“That’s her,” Walt said.
Next was a photo of the same woman getting into an old F 150 pickup.
“And that’s her truck.”
“And a couple more,” O’Reilly said as he handed them to her. “She’s getting out of the truck and opening a gate. Appears to be a combination lock.”
“You know who she is?” Jack asked, his voice rising slightly in anticipation.
“We do. She belongs to one of these anti-government separatist militia groups. They call themselves The Alamo Defenders. Her name is Miriam Van Zandt. She’s the daughter of Richard Van Zandt, the founder of this group of whackos.”
Jack sat back and stared at the photos. “I’ve got a ton of questions bouncing through my mind. Let me think where to start. Obvious one. Where is she?”
“Loving County. You know where that is?”
“Not me,” Jack said. “And I grew up in Texas.”
“Me either,” Walt said. “I’ve been with the governor to a bunch of our 254 counties. Somehow, we missed that one.”
“Not a surprise. It’s the least populated county in the whole country. Last census counted eighty-two people. You won’t find much but sand, sage brush and cactus, maybe a few mesquite trees. Richard Van Zandt used his G.I. bill from the Vietnam War to buy a hundred acres out there so he could be left alone. His property backs up the Pecos River forty miles or so north of the town of Pecos. It’s surrounded by six feet of barbed wire. Behind the barbed wire are bunkers about four feet tall. The dirt was dug out and stacked up with a backhoe over the years. Trenches are now behind the bunkers. Rumor is that they also have tunnels that they can use to get from one place to the other if they were ever attacked. Those are probably also where they stash their weapons.”
“I at least know where Pecos is. How did you get photos of the woman?”
O’Reilly rose and walked to the credenza. “I have coffee here. Any takers?”
“Black for me, Captain,” Walt replied.
“The same,” Jack said.
After serving the coffee in mugs with the emblem of the state of Texas emblazoned on the side, O’Reilly took his seat. “A few years back we started getting worried about these militia groups. The Alamo Defenders aren’t the only one. They’re scattered all over West Texas and even some in East Texas. We suspected that they were assembling large numbers of military grade rifles, assault weapons, AK 15s and the like, even grenades. There was talk that they would band together and seal off part of that area in far West Texas and declare themselves a sovereign nation. No doubt that we could defeat them, but at what cost?”
“Nowadays they don’t stay on the compound. Most of the men started working in the Permian basin when fracking led to our latest oil boom. We decided to start dossiers on them. Built up a file on just about everyone, including photos. Miriam Van Zandt works at a convenience store in Pecos. Word is that she’s the best marksman in the whole bunch. Not surprising that she would hire out as an assassin.”
“You still worried about them leading some kind of revolution?”
“Can’t rule out the possibility.”
“Where do they get their weapons?” Walt asked.
“Mexico. Short drive from where they are. The men are making a lot of money in the oil patch. They go across the border at night. There are some low water crossings along the Rio Grande, good for illegal immigrants, drug smuggling and gun running. The cartels have any weapon short of a tank that they want. We also suspect that there may be some bartering going on. The cartels may have some of these guys doing some of their dirty work in trade for guns.”
Jack rose and stood behind his chair to stretch his knee. “Sorry, Captain. I’ve got a bum knee that’s aching a little today.”
“Saw your cane. War injury?”
“It was. Walt and I met in Desert Storm. I got called back up by Bush, the 41st. If you suspect all of these weapons are in their compound, why don’t you just get a search warrant and raid the place?”
O’Reilly shook his head. “We don’t need another Waco or Ruby Ridge. That could set off these crazies from here to California. From all outward appearances, they are just ordinary folks who want to be left alone. We don’t even get them for traffic tickets.”
Jack drummed his fingers on the table while he thought. “Is the woman still there? We know she was wounded.”
“Since we have just now identified her, the answer is that we don’t know. I’m having hospitals within fifty miles of the interstate between here and there check for a woman showing up with a gunshot wound to the leg. Oh, and you may not have heard this, but those red spots you found in the bathroom at the motel were red hair dye. And that one spot on the carpet is blood, matches the blood on the patio at the Hale mansion and in the woods behind it. She may now be a red head. We’ll also be checking the hospitals within a hundred miles of Pecos.” He smiled. “That won’t take very long.”
“Can I make a suggestion?” Jack asked.
O’Reilly nodded.
“Can you put an officer in a private vehicle to stake out that convenience store for a few days? If she’s thinking that she got away with it and has recovered, she may have gone back to work. Once we get a warrant for her arrest, you could pick her up.”
“Agreed. We’re short of troopers out there. I’ll have to call Colonel Burnside, but I’m sure he’ll give the okay. Not often that the governor’s shot.”
Walt rose. “Thanks, Captain. Jack and I will head over to Joe Shannon’s office, bring him up to speed and get a warrant for her arrest issued. We’ll have it in our back pocket when the time comes.”
“Here, I’ve got a set of these photos for you,” O’Reilly said as he handed an envelope to Jack. “I’ll be in touch in a few days.”
25
Jack and Walt drove to the courthouse complex and dropped in, unannounced, on the District Attorney. They had to drink coffee in his reception area while he wound up a meeting. After an hour he came through the door.
“Sorry to keep you waiting. I was in the middle of a meeting with a couple of my assistants about a public corruption investigation. It ought to hit the papers any day now. Come on in.”
Joe led them back to his office where they took seats around a coffee table. Joe’s secretary appeared to take coffee requests, which were declined.
“We don’t want to take up much of your time,” Jack said. “Just want to keep you in the loop.”
Joe smiled. “I figure you must have something good or you wouldn’t be here.”
“We’ve identified the killer,” Jack said.
“Son of a bitch,” Joe said as reached over the coffee table to shake the hands of his two guests. “Tell me more.”
Walt explained the photos and handed them to Joe. The D. A. took his seat and carefully lined them up. “Damn sure is a match. I presume you’ve got a name.”
Jack took him through what they learned from O’Reilly and their current plan. Joe walked to a bookcase and pulled a directory from it. He flipped through it. “There he is. The D.A. out there covers Loving, Ward and Reeves counties, 143rd District. I’ve run across him a time or two at meetings. There’s a lot of crime in that area. They’re not on the border but close to it. The population is about eighty percent Hispanic. Cartels are running drugs east and bringing money back from their east coast runs constantly. I hear the sheriffs in those counties are always making arrests, but the D.A. rarely prosecutes. He’s a deal maker, usually for some kind of probation or deferred adjudication. Still the people out there keep re-electing him. I could give him a call about this compound if you want.”
Jack shook his head. “We’re not ready to call anyone right now. We need to let O’Reilly do his surveillance for a few days. Then, from what you say, it may be the sheriff we want to contact and leave the D.A. out of it. For now, we would just like you to get out a warrant for the arrest of Miriam Van Zandt. O’Reilly is emailing you the reports on the blood in the room and from the mansion. Y
ou figure that, along with the photos, will be enough for the warrant?”
“Plenty.” Shannon looked at his watch. “Come on. It’s about lunch time. We can just beat the crowd at Angelo’s. Best barbecue in Fort Worth and only five minutes away. Jack, I figure I owe you a lunch. I didn’t really think it through the other night when I named you special prosecutor. This is probably taking up nearly all of your time. You’re getting paid a daily rate. Not what you’re used to making, but it’s what the state allows.”
Jack rose and leaned on his cane. “I’ll take that barbecue as payment. Otherwise, remember I’m a pro bono lawyer. Donate whatever the state pays to Habitat for Humanity.”
After lunch Jack dropped Walt back at the house where Walt packed his clothes and left to spend a few days with his family. He also intended to see Colonel Burnside to give him a personal report on the status of the investigation and arrange for an appointment with Governor Lardner to update him now that he was back in Austin. Then he needed to call the Rangers and sit for the required interview for their internal investigation. He knew that the other members of the detail had done so. He was the last. He worried about questions the Ranger interrogator might ask. Still he had no choice. Maybe they would wind up after that so he could at least get his badge back. He knew he had been withdrawn around Mary and the boys. Mary tried to understand, but she tossed and turned as much as he did, worrying about what might become of them. The boys tried to avoid him when he was home since he was now prone to lashing out in anger at the least little thing. It wasn’t their fault. He needed to regain control of his emotions. Deep down, though, he knew that there was no hope of his returning to normal until at least they caught the killer and wound up the investigation. And maybe that would help get rid of the nightmares that caused him to wake in a sweat nearly every night.
26
Colonel Van Zandt knocked on Miriam’s trailer door and entered. It was dusk. He found her lying on the couch with her wounded leg propped up on several pillows, watching a re-run of CSI Miami.
“How you doing, Baby Girl?”
“This damn thing is taking longer to heal than I thought. Temperature is coming down but still around a hundred.”
“Just thought I’d tell you that a bunch of us are going to be in the back for a while. We have a shipment coming in.”
“I want to go. I’m about stir crazy in here. Hand me those crutches.”
“You sure you’re up to it?”
“I’ll probably just stay in the truck.”
“Okay. Come on. We’re going to the front gate first to let them in and then back to the landing strip.”
Miriam handed one of the crutches to her dad and used the other one along with the rail beside the steps to get to the bottom. She took the other crutch from Van Zandt and made her way through the twilight to his truck. Once they were both inside, he started the engine and drove slowly to the front of the compound. When they arrived at the gate, they had to wait. Van Zandt grew impatient after fifteen minutes.
“Damn Mexicans. They would be late for their own funeral.”
In the distance they saw headlights evolve into a black Suburban that turned into their gravel driveway. Van Zandt used a flashlight to see the combination on the lock and swung the gate open. The Suburban drove through and stopped. Once he re-locked the gate, Van Zandt walked to the driver’s side.
“Buenas noches, Senior Van Zandt.” He switched to English. “Everything is on schedule. Our plane should be here in twenty minutes.”
Van Zandt glanced inside the vehicle and saw three other men. He spit tobacco juice on the ground beside the Suburban. “Just so you’ll know, Jose. My daughter’s in the truck with me. I’ll turn around. We’ll take the perimeter road to the back.”
Jose nodded his agreement and handed a two way radio to Van Zandt.
Once in his truck, Van Zandt backed up and proceeded down the fence line to the west until he reached the boundary of the property. The road was nothing more than two ruts in the desert hardpack. At the fence he turned to the right and drove slowly to the back. As the two trucks approached the back of the property, he flashed his lights once. Eight other trucks flashed theirs back. They were parked along an eight hundred yard runway, four on each side. Van Zandt had rented a bull dozier some years back when approached by one of the cartels. His men smoothed out the desert and packed it as firmly as possible. The deal was for the use of a landing strip in return for weapons. The cartel leaders loved the arrangement. They had stockpiles of weapons large enough to take over a Central American country if they chose. This landing strip was literally in the middle of nowhere. On the other side of the fence was a thousand acres of desert, owned by someone in Houston but no one had set foot on it for twenty years. And the cartel leaders knew that The Alamo Defenders weren’t about to divulge their arrangement.
As per plan, Van Zandt drove to the west end of the runway and turned his lights on low. Jose drove his Suburban to the other end and faced it away from the runway with the rear red lights on so that the pilot would know where the runway stopped. Then all was quiet with light coming from an occasional lighter that would flame momentarily, followed by the burning end of a cigarette. And they waited under a sky filled with stars, flashing and twinkling in an area with no man-made light. The men had a contest on each of these nights. One point for a satellite sighting; two for a shooting star. The one who scored the most points was exempt from chores on the next weekend.
“Miriam, you’ve got young eyes. Tell me when you see the plane.”
“Got it, Pa. I’m just glad to be away from that damn trailer and doing something. I’m going to get out of the truck and stand a few yards away to get a better view.”
“You need any help?”
“I’m okay.” She hobbled about ten yards on her crutches and stared out into the western sky until she saw what she thought was a star moving. Satellite or airplane? She watched for a full minute and then hollered. “It’s coming, Pa.”
Van Zandt turned his lights on high and flashed them twice before returning them to low. Instantly, eight sets of headlights illuminated the runway. The plane seemed to be moving in slow motion as it approached. It was so low when it passed over her father’s truck that Miriam ducked out of reflex. The pilot was experienced. He put the wheels down in the first one hundred yards, slowed and taxied to a stop ten yards from the Suburban. He killed the engine, waited for a minute, and then climbed from the cockpit. At the same time, the four occupants of the Suburban were beside the plane. Two carried assault rifles and stood guard. The other two started removing packets of cocaine from the airplane and stacking them in the rear of the Suburban.
While they did so, Van Zandt and Miriam drove down the runway. As they passed each set of trucks, their lights went out. When they got to the end of the runway, Van Zandt killed his engine and waited until Jose signaled that he could get out. Van Zandt understood that what they were hauling was none of his business.
“Well, my friend,” Jose said, “looks like another successful operation. The weapons you ordered will be at the usual place beside the Rio Grande tomorrow night about this time. Tell your men thanks. If you’ll lead us to the gate, we’ll be on our way.”
The two vehicles moved back the opposite way on the runway. As they did so, the truck lights were again illuminated. The pilot checked his instruments briefly, hollered, “Clear,” and started the engine. The plane pivoted and he revved the engine. Before he got to the last set of headlights, he pulled back on the throttle and was airborne. His next stop would be in a small village on the other side of the river.
27
After Walt left, Jack and Colby took glasses of iced tea out back and sat in loungers beside the pool. Colby paused to put on a sweater. It was a sunshiny November day, but the temperature was in the fifties.
“I’ve got some good news,” Colby said. “I’ve only had my house listed for a few days and two buyers have met my asking price.”
; “Congratulations,” Jack said. Then he paused. “What are we going to do with all of your furniture and stuff?”
“I’ve been thinking about that. After the Dead Peasants killer torched my house, my family heirlooms were destroyed. All of the furniture is new. I don’t have any real attachment to much of it. I decorated this place and I like what I did for you. I’ll pick a few pieces that I think we can fit in here. Otherwise, we’ll donate the furnishings to your favorite charity, Habitat for Humanity.”
“Tell you what, most of my clients live in trailers or apartments with furniture that you and I wouldn’t even allow in the front door. When the time comes, let me put out the word. We’ll let each of them pick out two or three items.”
“I like that. You’ve really become attached to your clients, haven’t you?”
Jack thought a minute before replying. “I really have. I suppose they help me recognize how lucky you and I are. As I help them work through problems, I become their counselor as well as their lawyer. Some of them are like family.”
“Yeah, I pegged you almost from the first day we met. You put on that tough, trial lawyer exterior, but you’re really just a softy underneath. Now tell me about what happened today.”
Jack brought her current. “And the good news is that I have a few days while they do some surveillance out in West Texas to spend with you and take care of some of my clients. Of course, we have a game this Saturday. Another big one with Texas. Maybe we can get J.D. and his girlfriend to join us for dinner Saturday night.”
It was late afternoon with only a couple more hours of daylight. Jack drove past his RV to Ike’s corner where he parked and walked up to his client. Trousers woke from a sound sleep in the sun and bounced around at Jack’s feet.
“Afternoon, Jack,” Ike said. “Trousers, behave yourself.”
“You having a good day, Ike?”
“Not bad. How’s our lawsuit coming? Excuse me a minute.” A car had stopped and the window rolled down. The woman driving reached over the passenger seat and handed Ike a dollar. “Bless you, ma’am. And Trousers thanks you, too.” She smiled as she drove off, satisfied that she had done her good deed for the day.
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