by Rod Collins
“How soon do you think?”
“I don’t know. By tomorrow maybe. The FBI has surveillance on them, and Dutch Vanderlin, Portland’s FBI SAC, thinks he’ll have enough warning to get a SWAT team here before the bad guys show up.”
Nancy nodded and took a deep breath. “Well, good. That gives you some time to get ready.”
Chapter 21
Forest Park
BECAUSE THE ROAD was narrow, Wilcox drove slowly once he entered Forest Park. “It’s not much further,” he said.
“That’s okay. I’m enjoying the ride. I’ve heard about this place. I just never took the time to come and see it.” Brandt thumbed his smartphone and pulled up information about Forest Park. “I didn’t realize it was so big.”
He read aloud from the screen, “Five thousand acres; largest urban park in the world; lots of different critters – including cougars – and one rumor of a wolf sighting. Glad I’m armed.”
From behind the ground-level limbs of a fir tree, a nervous Cletus Falls watched Wilcox back the SUV into a parking spot and killed the engine. Can’t see through the tinted windows. I’m not coming out until I see who’s in there.
Wilcox opened the door and grinned back at his partner, “Douglas, one look at your ugly mug, and a wolf or cougar would die of fright.”
A small green Subaru Outback rolled in and parked three slots away. The two agents watched until a young bearded man and a blonde woman got out of the Subaru, and popped the back door to grab daypacks and polished hardwood walking sticks. The hikers slipped arms through the straps on their packs, took the right fork in the trail through a thicket of wild rhododendrons, and then they were out of sight.
Wilcox said, “Cletus should’ve made it here by now. I’ll bet he’s hiding. People like Cletus are survivors, always wary.”
Brandt nodded. “If I were Cletus, I’d be suspicious, too. But he trusts us. Wonder why?”
“He does. And I don’t know why either, Douglas.”
“Got to be your winning smile, Leroy.”
“Must be it.’
Brandt said, “I’ll go check the restroom. Just in case. But why don’t you walk up the trail and see if you can find him.’
Two minutes later, Wilcox walked back to the parking lot, Cletus close behind.
Brandt had claimed a concrete picnic table and was pouring lukewarm coffee into a steel cup from a battered thermos that looked like it came from an archaeology dig.
“Found him, I see.”
Cletus said, “I didn’t know who was in your vehicle. So, I waited.”
Brandt dug into a wrinkled paper bag that could’ve come from the same archaeology dig. He held out a trail bar and asked Cletus, “You hungry?”
Cletus shook his head. “No. But I’d sure like to get the hell out of here.”
“This a good place,” Wilcox said. “Not a chance in the world of being overheard. Let’s sit right here, have a cup of coffee, and then maybe you can tell us why you ran.”
Cletus glanced back over his shoulder to make sure Butler hadn’t followed him, then slid onto the bench seat. “That dude is plumb spooky. Looks like Boris Karloff from the old movies. But it ain’t just that. He asks all the wrong questions. And I didn’t sign on to give him my life story. I just strung him along. When I said I was tired cause I hadn’t had any sleep since Reggie was murdered and that I was going to take a nap, he looked madder than hell. And then he asked for my cell phone.”
“But you didn’t give it to him?” Wilcox asked.
“I gave him a burner phone and kept the other one.”
Wilcox laughed. “I told you he was a survivor, Brandt.” He shook his head and asked Cletus. “And that’s the one you used to call me.”
Cletus nodded without saying anything.
Wilcox looked at Brandt and said, “That’s what we do to people we stash up there. We take their phones. People get bored, they miss their girlfriends, they want pizza delivery, all kinds of odd things. So even when they ask for help, that’s the protocol. No phones unless an agent is with them.”
“I know the protocol, Leroy.”
“I’m just explaining to Cletus that we need something a lot more solid than his suspicions.”
“Okay,” Cletus said. “How about this? He kept asking where I had the reverend stashed. Now, how did he know I’d stashed the reverend anyplace? Where did that information come from? How did he even know the reverend was gone? Gotta be a tie to the bad guys … someplace. They be the only ones, other than you and me, who know he’s gone.” Cletus shook his head. “Nope. Boris Karloff’s on the take.”
Wilcox and Brandt looked at each other. Wilcox raised his eyebrows in question, and Brandt shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Well, damn,” Wilcox said. “We need a safe place to hide Mister Falls until we get this sorted out.”
Brandt looked at Cletus and said, “I’m not saying Butler is dirty, but in your shoes, I’d feel the same way.”
Cletus said, “I tell you what. You drop me near the Justice Center. I got a place.”
Wilcox frowned and said, “How sure are you about this?”
Cletus nodded and said, “You let me make a call. I’ll be right back.” Cell phone to his ear, he walked around the back side of the restroom.
BB answered on the second ring. “That you, Cletus?”
“Mister BeBe, I need a new place to stay. I might come down to your place. How do I find you?”
“That won’t work. The bad guys know the reverend is here. What’s wrong with the FBI’s safe house?”
“It’s not safe. We be thinking the den mother is crooked. Been bought.”
“Well, how about my apartment then? I still own that.”
“How am I going to get in?”
“I’ll call the manager. He’ll give you a key. And there’s a small convenience store on the second floor. You can get some basic groceries there. Charge it to my account.”
“Okay, Mister BeBe. Who would think those pictures would cause us this much trouble?”
“Not me, but if there’s a rat working for the FBI, it might explain how they got onto us. Where are you?”
“Forest Park. I’m with two FBI agents, Brandt and Wilcox. They’ll get me to the apartment. Gotta go, Mister BeBe. Been in one place too long.”
Chapter 22
A Moving Target
BB LISTENED TO DEAD AIR, then shut the phone off. Shaking his head, he said quietly, “Forest Park. You do get around, Cletus.”
TJ looked up from the island counter and asked, “Cletus?”
“Yeah. He’s in trouble again, but a couple of FBI agents are looking after him.”
Miranda said, “Who are they?”
“Brandt and Wilcox.”
Miranda nodded. “I know those two. They’re very good. In fact, Wilcox was in line to be a Deputy SAC, but politics got in the way.”
BB raised his eyebrows and said, “Is this Wilcox guy sour on the agency?”
She shook her head. “No. He’s fairly young and he knows he’ll be a SAC somewhere before his career is over.”
“I hope you’re right. It’s for sure that someone tipped the bad guys off. Cletus thinks your man in the safe house is bent. “Bought” is the word Cletus used.”
“That seems unlikely,” Miranda said.
“You don’t know Cletus,” BB said. “His street instincts have kept him out of trouble until now. If I was to bet, I’d bet on Cletus.”
***
Al-Alwani’s cell phone buzzed, and he picked up on the second ring. “Yes?”
“This is Yoseph.”
“Make it quick.”
“He’s gone. Sneaked away … through the woods, maybe. I can’t find him in the house.”
“You better find him.” Al-Alwani became deadly serious. “Osama won’t like this, and you know what happens to people who disappoint him.”
Chapter 23
Listeners
THE TWO MEN looked at each other and
shook hands. “Gotcha, you crooked sonofabitch,” listener one said.
“Got them both,” listener two added. “We best get this to the boss. I mean right now.”
Listener one sighed and said, “How does a longtime agent go bad?”
“Divorce.”
“What?”
“Divorce,” listener two said. “Butler’s wife divorced him. The agency doesn’t like divorce, so that sidetracked his career. And a judge gave her alimony until he retires, and then half his retirement and his entire house. ”
“How do you know all this?”
“Butler and I were partners once upon a time. He calls me now and again at night, especially when he’s drunk, and tells me all about it … over and over.”
Listener one nodded. “That might open a guy up to temptation. But how would the bad guys know he was vulnerable?”
“Somebody on the inside, maybe,” listener two said. “The bad guys have so much money they buy judges, police chiefs, politicians, and sometimes even FBI agents.”
“Well, time’s a wasting,” listener one said, then picked up his phone and entered a direct-dial number. The call was answered by Linda Barnes, secretary to Deputy Special Agent in Charge, Joseph Smith.
“This is Delaware. I need the boss.”
“He’s busy,” she said.
“This won’t wait,” Delaware said impatiently.
“An emergency?” she asked.
“Time sensitive, Linda, so stop messing around.”
When Agent Smith answered, Delaware said, “Smitty, we got something really hot.”
“What?”
“We got ourselves a dirty agent.”
“You sure?”
“Dead certain. Just recorded it.”
Listener one heard a deep sigh and then Smitty saying, “Send it.” In micro seconds, the recording was in the FBI’s central computer.
Four minutes later, Linda Barnes, Smith’s secretary and gatekeeper handed him a paper copy of the conversation between Butler and Al-Alwani.
Smith read it and then reached for his cell phone. He punched a number and waited until Brandt answered.
“Special Agent Brandt, I want you and Special Agent Wilcox to arrest Butler. He might still be at the safe house.
“I’m also concerned about the safety of Cletus Falls as well. Pick him up and we’ll stash him in one of the downtown hotels. And I’m sending a SWAT team to Butler’s boat in case he tries to boogie by water.”
“On it, Boss. Our friend Cletus is with us. He didn’t trust Butler. Cletus called us and we picked him up.”
“At the safe house?”
“No. He hiked to Forest Park. Wilcox and I picked him up. We plan to stash him in another location.”
“Where?”
“Can’t say for sure. He wants us to just drop him downtown. Says he has a place to hide.”
“Well, crap. We need to maintain communications with him.”
“We got that worked out, and I don’t want to talk about it over the phone. We’ll drop him and head for the safe house ASAP. Gotta go, Boss. We’ll keep you informed.” And he hung up.
Smith shook his head. “I don’t like Brandt or Wilcox, but I darned sure trust them.” And then it struck him. Brandt had never called him Boss before. I like it.
He hollered through the open door to his secretary, “MiZ-BARnes, get Woodson on the line.”
Donald Woodson, Supervisory Agent for the Portland FBI SWAT Team, picked up on the first ring. “Woodson,” he said.
Linda Barnes, in a prim voice that almost always sounded disapproving, said, “Deputy Special Agent Smith would like to talk to you.”
“Okay. Put him on.”
“Woody,” Smith said, “I have a sensitive mission that calls for a tactical element. I need you to watch Guy’s Marina on the Willamette Channel and arrest Special Agent Butler if he shows up.”
“Okay. Do you expect him to resist?”
“It would seem likely. Hence, the need for your team.”
“When?”
“Right now. Do you need a photo and an address?”
“No to both. I can pull his picture from our files, and I know the marina. I’ll keep you posted.”
Chapter 24
The Devil in the Details
BUD SET HIS CUP on the scarred surface of his wooden kitchen table and said to Nancy, “I need to get back over to BB’s. I think we’ll be safe for another twelve to twenty-four hours, but I want TJ and BB out of there. And I want the mother of my child safely out of here too.”
Nancy shook her head and grinned. “I know what the ladies are saying, but while I may look pregnant, the truth is I simply ate myself into an extra twenty pounds while I mourned over you.”
“Well, damn. I had hopes.”
“Is that what you want, a baby?”
“Yes. Marriage first, though. We’ll boogie for Reno as soon as I get this business cleared up.”
“No.”
“What do you mean?”
“Let’s get a license here and have a small ceremony with our friends. Maybe your father can come down. I don’t want to give the ladies of Lakeview anything more to speculate about.”
Bud grinned and said, “And you don’t suppose they’ll be counting the months?”
Nancy smiled back and said, “Of course, but maybe we’ll fool them.”
“Bud said, “Stay put. I’ll be right back.”
She watched him bound up the stairs. I wonder what that’s about?
It was nearly two minutes before he returned and thrust a small velvet box into her hand.
He almost growled when he said, “Keep the ring on this time. Okay?”
She stood, put her arms around his neck, and pulled his face down to hers. She gave him a long, hard kiss, and then stepped back and stared into his hazel eyes. She reached up, smoothed his left eyebrow, touching the small scar running through it and said, “Okay.”
Bud nodded. He pointed to her pickup and said, “Good. Meet me at the courthouse.”
“Today?”
“Yes. I want to get us a marriage license, and then I want you to stay in town. I’m not sure when, or even if, we’ll have unwanted visitors, but I’d feel a whole lot better if you were in town. And I’d also feel a whole lot better if you were working dispatch when the proverbial substance hits the fan.”
“You mean it? About the marriage license?”
“Take it to the bank, Nancy. Take it to the bank.”
