The vests the four had worn weighed around twenty pounds and the packs weighed close to a hundred. As he led King and the mule down the valley, he could tell they were overloaded and kept a gentle pace. Now that it was light, he pulled out his small notebook and flipped it open to where he’d started outlining his plan of attack. Walking along, he added his new ideas.
When he was two miles away from the kill site and just less than three miles northwest of North Priest Lake, Joshua found a gully and buried the explosives, since he planned on using them down this way. After the explosives were buried, he redistributed the packs and climbed on King.
King was half Percheron, but his mom was a Tennessee walker. He was big as hell, but his back wasn’t as wide as a Percheron, so you didn’t have to sit in the splits when you rode him and King had the best of both lines: strength and endurance.
Knowing where he wanted to go, Joshua kept a good pace as he rode King with the mule tailing behind. Stopping a mile east of Hughes Ridge, Joshua guided the horse under a rock overhang. Even sitting on King, he couldn’t touch the overhang till he was thirty yards back.
Climbing off, he pulled the gear off of the mule and what little he’d left on King, setting them in a row. Taking off his jacket, the first thing Joshua did was pull out the bag with the severed hands and poured salt in with them, using all of the salt he had with him.
Putting the bag down, he picked up one of the camo vests and studied it. It opened on the sides and was slipped over the head. Feeling it, Joshua saw the front and back were stiff and hard, so he laid the vest out. Seeing a tag that read ‘Level IV ballistic plate’, Joshua nodded, liking that as he flipped it over and looked at the magazines attached to the front.
At first, he thought the magazines were for a different type of AR, but realized they were just fatter from the neck down. Each magazine was set in a hard plastic-like pouch that you had to ‘pull’ out. Taking off his gloves, Joshua started taking the bullets out and when he’d emptied the magazine, he counted sixty 5.56 rounds. Except looking a little fatter, the magazine was like a regular magazine.
“More bullets is much better,” he said reloading the magazine, and then went through the pouches, finding knives, a multi-tool, a first aid kit, a tactical flashlight, batteries, and a bag at the back left-hand side attached at the waist with a tag.
‘Dump bag’, if Joshua hadn’t heard Chris talk about these, he would’ve gotten the wrong idea really fast. It was a bag worn to toss your empty magazine in, so you could keep up with them. “I’m upgrading,” Joshua said and pulled the other camo vest over. He found it fit him better and pulled the Glock out of the holster.
“Never liked these,” he said and took the vest off. Looking at the FBI vest, the only difference between them and the camo ones, was that they were black with FBI written on the back. Looking at the drop platforms, he knew this because it said it on a tab, Joshua saw one of the holsters held a 1911.
This 1911 had a rail with light and laser and the holster was some type of hard plastic that was designed for the light and laser attachment. Taking the platform off, Joshua saw it could replace the drop holster on the camouflage vest.
He took the agent’s 1911 and took off the light and laser, attaching it to his Springfield 1911. His had a rail system, but he’d never found a holster he liked that would hold a light attachment. When his 1911 slid in perfectly, Joshua smiled and moved to the first pack. It belonged to high-top or the BATF agent. A satchel was attached to the side and Joshua opened it to find maps, notebooks, GPS and other items he could go through later. Making sure the GPS was off, he laid it to the side and started with the pockets on the left side of the pack.
The first thing he pulled out was the ‘shaving bag’ that had held the antique cellphone. Joshua unzipped it and realized quickly, this was no antique. It was so new that some of the cords were still in plastic. He pulled out the phone, saw it was off and set it down. Seeing a booklet inside, he pulled it out, reading, ‘Iridium Satellite Prepaid Phone’.
“They make disposable satellite phones?” he gasped and flipped the book over, his eyes getting wide when he saw the price tag. “Three and a half grand for a phone?! No wonder the fuckers want all my money!”
Repacking the phone, he pulled out the radio and saw it looked brand new and read ‘Harris’ on the front, with a headset attached with spaghetti cord. He had seen National Guard units using radios similar to this, but not this advanced. He pulled the radio out, making sure the thing was off and looked in the pocket he’d pulled it from and found an instruction book. “Guys, I’m so grateful,” he said and laid the book to the side. In the same pocket, he found two spare batteries.
With that pocket emptied, he opened the main compartment and sat back on his knees as he pulled out two six packs of canned cokes. Shaking his head, he put them down and continued laying out a ton of useless equipment, canned food, drinks and snacks. He found over twenty pounds of what he called shit; an electric razor, an electric toothbrush, propane bottles with a portable stove, and other stuff he just shook his head at. He just used heat tabs and wondered why they didn’t.
What he really didn’t understand was when he found ten MREs that had heat tabs in them, and high-top had a dozen cans of food. If he’d been on horseback, Joshua could understand that, but this much unnecessary weight was ridiculous.
Digging more out, Joshua stopped when he pulled out a folded circle of silky cloth. The circle was a flexible wire he could feel. Seeing a snap, he popped it and the circle started opening up and he tossed it away. “Holy shit,” he gasped as the circle opened up in a one-man tent before it even hit the ground. “That has got to be one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen,” he said looking at the blue tent.
It was long enough for one man and the material looked sturdy. Moving over, it did take Joshua a few minutes to figure out how to twist and turn it to fold it back to the circle. After he did, he tossed it again, watching it pop open before it hit the ground. “Well, I’m going to eat my words because I’m taking that. I’ve never used a tent as I’ve moved, but always wanted a light one.”
Folding it back up, he guessed the tent didn’t weigh much over two pounds. Snapping it closed, he laid it aside and continued digging and pulled out six changes of clothes but only one pair of socks. “You were going to be funky smelling,” Joshua mumbled and continued pulling out gear and stopped. He reached down and pulled out a bandolier of 5.56 that held three hundred rounds on stripper clips. What shocked him was the bottom was full of them.
When he was finished, he was looking at six bandoliers of 5.56 ammunition and two boxes of forty caliber bullets. “That’s a bunch of ammo,” he mumbled.
Turning the pack on its side, Joshua emptied the two side pockets, pulling out two hard cases. He opened the first one and pulled out NVG goggles that had four tubes. Not understanding why, he laid it down and opened the other case and found a scope. It wasn’t that big and looked rather puny, coated in thick rubberized plastic as he rolled it over in his hands, but then he looked back in the case and found a pamphlet. ‘FLIR System Scope’ was printed on the pamphlet.
“Oh yeah,” he said and put it back in the case.
Looking at the crap around him, Joshua figured if these guys would’ve left this shit behind, they would’ve moved a lot faster. Leaving out what he wanted, he repacked the backpack. Going through the others, he found they were similarly packed, but the two Idaho Troopers were packed the smartest. Also, neither of them had night vision or thermal gear. Two of the men had binoculars, but Joshua’s were much better.
He looked at the feds’ backpacks, then over at his. Theirs were top-of-the-line expedition packs in a cool camouflage pattern called A-Tac, like the vest. It was printed on the packs, pants and shirts that all of them were carrying, but none of them were wearing. His pack was a good pack that he’d bought several years ago. He knew from looking at packs, the ones the feds were carrying were almost a grand.
Pul
ling his pack over, he grabbed one of the FBI packs and started unloading it. When he repacked it with his stuff, he put it on and didn’t regret his decision. This pack distributed the weight much better and he didn’t feel like he was carrying forty pounds anymore.
Taking it off, he put what he’d wanted to take from the group in, mainly the electronics, but only one set of the weird night vision goggles and thermal scope. He left the others in their packs, he had plans for those.
After he was done, he looked over the weapons. The feds’ weapons all looked brand new and they had magazines like the troopers had. But the troopers’ ARs looked well used. Inspecting the feds’ weapons, he looked at the suppressor attached and saw it had a ratchet system to hold it on. “H&K” was stamped on the side and he wasn’t surprised to see the full auto setting.
Taking it apart, he confirmed the weapon hadn’t been fired much and soon found out, it was one of the newer AR type rifles with the gas impingement system. When you shot the gun, gas didn’t travel back to the bolt, it was diverted to a piston that moved the bolt. It kept the bolt cooler and cleaner.
“I’ll see what you can do,” he said laying it to the side.
Looking at the stacks of A-Tac camouflage clothes he’d pulled out of the packs, he wondered why none of the group were wearing it. All of them had been wearing tan tactical pants, short sleeve shirts and such. With the exception of high-top, everyone else had three complete sets in their packs.
Having already looked, he took the three sets from the FBI guy’s pack that he’d gotten the boots from. He took the helmet from the other FBI pack because it fit much better. All his life, Joshua had worn hard hats, but a hard hat wasn’t a helmet. Reading ‘Fast Assault Helmet Level III ballistic protection’ on the inside and putting it on, he realized it wasn’t a normal soldier’s helmet.
It fit snug and he could tell from the attach points on the side and front, he could mount gear there. Leaving it on, he repacked the backpacks and used his in the place of the one he’d taken. All the packs had a folded-up long gun scabbard that he took out and placed four of the ARs in and attached them to the packs.
Using the waterproof bags that the guys’ sleeping bags had been stored in, Joshua loaded up what he was taking to the cabin. He looked at the six-packs of coke and tossed them in as well. If they were going to deliver soda water to him, by God, he would drink it.
Gathering the ‘shit’ electric toothbrushes and such, Joshua carried them out and found a hole, tossing them in and covered them up. Loading the packs back up, he realized how much lighter they were, and he had put the other three vests, ARs, pistols, and that weird chest harness high-top had worn in them, and they were still lighter.
Heading eight miles north to his dugout, Joshua would pause every mile or so and find a place to bury one of the packs. If the guys were so kind to bring him gear, he could now make some caches, in case he lost his gear. Keeping the spots near ravines, in almost identical locations so he wouldn’t have to mark it on his map, Joshua buried them. Since the packs were waterproof, he felt they would last for a little while.
Reaching the dugout just before sunset, he only had to take the pack saddle with the bags of stuff he’d taken from the guys off the mule. Compared to what the mule had been packing, it wasn’t anything. Putting up the rope corral, Joshua fed King and the mule. The corral let them drink from the small stream that ran down the gully beside the dugout.
Putting the six-packs of cokes in the stream, Joshua carried the gear inside and got to work, understanding what he took. Making room for it in the packed dugout was his first chore then, he just tossed it on the floor.
Grabbing the satchel that high-top had been carrying, Joshua sat it on the table and turned on the LED lamp. Pulling out the map, he realized it wasn’t printed on paper, but felt like a type of cloth. Unfolding it, his eyes widened upon seeing it was a topographical map overlaid on a satellite photograph. The map covered the Kaniksu National Forest which was the panhandle of Idaho, some of western Montana and Eastern Washington. It was 1:126,720 scale map that was standard for the forestry service where one inch was half a mile.
Laying it out, he loved how it felt as he ran his hands over it, but then noticed there were marks on the map with numbers from one to eighty-four and two square mile grids checked off, then other marks across roads and around Priest Lake. Touching the marks, they didn’t wipe off, but Joshua could tell they weren’t printed on. Looking back in the satchel, he found several pins and two markers with caps on both ends.
Pulling one cap off, it looked like a black felt tip pen and he pulled the other off, and it looked like a clear felt tip pen. He tried to write on the map with the clear end, but it didn’t leave a mark. Then, he moved over to one of the marks on the map by Priest Lake and it came off, like the clear end was an eraser. “The things they come up with,” he said putting the caps back on.
Looking at where he’d seen the guys were dropped off and the number eighty-one beside it, he saw boxes checked, leading to North Priest Lake. He pulled out the notepad and notebook and saw the pad had map notes and started reading. When he was done, he looked back at the map in understanding.
The numbered marks were five-man search teams, and the two square mile grids that were marked beside each team was where they had to search. Looking back at where the team he’d hit was dropped off, he chuckled. “You guys were lost the second you stepped out of that truck. You were supposed to head up the draw to the east and over the ridge to the lake, but you headed west following the valley.” Where he’d shot them was six miles from where they were supposed to be.
Studying the numbers on the map, he couldn’t see any pattern or rhyme and reason for them. They started south of Quartz Mountain and then stayed west of Highway 57, seemingly placed at random all the way to where he’d seen high-top’s team dropped off. “I could lie down and they would never find me,” he said, laying the notepad down and wondering if he should change his plans about fighting back.
“No, they could get lucky, but they messed with my family and they killed poor Ms. Ethel,” he said seeing where the next closest team was. Seeing it was south of Blacktail Mountain and they were to move toward Bottle Bay on Priest Lake, Joshua figured they were probably lost and moving toward Washington State.
Opening the notebook up, he saw notes about him, his family, his friends, and the area. He didn’t like that they knew this much about him, his family, and his friends. Reading on, he found that a hundred more search teams would be in place by tomorrow, and the teams were to stay out three days, then rotate back. The goal was to keep sixty teams out at all times. Reading further, he looked back at the map, picking up the special marker and made tics by teams that he’d read were to be on horseback.
“Need to watch for those,” he said, but the closest was below Lamb Creek. In the notes, it said he would stay in the wilderness close to his family or to the south where he had friends. “They got that wrong, and I need to let them know before they mess with them.”
Flipping through the notes, Joshua had to admit high-top took good notes. Joshua found what agencies were helping, the number of men, special response teams (SWAT), radio frequencies, contact schedules, and a whole slew of other useful information. When he saw ‘Radio Function Code’, followed by numbers, he wanted to sigh, since the radio turned on, but without the ten-digit code, the radio wouldn’t function. Closing the notebook, he folded up the map and liked the idea that he could literally stuff it in his pocket and it would be fine.
Walking over to a storage bin from the cabin, he pulled out two wool blankets. “Time to get to work and show them how wrong they were for picking me to rob,” he said spreading them out on the table.
Chapter Fourteen
It was 0600 the next morning when Griffey watched the group leaders leave the conference room, leaving only him, Burrows, and Moore there.
“I told you,” Moore said sipping a cup of coffee. “We have three teams that haven’t r
eported in.”
Griffey jumped up and pointed at one of the maps that had three white marks where the missing teams had been dropped off. One was at North Priest Lake, another was in the middle of the search area south of Nordman, and the third was at the bottom of the search area near Newport Hill. “You’re not suggesting Joshua took them out, are you?!” he bellowed.
“Don’t yell at me, Griffey,” Moore said in a cold voice. “I’m not one of your lackeys, and I know way more people than you do.”
Taking a deep breath, Griffey nodded. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “But, is that what you’re suggesting?”
Moore set his cup down, chuckling. “No, that doesn’t fit his profile. If he’s backed into a corner, Mr. Anderson will fight but what I told you was that we would lose teams. They are getting lost. We don’t have the communications in the area to keep track of them.”
“Okay, what do you suggest?”
“It’s too late for that,” Moore said. “We needed local law enforcement. They know the area, hell, they hunt and fish the area they patrol. You could throw them out in the woods from a chopper and they could find their way back.”
Turning around, Griffey looked at the map hard and was realizing for the first time, just how remote it was. “I’ll call DC. Sheriff Harper has publicly declared that he’s hostile to this investigation. Legal told me, that can be interpreted as a treasonous act,” he said turning around. “Maybe we could use that to force him.”
With a sigh, Moore shook his head. “Griffey, you do realize that Sheriff Harper’s sister-in-law is a senior partner at one of the largest law firms out here, right? You go after him now, and you’ll lose many friends in Washington. Her firm has beaten us in court every time they’ve taken us on, and she’s already filed motions against us for Sheriff Harper.”
Bonner Incident Page 20
