by Neal Griffin
“No. Don’t. I need to make a phone call.”
“You need to—” Tia couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She yanked on the man’s belt and shoved the barrel of her gun down inside his pants. His hands flew up and back, away from her. “Tanner, if the word ‘lawyer’ so much as crosses your lips, I swear I’ll pull the trigger.”
“Not a lawyer!” Tanner yelled. “I’m not calling a lawyer.”
“Who then? Who do you want to call? Kane?”
“No. I’m not calling him. I need to call a cop.”
Tia shook her head, irritated with Tanner’s nonsense. “What the hell are you talking about? What cop?”
“The one I’m working for.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
Ben pulled his unmarked Crown Vic in to the long driveway that was blocked by half a dozen SUVs and no shortage of black-and-whites from Waukesha County Sheriff Department. The SUVs and a couple of lifted pickup trucks had a federal feel and Ben could only wonder what would bring a bunch of G-men out to the middle of corn country at three o’clock in the morning.
He parked and stepped from the car. The rain had stopped; the damp breeze was cold against his face. He headed toward a cluster of people standing near a shed, then searched the crowd until he spotted Tia.
Her arms were folded across her chest, covering the detective shield that hung from a chain around her neck. Her hair was plastered against her head, soaking wet where it wasn’t coated in mud. The stoic and grim expression on her face signaled Ben that Tia was feeling isolated but ready to fight. He picked up his pace, not sure if it was anticipation or dread he was feeling about what the night might have in store.
Less than half an hour earlier, a phone call from Tia had woken Ben from a dead sleep. She’d launched into a story about federal agents, U.S. Attorneys, and some sort of sex auction in a cornfield. The first time she took a breath, Ben told her to stop talking and tell him where she was. It took him less than ten minutes to get dressed and drive to the farmhouse, ten miles outside Newberg city limits.
Ben saw that Tia was leaning against the rear door of a marked sheriff’s Crown Vic. A couple of suits and a woman dressed in jeans and a stylish raincoat were standing around her in a semi-circle. Sheriff John Solo stood nearby, huddled in a quiet conference with a couple of long-haired men. Ben figured they had to be the U/C detectives he had been told about.
Ben intended to join Tia until a thin reed of a man stepped forward and blocked his path. The man’s pale skin looked ghostlike against his black windbreaker, which was at least three sizes too big for his slight frame.
“Chief Sawyer? Special Agent Lester Stahl,” the man said. “Unit chief out of D.C., on temporary assignment to the Milwaukee federal field office.”
“Call me Ben.” He accepted the man’s handshake, which was weak and quickly withdrawn. “What agency did you say you’re with?”
“I didn’t.” Stahl’s smile was thin and forced looking. His sharp eyes looked out through rain-dotted, thick lenses of the wire-framed glasses that sat on his beak of a nose. Beads of rainwater had collected on his short dark hair, which was greased flat against his head.
“I’m glad you’re here, Chief. We’ve had a bit of an issue with your detective,” Stahl said, nodding toward Tia. “We need to get this issue resolved and clear out of here. We are jeopardizing a major federal investigation.”
“What kind of issue? Whose operation is this?” Ben looked at Tia, who was studying him and Stahl. Her expression struck Ben as a challenge and he could practically hear her voice. So how you going to play this, Chief?
Stahl introduced a woman who had stepped up beside him. “This is Patricia Graham, assistant U.S. attorney. She’s on temporary assignment to our team.”
Graham put her hand out and Ben picked up on some uncertainty in her grip. He thought perhaps it was the tactical environment that was throwing her off, no doubt an unusual setting for an assistant U.S. attorney.
“Nice to meet you, Chief Sawyer,” she said quietly.
The voice was familiar and, it then dawned on him, so was the name. Then he remembered. The prosecutor who cut the deal with Gunther Kane—he’d spoken to her on the phone several times. Confused, he tilted his head and asked, “U.S. Attorney’s Office?”
As if on cue, Tia straightened up and said, “Can you believe that shit, Chief? She passed herself off as a deputy DA. She’s a federal prosecutor. And Agent Stahl?” Tia pointed an accusing finger. “He was with her at the courthouse the day she punted the case against Kane. I saw him slinking off in the elevator.”
Graham took a deep breath, blew it out, then smiled in a way that said she’d already had her fill of Tia Suarez. The attorney’s annoyance was as obvious as Tia’s anger. Graham didn’t address the detective’s comments, speaking to Ben in a voice dripping with self-importance.
“Apparently there’s been some confusion, but now that you are here, Chief, I’m sure we can clear it up. Would you mind stepping over here with me for a minute? I’ll explain everything.”
Graham took Ben lightly by the elbow, intending to walk him away. He didn’t move. Once Graham’s hand slid off his arm, Ben turned to face Tia. He stepped close to her, looked directly into her eyes, and put his hand on her shoulder. She wasn’t trembling, which was good, but he could feel the tightness in her muscles, which was not.
“Are you okay, Tia?”
Tia nodded tautly. “Yeah, Chief. Now I am.” He could hear the anxiety in her voice and squeezed her shoulder slightly, trying to be reassuring without words. “Sorry to drag you out, but she’s here somewhere. We need to wake up a judge and get a warrant. I know—”
“All right, Detective Suarez,” Graham said, interrupting. Ben turned to face her, putting himself beside his detective. “Now that your Chief is here, let me tell you again. You need to release that man into federal custody.”
A voice came from the backseat of the patrol car, muffled by the raised window. “Yeah, god damn it. Let me out of here. I’m working for you guys, for Christ sake.”
Startled, Ben shined his flashlight into the car. The man sitting there turned his face from the light. By the awkwardness of his movements and position Ben knew the man was handcuffed. Tia smacked her open hand against the window and the man flinched away from her.
“Jessup Tanner is my prisoner and I’m booking him into county jail on charges of kidnapping and false imprisonment,” Tia stated firmly. “And I’m searching this property tonight.”
Stahl spoke up. “You can’t do that, Detective. We are in the middle of a federal investigation.”
“What investigation?” Tia looked back and forth between Stahl and Graham. “I was following up on a surveillance as part of a joint operation with the county sheriff and I’ve made an arrest. That’s all I know.”
Tia began to fill Ben in. “Tanner was in the middle of some sort of sex auction. It got a little ugly, Chief, but I took him into custody.” Tia’s voice turned contemptuous. “Tanner said he wanted to reach out to his very own special agent. I let him make his call, just to see who he was talking about.”
Ben looked at Stahl, who opened his mouth, but Graham interjected before he could speak.
“A little ugly, Detective?” she said, her tone icy. “She shot a man. Killed him.”
From the corner of his eye Ben saw Tia begin to move. He made a flat gesture with one hand and cut her off, his voice absolutely serious. “Hang on a second. Don’t say a word, Detective.”
To his frustration, Tia ignored her boss and leaned forward. “You and Stahl here, Counselor, appear to be associated with a man who was conducting a sex auction. A man who is also involved in the abduction of a still-missing girl.”
It was Agent Stahl’s turn. “We’ve already explained that, Suarez. We will not disclose the facts of a case involving national security.”
Tia called out to Sheriff Solo, who still hung back, outside their little knot of confrontation. Her tone was more respectful
as she said, “Sheriff Solo, I need to report an officer-involved shooting that occurred in your jurisdiction. Now that my boss is here, and seeing that I was working under the direction of a Waukesha county deputy, I’ll cooperate with your department investigators in any way necessary. I waive my right to consult with legal counsel and I’m ready to give a statement.”
Solo stared back but said nothing. Tia went on. “I recommend Jessup Tanner be booked into your county jail. After that we need to wake up a judge and get a search warrant for this property and for the Roadhouse Score. There is more than enough probable cause to believe at least one victim of a kidnapping is located somewhere out here or at the strip club.”
The wind had kicked up; the rustling of the leaves of the nearby corn was the only sound as everyone waited for Solo’s response. The county sheriff leaned over, listening to one of the undercovers, who was talking right into his ear. When Solo finally spoke, he sounded entirely overwhelmed by the circumstances.
“Well, it’s my understanding, Detective Suarez, you were directed to do a house check. Nothing more. All things considered, at this point I think we need to cooperate with the federal authorities.”
Tia shook her head, disappointed, as Graham said, “Thank you, Sheriff.”
Solo said nothing, staring at his feet. The woman turned to face Tia. “There you are, Detective. Sheriff Solo agrees that it’s appropriate for the federal government to assume jurisdiction on this incident.” She paused and waited for Tia to meet her gaze. “If you choose not to cooperate and continue to interfere, I will have no choice but to have you taken into federal custody.”
Tia threw her head back and laughed out loud. “Lady, I’d love to see you try.”
“All right, knock it off!” Ben shouted. He made eye contact with each of the players before he went on. “Now, let’s all just calm down.”
He herded the group away from the car—except for Tia, who stayed put, jealously guarding her prisoner and glaring at her boss. He let his frustration show when he said, “Tia, just come over here. I don’t want your prisoner listening to everything we say, all right?”
With obvious reluctance, Tia joined the gathering. Ben had carefully positioned them in the middle of the driveway, out of earshot of everyone else. Seconds went by with cold stares all around. Ben took a deep breath, then turned to Tia. “Detective Suarez, if you have been involved in an OIS, you need to stop talking until I say otherwise. Is that clear?”
Tia raised her hands in mock surrender, but her voice was serious. “Yes, sir.”
Ben faced the attorney and her sidekick, his voice like ice. “This is Wisconsin, not D.C. Officer-involved shootings are investigated by the local jurisdiction.”
He turned to the sheriff. “This is your jurisdiction, Sheriff. You ready to step up?”
All he got in reply was a blank stare. Ben tried again. “John?”
Solo’s gaze darted toward Stahl, then back to Ben. “I … uh … I’m prepared to relinquish my jurisdictional authority to the federal government in this case.”
Stunned, Ben shook his head, making no attempt to hide his disappointment and even a certain degree of contempt. But there was no time for argument. He knew he had to move fast. Once the feds got a foothold, there would be no stopping the onslaught of their power. He returned his attention to Graham.
“Fine. As much as I’d appreciate the cooperation of the agency with primary jurisdiction, I’m well within my authority to investigate the actions of one of my own, who was clearly acting within the course and scope of her duties as a Newberg Police Detective.”
He turned to Stahl. “Now, either identify yourself, your agency, and your authority right now or I’ll call out my people for an OIS investigation. I’ll send Suarez back to the station with her prisoner.”
Ben managed to conceal the satisfaction he felt at the look of shock mixed with anger that passed over both federal faces. He’d called their bluff and everyone knew it. The two sheriff’s deputies appeared ready to jump ship and take direction from the man who had clearly decided to step up and take charge. Tia’s smile and the look in her eyes told Ben she was glad he was here.
Stahl wasn’t ready to give up. “You seem to be missing the point, Chief. This little operation you all cooked up? You have stepped on some very, very big toes.”
Ben responded, making it clear he had no intentions of giving any ground, “Whose toes, Stahl? I mean, specifically, who are you talking about?”
Stahl kept up his game of hide the ball. “Let’s just say if you choose not to cooperate, the ramifications will be significant.”
Ben turned to Tia. “Get your prisoner and put him in the back of my car. Call the coroner’s office and tell them to respond for the body. I’ll contact Travis Jackson and tell him to bring out a team.”
Tia spun on her heels and headed for the patrol car. Stahl reached out to stop her before she’d taken more than a step. “All right, just a minute.”
Ben could tell that Stahl was disappointed that once again his bluster had failed to intimidate. He wasn’t surprised when the man changed tactics. “Ms. Graham and I are currently assigned to the Special Investigations Division of the Office of the Director of National Intelligence.”
Ben shook his head at that nonanswer. “Say that again?”
“We represent the direct interest of the executive branch of the federal government.”
“Bullshit, Stahl,” Tia said, and every head turned her way. “The ODNI is a coalition of federal agencies. Answer the Chief’s question. Where do you call home?”
Stahl seemed annoyed by Tia’s knowledge but remained evasive. “How about this, Chief? Let me tell you what I can about our operation. Get you up to speed on the investigation to date; then we’ll go from there.”
Ben looked at Tia, who shrugged as if she was growing bored with it all. Ben nodded to Stahl.
“Start talking.”
“I take it you are familiar with Mr. Gunther Kane?” Ben was watching Tia as Stahl spoke; when Kane’s name was mentioned, he saw her eyes grow wide, then narrow. She stared suspiciously at Stahl.
“What about him?” Ben asked.
“Kane is the target of a federal investigation going back several years. We have identified him as a member of a subversive political group that is considered a major threat to national security. They call themselves the North Aryan Front.”
“Wait a damn minute,” Tia said with a laugh. “You’ve got Gunther Kane and the graybeards of NAF listed as a threat to national security? Where the hell do you people come up with this shit? Chief, we should just—”
Ben cocked an eyebrow at Tia. Getting his unspoken message, she went silent. “Go on,” Ben said to Stahl.
“As I was saying, we’ve been working Kane for a number of years and learned that he has stepped up into a leadership role in the NAF. He has made a number of illegal firearms transactions. Some of those purchases included weapons stolen from the U.S. military. Our sources have learned that for the past several months, Kane has been attempting to negotiate a major arms deal.
“He’s trying to purchase a cache of automatic weapons and ammunition. If successful, he’d be able to go toe to toe with your department.” Stahl paused, studying Tia. “He’d probably win.”
Tia chimed in, “So we need Uncle Sam to come save the day?”
Now it was Ben’s turn to ignore Tia’s aggressive comment. He spoke to Stahl. “So you mean to tell me there’s a man walking the streets of Waukesha County, buying up military weaponry, and no one bothered to tell local law enforcement?” Ben glanced at Sheriff Solo, hoping the other local lawman would speak up, but Solo remained impassive. When Stahl answered, Ben picked up on a trace of defensiveness.
“So far Kane’s dealings have been low-level, single-gun transactions. We’ve maintained good intelligence on all Kane’s associates and we’ve kept track of the weapons. When the time comes to round people up for possession of stolen property or whatever other
charge we deem appropriate”—Stahl flipped his hand through the air—“we’ll be more than happy to hand off much of that work to the locals.
“The headlines should look good for both your agencies. But Kane is ours.”
Ben shook his head. “I’m not really interested in headlines. I’m still stuck on the fact that we’ve got stolen guns hitting the streets.” Ben hooked a thumb at the sheriff but kept his eyes on Stahl. “Our streets.”
Stahl waved off the comment. “This is a federal case and Kane is a major target. We believe he has every intention of purchasing a large number of automatic weapons and distributing those weapons among the membership of a known hate group operating out of your jurisdiction. I would think you’d appreciate our efforts here and see how this case needs to take precedence over what amounts to a prostitution ring being run out of a strip joint.”
Tia stepped toward Stahl. “Prostitution ring? Is that what you call it? A woman being auctioned off to the highest bidder? Another woman, probably a teenager, kidnapped and tied up in the back of a van?”
“Chief, if I may interject.” Graham sounded like she was in a courtroom. “Based on what has come to light this evening, it may very well be that we have underestimated the seriousness of Mr. Tanner’s criminal association with Gunther Kane. It would appear the manner in which Mr. Kane has been financing his illegal weapons purchases has been a very serious crime in and of itself. But that is a discussion for another time. We need to get out of here.”
Tia looked around the yard and dilapidated house. “I’m not going anywhere until we search this property.”
Graham looked only at Ben. “There will be no search, Chief. There is a corpse inside that shed. A very important federal investigation is at risk of being derailed. We need your detective to start cooperating or face very serious consequences.”
The challenge in Tia’s voice was unmistakable. “Bring it, lady.”
Graham rolled her eyes and finally looked at Tia. “Detective, can you try to understand the gravity of what we are dealing with? We have an opportunity to take down the entire network of a subversive organization.”
