State of Confusion (State of Arizona Book 4)

by Doug Ball

  Josie walked through the door with his messages. “This one from the governor’s office in that state to the west of us is marked as important.”

  The Governor smiled, “Nevada?”

  “No, Boss, Hawaii.”

  He was startled until he looked down at the note on top. It was from California. Under the number was ‘Wants to talk about borders.’ With a smile he dialed the number.

  “The Office of the Governor. How may I assist you?”

  “Governor Reeves from Arizona returning the Governor’s call.”

  “One moment please, Governor Reeves.” Click.

  “Governor Greene here. Good of you to call back so quickly.”

  “Just got the memo of your call. How may I assist you?”

  “You can open your borders again, allow folks to travel freely to and from our great state, and assist us in assimilating our friends from the south.”

  “That isn’t going to happen. I will continue to allow citizens of our great nation to pass freely upon proof of citizenship, which rules out your phony driver’s licenses. Why don’t you join us in securing the border to the south. It’s cheaper than feeding, housing, and caring for the illegals as Texas found out. You could recoup the cost of border patrol within a year and in ten years be out of debt.”

  The phone went dead.

  Estabon looked at the phone for a moment, shook his head, and put the phone in the cradle. Pulling his personal cell from his pocket, he called his wife. When she answered, “Want a date with a handsome Governor?”

  “No. I want one with my husband.”

  “I’ll pick you up in ten minutes.”

  “Okay.”

  He hit the intercom. “Josie, have my driver come around to the back door please.”

  “Yes, Boss.”

  12

  Sonoita

  2 PM

  The handheld radio on Tan’s seat crackled and then, “2 Echo 14. Multiple shots fired in border area approximately 2 miles south of Canelo Pass and voices heard screaming.”

  Tan heard a response, “2 Echo 12 on the way.”

  He chimed in with “GSI 1, on the way.”

  “2 Echo 14, who are you GSI 1?”

  “Special Investigator Les Brown out of the Governor’s office.”

  “10-4.”

  Tan pointed the car southeast out of Sonoita with the pedal to the floor, made a few corners on two wheels (or so it felt), and hit the dirt road to Canelo Pass doing 70. He slowed down rapidly when he felt the condition of the road.

  “2 ECHO 12 on site. No one present.”

  “2 ECHO 14 still hearing voices and screams.”

  The men in ECHO 12 stopped their truck and shut down the engine. They climbed a slight rise next to the road. A red truck was parked out on the flat country south of the pass. They drove on with long guns on laps, body armor cinched up tight, and heads out the window watching for everything until they arrived at ECHO 14’s position

  Arriving near the truck, they all got out. Nothing was making any noise. The three men assumed it was an ambush and began an evasion and cover maneuver toward the truck. The man closest called to the others, “Move over toward that cut bank. I’ll ease around this side,” with a voice just loud enough to be heard.

  As they moved forward a man in camo came around a section of wash bank that gave no hint of its ability to hide anything let alone a full grown man carrying a white tail deer. The deer was bleeding a steady stream of drops from a wound in its side.

  The nearest Border Patrolman said in a loud voice, “Border Patrol, freeze. Do not drop the deer and drop your gun.”

  The man did as he was told while saying, “Damn.”

  The Border Patrolman hit the send button on his mike, “2 ECHO 14 we have a poacher in hand with deer in his arms. Request advise.”

  Tan backed off on the gas as he topped the pass and hit his brakes as he saw the road before him. The radio blasted the poacher message. “Damn. GSI 1 arriving one minute.” He could see the two trucks just ahead.

  “GSI 2 – five miles out to the south.”

  The three border patrol, the poacher, and Tan stood next to ECHO 14’s unit when GSI 2 arrived. GSI 2 turned out to be Tank and Abdul. One of the BP patted the poacher down while another BP took the white tail to a dead tree, tossed a rope over a handy limb, tied the rope to a hind foot, and hoisted the small deer into the air. The skinning began.

  Tan walked to the cuffed man who was now sitting on a rock with his back against the wall of the wash. “How long you been doing this?”

  “About 15 years.”

  “Ever been caught before?”

  “No. Never got a deer before.”

  “What!”

  “Yup, first time I get a deer – I watch for them every time I come through this way – and you boys show up. Why me? Why now?”

  “What was all the screamin’?”

  “That would be me also. I was so damned happy I danced and screamed all the way to the deer. How’d y’all find me?”

  “Microphones, sound systems that listen for miles. You sounded like a war going on.”

  “Yeah. I guess I did. Rounds in the air and whooping it up. You couldn’t know it was just one nut case poaching a deer for his home freezer.”

  The conversation went on for the time it took to skin, gut, and quarter the deer. As Tank was lowering it from the tree he asked, “How we gonna split this up?”

  The man in ECHO 14 said, “I’d be happy with a rack of ribs.”

  ECHO 12 said, “How about a hind quarter for the two of us?”

  “I don’t want any. No way to keep it very long,” Tan said.

  Tank laughed and said, “I’ll take the other ribs for me and a front quarter for Abdul. He don’t know how to BBQ a sweet thing like this. So, that leaves a hind and front quarter. What’s with that?”

  “Give it to the poacher, he shot the danged thing.”

  “Can we do that?” Abdul said.

  “Yup,” said Tan with a straight face. “Otherwise he’d squeal on us.” He turned to the man, “You down with that?”

  “If you’ll take off these cuffs, I’ll take off with the leaving’s of my deer.”

  Tan scratched an itch on the back of his hand, “How often you come out this way?”

  “Once or twice a day. I live in Canelo and work in Nogales. If the roads are dry I go this way. If they’re wet, I go through Sonoita on the pavement.”

  “Seen any strangers in vehicles lately. Like four men alone with camo on.”

  “Week or so ago I saw one man over off of Duquesne headed north. He obviously didn’t know the roads around here.”

  “How’s that?”

  “What’s this all about?”

  “Just a couple dozen people dead.”

  The poacher stepped back, “You don’t think I would do that, do you?” he said as he stepped back again with his hands out palms facing Tan.

  “No. sir. Tell me about him, every detail you can think of.”

  “He was standing next to his jacked up Jeep studying a map of the area. I stopped and asked if I could help him find something. He said yeah. He was looking for Paymaster Spring and couldn’t find the road leading into it. I showed him. He asked me to draw it in because it wasn’t on this map. I did. He thanked me. I drove down the road a couple miles and stopped to pee. When I looked back, his dust tail was heading in the right direction.”

  “Did you get a license number? I can only hope.”

  “No.”

  Tan thought and then asked, “Can you describe him?”

  “Sure. He was tall, blond, and built. Blue eyes, blonde hair even though it had been shaved a couple days before, and he was light skinned. He didn’t go out in the sun much. No tats or scars showing, but he was wearing a long sleeved shirt buttoned down cuffs and open throat. He was military not too far back if not now.” He stopped, looked up at Tan, and shrugged his shoulders with an ‘I’m sorry’ grin on his face.


  “What about the Jeep?” Tan was smiling and he finished writing.

  “White, jacked at least four inches, cracked windshield bottom right corner, Arizona plates, and black interior. That’s about it.”

  “Any stickers on the windshield, or the bumper.”

  “Just one. Enterprise Rentals. I assumed he was a once a year or weekend wanna be miner. Lots of old mines around here. I do some dry panning and take good stuff home to run through my vibrator.”

  Tank said, “Cool.”

  Tan almost kissed the man. “That just might be the break we need. Go home and enjoy your deer.” Tan started back to his car, “Whoa. I need your name and all that.”

  Tan got it all written down and handed the poacher his card. “If you think of anything else, call. No matter how small. Call.”

  “You got it. I hope you catch who you’re looking for. This guy seemed real nice.”

  “You can never tell. We chase down everything.”

  They separated. Tan walked over to his largish workers and sat next to them on the wash bank. “Think we got a lead outta this encounter. Listen to this.” He read off what he had gotten. “Whatcha thinking?”

  “Looks good,” Abdul said.

  “Hope he used his own ID when he rented it.” Tank was watching a leaf and an ant. The ant was winning.

  “Okay, you two. Head for Nogales. Check out Enterprise Rentals office there. If that doesn’t pan out, hit Tucson and all places in between. I will check out Sierra Vista and Benson, along with any others I find on that side of the mountain. Got it.”

  Abdul said, “Let me copy that description and all you got from the deer hunter.”

  “We meet back in Patagonia at the hotel.”

  “We gonna drop off the venison there on the way to Nogales.”

  “I’ll take it for you. There’s ice in Sierra Vista, then I’m going back to work on my notes. This little bitty note pad is getting full of my cryptic notes. Gotta call mama also. She gets worried if I play outside too late.”

  “Don’t eat the meat. We do it together,” Abdul was a bit adamant about food at times.

  Tan used the radio, “GSI 1, dispatch. Is there an Enterprise car rental west of the Huachuca Mountains?”

  “Yes, GSI 1, Sierra Vista and Benson.”

  “Would you call and see if they rented a white jeep during the last ten days and get back to me?”

  “Will do.”

  Tank broke in with, “GSI 2, dispatch. Would you check Nogales also, please.”

  “You will have to check with Santa Cruz County dispatch, GSI 2. Channel 6.”

  Tank looked down at his handheld, “Damn, ain’t but three channels on this thing.

  “We go to Nogales,” Abdul said as Tank pointed the truck south.”

  Tan laughed as he climbed in the unit. “They could have used mine if they’d asked.”

  Tucson

  The big man, Brad Dickins, once a sergeant in Centcom and having too many tours in combat environments, or so he thought, had the next two assignments on his cork board. Alongside the assignments were 3 by 5 cards. There were many cards around plan number 1. It would be a big splash with lots of flash the way he had it going down.

  Plan number 2 was sparse on cards. There was only one. It had the name of the one man in the group that could drive better than he could, Boris. In the middle of the display for event number 2 was his own name. He was taking on the most dangerous of the tasks for himself. He had just the weapon as outlined on the card. There was no one better at the methodology in the group than he was. The target card held the name, Superman. He would go down in history for this one or die trying.

  The area designated for event number one was under the command of Jacob. Brad would sit down with Jacob in the very near future and plan the details of operation down to the second.

  He took another sip of the bourbon he loved so much. Never within 36 hours of a new operation would he drink. It took his aim off and made him miss one time, or so he thought. He still had six days to drink his high dollar bourbon. He wanted to finish it before the next outing.

  Tan’s call to the dispatcher let him know that Sierra Vista and Benson had not had a white jeep rented by anyone in the past two months. Benson had not even had a white jeep. Sierra Vista had one, but it was out on long term rental with an outfit that took folks joy riding in the desert. That Jeep had been with them for four months and had another two months to go. He asked for their phone number and got it.

  He called the number of the outfit. No joy, the Jeep in question had been reserved for over six months and was with one of their drivers, a woman, with a pair of other women that were camping and hiking along the Continental Divide Trail. The driver was their support and met them every evening the trail crossed a road or two rut along the way. The driver had called in almost every day and was currently somewhere around Grants, New Mexico, in the El Malpai area heading for Colorado.

  Tan thanked them for their information as he hit the pavement just north of Canelo Pass heading for Sonoita.

  13

  Tan’s room in Patagonia was cold and lonely. All the other troops were all over southern Arizona from Nogales east. He was behind the curve on this one. The Brown family was bigger now and he felt the need for time with them. His wife’s life was full of things to do around the house with the new baby and the adopted one to add to the two they already had. He was needed there, but he was also needed here. The pride he felt in the jobs and challenges set before him was mind blowing. He’d handled the Corps well, ending his time as a sergeant. The Coconino County job was great. He had good friends there and made a name for himself even before his unofficial partner had been killed and the assault on the Snow Bowl ski area against the rebellious Indians. His crew was strange, but loyal and hard working. He had the best. “I am letting them down by not getting on top of this case. How hard can it be to find a small army of killers and thieves?”

  He looked in the mirror as he headed for the john. “And, here I am sitting in a lonely room having a pity party because nothing is breaking on the case. Maybe if I sit for a while, the pressure on my brain will get it working.”

  He sat.

  The throwaway phone in his pocket rang. He answered, “San José.”

  “Santa Gabriella.”

  “What’s up, One?”

  “Just an exchange of info call. I have men stretched thin along the border watching for groups crossing and following them. Ask your men to watch out for them and not shoot them. They are the ones dressed in all black.”

  “Will do. We are spread so thin I doubt it will happen.”

  “My father wants to increase the fifty to one hundred, but it is hard to find orphans with no siblings who are willing to do this kind of work. We did have two women in mind. What do you think?”

  Tan thought a moment, “The type of work you do, having one or two women could be an advantage. If they’re tough enough to keep up with the men in all areas of the work.”

  “That was my thinking also. The Colonel, my father, is begging for more men to patrol the border, but the General says we will probably get fewer if your new Governor starts a wall or maybe even that rich man, Trump, who is rattling the cages in Washington about a run for the President.”

  “Don’t worry about him. I’d like to see it happen, but he doesn’t have a chance.” Tan shook his head at the thought.

  One was quiet.

  Tan came in, “You got any ideas on how to get more men, many more, in on this case?”

  “No.”

  “We danged near need an army of troops. A couple of men set at judicious places a few hundred yards apart with listening and infrared gear, all trustworthy and not prone to getting the idea of being the hero of the border, would be impossible.”

  “Si. So far all this action has been in a small stretch of reasonably unoccupied land. Could we get a small army like the one that stopped the first invasion into your estado?”

  The big ligh
t bulb over Tan’s head went on. “Hey, thanks. Let me call you back in a few.”

  “Out.” The phone went dead.

  Tan looked at the phone and smiled. The idea was great, but the battery was dead. Having finished his sitting, he plugged in the charger and grabbed his other phone.

  He called Chuck. “Yeah, boss.”

  Ten minutes later he had the phone number he needed.

  He called Frank Carter, the leader of the Militia for America that had been the front line troops when angry Mexican civilians, or so it was described by the local papers, invaded Arizona. They had lost some men and held the field of battle until the heavies got there.

  “Carter.”

  “Frank Carter?”

  “Yes.”

  “My name is Les Brown. Most folks call me Tan. I am with the Governor’s Office of Special Investigation or something like that. We have a problem on the border. Do you have time to talk?”

  “Yes. Where are you?”

  “Patagonia.”

  “I’m in Tucson with my wife for a restful couple of weeks. I can be there in an hour or so.”

  “I’ll meet you in the bar at the south end of town on the right, the Wagon Wheel Saloon. How about in two hours? You can bring your wife if you want her to hear what we have to say. I wouldn’t.”

  “She’s got grandkids to play with here. I’ll see you there in two hours. Can I bring one of my men?”

  “Yes. See ya then.”

  Nogales

  “What you thinkin’, my man?” Abdul asked.

  Tank was lost in la la land and jerked his head up at the sound, “I ain’t thinkin’ much. That fella says there was bloody mud on the front floor carpet of that white jeep when it was returned. They figured what?”

  “He figured it was from some hunting the man might have done.”

  “Who’d throw meat on the floor board?”

  “Nobody I know, unless it was wrapped real good.”

  Tank looked at the floor board again. “Ain’t no way of tellin’ now. They done cleaned this thing from top to bottom and two other folks have rented it since.”