“Wendy, damn you . . .”
Another voice came on. Joe recognized it as Tony Portenson, Munker’s partner.
“Call me back on a landline,” Portenson said.
Furious, Joe left Cargill with Nate in the pickup.
“Don’t leave me with
He knocked again on the trailer door and asked the Reverend Cobb if he could use his telephone.
“I see you found Spud,” Cobb said, looking over Joe’s shoulder toward the pickup.
“Yup.”
Cobb stepped aside so Joe could enter. He was still obviously wary, and gave Joe a wider berth than necessary.
“You scared me a little out there, Joe,” Cobb said, reaching again for his ear. Joe noted that the round imprint of the barrel could be seen on Cobb’s earlobe.
“I’m sorry about that,” Joe said earnestly.
Cobb shook his head, then nodded toward the window. “He tried to get the Sovereigns to shelter him, but they wouldn’t. I don’t blame them, but then I would have been rid of him.”
“That’s what they told me,” Joe said. But something didn’t fit. He thought of the porch steps he had come up when he approached the trailer that morning. They were completely untracked. How could Spud have told Cobb about what had happened? Joe had the impression that Spud had entered the church in secret. “Did Spud tell you that?”
Cobb shook his head.
“So you’re in contact with the Sovereigns. How? By telephone?”
Cobb sipped from a mug of coffee. He nodded toward a PC in a darkened corner of the trailer. The computer was on, a screen-saver undulating on its monitor. “E-mail,” Cobb said.
“With who? Wade Brockius?”
Cobb looked away. “Wade and I have corresponded for years. He’s a brilliant man and a good friend.”
“Are you the one who suggested they come to Twelve Sleep County?”
“Yes,” Cobb said. “I thought they would be safe here. Now I wish to God they had never come.”
Joe sighed. “You’re not the only one.”
Cobb handed Joe the telephone receiver and shuffled away in the direction of the computer to give Joe some privacy. Joe walked into the darkened kitchen, as far as the cord would allow him to go. He dialed the sheriff’s office.
“Portenson.”
“Joe Pickett. Can you tell me what’s going on?”
Portenson’s voice sounded tired. “All law-enforcement personnel in Twelve Sleep County are under orders to maintain radio silence.”
Joe had never heard of this happening before. “Why?”
Portenson hesitated. “The assault team left this morning in the Sno-Cats. Agent Munker was afraid the Sovereigns had scanners up there and that they would overhear the chatter and know they were coming.”
Joe felt his skin crawl. “They’ve already left?”
“They assembled at four this morning and rolled at five.”
Joe did a quick calculation. The Sno-Cats, he determined, would be at the Sovereign compound within the hour.
“Portenson, can you reach them?”
“I told you, their radios are off.”
Joe held the telephone away from his ear for a moment and looked at it. Then he jerked it back. “I’VE GOT SPUD CARGILL!” Joe shouted. “I arrested him at a church fifteen minutes ago. He’s NOT at that compound.”
“Oh, shit.”
“Oh, shit is right,” Joe said. “How can we reach them to call off the raid?
“Oh shit, oh shit,
“Hold it,” Joe said suddenly. “Why aren’t you with them?”
“I couldn’t go.”
“What do you mean.”
“I mean I fucking couldn’t make myself go!” Portenson cried. “I quit! I think this whole operation is a cluster- fuck in the making, just like Ruby Ridge and Waco. I insisted that we wait for approval from the director before moving on the compound, but the director’s overseas and won’t be back till Monday. Munker and Melinda Strickland refused to wait even three days because they’re afraid the press will be here by then!”
Joe listened silently. Rage and desperation began to fill him again.
