A Fine Balance

by Susan Johnson

  Then shoving away from the wall, he headed back to the armory to give Luis the good news.

  The hit squad was gone.

  Chapter 13

  Morrie’s blue Benz cop car screamed around the last curve of the driveway, bubble lights flashing, siren howling. Just short of the house, Morrie locked the brakes, the front end nosedived and the car bucked to a stop in a cloud of reeking rubber only feet from where Jack stood shielding Luis from disaster.

  Kicking the car door open, Morrie grabbed the door frame and heaved himself out of the driver’s seat. Nibs sprang out of the passenger side, holding a sawed-off shotgun aloft.

  “You okay?” Morrie gave Jack the once over. “I don’t see any blood.”

  “We’re good. Now that you didn’t run over us.”

  “Have some faith.”

  “I would if it would help. But thanks for showing up. They cleared out at the sound of the siren.”

  “Crap,” Nibs grumbled, resting his Russian KS-23M on his shoulder. “I wanted to use this new baby.” It was a combat shotgun that could shatter a car engine block, a prize from a raid on a cartel grow site. As was Morrie’s flashy CL65 seized in another raid--this one a big money transfer in a Wal-Mart parking lot.

  “Don’t worry, Nibs. You’ll get your chance. These guys are on a mission. They’ll be back.”

  Nibs’ expression lightened. “Ya think?”

  “I know. Except for one. His head’s pretty much gone so the dental work’s shot to hell. But we’ll get fingerprints. They carried the rest of their wounded away. Which suggests ex-military or maybe they’re just careful.” Jack drew Luis forward. “Morrie, Nibs, let me introduce Luis Mata. Luis, Sheriff Morrie and Deputy Nibs.” Jack smiled down at Luis. “Told you. Right? Told you they’d come.”

  The boy nodded, reticent under the gaze of a sheriff.

  Jack gave Luis’s shoulder a reassuring pat. “It’s okay. These guys aren’t immigration. That’s not our job. By the way--Luis was brave as hell. Couldn’t have had a better partner in a gunfight.” He caught Morrie’s eye over the boy’s head. “But his brother was a hero too. I told him I’d fill him in on the details later. Let me show you the crime scene first.”

  After finding a TV for Luis to watch that wasn’t shot to hell, Jack walked Morrie and Nibs through the house and yard. He gave them a brief overview of the assault and defense, described the hit squad, the dogs, answered questions. Just about the time they were finishing up, the meat wagon and forensic team arrived, along with Buck from Buck’s Glass who’d been warned to bring a crew and plenty of glass.

  Shortly after the labor force was fully employed, two heavy duty, black pick-up trucks drove up. Jack went out to meet them.

  “Fucking A,” Lonnie Hawk said with a low whistle. “The house looks like the ‘75 Fed raid at Pine Ridge Reservation. Major overkill. Lucky you survived.” Lonnie was Lakota, but his attitude toward punitive federal interference was the same as Sam Blue Cloud.

  Jack smiled. “The odds were stacked. No doubt.” Growing up with Sam, Jack was well acquainted with the failures of the Bureau of Indian Affairs. “I appreciate your help at such short notice.”

  “Not a problem.”

  “I see you brought all the boys.” Lonnie had come with his two sons and three grandsons. Nice quiet boys who could field strip a weapon in the dark, move through the brush without making a sound and take out the eye of a crow at a hundred yards.

  “Couldn’t keep them away.” Lonnie’s mouth twitched in a fleeting grin, his leathery skin creasing like an accordion. “We owe you.” Lonnie owned a ranch north of Rockport where he bred thoroughbreds for tax purposes, mustangs for personal satisfaction and quality weed for the luxuries in life.

  “Not really, but thanks anyway.” A year ago, Jack had warned them that they’d been targeted for one of the Feds’ high profile raids.

  “I hear Inness finally retired,” Lonnie said, as if they were on the same wave length. “I didn’t think a publicity whore like him would give up the celebrity circuit.”

  “Someone retired him.”

  Lonnie’s grey brows rose slightly. “He hit the wrong people?”

  “A state senator’s daughter. An important state senator. She said she was conducting a university-sanctioned botany experiment.”

  Lonnie laughed. “You don’t say.”

  “I don’t, but she did and more importantly, her father did. I hope Agent Inness can live on his government pension. He used to have those bales of weed fall off the truck and into his bank account pretty regularly.”

  “My heart bleeds.”

  “Yeah, mine too. One down, five hundred to go.”

  “Crap. I miss the good old days when we were left alone.”

  “You and Morrie both.” Jack shrugged. “It’s different now. The feds have ramped up their raids and they’re pissing all over everyone--not just the cartels. Speaking of cartels, the dudes who shot up the place today were probably connected. And well-armed. Just so you know.”

  “Don’t worry, Charlie brought his personal favorites.” Lonnie’s oldest son, Charlie, had been the Marine Corps shooting champ six years running.

  “There’s Ella’s collection too. Use whatever you want. I have to take off soon. Bring the young kid to my mother’s.”

  “Too bad about the brother.” Jack had briefed him on the phone. “Have any leads?”

  “Forensics might scare up something here. And I can ID the hit squad if we ever round them up. We’re also checking on diesels in the county. Carl Wilson’s sure he heard a diesel up at the dump that morning. And if you see anyone missing part of an index finger,” Jack said with a smile, “give us a call.”

  “What the hell’s that about?”

  “The victim bit off part of his assailant’s finger in the struggle and swallowed it. Doc Peterson says he’ll get fingerprints.”

  “Jesus. Give the guy credit.”

  “Right. He didn’t go quietly. So there’s a possibility we might get lucky. If we do, it’s a slam dunk, murder one. I gotta go though. The kid’s had a couple of tough days. I’ll stay in touch.”

  “Don’t worry about us. We’ll take care of things here.”

  Jack knew they would. They’d been protecting their eight hundred acres for years.

  Nibs stayed behind with the tech team while Morrie drove Jack and Luis to Jack’s car. On the drive to his mother’s, Jack gave Luis an edited account of his brother’s death, opting to leave out the fence and call it a gunfight instead. He pointed out that Jorge had drawn the danger away from the grow site and Luis, that he’d been outnumbered and even then had managed to leave behind a clue. “That’s how we found your birth certificate and passport.”

  “In Willets.” A soft affirmative, barely audible.

  The boy looked even smaller slumped low in the seat. “Did you ever go there with him?”

  “A few times.” No eye contact; Luis knew about snitches.

  “Did your brother ever talk to anyone there?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Would you recognize them again?”

  Luis finally looked up and shot Jack a disgusted look. “Whadda you think?”

  “Sorry.” A nine-year-old going on forty. So Luis knew some of his brother’s contacts. Although he doubted a therapist would like him to interrogate the boy at a time like this. Jack backed off and explained instead why they were going to Philo. “You’ll be safe at my mother’s. The vineyard crew is loyal. No stranger can step foot on the property without someone noticing. And you’ll like all the kids. I have five younger brothers and sisters. They’ll keep you busy. My mother’s pretty neat too. ” He glanced at Luis. “Any questions?”

  Luis turned, his unblinking gaze full on Jack. “Does your crew carry?”

  So much for the touchy, feelie family stuff. “Not usually, but they know how to use a gun if they have to?”

  “Why?” That Guinness Book of Records stare. “Do you grow?”

  “Uh-
uh. Just grapes. But a while ago, our foreman had some problems south of the border that followed him north.”

  “Did he take care of his problems?”

  “Yup.”

  “For sure?”

  “For sure.”

  Luis finally blinked, sat up a little straighter. “Are you gonna stay at your mom’s?”

  Was that a flicker of a smile? Probably not. But it seemed as though Luis’s safety concerns had been satisfied. “I’ll stay tonight,” Jack said. “Then check in every few days to see how you’re doing. My priority is finding the bastards who tried to kill us.”

  “How old are your brothers and sisters?”

  Pleased the boy was asking normal questions, Jack answered at some length in an effort to further put Luis at ease. He described his adopted siblings, their ages, personalities, their favorite activities, and in the middle of a litany about who liked what and why, he noticed that Luis was nodding off.

  No surprise. Two days on the run. The kid had to be exhausted.

  At Navarro Jack managed to catch a spotty cell signal and called his mother with their ETA. Then, for the remainder of the trip, he ran through a mental check list of his next day’s activities. Talk to the tech team. Hit the morgue. Have his friend Eric in LAPD run the databases for California rogue cops, their infractions and convictions. Have him check out servicemen and contractors who’d gotten into trouble with the law too. See if anyone like the big dude surfaced. The county wasn’t equipped with the necessary clearances for accessing the Department of the Army, Marines, State, outside security firms. Not that Ray couldn’t help him out; he’d tapped into the Pentagon computers more than once. But Eric owed him a few favors and he was legal. Always useful if you made it to court.

  The early stage of an investigation always reminded Jack of a board game in the abstract. You throw the dice, you move, you hit dead ends, maybe you even fall off a cliff now and then. But you watch all the players, you go for broke once in a while, stay focused and eventually you win.

  As the thought of winning triggered his collective pleasure centers, a simultaneous image of Jillian Penrose in all her ripe glory rose full-blown in his brain. He couldn’t help but smile even though it wasn’t PC to think of a woman in terms of winning. But if it turned out she was interested, if it turned out she wanted what he wanted, it would be some kind of sweet victory. No question.

  He’d give her a call tomorrow.

  Reward himself for almost being killed.

  See what happened.

  When the car slowed on the steep switch back drive up to the house, Luis came awake and looked around, slit-eyed and woozy.

  “We’re almost there,” Jack said. “You slept a little.”

  As the sprawling white farm house came into view, it was clear the entire family was waiting for them on the porch. “They’re friendly.” Jack gave Luis a reassuring glance. “Don’t worry. You okay?”

  Tight-lipped, Luis nodded.

  “You don’t have to talk to anyone if you don’t want to.” As the car came to a stop, the children poured down the steps. “I’ll come around and get you, then introduce you to everyone. It’s not a quiz. You don’t have to remember names.” Although within two minutes after introductions, his brothers and sisters were carrying Luis off in a chattering swarm. Even Luis was talking.

  Jack smiled at his mother. “I believe we’re superfluous.”

  “I’ve never met a child who doesn’t warm up to the words, video game.”

  “Do I detect your hand in this?”

  “I may have mentioned that Luis might enjoy the new Call of Duty.” She waved Jack up the porch stairs. “Are you staying long?”

  “Just tonight. I have to leave in the morning. We’re trying to track down the men who murdered Luis’s brother.”

  “He’ll be safe here.” Jack had explained the basics of the case when he called.

  “I told him that. But keep an eye out for any strange delivery men, meter readers, whatever. The boy’s still on someone’s hit list.”

  Leslie Morgan gave her eldest a gimlet-eyed look as they entered the house. “I know someone has to do these things, dear, but at times I wish you’d taken up a less dangerous profession.”

  “Me too sometimes,” Jack gently replied, knowing how his mother felt about firearms in general and him risking his life in particular. Especially after his father’s death in someone else’s civil war. “But Luis needs help, so this is a no brainer. Just keep him safe til I round up the bad guys.”

  Her brows shot up, apprehension colored her voice. “You’re not doing this alone, are you?”

  “No, of course not. It was just a figure of speech. The whole department is on the case.” What there was of it after the state’s thirty percent and growing cuts in law enforcement. “I just have some routine stuff to take care of in the morning.”

  “Don’t routine me, Jack,” she grumbled. “Why all the men in my family insist on dangerous pursuits is beyond my comprehension. And I know about Ray so don’t even try to pretend that didn’t happen. By the way, thank you and Wade for getting him out of jail.”

  “Who told you?”

  “Everyone. It’s common gossip.”

  “Sorry, Mom. We were trying to spare you.”

  She sniffed. “I’ve seen more bloodshed than you’ll ever see. I’m not going to fall apart.” She’d met her husband while on an aid mission to Bangladesh after a disastrous flood had decimated the country. She was an operating room nurse. He was a young Welsh doctor just out of school. “I’d appreciate a little more transparency if you don’t mind.”

  “It won’t happen again, Mom,” Jack lied.

  “I assume you’ll discuss this boy’s situation with Marco.”

  Jack nodded. “He considers the vineyard his own personal fiefdom to be protected twenty-four/seven. We can count on him for security.” Marco had found safe haven with them fifteen years ago after he’d exacted vengeance on some cartel scumbags who’d tried to sell his sister into prostitution. Rosa was living in Novato now, married, with three kids thanks to her brother’s and Jack’s parent’s help. Marco had settled in as the Morgan family protector. Not that they needed one, but he considered it a matter of honor.

  Just before they reached the large kitchen at the back of the house that served as the focal point of family life, Jack stopped at an open doorway. “Since Luis is busy for a while, I’m going to check in with Morrie. Let him know we made it here.” He also needed to make a few calls to some of his contacts who might be helpful.

  “Ignore the mess,” his mother said, indicating her office with a wave of her hand. “In the meantime, I’ll get supper ready. The children are always starved when they get home from school.”

  Jack’s call to Morrie was brief. They arranged to meet in the morning. Three calls later, one of his informants in the Bay area thought the big man’s description rang a bell. He promised to check it out and call back tomorrow. Next, Jack contacted a gun dealer who traded information for the price of law enforcement looking the other way. Harvey was his go-to guy when it came to black-market arms.

  After the men traded greetings, Harvey asked, “So what’d you need other than a new wife?”

  “How’s your daughter doing?” Jack smoothly returned.

  “Fuck you Morgan.”

  “Just asking.” Harvey’s daughter had green hair, painted political murals on walls and pissed off her father big time.

  “Don’t ask. I spend a goddamn fortune sending her to Berkeley. She pulls straight A’s and instead of getting a job, she paints graffiti on buildings. It’s a fucked up world.”

  “Tell me about it. As a matter of fact that’s why I called. I could use your help cleaning it up. I’m looking for a hit squad sporting born-again tattoos. A few of them wore gang-banger art but I’m mostly interested in the religious wing-nuts. A south of the Mason/Dixon line accent on one of them. I thought they may have stood out from the crowd if they came to you for supplies
.”

  “I wish. But there’s a shit-load of those tattooed bozos now. God and weapons. It’s a freaking epidemic.”

  “A big guy ran the bunch. Ex-cop maybe. He had the look. They were carrying major firepower. New stuff. That’s why I’m reaching out to you. You remember anything, or hear anything, call me. ” Harvey Hick’s business was legit in front, his dry cleaning establishment straight up. But his back door was busier than the front and a helluva lot more profitable. In the weapons business for forty years, Harvey knew everyone who counted.

  “Give me a few days. I’ll ask around. Right now, the wife is dragging me to some stupid Save the Whales Conference in Monterey. I told her, ‘Go yourself,’ but she gave me the evil eye and I like her cooking. So whaddayougonnado?”

  “You have my sympathy. Wives can be a bitch.”

  “Sorry about yours. Really. Tough luck.”

  “It would have happened sooner or later. We didn’t have all that much in common.”

  “You mean you were never home.”

  “That too,” Jack said, a smile in his voice. “Save a whale for me now.”

  Two more calls to snitches who had their ears to the wind up and down the coast, then Jack leaned back in the high tech desk chair and briefly shut his eyes. Christ, he was tired. The thought of eight hours of uninterrupted sleep was a treat. Not that he had any complaints about Liz. But she’d been in a fuck-til-you-drop mood lately. He could relate though. A marriage-on-the-rocks screwed with your head.

  Opening his eyes, he shoved himself out of the chair and followed his nose to the kitchen. Standing on the threshold, the savory aromas reminding him that he hadn’t eaten much lately, he suddenly felt like he always did in his mother’s kitchen–unafflicted. He smiled. “Smells good, Mom. Sure you have enough?” Every square inch of the table his father had made years ago from an old walnut tree that had blown down in a storm was covered with succulent fare--the abundant display enough to satisfy a score of truckers.

  “I thought we’d give Luis a choice. Children can be finicky eaters. Be a dear now, tell the children to wash up and come downstairs.”