wilock was walking over to the university teachers’ lounge to partake in the free dinner that was available to past teachers of the institution. The professor looked forward to this. It was his way of staying in touch with the teaching community and the goings-on within the city.

  The old gentleman made his way to his regular table. He sat down and waited to be served. He looked around the room and saw faces of old friends and colleagues that were just like him, almost alone and almost forgotten.

  “Good evening, Professor,” he heard a voice say, and he looked up into the smiling face of the young woman that had served his dinner five nights a week for the last few years.

  “Good evening, young lady, and how are you today?” he said.

  “I’m just fine, Professor,” she replied. Then she went on to describe the evening’s bill of fare. “First we have a very nice, tossed salad with a vinaigrette dressing. I’ll make sure you have dinner rolls on the side.”

  The professor smiled and nodded his head in an approving manner.

  The young lady continued, “I’ll bring you a plate with beautifully roasted turkey, a side of mashed sweet potatoes, and some mixed vegetables. How does that sound to you, sir?” she asked. “I can’t wait.”

  “And tonight, we have something very special for dessert: homemade pumpkin pie with vanilla ice cream, and of course I’ll bring you a cup of hot tea with honey just the way you like it.”

  The old man smiled ear to ear. “It sounds wonderful, and after you come back, if you have time, I’d love to tell you what happened to me today. It was quite interesting.”

  She nodded and said, “I would love to hear what happened, Professor. Give me a few moments, and I’ll be right back with your salad.” The woman disappeared into the kitchen.

  As the old professor enjoyed his salad, he also enjoyed the company of the young lady waiting on him that evening. Listening to him, the woman eagerly took in the details of the story, especially the part regarding Nicholas Salazar.

  “Now, Professor,” she said, “are you sure a policeman was asking you about one of your old students?”

  “I’m absolutely sure of it,” said the professor. “As a matter of fact, the police officer was a detective named Gore . . .. Yes, I’m sure he said his name was Detective Gore, and he drove up from Phoenix just to talk to me about Nicolas Salazar.”

  “It sounds like you had one heck of an exciting day.” She excused herself and hurried back to the kitchen to get the professor’s entrée, but before she did, she went to an office just off the kitchen and picked up the phone, where she hurriedly dialed a number.

  “Yes, I’m sure that’s what he said. Nicholas Salazar. That’s exactly what he said, and he said a DPS detective named Gore was at his house doing the questioning,” she relayed to the person on the other end of the phone.

  The voice thanked her and hung up. The young lady hurried back into the kitchen and quickly took the professor the remainder of his dinner.

  Lank and Chuck were contacting Paul Rossi, their old friend who was living in Washington, D.C.

  “Hello, this is Paul Rossi. How can I help you?” said the voice on the phone.

  Chuck was the first to chime in. “Hey, Paul, it’s Chuck McGowan. How are you doing?”

  Paul was somewhat taken back hearing Chuck’s voice. “Chuck, you old son of a gun, how’s everything going?”

  “Well, I’m not alone,” Chuck replied. “I’m here with Lank Tygard.”

  “Lank and Chuck? What in the world? Something must really be wrong for the two of you to get me on the phone,” Paul said, and the three of them laughed.

  When the laughter stopped, Lank asked, “Paul, do you have a secure line?”

  “Of course,” Paul said. “Okay, fellas, I will call you back in just a couple of minutes, and let the phone ring five or six times to make sure we have a secure link.” He hung up.

  A few moments later, the phone began to ring in Chuck’s office, and as instructed, he let it ring six times before answering.

  “I can only guess why the two of you would want me to call you back on a secure line,” said Paul. “I’m sitting down, so why don’t you guys come right to the point and tell me what’s going on?”

  Lank cut right to the chase and let Paul in on what was going on back in Arizona and how he had information that someone was leaking documents out of the FBI building back in Washington. “Paul, can you look into the breach of security and who might be stealing the documents?”

  Paul asked quite seriously, “So what has the bureau been doing about this?”

  “Unfortunately, nothing,” replied Lank. “And I don’t think the current administration has any intention of investigating the leak!”

  “Those are some pretty strong allegations,” Paul replied, “but if you’re right—and you probably are—I can see why you gave me a call. This kind of thing is right up my alley.”

  “I’ve already heard rumors that there’s some type of mole in the FBI as well as in the state department, but so far it’s been just rumors,” finished Paul.

  Just in case someone had been able to tap into Paul’s secure line, Chuck and Paul did the rest of the talking. After all, Lank was still a member of the bureau, and they wanted to protect him as much as possible. Paul Rossi and Chuck McGowan were as patriotic as two men could be. Both of them had put their lives on the line countless times to protect the country.

  “So I guess it would be silly for me to ask,” said Paul. “Is there any pay for this work?”

  Lank looked at Chuck and nodded. His right hand rubbed his fingers together, the universal sign for money.

  Chuck said, “Any cash you recover is yours.”

  Paul nodded in agreement, then asked, “I know this is very important, so do we have a timeframe for completing the mission?”

  “We need to finish this by the Fourth of July,” Chuck said.

  “I understand completely,” said Paul. “And by the way, I have some business that’s taking me to St. Louis in about four weeks. What’s the chance we meet there face-to-face and have an update on the mission?” Lank again looked at Chuck and nodded. “That works for me,” said Chuck.

  “Okay,” said Paul. “I’ll start working on this immediately and will only contact you if I have concrete information, agreed?” said Paul. “Agreed,” said Chuck.

  And with that, the phone conversation ended.

  At that same time in Washington, D.C., Fena was buying a ticket at a movie theater. After she entered the theater, she approached the concession stand and took her place in line. Waiting for the line to move forward, Fena glanced around the lobby of the theater and quickly made eye contact with her partner in crime, who was already there and waiting for her. Fena watched the man enter the dark theater, th
en made sure to allow several other patrons to go into the darkened room before her. There was still enough light prior to the movie starting, so she could see where her contact was sitting.

  She quietly made her way down the same row he was in and made herself comfortable in a seat next to him. They sat, eating popcorn and drinking soda, waiting for the lights to dim and the movie to start, neither one looking at the other, eyes fixed forward to the screen.

  As soon as the lights completely dimmed, Fena quietly emptied her box of popcorn onto the floor; then she held the empty box on her lap. A few moments later, her contact, under the cover of darkness, reached into his coat pocket and removed a brown envelope that he placed in the empty popcorn box. Fena never took her gaze off the screen, and as the movie began, her contact leaned toward her and filled her box with his popcorn, making sure to cover the envelope hidden inside.

  Fena waited several more minutes before she quietly got out of her seat and exited the dark theater, making her way to the ladies’ room. She entered a stall, removed the envelope from the popcorn box, and placed it in her purse. She discarded the popcorn box and its contents into a trash bin before leaving the ladies’ room and exiting the theater.

  Fena was very careful, making sure no one had followed her. She was an expert at blending into the crowd and disappearing in plain sight. Her only challenges were her good looks and shapely figure. No matter how she dressed or where she went, she turned heads, and people looked at her, admiring her beauty and raw sexuality.

  She glanced at her wristwatch and, noticing the time, remembered several of her coworkers had talked about going to a local pub for drinks that evening. She made her way to the establishment and joined her friends from work. She ordered a cocktail and engaged in small talk about work, acting as though she was interested, and in doing so, she made herself part of the clique from the document control division.

  The group sat at the table, with music playing in the background and a number of televisions hanging on the wall, displaying different sporting events. Because of her striking looks and figure, it didn’t take long for one man after another to approach her, asking if she would like to dance or have a cocktail. Fena’s response was always the same: “No, thank you. I’m here with my friends, and I just want to enjoy their company for the evening.”