Smoked Out (David Wolf Book 6)

by Jeff Carson

  She crawled into the tent, zipped it shut, rustled around for a second and then was still.

  The fire crackled and a shower of embers swirled. Like the questions in his mind, they burned bright, full of glowing energy, and then they were gone as more arose underneath.

  Carter Willis had been FBI, and had been following Gail Olson. That meant MacLean was somehow involved with the FBI, because it had been MacLean who took those pictures of the fake Gail and Rachette drug-drop.

  Tedescu knew Wolf was being framed. A frame job that made Wolf look like he was some sort of drug lord running some sort of cartel. Was it just Tedescu and Smith, or were there more FBI agents involved?

  Then there was the dead family in Denver. They clearly had something to do with all of this. How?

  It was futile.

  Luke was right. They had a destination, one that would hopefully explain everything. They needed more answers to a lot more questions, and that key might help.

  He shifted his thoughts to Jack, as he did at least ten times every waking hour. He thought of his son’s youthful flop of hair, and his lanky build due to his huge growth spurt that Wolf and Sarah used to marvel about behind his back. And he thought about the pain on his face yesterday.

  Wolf pulled another granola bar out of his pocket and forced it down. He found another bottle of water standing near the tent and guzzled it all. Then he unzipped the tent, took off his shoes, and crawled inside, laid on the hard ground, and stared at the tent ceiling for a couple of hours, and then finally drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter 15

  Pope’s prey had finally arrived.

  The SUV pulled into the driveway and screeched to a halt. The occupant rummaged around for a second inside and got out.

  Pope stood still, looking out the tiny sliver between the wood slat blinds.

  The man outside drove a top of the line Audi SUV, decked out with all the bells and whistles, a car that could theoretically match up with an eighteen-year veteran of the FBI who was savvy with his money, but Pope knew better.

  Pope was unaware of the agent’s GS level or the salary associated with it, but he was certain it could not pay for this house, with its one acre plot, three stories, four bedrooms, six baths, with more granite in it than on the slopes of Pike’s Peak—which was now a pink monolith in the light of the sunrise out the southern windows.

  Tack on the Lexus SUV in the three-car garage, which his jobless wife drove, all while paying for two children in private schools in Douglas County, and it was downright ridiculous. Pope had inside knowledge of this man’s extracurricular activities, but how other people failed to wonder about it was beyond him.

  The front door lock twisted and the door silently glided open.

  The agent stepped in and shut the door fast, twisting the lock, and stepped to the illuminated alarm keypad.

  Dropping his briefcase on the ground, the agent stared at the keypad in disbelief for an instant and then pulled his pistol and twirled around.

  Pope was already there. With a precise and powerful movement, he blocked the agent’s gun. The pair of muffled cracks beneath the skin told him the Radius and Ulna had broken even before the agent howled in pain.

  As the gun clattered onto the hardwood floor, Pope kicked it away and stepped back.

  The man looked up with equal parts disbelief and agony.

  “Special Agent Terrence Tedescu. Nice to finally meet you.”

  “What?” He whimpered. “Who are you?”

  “I’m the man who’s going to kill you and your entire family.”

  Tedescu rose to his knees and cradled his useless arm. “Pope?”

  Pope let the information sink in.

  “My family’s not—”

  “Not safe in Missouri, I’m afraid. We have quite a presence in the Midwest. I’m sure you’re aware of that.”

  Tedescu shook his head. “What? There’s no way.”

  “There is,” Pope said in a bored tone.

  “Please. Please don’t hurt them.”

  Pope paced and glared down at the man.

  “I’m not sure what’s going on.” Tedescu whined. “I thought everything was going fine. I thought we had a deal. It was win-win. We did everything you wanted.”

  “Win-win?” Pope knelt down and clamped the agent’s face between thumb and fingers. His leather gloves were tacky on the man’s sweaty face. “No. Ever since you assholes poked your heads into our business, it’s definitely been a win-lose situation with us on the losing end. You had to have seen this coming. This is the inevitable end.”

  He hurled the man back and his head thudded against the wall.

  “You have a choice, however.” Pope pulled his phone out of his pocket. “You can choose the finale. I’m going to call my men.” He pushed the number and listened to the ringing. “And one of two things is going to happen.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “You are either going to tell me who else you’ve told about all this, or I’m going to … hold on … Hey. It’s me. Are you in position? Okay. Hold on … this is my Midwest team leader on the line. You want to say hi?” Pope shoved the phone in Tedescu’s face.

  Tedescu closed his eyes and shook his head. Sweat slid down his cheeks onto his neck.

  “He says your two daughters are cute. Says he’d rather not go through with this.”

  Tedescu kept his eyes closed tight, refusing to make eye contact with Pope.

  Pope narrowed his eyes. “Hey. You listening to me?”

  “Just shoot me you asshole. There’s no way you’re getting my family. They’re with the FBI, I made sure of that today. You’re not getting to them. I don’t care how powerful you assholes think you are. You’re not getting them. Just shoot me. It’s me you want.”

  “Joplin.”

  Tedescu’s eyes sprang open.

  Pope shook his head. “Once again, your disrespect is mind-boggling. They’re in Joplin, Terrence. We’ve been on them for days, watching them visit your sister-in-law, at that nice countryside manor of theirs. We followed them to the airport, and then back to the house. And then we followed the FBI team as they took them to the safehouse. And now,” he held up the phone, “we’re there. In Joplin. We might have lost you all day, but believe me, we never lost your family for a moment.”

  Tedescu’s eyes clamped shut again and he sagged into the wall.

  “You’re in the middle of a well-executed plan, here, Terrence. Not some short-sighted shit show you and your partner would have concocted.”

  “Hold your position,” Pope said into the phone.

  Tedescu opened his eyes and glared at him.

  “You have a choice. Tell me who else you told about all this, or else I give the word. Did you hear about your lawyer and his family yesterday?”

  “I saw them.” Tedescu clenched his teeth. “I saw them, you sick bastard.”

  “You made me do that.” Pope pulled out his pistol and pressed it against his head. “You made me. You made me do that.” Pope’s hand shook. His whole body trembled and his breath came in short gasps as he remembered what he’d done.

  Pope stepped back. “Now tell me who else you told.”

  “About what?”

  Pope’s face went slack.

  “Nobody. I didn’t tell anyone.”

  Tedescu froze and then convulsed. And then again.

  Pope wondered if the man was having some sort of seizure.

  Then the agent smiled. “You idiot. My family’s not in Joplin. You’ll never get my family.” Tedescu laughed like a maniac, staring defiantly at Pope as he did.

  Pope shot the agent in the eye and then two more times in the side of the head as he dropped.

  He stood breathing hard, his ears ringing, the acrid smoke choking his nostrils.

  “Sir? Hey? You there?”

  Pope pressed the phone to his ear. “Yeah?”

  “What was that all about?”

  “What?”

  “I said wha
t was that all about? I thought I told you they lost the family in Joplin. Not that they were holding them in Joplin. You knew that, right, sir?”

  Pope stepped back from the encroaching pool of blood. “I know. I was bluffing.”

  “Oh.”

  Pope turned and stared out the window at the majestic fourteen thousand foot Pike’s Peak. It was really quite a view, especially in the first light of day.

  “Sir? You there?”

  “Yeah. Which house are you at?”

  “Four. I’m the only one here, I can’t leave. Unless you can get someone.”

  “And everyone else?”

  A clearing of the throat. “Chairman’s at camp two if that’s what you mean. At least as far as I know.”

  “Who’s manning three?”

  “I think it’s Pepper.”

  Pepper. The biggest screw-up in their entire organization. House two was the closest to Gunnison, but next to the bleeding corpse a few feet away, inept men like Pepper were the biggest detriment to their entire organization.

  “What do you want me to do, boss?”

  “I want you to stay put. And I want you to continue to keep your mouth shut until this is all over.”

  “Hey. You know that.”

  “What’s the news on our Rocky Points guy?”

  There was an exhale in Pope’s ear. “I hear they’re still looking.”

  His palms broke into a sweat. “Still looking? They still haven’t found him?”

  “Yeah. I guess he got away or something.”

  Pope stood frozen, letting the image of Pike’s Peak blur in his vision.

  There was a cough in his ear.

  “Okay. They’ll find him. Change is underway, my friend.”

  Pope thought he heard a swallow on the other end.

  He pressed the call end button.

  Like a master chess player, he’d already had his next move planned well in advance, but the maniacal laugh this agent had just let out got to Pope.

  He had called his bluff. He was clearly not concerned for his family anymore. How could he have such certainty up against a man like Pope?

  He pressed his map application, and then typed in Gunnison, Colorado.

  The blue line materialized, showing him a drive time of three hours and forty-three minutes. It was 6:20 a.m.. With the half-mile walk back to his car, he could be there by 9:45, give or take a quarter hour, depending on how fast he drove.

  Pocketing the phone, he steeled his thoughts and looked at the FBI agent, now laying in a lake of red.

  He was going to have to be careful. He was walking a fine line between cut and run and stay the course and become nothing short of God in his world. Pope just about punched himself in the face for even thinking cut and run.

  Today was no different from any other day in his life, looking over his shoulder for feds. As always, he would use caution.

  And this Wolf guy escaping the FBI? They would find him. They had plenty of motivation to stay the course there.

  Feeling better, Pope walked to the front door.

  Despite the setbacks, he was making progress.

  With one last glance at his watch, he unlocked the door and stepped out into the brisk fall air.

  Chapter 16

  Wolf woke to the sound of a wailing woman, which when he jumped awake morphed into the true sound of a long zipper being pulled back on the tent.

  “Morning, sunshine. Get enough sleep yesterday? By my count you’re pushing twenty hours.”

  Laying back down, he smacked the back of his head on a rock underneath the tent floor.

  He winced and cracked an eye, and then watched Luke’s shapely, mostly bare, rear-end exit the tent. Aroused for an instant, his thoughts went to Sarah and then he was hit with a lightning bolt of guilt.

  What was Sarah doing right now? Watching down on him? Sitting here in the tent with him? He suddenly had an image of her, hands on her hips, tapping her foot, wondering what the hell was taking him so long. Why hadn’t he brought her justice yet?

  Rubbing a hand through his hair, he pulled off the sleeping bag and climbed out into the humid morning air. He brushed his bare feet and pulled on his shoes one by one.

  It was bright on the tops of the trees, but shaded and cold at ground level.

  Wolf stretched his arms overhead. “Wow, this is a good spot you found here.”

  A jet of fog shot out of Luke’s mouth. “It’s as secluded as I could find. I wasn’t looking for picturesque views.”

  “No, I’m serious. You can’t see fifty yards in any direction.” He twisted and looked at the truck. “It’s perfect. There’s not even a road in.”

  “There’s a two-track over there,” she pointed east into the trees, “it leads to a pay campground, and then there’s a county road that goes south and ends up near Crested Butte. I’ve been on it a few times before.”

  Wolf looked at his watch—8:05 a.m.. “How far to Gunnison?”

  “Shouldn’t take more than an hour, hour and a half.”

  “We’re going to have to figure out how to change vehicles.”

  Luke ignored him and concentrated on lacing up her shoes. They were a black athletic style, something that went well with a pantsuit and chasing criminals in a full sprint.

  “Hey, Luke.”

  “What?”

  “Did I say thank you yesterday?”

  “Yeah. You did.” She gave a final pull on her laces and looked up with a nod. “Let’s tear down camp and haul ass.”

  They took down the tent, packed up the sleeping bags and stowed everything in the spacious back of the interior cab of the truck.

  They got in and Luke drove them out of the woods, along a loop that passed a group of deserted campsites, to a dirt county road, and turned south.

  The drive went from bumpy to smooth: starting in the deep woods on a rarely improved dirt road in mountainous terrain, then dropping down into the East River Valley just south of the Crested Butte Ski Resort mountain and connecting with Colorado state highway 135 made of dark, newly paved asphalt.

  The land was flat as a board on the bottom of the valley, with low sage-covered hills on either side.

  Behind them Crested Butte Ski Resort jutted up, reminding Wolf of a breaching submarine launching up from beneath a calm sea.

  The last time he’d been there to ski had been with Sarah, all the way back in their senior year of high school.

  It had been arctic cold with deep snow covering the rocky terrain where they held freeskiing championships every year—a competition filled with contestants who had somehow slipped through the Darwinian cracks.

  Two days they’d shacked up next to each other on the floor of her cousin’s dorm room at Western State College in Gunnison, zipping their cloth sleeping bags together and using each other to keep warm.

  “We need substantial food.”

  Wolf blinked, arriving in the present. “What do you have in mind? These groceries are pretty useless.” Wolf turned and looked at the paper bags on the rear floorboards that Valerie Patterson had left in the haste of the moment yesterday. “Flour? Yeast? Sugar? A bag of tortillas, some cheese. Waffles. You want another granola bar?”

  “No. I don’t.” Luke’s tone was razor sharp. “I need a meal. When you were asleep yesterday I had a candy bar, a granola bar, and some beef jerky I got at the gas station.”

  Wolf eyed her. “I hope you paid cash.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m hungry.”

  “I think it’s a bad idea to stop at a restaurant. Every law enforcement agency in the state is probably on the look-out for us now. It’s dumb.”

  “What’s dumb is the color of your face.”

  Wolf kept quiet, watching barbed wire fence posts fly by and the meandering Gunnison River. “Let’s get into Gunnison and see what we can find. I have twenty bucks. I hope you have more cash.”

  They rode in silence for another twenty minutes.

  Wolf zoned out watching the River. The Gunnison
was a destination river for die hard anglers. This morning they were thick, casting their fly rods amid the rising steam and bugs. If he could come out of this whole thing alive and free, he thought it would be a good idea to go camping and fishing with Jack. That is, if he could come out of this whole thing with a relationship with his son.

  They arrived at the outskirts of Gunnison and Luke slowed as they cruised down Main Street.

  “There it is, Trout Creek Storage and Moving. Kind of a little shithole.”

  Laid out in rows perpendicular to the street, the aluminum roll doors were visible for only a second and then obscured by a concrete wall, but Wolf saw that the units were low and skinny, made of sagging metal and coated with flaking paint. Mini-storage units rather than full sized, and it looked like a strong kick would peel one open.

  “There’s a restaurant.” Luke let off the brake and accelerated down the main street of town. “Up there. We’ll park here, halfway between. Walk both places. What do you think?”

  Wolf nodded. The truth was, he was ravenously hungry. He would kill for a chicken fried steak with eggs and hash browns.

  They parked and walked a block and a half along old western looking storefronts, to a floor to ceiling windowed restaurant.

  Walking inside, Wolf’s mouth watered at the sight and smell of breakfast dishes atop the tables.

  The hostess sat them at a booth in the rear underneath a mounted elk head and they ordered their meals.

  As they waited for their food they sucked down water and coffee and surveyed the room.

  Wolf followed her eyes. “No cops. No one staring at us.”

  “Speak for yourself. Those hung-over college boys over there keep looking at me.”

  Wolf took a sip of coffee and eyed the group of five college kids. All male. All nodding and whispering behind sly grins. “That’s just because they like the view.”

  “Psh.”

  They sat at a booth on the back wall, both sitting with their sides to the front entrance across the dining room.

  A group of tourists came in and sat down. “I was serious. I have twenty bucks.”

  “Don’t worry. I have money.”

  Wolf leaned back and relaxed. “Tell me about your Assistant Special Agent in Charge, Frye. He a good agent?”