“He’s persuasive,” Nate agreed.
“And he’s evil and cynical,” she spat, “because he uses our patriotism and loyalty for his own benefit. Now that I know, I question both those missions I went on. Were they to help defend our country or to settle a score or eliminate competition for Nemecek? I just don’t know.”
“So it was you who found Merle,” Nate said. It wasn’t a question.
“Yes, but I didn’t kill him. I’d already flown back to Idaho.”
“Merle was my friend.”
“And I’m sorry. I had no idea what they were going to do to him, and I was sick when I found out what happened.”
When they hit the highway, Nate turned back toward town instead of toward the mountains. It took her a second to realize what had just happened.
“Aren’t we going the wrong way?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Why? You aren’t going to get rid of me somewhere, are you?” she asked angrily.
“We need a new car,” he said, and didn’t explain any more.
As they neared the town limits, he asked, “Do you know how many are on the team besides you?”
“No,” she said. “He never told me. You know how it is. You get your assignment and maybe see or meet one or two other operatives, but no one knows the entire plan or all the players. I only knew my job, which was to seduce Gabriel and Merle and infiltrate that compound in Idaho. Nemecek said you’d be in contact with them, and when you were, I was to tip him off. I never knew he planned to use me to kill Oscar and Cohen and the rest. I didn’t have a clue. All I knew was that when you showed up, I was to alert him.”
“You didn’t?” Nate asked.
“I never got a chance,” she said. “And by that time I was having doubts about everything he told me, to be honest. I came to really like and admire Gabriel and Oscar and the rest. They weren’t antigovernment, like Nemecek had led me to believe. They were pro-American individualism. They were patriotic and honest, and they were straight shooters. I kept waiting to hear someone go on a rant about revolution or something, but it never happened. They just wanted to be left alone. I can empathize with that.”
Nate said, “You never knew where Nemecek’s headquarters was?”
“No,” she said. “I had only one assignment. I didn’t know they were going to kill everybody.”
She looked away sharply but not before he caught a glimpse of tears in her eyes. “Damn it,” she said, “I don’t want to cry. Goddammit. ”
Nate pulled into Hinderaker’s Used Cars on the south end of Main Street just a few blocks from the Burg-O- Pardner. As he entered the lot, Hinderaker-the bespectacled proprietor who had his official third-generation GM dealership dissolved when the government took over the company-emerged from a single-wide trailer that now served as his office. He shot his sleeves out so his cuffs emerged from his jacket, worked up a friendly grin, and ambled out into the drive so Nate couldn’t help but see him.
Haley stayed inside the Jeep while Nate strode through the rows of used vehicles, Hinderaker on his heels.
Nate paused at a white five-year-old SUV.
“You won’t be able to beat that deal,” Hinderaker said. “Plenty of miles but all highway miles. Are you thinking of trading in the Jeep?”
Nate fixed his icy blue eyes on Hinderaker and noted how the man took an involuntary step back.
“Maybe,” Nate said. “How’s the four-wheel drive?”
“Great!” Hinderaker said. “Probably never been used.”
Nate paused, not blinking. He knew he was making Hinderaker uncomfortable.
“Mind if I try it out?” Nate asked in a whisper.
Hinderaker started to object. No problem taking it for a test drive, he said. No problem at all. But company rules required a salesman to go along, and Hinderaker was on the lot all alone until his salesmen showed up at eight…
Nate said, “There’s my Jeep. I’ll leave it here as collateral with the keys in it. Registration and pink slip are in the glove box.”
Hinderaker sighed.
By the time Nate walked to the Tahoe, out of Hinderaker’s sight, Haley had transferred the gear and weapons from the Jeep.
As they cleared Saddlestring once again en route to Crazy Woman Creek in the Bighorns, Haley said, “White Tahoe. Got it. That’s what they all drive.”
Two miles past the Bighorn National Forest sign, Nate gritted his teeth and spoke through them.
“There’s this condition elite falcons get when all they can think about is to fly, fuck, and fight. It’s called yarak…”
30
While Joe pulled on his uniform in the darkened bedroom, he fought the growing feeling of dread that seemed to fill his empty house. It was odd being there without Marybeth and the girls, and he questioned his decision to stay, although not the reason for it. But there were so many loose threads, so many possible scenarios…
He retrieved his weapons from his gun safe-two long rifles, his shotgun, and his holster-and went back outside to brush the snow off his green Ford Game and Fish Department pickup.
He swung out onto Bighorn Road-noting several sets of tire tracks already there-and did a mental inventory of his gear. Everything he might need was locked in the equipment boxes in the bed of his truck. Or at least he hoped so.
For the hundredth time that morning, he checked his cell phone for messages from Sheridan, Nate, Brueggemann, or Chuck Coon. Nothing.
He speed-dialed Coon, and after four rings the special agent picked up. “What now, Joe?” He sounded irritated.
“Is everything under way?” Joe asked.
“Yes, sir!” Coon said with sarcasm. “I’ve left urgent instructions in my office for them to start researching this Nemecek guy and rattling cages to find him, and I myself am in my comfortable government sedan just about to leave the city limits en route to Laramie to scare your daughter’s friend.”
“Great,” Joe said. “Thank you. Will you call me the minute you can?”
“Probably,” Coon said.
“There’s something else,” Joe said, ignoring the epic sigh from Coon’s end when he said it.
“Of course there is,” Coon said.
“I got more information last night after I talked to you. Something big is about to happen up here, I think-a major break in the case. I’ll know within a couple of hours if we’ve located the bad guy. So in the meanwhile, can you get a team together and have them ready to fly up here on your chopper? We’ll need lots of firepower.”
Coon moaned and said, “At least it’s just a small favor you’re asking.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Look,” Coon said, his voice rising, “I can’t put together a request for that kind of operation without probable cause, and you haven’t given me any. I need an official request for assistance from your sheriff or police chief. You know that, Joe. I can’t just send my jackbooted federales on raids all over the state of Wyoming.”
“I didn’t say send them,” Joe said. “I asked you to get them ready.”
“We need an official request, Joe. You know how this works.”
