Free Fire Part 34

"He was," Joe said.

"Does the governor know?"

Joe started to say, I'm sure he doesn't I'm sure he doesn't but his world was turninginside out. Given the implications of free fire, he was sure of nothing. but his world was turninginside out. Given the implications of free fire, he was sure of nothing.

Instead, he said, "I have no idea what the governor knows."

"Get out of there," Demming said. "Get out now."

Joe mumbled that he understood her, told her to call the Billings PD right away, said he'd come see her as soon as he could.

"Meaning what?" she asked.

"Meaning I've got to go."

Joe did four long circuits around the outside of Mammoth Hotel in the dark, rubbing his face, running scenarios through his head, stopping once to throw up. He had a headache from lack of sleep and too much thinking and his mouth tasted of stale smoke and regurgitated dinner. As he walked, it got darker and colder. Storm clouds rolled across the black sky, extinguis.h.i.+ngthe moon and stars, covering Yellowstone Park like a lid on a boiling cauldron.

Winter had arrived.

On his fifth circuit, hard little pellets of snow strafed the ground, hitting so hard on the pavement they bounced. In the darkness, it looked like the road was awash with waves. He thought he felt tremors through his boot soles, and concluded that he probably did.

He stopped in front of the PaG.o.da. A single light was on from within a cell on the second floor. Clay McCann was awake.

"McCann!" Joe shouted.

After a few moments with no reaction, he shouted again.

The shadow of a face appeared at the window. Joe recognizedthe lawyer's profile. The thick window was frosted so McCann couldn't see who had called his name outside.

"I've got you now," Joe called, "you son of a b.i.t.c.h!"

Back in the Mammoth Hotel lobby, Joe dug a worn and faded business card out of his wallet that he'd kept with him for three years. On the back, handwritten, was a number. He dialed, let it ring eight times before it was answered.

"What?" Tony Portenson said, groggy.

"It's Joe Pickett."

Joe heard a clunk as the receiver was dropped on the floor, then picked up. "It's f.u.c.king three-thirty in the morning," the FBI agent growled. "How'd you get my home number?"

"You gave it to me," Joe said. "Remember?"

"I remember nothing. It's too early. Can't this wait?"

"No, it can't."

"Jesus Christ. What?" What?"

Joe could hear a woman's voice ask, "Who is it, honey?"

Portenson said, "A f.u.c.king lunatic."

"Quit cursing," his wife said.

"Yes, quit cursing and listen," Joe said. "I've got a conspiracyfor you that's so big you'll be famous for blowing it open. It's so big, you'll be able to name anywhere in the country you want to be transferred to."

"Okay," Portenson said. "I'm awake now."

"Before I tell you anything more, you've got to agree to a deal."

"I can't do that."

"Then hang up and I'll call someone else," Joe said. He had no idea who else he would call.

"What?" Portenson said sarcastically. "I can't agree with anything if I don't know the terms."

"Fair enough. Here's the deal. I can deliver the biggest arrest you've ever made in your career by far. We're talking national, international headlines. It'll shake the foundation of both federaland state government, but don't worry; it's no one you like. It'll affect national energy policy, and you'll probably receive a medal from the president. Oh, and it will completely break the Clay McCann case."

After a few beats, Portenson said, "Jesus. What do you want from me?"

"You've got to get a team together and get up here by tonight.It needs to be in complete secrecy. You can't notify anyoneor you'll blow the collar. And when the arrest is made, you have to look the other way when it comes to one individual involvedon our side."

"One individual?" Portenson said.

"Yes."

"Oh f.u.c.k, you mean Nate Romanowski, don't you?"

"Yes."

"I knew knew he was there." he was there."

"He helped figure this thing out. He saved our lives in the Zone of Death. Besides," Joe said, "he's a friend of the family."

"He killed killed two men!" Portenson yelled. "A sheriff and a federalagent!" two men!" Portenson yelled. "A sheriff and a federalagent!"

"Allegedly," Joe said.

"Allegedly my a.s.s."

"Do we have a deal or don't we?"

Portenson moaned and cursed.

"Well?"

"We have a deal."

As joe walked back to his cabin in the snow at four in the morning, he thought, Another night without sleep Another night without sleep.

In his stupor of sleeplessness and putting together the fledglingplan for the coming night, he didn't pay any attention to the work crew and pickup parked next to the first cabin in the complex.But he smelled the strong rotten-egg smell of gas and could hear a powerful hissing sound from inside.

The front door flew open and a man staggered outside, ran a few feet, and crouched with his hands on his knees, breathing deeply. Another man in a hard hat appeared from around the side of the cabin, yelling, "Get me a wrench!"

Joe stopped, trying to figure out what was going on.

The first man finally stood after filling himself with several lungfuls of fresh air.

"Are you okay?" Joe asked.

"I'll be fine in a minute," the man said, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. "There's a gas leak inside there, and I got a big breath of it."

The second man s.n.a.t.c.hed a toolbox from their pickup and carried it to the back of the cabin.

"I don't know if I can fix this," the second man shouted. "It's like somebody broke the f.u.c.king valve off. We'll need to turn the whole system off before somebody lights a match and blows us all to h.e.l.l."

The first man shook his head. "Good thing the park is nearly closed. There was enough gas in there to kill a herd of buffalo."

Joe listened as the second man cranked on a shut-off valve. The hissing stopped.

It took a moment to realize the cabin they were fixing was the one he had moved his family from earlier in the day. Whoeverhad broken off the valve didn't know that.

"EVERYBODY UP!" JOE shouted as he entered the cabin. Marybeth sat up in bed. Nate had curled up in some blankets on the floor.

"What's going on?" Lucy asked.

"It's snowing," Joe said. "You've got to get out of the park before the roads close."

"Snowing?" Marybeth said. "Since when are we scared of a little snow?"

"As of now," Joe said, knowing he sounded like a maniac.

28.

CLAY MCCANN COULD NOT STOP PACING. THE ONLY time he paused was at the window, and only for a few seconds. There was something different outside. The dawn light through his mottled window was white and muted, and the sounds of cars on the road outside the jail were more hushed than usual. He could tell it was snowing, although he couldn't see it.

He had not been able to get back to sleep, ever since that man outside had stood beneath his cell at four in the morning and yelled, "I've got you now, you son of a b.i.t.c.h!" "I've got you now, you son of a b.i.t.c.h!"

Who was was he? What was he doing out at that hour? The incidentdisturbed McCann immensely. He knew the voices of his partners, and it wasn't any of them. Had they brought in someoneelse, or was the owner of the voice an independent threat? Or a local crank? he? What was he doing out at that hour? The incidentdisturbed McCann immensely. He knew the voices of his partners, and it wasn't any of them. Had they brought in someoneelse, or was the owner of the voice an independent threat? Or a local crank?

McCann wanted out. This had been going on too long, he thought. Layborn should have delivered the threat the night before,and action should be taking place. Would they be stupid enough, once again, to try to outflank him? Would they convene another of their meetings? What the h.e.l.l was going on?

And now it was snowing. Great Great.

When he heard the sounds downstairs, McCann's first a.s.sumptionwas they had come to meet with him. There was a m.u.f.fled conversation, a long pause, and the sound of the front door being shut. He stopped pacing and stood still, listening. He could feel his heart beat faster, and he clenched and unclenched his hands.

Footfalls on the stairs, the sound of a key in the lock, the door swinging open.

"Good morning, a.s.shole."

The tall man on the other side of the bars had long blond hair in a ponytail, sharp, cruel blue eyes, and the biggest gun McCann had ever seen. Snowflakes melted on the man's shoulders.

"You're coming with me," the man said, opening the cell door.

"No," McCann said, his voice weak. "I'm staying right here."

This caused the man to pause. His mouth twisted into a grin that made McCann's blood run cold.

"All right, then," the man said, and shot his hand out, graspingMcCann's left ear and twisting so hard the pain made his legs wobble. Then he pulled the lawyer out of the cell, still twisting on his ear, and guided him down the stairs into the lobby of the building.

Although he was cringing with pain, McCann saw the lobby was empty. "Where's my guard?"

"He decided to take a walk and get some air."

"And just leave leave me here?" McCann said, blinking through tears. me here?" McCann said, blinking through tears.

"You're not exactly Mr. Popular in this neck of the woods. Sit," the blond man said, shoving McCann into a chair by an empty desk. McCann sat, rubbing his ear. When he pulled his hand away there was a smear of blood on the tips of his fingers.

"That's right," the man said, "I'll rip it right off next time if you don't do everything I tell you. Believe me, I've done this before."

"You can't do this," McCann said.

"I just did."

"What do you want with me?" McCann tried to place the man and couldn't. His voice was not the same one that had called to him from under his window.

The blond man raised the gun, the muzzle not more than three inches from McCann's face, and c.o.c.ked it. McCann watched the cylinder rotate, saw the huge b.a.l.l.s of lead turn.

"You're going to make a call to James Langston. Tell him you're going to the FBI, and you're bringing Bob Olig along with you."

"What?"

"You heard me."

"Bob Olig?"

"They'll figure it out."

As McCann punched the numbers on the phone with a tremblinghand, the blond man said, "Somehow, I thought you'd look more impressive, considering you gunned down six people.But you're just a fat little weasel with pink hair, aren't you?"