“What can you do there?” Rose asked.
Cork had no good answer. But Rose nodded and said, “I understand.”
Even with the moon already high in the sky, the night seemed dark. Cork followed the highway around the southern end of Iron Lake, then headed north along the eastern shore. He turned onto the drive to Grace Cove and saw a line of headlights racing toward him from Lindstrom’s place. As he pulled to the side of the road, two dark green Luminas he knew to be FBI vehicles sped past, followed by the Bonneville that belonged to the BCA. Bringing up the rear was Wally Schanno in his Land Cruiser. Schanno’s vehicle skidded to a stop beside Cork’s Bronco. Schanno rolled his window down, and he hollered, “Get in! Things are happening!”
Cork wasted no time complying, and the sheriff’s Land Cruiser shot off, following the others, who were headed north toward the reservation.
“What’s going on?” Cork asked, buckling in.
“The agents that had the Hamilton woman and her son under surveillance reported a visitor about an hour ago. Didn’t get an ID. A few minutes later, their van peels out of the park on the rez and heads to Isaiah Broom’s place. FBI’s had Broom under surveillance, too. Hamilton, her boy, and their visitor all go inside. Five minutes later, Broom rushes out and him and the Hamilton kid load the back of Broom’s pickup truck with what appears to be crates of dynamite. Then they hook up a trailer carrying a Bobcat, and they all head off again, this time to George LeDuc’s place. That’s where they are now.”
“Dynamite,” Cork said. “Are they sure?”
“They seem to be.”
Schanno’s radio crackled. “Come in, Miss Muffet, do you read me? Over.”
Cork heard a voice he recognized as Agent Kay reply, “Loud and clear. What’s shaking?”
“They’re on the move again, headed your way. LeDuc’s not with them. He’s just standing by his pickup. He seems to be waiting.”
“Cordell’s team stays with LeDuc. You follow the others. “
“Ten-four.”
Kay’s voice again: “Earl, Schanno, did you copy that?”
Earl said he did. Schanno spoke into his mike, “We stay on this road and we’ll run into ‘em headlong in a few minutes. We need to disappear. Over.”
Kay was silent on her end of the conversation. Cork said, “Have them pull off at the old landing. It’s just ahead. The aspen will hide the cars.”
Schanno relayed Cork’s suggestion.
“That’s a ten-four,” Kay said.
They entered the turnaround at the landing, the same access that might have been used to take Jo and Stevie and the others off the lake after the kidnapping. An evidence team had got a tire imprint that indicated someone had been there recently, at any rate. They maneuvered until they were positioned to head quickly back onto the county highway, and they killed their vehicle lights.
“Dynamite and George LeDuc,” Cork said. “This isn’t adding up, Wally.”
“Take it easy, Cork. Let’s just see what develops.”
In less than five minutes, Broom’s pickup zoomed past, flying way over the speed limit. The dusty green van with its faded evergreen tree on the side was right behind it.
“Let’s give them plenty of room,” Kay said. Half a minute later, the FBI cars pulled out. Earl and Schanno followed.
Cork said, “The road’s always deserted this time of night. A caravan like this one they’re going to spot for sure no matter how far back we stay.”
“Not my call, Cork,” Schanno replied.
Cork could see the red taillights of the van and pickup less than half a mile ahead. The distance began very suddenly to increase.
“They’ve made us,” Kay said over the radio. “Hit your lights and make some noise. We’re going to bring them down.”
“This is Captain Lucky Knudsen. I’ve got a couple of cruisers ready to move into a barricade position on your command, Miss Muffet. Over.”
“Do it, Captain.”
“Ten-four.”
From the radio came yet another voice Cork didn’t recognize. “Miss Muffet, this is Cordell.”
“What is it, Cordell?”
“LeDuc’s been joined by half a dozen men. They’ve piled into the back of his pickup and they’re on their way, heading straight for you.”
“Stay with them. We’ll be ready on this end. Over and out.”
A few minutes later, Cork saw the red-and-white blink far down the shoreline where the state patrol had established a position. Ahead, the van and the pickup slowed, then pulled to a stop a hundred yards shy of the barricade. The cars in pursuit closed in swiftly from behind and parked in a spread so that the two suspect vehicles were fully illuminated in the glare of eight headlights. The doors of the Luminas sprang open, and federal agents, weapons drawn, took up covering positions.
Special Agent Margaret Kay shouted, “This is the FBI. Exit your vehicles with your hands raised.”
After a moment’s pause, the door of Broom’s pickup swung open, and the big Indian emerged with his hands high and a sour look on his face. The driver’s door of the van also opened, and what appeared to be a rifle barrel jutted out.
“Drop your weapon,” Kay ordered.
“It’s not a weapon, you imbecile,” Joan Hamilton yelled. “It’s my cane.” She eased herself out and stood on the asphalt, leaning on her cane, her free hand lifted high.
Another figure slid carefully out of the van after her, his old hands raised toward the sky.
“Henry?” Cork uttered, dumbfounded to see Meloux there.
“Turn around and place your hands on your vehicles,” Kay commanded. “And keep them there.” When they’d complied, she called out sternly, “Brett Hamilton, step out of the van now.”
No one came forth.
“Tell your son to come out, Ms. Hamilton. We don’t want anyone hurt.”
“He’s not with us.”
“We know he is.”
“What you people know wouldn’t fill a thimble.”
Kay waved her agents forward. Two men approached the back of the van, weapons readied. When they popped open the rear doors, it was clear that Brett Hamilton was not, in fact, present.
Kay said, “Gooden, you and Stewart take Broom.”
The two agents moved to Isaiah Broom, who leaned with his hands on the cab of his pickup truck. They patted him down, then began to question him. Kay and the other agents walked to Joan Hamilton and Henry Meloux, Cork and Schanno following like shadows.
“Frisk them,” Kay ordered.
Cork stepped forward. “Henry-”
“Sir, step back,” an agent named Hauser instructed him.
“This man’s no criminal, for Christ’s sake.”
“Sir, I won’t ask you again.”
Schanno put a restraining hand on Cork’s arm. “Let them do their job.”
“What’s this all about?” Joan Hamilton asked.
“You were attempting to elude officers of the law.”
“We didn’t see you.”
“You can argue that in court. Where’s your son?”
“I told you, he’s not with us.”
“My people saw him.” Kay gestured to one of her men. “Brian, take Sweeney and Jensen and sweep the trees and brush along the roadside. He can’t have gone far. And be careful.”
“He’s not armed,” the Hamilton woman said, her voice betraying her concern.
