Free Fire

The four of them were momentarily entranced by him. Joe was too. McCann had decided to take this in another direction.

“That bastard,” Portenson whispered. “He’s out of control.”

In the lobby, whorls of fire roiling behind him, McCann said, “If we’re going to get all of this behind us and make a lot of money, which is all I’ve ever cared about and the only reason I associated with dolts like you, I need you idiots to shut up, quit having meetings, and listen to me. We’re going to do things differently,which means smarter. For once.”

He paused to let his words sink in. Joe tried to read the four men both through the glass and on the monitor. Langston looked angry, defensive, struggling with his first impulse to pull rank and ream someone out. Barron tried mightily to distance himself from Langston without physically moving, and appearedready to concede. Ward stared at the floor, confused and resigned to the bad choice he’d made. Layborn sneered at Mc-Cann’s words.

“He’s fucking us,” Portenson moaned.

“Hold on,” Joe said, “I think he knows where he’s going.”

Clay McCann said, “No more accidents like Mark Cutler.”

“We had no choice,” Langston said. “He was about to-”

“No more ambushes of park rangers like Judy Demming.”

“That wasn’t planned,” Langston said, stammering. “It just happened.”

“Okay,” Portenson whispered inside, clearly relieved. “We’re back on track. He just got the bastards to incriminate themselves.”

McCann changed the subject. “When we agreed that I would take care of Hoening and the Gopher State Five, you agreed to pay me for it. I did my part. You didn’t do yours.”

Barron said, “The SEC-”

“Fuck the SEC,” McCann said. “My deal was with you.”

“We can still pay,” Barron said. “If we can get things back on track like you say. If we can make an announcement to attract investors-”

McCann exploded: “That’s what you should have done months ago!”

Layborn said to Barron, “Why are you letting this asshole dictate to us? Can’t you see what he’s doing?”

Ward looked terrified, Joe thought. He almost felt sorry for him.

“So,” McCann said, “I’ll ask you one more time. Did you bring me my money?”

Silence. Ward looked as if he was about to break down. Joe saw Langston make eye contact with Layborn, giving him a prearranged signal.

“Even better,” Layborn said, unleashed, narrowing the distancebetween him and McCann. “I brought you this,” and before Joe could react, he raised his weapon and fired twice, pop-pop, the gunfire splitting the silence. The impact of the bullets sent McCann toppling straight over backward in his rocking chair.

“Jesus!” Ashby shouted, scrambling.

Suddenly, Layborn swung his pistol toward Bob Olig, saying,“And you-”

Through the radio, McIlvaine barked, “Pull!”

And Layborn’s head exploded from automatic gunfire. His headless body stayed erect for a second before crumpling to the floor.

“Freeze!” McIlvaine shouted from the dark. “All three of you, down on the ground, hands behind your heads, now!”

Ashby threw open the gift-shop door. Joe, Nate, and Portensonran out behind him. Joe felt adrenaline shoot through him like electric currents as he scrambled, the afterimage of Layborn’s death seared into his vision.

Everything was happening at once: agents were thundering down the stairs in their heavy boots; Olig was screaming and cursing from where he was now hiding behind the fireplace; Langston, Ward, and Barron were dropping to their knees and flopping onto their bellies as ordered.

Within half a minute all three were cuffed and searched. Only Langston had a weapon. Barron was pleading, saying he had no part in anything, was an innocent businessman. Langston hissed at him to shut up, but Barron was already offeringto testify in exchange for a lighter sentence.

Ward was in apparent shock, staring at a river of Layborn’s blood as it snaked across the floor toward him.

As Joe walked toward the still-living triumvirate of EnerDyne,he saw something white and blood-flecked rolling slowly across the hardwood floor and reached down and snagged it as if spearing a lazy grounder at shortstop. Layborn’s glass eye looked at him accusingly from his palm. He remembered what Demming had said and rotated the eye. Yup. The National Park Service logo was on the other side.

Joe’s heart was still beating hard when the agent from the gift shop came out beaming, said to Portenson, “We got it all on tape. It’s perfect.”

“Then shut the system down,” McIlvaine said, with a menacingsmile.

By then, McCann had been helped to his feet and was standingthere gasping for air. Despite the Kevlar vest under his parka, the impact of the bullets had punched the breath out of him, and he wheezed raggedly. Olig had stripped off his vest and thrown it across the room as if wearing it another second insulted him somehow. He was furious, he said, about how close he’d come to death, how long the agents had waited.

Joe squatted next to Chuck Ward. Ward still had the distant, almost animal look of shock on his face. Joe had seen many game animals in the back of pickups with the same look.

“How could you do this?” Joe asked. “How could you betray the governor like this? Worse, how could you betray Wyoming?”

Ward studied the hardwood floor inches away, tears forming in his eyes.

Joe repeated his question, and this time it got through. He absentmindedly worked Layborn’s glass eye in his hand like a big prayer bead.

“He knows everything, Joe,” Ward said.

“Who?”

“The governor. Our boss. Nothing gets by him when it comes to revenue.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Then don’t. You’re so naive.”

“You’re lying.”

Ward turned away with a bitter smile. He was lying, Joe thought as he stood up. Of course he was lying. Of course he was lying.

Portenson skipped over and gave Joe a bear hug, almost lifting him off the ground. “It was perfect,” Portenson said. “Your plan, it was perfect! Even better, it’s federal prosecutor-proof! This is the biggest arrest we’ve ever made in our office, and I was in charge! I’m going to get the hell out of this fucking state afterall.”

He kissed Joe sloppily on the cheek, and Joe looked away.

“I’m next,” McIlvaine said, stepping up after Portenson let go. He wrapped his arms around Joe and clamped hard, nearly squeezing Joe’s breath out.

“Okay, okay,” Joe grunted.

But McIlvaine didn’t let go. Instead, he squeezed harder. Suddenly, what was about to come next hit Joe like a hammer. The realization was worse than McIlvaine’s grip.

“Get his weapon,” McIlvaine ordered one of his men, who plucked the Glock out of Joe’s holster.

Across the room, before Joe could shout out a warning, two agents clubbed Nate to the ground with their rifle butts. They took his.454 and cuffed him behind his back, shouting at him to “stay the fuck down.”

Joe tried to get loose, arching his back in a wild jerk, attemptingto take McIlvaine to the ground with him, but the FBI commander was too strong. After Nate was bound with an agent on top of him and a gun jammed into his temple, McIlvaine pressed his mouth to Joe’s ear.

“I’ll let you go now, but don’t try to save your friend. There are way too many of us, and you saw what happened to Layborn.”

When McIlvaine released him, Joe staggered away, sucking in racking breaths. He saw Portenson staring at him, shaking his head sadly.