Call of the Cougar (Heart of the Cougar Book 2) (11 page)

"Who the hell would want to buy a stuffed tiger fetus?"

"Agreed. The thing of it is—a lot of criminal networks and terrorist organizations across the world are finding animal trafficking is a great way to finance their future terrorism. In the Congo, rebels murdered wildlife officers and took over their eco-tourism facilities to serve themselves instead—since so many high-paying tourists were paying for the service. Can you imagine being a tourist, paying all that money, and not even realizing that the men running that particular operation are doing so illegally because they murdered the real wildlife operators?"

"You're right. I didn't know it either."

"Exactly. Most people don't. The same situation exists in Nepal. Maoist rebels did the same when they took over legitimate eco-tourism business and also trophy hunts. The attacks on the wildlife is widespread, orchestrated by criminals. If it's allowed to go on, eventually no more of the animals that they're murdering wholesale will exist. Then what's next? They're not going to suddenly become legitimate businessmen. The other thing is that they're using those funds to murder people too."

Hal believed it, and yet, it was hard to imagine that people would buy dead animal parts for any reason. But the bastards who were selling the parts wouldn't be doing it if people weren't buying them. He couldn't even envision working in the business of trying to stop the traffickers. He had a lot of respect for the job Tracey did.

"So what about this case that you're working on now?" He finished off his coffee and noticed she needed a refill also. He got them both another cup.

"Well, the Colorado Parks and Wildlife requires that every harvested lion be presented for inspection within five days of the kill."

"Right."

"Outfitter and hunting guides usually obey the rules. They take the hunting party out, help them locate the prey, the hunter kills his quarry, and takes home his trophy. Nice and legal like. Hunting license, in season, right animal, correct limit, all above board. Then we have this guy named Tobias Mooney, outfitter and hunting guide, who takes his prospective hunters up to the Book Cliffs mountain range along the border between Colorado and Utah. But something's not right. We had reports that mountain lions and bobcats were being caught, caged, and maimed—shot in the paw or legs, and then released right before the hunters were sent out to chase them down."

"Hell."

"Yeah. What's the sport in that? Like, uhm, tranquilizing a big cat and saying, 'There! Shoot it.' Or chaining it to a tree and doing the same thing. Except we couldn't get any evidence to prove he was doing any of this. Just a couple of anonymous calls. Once we received that information, Peterson, my partner, and I began searching for substantive evidence. But we still didn't get any reliable witnesses who would attest to the crimes. Then we'd heard that when he wasn't guiding hunters on tours because the season was over, he was involved in the trafficking of elephant ivory. From an informant, we were told that evidence was possibly located at Anderson, though the man suspected that it had already been moved. We did find evidence that the elephant tusks had been stored under the abandoned schoolhouse floor."

"So was it a setup? Instead of finding only evidence, you were faced with a shootout? Or was it unintentional? Right place, wrong time?"

"We never knew." She finished eating her eggs and licked the cheese off her fork.

He smiled, glad she liked his cooking.

"My informant was found murdered before we could question him. It looked like he was also involved in trafficking and he was trying to destroy his competition."

"It's a bad business to be in all way around."

"Right. And from what I learned later, no animal tusks, or other illegal body parts, were located anywhere else in the ghost town, though investigators searched all of the abandoned buildings."

He thought back to the way Tracey and her partner had gotten in. "From the way the window slats were configured, it appeared the traffickers had been using the place for their illegal business for some time."

"Exactly. But we couldn't locate any new leads. So we're back to square one." She sat straighter in her chair.

"Except this time, he tried to murder two investigating officers. That has to take more priority."

She let out her breath. "Oh, they're looking into it. Sure. One dead and then one wounded Special Agent. The traffickers could have taken even more of us down. But investigators combed the whole area and came up with nothing. The wounded man they took into custody said he didn't know the man and when the police gave him a picture to I.D. him, he couldn't. Said he didn't know the man, again. Neither my partner nor I actually saw Mooney at the shootout. But I smelled his scent at both places. I certainly can't say that I know he was there for sure because I smelled him, but didn't see him. The story the guy taken into custody shared was that it was a drug sale gone wrong. My partner and I were buying the drugs and wouldn't pay up. That's probably what Mooney told him. I suspect that Mooney set up his prey and then he came along for the ride to watch the hunters take the animal down—or in our case, hit men were paid to hunt down two Special Agents. And in this case, he was paying the men to do the job, instead of them paying him to locate the prey."

"You trusted your informant completely, I take it. The one who sent you into the second firefight, I mean."

"Yeah, I do. His information has always been correct. At least on the last four assignments, it's been on the money. I don't believe he's in the trafficking business like Honey had been."

"Okay, so where do you go from here?"

"I'm on administrative leave, remember?"

"Right." Hal took their empty plates into the kitchen. "No hunting is allowed again until November. How are you…were you going to learn more about his illegal hunting practices?"

"We really thought we had a lead this time. I thought of going after the informant who sold us out the first time, but I then learn he's dead. I can't get a search warrant for Mooney's place without more evidence, and I can't get more evidence…"

"Without a search warrant."

"Right. We believe he's got to keep the income flowing in so he's involved in the wildlife trafficking when he's not serving as a hunting guide. He's got a really beautiful place in Aspen, Colorado—seven bedrooms, nine baths, four-car garage, four-stall barn, with its own two-car garage. Breathtaking views of four ski areas and major peaks. Stone patios with fireplace. Separate guest wing. Summer stream on six acres. A full gym with bathroom and sauna, outdoor riding arena. And he bought it for fourteen million dollars."

Hal whistled. "I take it he doesn't have a lot of income?"

"Not that we could tell. No inheritances. Nothing that he reports other than his hunt-guided excursions. Sure, he's got investments, and he pays taxes on them, so we can't get him there. We really have nothing to backup what we suspect in a court of law. Of course, we've questioned the hunters who paid to go on the excursions, but they're all saying they hunted the cougars out in the wild. None of them were close by, and none had been injured."

Hal nodded. "They didn't want to get charged with conspiracy to commit illegal acts. So what made you go into this line of work?"

"My sister is a wildlife photographer and she was in Hawaii filming the fish at one of the reefs while two divers were poking at the coral and collecting fish. They were at about fifty feet of water and one of the fishermen attacked Jessie, jerking the air regulator out of her mouth. Thank God she was an experienced diver. I've gone on dives with her, but I am totally inexperienced. If someone had done that to me, I probably would have panicked, become disoriented, might have tried to quickly return to the surface, and died. It could have killed her if she hadn't reacted quickly enough. You know what the fisherman said? He was scared of her! She had been taking a video of him! Then he said he might have to carry bang sticks to protect himself from the eco-terrorists. She's not the one who grabbed his regulator from his mouth! He should have been brought up on charges." She took a steadying breath.

Hal could see the notion that her sister could have died still bothered Tracey. He didn't blame her. If any of his close friends had faced such a dangerous action, he would have felt the same way.

"Anyway, my dad was already a FWS Special Agent, and I had been wanting to do my part too. I figured this was my calling."

"You have an affinity for getting the perps." Hal admired her all the more.

"Yeah, but I'm not always successful."

"I understand your frustration. We hate it when one of the lawbreakers we're after gets away with it also. Is your father still in the service?"

She shook her head. "Retired. And no, I didn't tell him what happened on this case—the shooting and all. He'd want me to quit. He's testified on a number of cases in court, put away a lot of traffickers, but he never was in a firefight with any of them. At least that I know of. My mother, who has a cake decorating business, would agree with my dad." She sighed. "Enough about me. What about you? Being Special Forces first? Now a deputy sheriff? Having a horse ranch? Family?"

"As far as the military goes, we had a local hero, Special Forces, who told us his war stories when I was growing up. We all wanted to be like him, so we all joined. Deputy sheriff? Well, when Dan became the sheriff, he pretty much told the rest of us we were his new deputies." Hal smiled.

Tracey chuckled. "Sounds like you guys are real good friends."

"We are. Just like brothers. As to the horse ranch, my great grandfather broke horses for the cavalry during WWI, my grandfather broke them during WWII. My father wasn't interested in horses, rode them, sure, but he didn't want to raise them or break them. I used to sit on the fence and watch my grandfather while he worked with them. He knew how to talk to them. Knew how to let them come to him. He watched the horses' behavior. Saw how they greeted each other. Just like learning how to behave toward each other in our cougar forms, he knew how to commune with the horses. I was fascinated by the process. But…I had to run off and fight and serve in the army with my buddies. When we finally returned, Dan made me a part-time deputy sheriff. After that, I was busy getting ready to start my own horse ranch."

"You've been busy. So where's your family?"

"They live in town. Mom runs the newspaper and dad is one of her reporters."

Tracey smiled. "Any brothers or sisters?"

"Nope. Only child."

"Lonely."

"Not when I had all my friends in the area. They were like brothers."

"That's so nice. Can I see your mare?" Tracey loved the reason why he went into the horse business. Not just to make money, but because he really loved horses. "None of these are serving in the military though, right?" She couldn't imagine that the U.S. military still used horses for military missions any longer.

Hal smiled. "A few might. Maybe at the 1
st
Cavalry Division, Fort Hood, Texas. Seven mounted cavalry units are on active duty in the United States. No fighting for them. They're in parades, three presidential inaugural parades even, and drill and weapons exhibition. They get the best of care."

They walked out to the stable and a dark-haired man with smiling, equally dark eyes greeted them outside and took in Tracey's whole appearance. "Hell, is this the new boss lady?"

Hal smiled at him and shook his head. "Don't scare Tracey off." He made introductions, but she noted he didn't mention her occupation.

Ted grinned at her. "No way would I do that, if I can help it."

"I don't scare off easily," she said, and meant it.

"No, she's usually armed and dangerous," Hal said.

"Yeah, I can tell." Ted was smiling too broadly to appear to be taking either of them seriously.

"How's Misty doing?" Hal asked.

"Looks close, boss man." Ted turned to Tracey as they walked into the stable. "Have you ever seen the foaling process?"

"No." She hadn't expected to either.

"It changed my life around, first time I saw it happen. I was helping Hal muck out stalls when one of the mares went into labor. I'd been into minor scrapes with the law, but when I began seeing the foals born, taking care of the colts and fillies, well, it just gave me an appreciation for just how precious life is."

"Yeah, it was about time," Hal said. "Hell, I thought I'd never get off restriction after you stole Mrs. McCormick's hen so we could roast it over a campfire, when you'd said you'd paid for it."

"I did. For a long damn time. Who would have thought stealing one hen would have cost me in so much labor time on her farm."

"It was her best laying hen. Good thing you mended your ways."

"Yeah, well, I felt bad about that. I never realized that not all chickens were meant just to eat." Ted glanced back at Tracey. "So what do you do?"

"Take down wildlife traffickers, or others who harm wildlife for personal gain or profit."

Ted's jaw dropped. "Hell, boss man, why didn't you tell me what the lady did before I spilled the beans on myself?"

She smiled.

"I knew you'd be giving a tale about your bad boy image and how you were now one of the good guys."

Tracey laughed.

When they reached the 14 x 14 stall where the mare was, Hal said, "Misty is a blood bay and white tobiano paint."

She was a lovely color with white markings on the lower legs, white mane, the top half of her tail white, the lower half dark brown, her body large splotches of reddish-brown and white, her face, reddish brown. And very pregnant with a sagging belly. Tracey couldn't imagine carrying such a big baby.

"How are you doing, Misty, ol' girl?" Hal leaned against the gate and she came over and nuzzled his face with her own.

Tracey smiled.

The mare turned away and began to paw the ground. Sweat had collected around her neck and flanks. But she hadn't been exercising. Tracey was about to ask when the foal was due, but when she turned, Hal had already stalked off.