The man shrugged. “Stranger things have happened.”
She shook her head. “If I make that call,” she said, “I’m signing Zavalo’s death warrant.”
“Yes.”
“It’ll be as if I pulled the trigger myself.”
“Yes. In fact, he is at Mandujano’s house, right now. Alone. He’s that confident in the tightness of his security.”
She thought about it for a moment. Zavalo and his people had kidnapped her, held her prisoner, were probably going to kill her when they had no further use for her. Still, it was a hard thing to think about doing. “And what if I don’t make the call?”
“You get on the helicopter and go home,” the man said. “I told you, your participation in this is entirely voluntary.”
“Why don’t you make the call?”
“He doesn’t know me. He’s met you. Knows your voice.”
She thought some more. She thought of the girl in the other room, hovering near death because of Zavalo’s machinations. If the man behind the desk was right, there’d be more people caught in the crossfire if the war he planned went down. If he can be trusted. But looking into those arresting blue eyes, she somehow did just that.
“Okay,” she said. “Make the call. But answer me one question first.”
“If I can,” he said.
“Who or what is Iron Horse?”
He shot a look at Huston, who shrugged. “Mr. Weaver told the major. The major mentioned it to me, but in her presence. I don’t think anyone else heard him.”
The man sighed and looked back at Angela. “Iron Horse is something that doesn’t exist,” he said. “Not officially.”
“Wait, wait, don’t tell me,” she said. “It’s complicated.”
He smiled tightly. “Extremely.” He picked up the phone. “Any more questions?”
“No,” she said. “Let’s do this. And then get me out of here.”
AUGUSTE MANDUJANO stood in the cool dimness of his living room, phone to his ear, listening to a familiar voice on the other end of the line. He spoke little, responding only with an occasional “yes” or “go on” when the narrative seemed to flag. As he listened, he looked out the glass doors where Zavalo lay on his stomach by the pool. A stunning blonde wearing only a bikini bottom was rubbing lotion on his back. When the American woman on the other end of the line wound down, he said merely, “Gracias,” and cut the line. He stood looking out toward the pool. He had taken a gamble on letting the woman and her friends go. But he’d found what he hoped to find, if from an unexpected source. Now he knew the person who’d been working against him. He had no doubt now who it was that was behind the disappearance of his shipments. He’d had his suspicions about some of Zavalo’s recent absences and the new men he was gathering around him. He’d been giving his oldest friend more and more autonomy in the running of his end of the businesses, even allowing him to branch out into some new ventures of his own, with the idea that when Mandujano retired in a few years, Zavalo would step in as head of the whole operation. Perhaps Zavalo saw that as weakness. Perhaps he just didn’t want to wait.
Mandujano had always prided himself on his quickness to reach a decision and his resolve to see those decisions through immediately. This time was no exception. He strode over to the bar that dominated one corner of the room and reached beneath, coming out with a cut-down pump shotgun. He jacked a round into the chamber and walked out onto the pool terrace.
The girl saw him coming first. She blinked in confusion, her wits still addled by the pills Zavalo kept her wasted on. When the realization of what was happening finally found its way through the fog, she stood and stumbled backward. She fell over the lounge chair behind her and went sprawling. Zavalo’s head jerked up at the commotion. He looked at the girl, saw the terror in her eyes, and looked back to see death approaching. As he rose, Mandujano pulled the trigger of the shotgun. The pellets of double-ought buckshot shredded Zavalo’s chest. He fell backward, narrowly missing the now-screaming girl. Mandujano pumped a second round into the chamber and walked over to stand astride the body of the man he’d known since childhood. Zavalo was still breathing, but the air bubbled out wetly through the holes in his lungs. Mandujano aimed the gun and fired again. Blood, bone, and brains splattered out around the destroyed skull. Some of the debris landed in the pool, staining the water with streaks of red. He looked up at the girl.
She’d stopped screaming. Her eyes were wide and unseeing, he knew her mind had fled deep inside, far away from the horror that had just played out in front of her. Mandujano didn’t hesitate. She might be no part of Zavalo’s plot, but at the very least, she was a witness. He raised the gun and fired again.
From behind him, he heard the sound of running footsteps. He turned, pumping another round into the gun, and raised it. Two of his guards had come pounding up, most likely drawn by the sound of gunfire. He watched them carefully, alert to any sign they were part of the betrayal. They stopped and stared, their eyes narrowed, but they made no move to raise their weapons to him. He relaxed, let the shotgun drop to his side. “Find someone to clean this up,” he said. He looked at the blood in the water. “And tell the man to drain the pool.”
ANGELA WALKED onto the rooftop helicopter pad, with Huston following close behind. A U.S. Army Blackhawk helicopter was sitting there with the doors open. Two men were loading Esmeralda onto the chopper on a stretcher. She turned to Huston. “Thank you for helping get us out of here.”
He smiled. “It was the least we could do. By the way, we got an answer back regarding the truck that was found in the desert.”
She could feel her heart thudding inside her chest. “And?”
“None of the bodies answered the description you gave us of your husband and Mr. Keller.”
She closed her eyes, suddenly weak with relief. “Thank God,” she murmured. She opened her eyes again. “Do you have any idea where they went?”
“We have some idea, yes. And we’re following up.”
“Following up on what?”
“The men who were killed have connections to a white supremacist organization known as the Church of Elohim. Given what we’ve found, we believe that, as you suspected, they may be kidnapping people. Selling them into slavery.”
The helicopter’s engine coughed to life and began spooling up. Angela had to raise her voice to be heard over it. “Mr. Huston, if Jack Keller found the same connection you did, he’ll be going after this church.”
“He shouldn’t do that,” he shouted over the roar of the rotor blades. “These people are well armed. They’re dangerous. You’ve got to try and persuade him to stop.”
She laughed. “You’ve clearly never met Jack Keller. He won’t stop, Mr. Huston. You’ll either need to get there first or…” She’d reached the helicopter door. A young soldier in a flight suit extended a hand to help her up.
“Or what?” Huston called to her.
She turned back to him. “Or you’ll need to send in people to pick up the pieces and recover bodies.”
He nodded. “Understood. I think I might like this Keller. Vaya con Dios, Mrs. Sanchez.”
“Vaya con Dios, Doctor…what is your real name anyway?”
He winked at her, raised his right arm, and tapped the cartoon watch with his left index finger. “And my first name’s Armando,” he said.
“Thank you, Dr. Felix,” she said.
“De nada.” He stepped back. When he was clear, the whine of the helicopter engines increased to a roar and they lifted off the pad. Angela looked back to see him waving as they lifted up and away, leaving the consulate and the city behind.
WALKER WAS the first one out of the car when they arrived back at the compound. “Bring him,” he barked at his two guards. He strode off toward one of the wooden barracks as they took Oscar from the vehicle. He didn’t resist as they steered him to the building where the General had just gone. He saw the large numeral 3 painted on the outside of the building. He looked around at the other
buildings. There didn’t seem to be anyone else around.
“Come on,” one of the guards said, taking him by the shoulder. “This way to your trial.”
“I haven’t done anything wrong,” he said quietly. That earned him another slap to the back of the head from the other guard.
“Shut up and move your ass.”
He kept his head held high as he walked between them to the building. They entered a large room, empty except for the table at the other end. Walker was standing in front of the table. There was someone standing beside him.
Oscar stopped. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
“Boy,” Walker said, “go and greet your father.” Then Ruben was running toward him, arms outstretched. Oscar held out his own arms and the boy ran into them, crying. Oscar wrapped his arms around his son.
“Papa, Papa,” Ruben sobbed into his chest.
“Ruben,” Oscar whispered, the tears running down his own face. “My son.” The pictures your aunt and uncle sent didn’t do justice to how much you’ve grown. He took the boy by the shoulders and held him at arm’s length. “Let me look at you,” he said. “Dios mio, you’re a man.” But so thin. And more careworn than a boy should be. “Your brother,” he said. “Where is Edgar?”
Walker answered for him. “Working, but don’t worry. He’ll be back soon.”
“Papa,” Ruben whispered. He switched to Spanish. “This is a terrible place. These men are monsters. Please get us out of here.”
Oscar hugged his son again, felt the boy’s thin body racked with sobs as he held him tight against his breast. “I will,” he said. “I will.” Please God, show me how.
Walker spoke to the guards. “Go get the others,” he said. “Bring them here. I want them to see what happens.”
“OKAY,” KELLER said as they stood in the doorway of the garage, “you have my attention.”
The giant armored truck nearly filled the garage, leaving barely enough room on either side for a man to get past it. Keller had seen vehicles like it on television, images broadcast from far away, from a part of the world he hoped never to see again. “What the hell’s something like that doing here?”
Castle looked at the MRAP sourly. “Some government program,” he said. “With the wars winding down, I guess the Army has a lot of these they don’t need. And there’s plenty of sheriffs and police chiefs all over the country who’d just looooove to have a bigger badder truck than the guy down the road.”
“Your boss really thinks he needs something like this to serve warrants and break up fights at the high school football game?”
Castle looked at him without smiling. “I don’t know what the fuck my boss was thinking. I thought he was just trying to be the biggest bad-ass in the neighborhood. Now,” he looked at the MRAP, “I don’t know.”
“Whassup, Ray?” a voice said. They turned. A man dressed in grease-stained jeans, a shirt with the sleeves cut off, and a grimy trucker hat was standing behind them, wiping his hands on a rag.
“Hey, Junior,” Castle said. “I need to take the truck.”
Junior looked puzzled. “What for?”
Castle shrugged, smiling. “Sheriff wants to show it off to some high muckety muck from out of town.”
“I ain’t heard nothin’ about that,” Junior said.
“It’ll only be for a while,” Castle said. “We’ll bring it back.”
Junior jerked his chin at Keller. “Who’s this guy?”
“The high muckety muck,” Keller said.
“Uh-huh,” Junior said, looking Keller up and down. “I think I better call the Sheriff and check this out.”
“Okay,” Castle said. “Go ahead on. We’ll wait.” Looking back suspiciously, Junior walked past the truck toward the office in the back.
“Let’s move,” Castle said. “Get the guns out of my car.” Castle walked toward the MRAP.
“You know how to drive one of these?” Keller said.
“Yeah,” Castle said over his shoulder, “but I’d hoped I wouldn’t ever have to again.”
“I know the feeling,” Keller said.
The MRAP was pulling out of the garage, big engine chugging, as Keller grabbed the weapons they’d taken out of Castle’s vehicle—Keller’s M4, the shotgun Oscar had been carrying, and an AR-15 Castle had removed from the weapons locker at the substation. He slung the M4 on one shoulder, the AR-15 on the other, and carried the shotgun in one hand. As the armored truck passed, Keller swung up onto the broad metal running board on the passenger side and hung on with his free hand to one of the mirrors. He looked back to see Junior running out of the now-empty garage, yelling. As the truck accelerated away, he fell behind, then slowed to a walk and stopped, bending over with his hands on his knees. Castle drove the MRAP until Junior was out of sight, then stopped to let Keller climb in.
“Think Goober back there’ll call to warn them we’re coming?” Keller asked.
“Junior?” Castle said. “I don’t think he’s part of that. He ain’t much of a joiner. He’ll probably try to raise someone at the Sheriff’s department.”
“Which means they’ll be coming after us.”
“But they won’t know where we’re going. For a while, at least.”
Keller nodded. “Okay. So what’s the plan?”
Castle looked at him. “I was kinda hoping you had one.”
“Well,” Keller said, remembering Oscar’s words to him, “my usual method is kick the front door in, grab who I’m after, and haul ass.”
“Ordinarily,” Castle said, “that’s a plan I’d get behind. But on a day like today it stands a good chance of getting a lot of people killed. Including your friend. And us.”
“Yeah,” Keller said. He rubbed his hands over his face in frustration, then looked over at Castle. “You grew up around here, right?”
Castle looked unhappy, as if he knew where this was going. “Right.”
“So do you know this farm? Know anything about it from before these people moved in?”
Castle nodded. “Yeah. Me and my daddy used to hunt on that land. Or near to it.”
“So, is there a back way in?”
Castle thought. “There might be. I’m not sure. But I know who might know.”
“Who?”
“My cousin Posey. Part of that farm’s on his old home place. He used to farm it himself, till he got sick. Then he started selling off pieces of it, to get the money to live on. Some of it went to that church.”
“He know what they’re up to?”
“Don’t know. But it probably wouldn’t surprise him.” Castle took a deep breath. “Keller, if we’re going to see Posey, you need to let me do the talking. In fact, just stay in the truck.”
“Why?”
“Posey hates white people. I mean, he really hates white people. Not really sure why, except for, you know, the usual reasons.”
“The usual…” Keller said, then stopped himself. “Okay. Whatever. I’ll keep my mouth shut. But hurry.”
Castle muscled the MRAP into a tight turn down a narrow dirt road. “We’re almost there.”
CASTLE’S COUSIN Posey was the biggest man Keller had ever seen. At nearly seven feet tall, he towered over his cousin, who was not himself a small man. He was also enormously fat. Keller figured he had to weigh at least four hundred pounds. The rickety front porch where he and Castle were standing sagged under his weight. His shaved head made him look even more menacing. Through the thick glass in the truck’s windshield, Keller could see the two men talking. Posey didn’t seem happy about the conversation; he was waving his arms and there was a scowl on his broad face. From time to time, he raised a hand to point at Keller in the truck, and every time, it seemed to make him angrier. Finally, he stomped down off the porch, the whole structure shivering with his footfalls, and walked over to the passenger side of the truck where Keller waited. Castle followed.
Posey stood for a moment, fists on hips, glaring up at Keller in the seat. “Get down out th’
truck,” he said finally. His voice was incongruously high, almost feminine.
Keller hesitated. “You hear me?” the man said. “I said get out th’ truck.”
Moving slowly, like a man confronting an angry elephant that might charge, Keller climbed down. Posey glared at him, not speaking. Then he said, “You tellin’ me I sold my land to a buncha Klansmen?”
“No, sir,” Keller said. “These people are worse.”
Posey snorted. “You ever met the Klan, boy?”
“No, sir,” he said, “but these people are actually putting some of their beliefs into action. They’re keeping people as slaves.”
“Slaves?” Posey said. “That’s crazy talk. You jus’ sayin’ that to try an’ get me to help you.”
“I don’t think so, Posey,” Castle said. “They took a man out of the jail. A Mexican.”
“Colombian,” Keller corrected him automatically.
“Whatever,” Castle said. “I think they mean to kill him.”
“What was he, a drug dealer?” Posey said.
“No, sir,” Keller said, looking the larger man in the eye. “He’s a good man. A friend. He was looking for his children, and they mean to kill the children, too.”
“An’ the Sheriff was mixed up in alla this?” Posey turned to his cousin. Castle nodded. Posey grunted. “Told you you was a fool to trust that cracker.” He turned to Keller. “No offense.”
“None taken,” Keller said. “But we need to get in there. Do you know a back way in? Some way though that fence?”
Posey rubbed his chin. “I reckon I do. Creek runs from their land down onta mine. Gotta be a cut somewhere. A culvert maybe.”
“You know if it’s guarded?” Castle said.
Posey shook his head. “Don’t get down there much. Not anymore, at least.”
Keller looked at Castle. “You know where the creek is?”
“Yeah,” Castle said. He still didn’t look happy.
“You having second thoughts?” Keller said.
Devils and Dust Page 21
