“The cartels became much more involved. They were bolder, almost like they knew no one would do anything to stop them.” Juan said.
“Like what?”
“We started seeing more young kids by themselves. They were headed up to Los Angeles and Chicago and stuff. Young kids. Like seven, eight, and nine years old. Word was they were going into sex slavery or something and being placed with rich guys around the world.” Juan hesitated. “Except the kids didn't know that. They thought they were coming to live with some American families. It was, uh, real sick and twisted kind of stuff.”
“And yet you kept doing it.”
“At that point, I was in so deep, and if you made even one run, they would never let you out. I didn't have a choice.” He was staring holes into his shoes.
“What else was happening?” Adam asked.
“We started seeing more Arabs. They would come across dressed like Latinos. The only way you could tell them apart was that they had to pray and they wouldn’t touch pork. That kind of stuff.”
“Where would you take them?” Adam asked.
“There was a place out in the west Valley. They had some big mosque or something out there. A couple of houses were set up to receive them.” Juan was getting more and more nervous.
“How many of these Arabs would you see in an average month?” Adam asked.
“In the beginning, only a few, I guess. But then it started getting to be more. Some of the runs were about half Arab and half Latino.” Juan said.
“What about the Moon God freaks?” Adam asked.
“They started coming as ride-alongs, escorts. To ensure the Arabs got to the right place. They are some seriously bad dudes. You didn't dare talk to or even look at them. I have seen them take out knives and slit drivers’ throats while they were driving just because they looked at them. You were never allowed to look at them.”
“Why did they trust you?” Adam asked.
“I had done enough runs with them by then that they knew I would keep my mouth shut and my head down, I guess.” Juan said.
“So, you were in demand?” Adam stated.
“A lot of these drivers, they are just kids, man. Sixteen, seventeen. Someone recruits them and promises them big money and dope. They have no idea what they are getting into.”
“So they paid a premium for experienced guys like you?” Adam asked.
“I suppose. In the end, all I was running was Arabs.” Juan said nervously.
“For how long?”
“I'd say the last year. Maybe year and a half. They paid me pretty good for staying out of their business.”
“How good?” Adam asked.
“About five grand.”
“Per ride?”
“Yeah.”
“Where was the money coming from?”
“I'm not sure. I always assumed it was from the cartels,” Juan said.
“Anywhere else?”
“Not really. Except there were always rumors that the government might have had something to do with it,” he said, twitching nervously.
“The government? What do you mean?” Adam asked.
“Sometimes they had to wait to do the run until the money showed up from the United States.”
“So, the money was coming from up here, not from Mexico?” Adam asked incredulously.
“Uh… right. They would drive up in Border Patrol vehicles and pay us with a bag of cash.” He was starting to squirm in his chair.
“You are saying the US Federal Government was paying you for hauling Arab terrorists and Moon God freaks into the state?” Adam’s head was spinning at the possibilities.
“I had to assume so. Why else would they be using BP trucks and bringing the money down to us?”
George jumped up, looking ready for a fight. “Holy shit, Adam! I knew it! These sons-a-bitches are actively hauling those freaks in here!”
Brunell put his hand up and frowned at George. “Juan, did anyone ever say what the purpose was?”
“I kept my eyes and ears closed. I’ve got two young kids of my own, man. I didn't want to end up dead out in the desert too.”
“You never heard anything? Rumors or anything?” Adam asked.
“Maybe a little here and there.” He paused for a second. “Can we stop now? I'm really hungry.”
George practically flew across the table and grabbed him by the neck, and started smashing his fist into his face.
“You little son of a bitch! I'll make it so you'll never eat again! And if you do, it will be through a straw! How dare you make money off hauling little kids to their death and bringing all these damn terrorists in here!”
Then he grabbed his head and started bashing it down on the table. He was out of his mind, screaming and smashing his head over and over.
Brunell jumped up and grabbed him, pulling him off. “He's all we have for now! Stop!”
He pulled him back and held him with his arms pinned back.
George was out of his mind; his face was bright red and he was spitting profusely. “I'll make you sure you join your other traitorous buddy in hell! You son of a bitch! You’ll never live to see another day!”
Brunell kept pulling him backward and hauled him into the bedroom. He threw him on the bed and got right up in his face.
“Listen to me! He is our only lead. You have got to get a hold of yourself. Do not muck this thing up or I’ll leave and take him with me. Do you understand me?” Adam hissed in a quiet rage. “Now calm down or I will lock you in here!”
George was still seething.
“Relax, George, relax. Come on. Come on now.”
George finally started to breathe normally. “I'm sorry. I, uh, lost my mind there.”
“It's OK, George. I want to do the same. But you have got to pull yourself together. If we don't get as much out of this dude as fast as possible, we all could lose everything. Now, listen to me. I'll let you stay on one condition only.”
“What's that?” George asked.
“You sit stone silent over on the couch. If I have to, I'll get you some ear buds and you can listen to talk radio or something. But you must let me get as much as I can out of this dude. Got it?” Adam threatened.
“Sure. I'm sorry. I just lost control. All these years of watching these bastards ruin this great country, the buddies I lost in Nam, Lucy, I lost others in the Bureau, my hopes for Linz and Liza, I guess it all came pouring out of me. I’m having a really hard time hearing this.”
“We all feel the same. And I personally thank you for all you have done for this country, but there is a way to go about things. I'm going back in there and resume. Just stay out of the way and do not say a word. Got it?”
“Yes. I get it. I’ll be better. Lips and fists sealed,” George agreed reluctantly.
“OK. I'm going back in.”
Adam walked back in and gave Juan a towel. He was sitting shaking his head side to side. He reached up and pulled a bloody tooth out his mouth.
There was blood all over the table, and it was pouring out of his mouth and nose. Adam wiped up the table then grabbed a can of soup from the cupboard. He poured it into a bowl and put it in the microwave.
“Juan, I'm sorry things got out of hand. Emotions are running pretty hot right now, and we don't have a lot of time. I am going to give you something to eat, and then we are going to start over. You need to cooperate 100%, or you are never going to see Julia and the kids again,” Adam threatened. “And before you meet your fate, I'll turn George loose on you too. It's taking everything I have to hold him off. You do not want to mess with that dude. He has skills you don't want to know about. Got it?”
Juan nodded, wiping the blood still leaking down his face. It was slowing to a trickle now.
Adam went back and brought him the soup.
They sat in silence as the mule sipped the hot soup gingerly through his wounds.
When he was finished, Brunell pulled up a chair, and George silently walked out and sat down on the c
ouch.
“OK. Let’s continue.”
33
Back in Payson, they were all sitting around the huge table eating lunch. Sam and Tom were talking about a Bible study they had both taken from some Christian author. Conversation stopped when they heard the chopper’s thumping, and the kids raced out onto the deck to watch it land.
Brad brought it around and landed on the helipad and powered it down.
The kids both ran down the path to meet him, and when they came back, they ran over to Sam and said, “Mom! Brad said we can maybe go up for a ride today!”
“That's great, honey. It's so nice of Mr. Bartholomew to do that for you.” Sam said.
“It's the least I can do for these guys after all they've been through,” Brad offered.
“Any luck on finding the goon?” Jackson asked.
“Nothing. I scanned the entire area. No trace. Almost like he had a getaway planned. There was one thing that I noticed, though; that semi that was parked down the road earlier was gone. We should have gotten plate ID when it was there.”
“Damn, that's right. I wonder what they were doing with both the truck and the semi?” asked Tom.
“Maybe it's time to find out what his freak brother in the bunker knows.” Brad went into the kitchen and made a plain sausage sandwich, put it on a paper plate, and walked down the hall to the elevator.
Jackson noticed the scared faces of his family when they were talking about the goon. He gathered them together and hugged them. “Don't worry, guys. He’s in a very secure place and won't be able to get out. Tom and Brad wouldn't let that happen.”
They all nodded reluctantly.
Tom, keen to change subjects, asked, “Who wants some ice cream?” They all raised their hands.
34
Brad went down in the elevator to the jail and opened the main door. When he got to the goon’s cell, he bent down and opened a small slot at the bottom of the door and slid the plate in.
“Here you go, Tough Guy. Eat up. I'll be back in a while to chat.” He heard the goon grumble and rustle around, and he slammed the slot shut and left.
Upstairs, Sam and the kids had gone outside and were messing around up on the top deck. It was a spectacular early fall day and the sun was warm, but the air was cool.
“Remember what we always called days like this, Jim?” Sam asked.
“Cotton Candy,” they both said in unison.
“That was interesting,” thought Jackson. He liked it.
The fresh mountain air and pines were simply intoxicating. Tom was sitting with his foot raised up on a stool in the dining area. Sam had wrapped it and had gotten him an ice bag he was resting his foot on.
“How's the ankle doing Tom?” asked Jackson.
“Pretty good. I'll live. Had worse injuries, that's for sure. A little Advil and some Bartholomew home brew should make it tolerable.”
“Listen, there are some things I need to tell you. I don't really want to get into things with Sam and the kids around. I was thinking of taking them over to a safe house; I’ll need to talk to my partners first, but I think they will be OK with it. Do you have any major plans for the next few days?” Jackson asked.
“Not really. We're just getting stuff ready for the first wave of vets coming down. Most of it is already done.” Tom said.
“Then allow me to make a call.” Jackson walked down the hall into one of the bedroom suites and called George.
“Hello?” He answered on the first ring.
“George it's me. How's everything going down there?” Jackson asked.
“Well, the mule is singing like a bird, and the little shit is in a lot deeper than he let on. I've been put in the timeout chair. So pretty good or bad, depending on your circumstances.”
“What's he been saying?” Jackson asked.
“It ain't pretty. I'll tell you that. There is some big crap coming, like we thought. Only think worse.”
“Let me talk to Brunell,” Jackson said.
“Hold on.”
“Jackson, what is happening up there?” Adam said.
“Everyone's fine. We went and got them. I'll tell you more later. What have you found out?” Jackson asked.
“Pretty much what we thought, only in more detail. He is quite the fount of information. He has a long history with these freaks, and there are major plans to attack Chase Field. Possibly a large bomb next week, on national TV for maximum terror during a game of the World Series.”
“Then we were right.” Jackson rubbed his eyes.
“It gets better. They are planning something else too. He was either zipped up on that, or really doesn’t know.” Adam said.
“Rat bastards.” Jackson muttered. “What could be worse than blowing up downtown Phoenix?”
“He doesn't know detailed specifics, but he learned enough Arabic hauling the haji’s in here that he picked those two things up. He says he was going to take his wife and kids back to Mexico early next week and pretend they were going to visit family so they could get out before everything hit the fan. I have my doubts if they were included in his plan.
“His misfortune might have turned into our blessing. Also, the Feds are definitely involved. They have been helping ship these guys in here for a couple years. I am not kidding.” Adam said.
“You were right. The question is…Why?” Jackson was pacing the floor.
“Your guess is as good as mine. The only thing I can figure is that there are so many terrorists infiltrated in DC these days, and they are coddled by both sides, so they are either unaware, or are actively helping it happen.” Adam offered. “We both know the general hatred the current occupant, and many in Congress have distaste for the country as a whole. Why is it a stretch to think they would be helping facilitate the destruction of our own country? If you think about it, it really makes sense. Sick as it is.”
“The enemy is within.” Jackson said.
“Yep. I'm sure the regular joes on the ground level aren't down with this, but middle and upper management are calling all the shots. The grunts are merely pawns.”
“Listen, I have a couple guys up here that helped get Sam and the kids. They are straight up - serious law enforcement types with skills and gear. Lots of gear. I want to read them in on things. They have resources we don't. We’re a team, which is why I’m asking. What do you think?” Jackson asked.
“You sure they’re clean? I don’t know about that. I am having a hard time trusting anyone right now.” Adam said.
“Better than clean. These guys are truly in a class of their own. You'll see.” Jackson reassured him.
“If you’re absolutely sure and they're good by you, then they're good by all of us.” Adam said.
“That's what I thought. Let me bring them up to speed. We'll probably need to use some enhanced tactics to get the goon up here to talk as well.” Jackson said.
“You have them?”
“We have one. The other one got away in a semi, we think. This place is hidden about a mile from nowhere, so I'm not too concerned with him coming back to get his asshole brother. If he does, he'll meet with some resistance. But that's another reason I need to get Sam and the kids out of here. Tell George to call Lindsay and get me the address. I'll leave them over there until we figure out what do next.”
“Where are you keeping him?” Adam asked.
“If I told you, you would never believe me. Let's just say it puts Maricopa Lockup to shame.”
“No shit?”
“No shit.”
“I would find out everything you can from him. We’re pretty done with mule boy here. Speaking of him, can we bring him up there and put him in the slammer too? He's not the little innocent know-nothing he pretends to be.” Adam’s voice betrayed his disgust..
“Let me ask. But it might work fine.” Jackson said. “Call me back with the details to her place. I'll take them over there and come back to fill these guys in. Then we'll go to work on him.” Jackson said.
�
��What about the kid? He almost got popped when he went down to the Circle K for some grub. They are on him like stink on feces.”
“We need to get him out of there. I think I still have the keys for that Audi in my jacket, so that’s out. How we going to go get him?” Jackson asked.
“Maybe send George down to pick him up?” Adam suggested.
“OK, send him down. Then you all can hightail it up here, and we can put everything together.”
“Sounds like a plan. Hang on, let me get the address.” Adam said.
35
Brunell called the kid and told him to gather everything up because George was coming down to pick him up.
“Dude, how long is this going to keep going? People are going to be looking for me,” the kid whined.
“It sounds like they are looking for you already. Either way, you’re screwed, Ryan. I'm sorry to tell you this, but your old life is probably not coming back any time soon.” Adam wasn’t sure how to break it to him any more gently.
“So where are we going?” he asked.
“Up north to high country. That's all I know.”
“Up north? There's nothing but snakes and rednecks up there! I hear all the lights turn out at sunset. What's the deal?”
“From what I hear, you might like it. Keep an open mind,” Adam said.
“Doubt that. When's he coming?” Ryan sounded impatient and snotty.
“We’re sending him now. Get ready. He'll be there in about forty-five minutes.” Adam said.
George put on the camo gear and grabbed another set for Ryan. He went out in the garage and fired up the old VW bug that Lindsay still had; it had been her very first car. She’d named it Miss Rhonda. It was a baby blue, 1973 Beetle that she vowed she would never get rid of. The old thing would barely go sixty-five, but they had to make do at this point.
36
Jackson called his family over.
“Guys, I need to talk to Tom and Brad about some things. We may be a little busy for a while, so I want to take you over to a friend's daughter's place. I hate to ask you to do this, but we have to do a few more things, and I can't take you back home yet. She has a cabin up here, and they have some kids over there too.”
Black Flag Rising: A James Jackson Thriller Page 17
