Defiled: The Sequel to Nailed Featuring John Tall Wolf (A Ron Ketchum Mystery Book 2) (32 page)

“You have a picnic cooler or something we can put that stuff in so it doesn’t spoil?” Benjamin asked Ron.

He called for an insulated container and told the others. “You know, we never found out what happened to all the blood that was drained from Hale Tibbot. Only the amount used to paint those red arrows.”

Benjamin said, “You have the clout to get an analysis done on that stuff ASAP?”

“Yeah,” Ron said, “but my understanding is it will still take some time.”

“You think Burkett knows that?” Tall Wolf asked.

All three of them smiled.

Cops liked nothing better than suckering bad guys into hanging themselves.

Jake Burkett smiled, thinking how he’d fooled all the cops that day.

He’d been worried when they’d pulled him over. If they had been even halfway thorough in their search of his boat, he’d be in a cell right now looking at spending the rest of his life locked up. No, not really. He would have made a grab for one of the cops’ guns and made them shoot him, kill him. Suicide by cop would have been preferable to dying a day at a time in prison.

He brought the Nomad into a small inlet on the eastern side of the islet. He assumed there’d be a boat blocking each end of the passage leading back onto the main body of the lake. Didn’t matter. The cops aboard those boats wouldn’t be able to see him in the inlet, and the shadows from the towering conifers would hide him even if goddamn Ron Ketchum did put a helicopter up to look for him.

Not that he expected to escape. It was too late for that now. He had no trapdoor that led to freedom. Damn shame about that. What with all the gold he’d tucked away. Still, there were a few goals he hoped to accomplish.

He shut down the outboard motor and dropped anchor in the eighteen inches of water on which the Nomad floated. He got his tool kit out of its storage bin and undid the face plate below the craft’s steering wheel. He reached into the space and removed everything he needed to make things memorable for the cops: two blocks of C-4, each the size of a paperback book, two detonating charges, timing devices, and a metal container the size of a gift box for a large coffee mug.

The metal box bore a circular symbol with three black pie-shaped wedges and three yellow ones. The icon for radioactive material. As Burkett went to work, he smiled to himself and thought, “Let’s see if Ketchum can defuse this one.”

Or maybe the big Indian-looking guy would be the one to attempt disarming it. Wiseass SOB who knew he’d studied electrical engineering. It would serve him right if he was the one who got splattered.

Burkett completed his work and set the timer. He put the tidy but destructive device in a storage bin close to the pilot’s seat. Then he got busy making a second bomb of a much simpler design.

He knew he’d put himself in a box.

Now, he’d create a diversion to get himself out of it.

“Burkett is where?” Chief Ketchum asked Sergeant Stanley.

He, Keely, Tall Wolf and Benjamin had just returned to police headquarters.

The sergeant pointed to a spot on a map of Lake Adeline. “The deputy chief said he’s right here, on the shoreline side of this little island. Thing’s so small nobody ever bothered to give it a name.”

“So they don’t know exactly where he is,” Keely said. “He could be on the island or he could be on, what, the mainland side.”

“That’s a cove, ma’am. The land rises sharply on all sides. It’s a climb you’d have to be an expert to make.”

Benjamin asked, “Do we know if Burkett is an expert climber?”

Sergeant Stanley blushed, and shook his head.

“Chief?” Benjamin asked.

Ron said, “I have no idea.”

Tall Wolf raised a contrarian point of view. “Maybe running isn’t what he has in mind. In the end, he can go only so far, remain free for just so long. Could be he’s thinking of making a last stand. What if he’s stashed some weapons on that island? Would he have the cover to hold out and do damage to both people and the environment before he was taken?”

Ron nodded, envisioning the scenario.

“He’d have cover, and every halfwit in the country can buy all the assault weapons he wants. We didn’t find any firearms in his boat, but you’re right, he could have a hidden cache.”

All three of the police department’s patrol boats were already out on the lake.

The chief asked Sergeant Stanley, “Do you still have the keys to the mayor’s boat?”

The sergeant had only begun to nod when the deputy chief’s voice, filled with alarm, came over the radio. “Jesus Christ! We’ve just had a
big
damn explosion out here. Don’t know if Burkett just killed himself or what. I’ve got to check on my people. Request air support immediately.”

Ron grabbed the radio’s microphone.

“Air support on the way, Oliver. I’m coming, too.”

Ron wanted to go alone, but Tall Wolf reminded the chief that he’d done the online course in bomb disposal, and he was a good shot with a rifle. The special agent’s skill set qualified him to come along and carry an M-4 rifle. This time, Tall Wolf didn’t object to the weapon’s massive firepower; he welcomed it.

Benjamin didn’t push for a berth. Might have been maternal thinking that influenced her. Could have been she knew she wasn’t a great swimmer. Or maybe she just had a bad feeling how things were going to work out.

Keely wanted to come. She got in Ron’s face.

“We were partners, and if we’re going to be partners again …”

Completing the thought wasn’t necessary.

And Ron didn’t want to lose time arguing.

“You want a rifle, too?” he asked.

“I do my best work up close.” She put a hand on her Beretta.

“Right.”

Mayor Clay Steadman was the only civilian allowed to tie up his boat at the police dock. He didn’t indulge himself with a freshwater yacht or a contemporary racing boat. His marine esthetic expressed itself with a classic wooden-hulled speedboat, a 1939 Century Thunderbolt, fifteen point five feet of sculpted mahogany beauty with a Fireball Six outboard, capable of doing a top-end speed of fifty miles per hour.

The tiny cockpit had only two bench seats and with Ron at the helm that left Keely sitting on Tall Wolf’s lap. As soon as Ron cleared the marina, he hit the gas and the Thunderbolt roared across the lake.

Keely started bouncing on Tall Wolf’s lap and grabbed his left arm. Pulled it across her waist like a seatbelt. Told him to keep it there.

“I’d be embarrassed if I fell out,” she yelled in his ear.

At the very least, Tall Wolf thought.

“Try not to let your gun go off, huh?” she added.

The way her bottom was bumping up against him, he assumed she meant that metaphorically. Would have been funny if someone wasn’t likely to die soon.

Air support was not on the way, contrary to Chief Ketchum’s promise.

Fire Chief Vern Kasen had overruled him. Kasen held sway over medevac flights, and twelve minutes before the cops put in their call for the chopper, Kasen had approved a flight for Kirsten Lundberg, thirty-one weeks pregnant with twins, having gone into early labor, to take her high-risk pregnancy to Saint Mary’s Regional Medical Center in Reno where her obstetrician was waiting for her.

No way in the world was the fire chief going to risk the life of the mother and two infants by calling the flight back. Not for anyone. Even cops. Even his people, if it had come to that.

He sent his explanation and regrets to the PD.

Jake Burkett didn’t know anything about that. He was simply pleased that his plan had worked. There was no lake patrol craft blocking the southern end of the shallow passage; it had been drawn to the sound of the explosion. Who knew, maybe one of the other police patrol craft had just gone up in flames. Whatever the case, the cops had broken formation.

He popped out onto the main body of Lake Adeline unhindered. He pushed his outboard to the redline and headed to his rendezvous with destiny wearing a grim smile on his face.

In the distance, he saw a small boat heading his way.

Not one of the cop boats, that was already clear. The approaching vessel was smaller than his own. It appeared to be moving faster, too. Given the closing speed between the two boats, Jake soon saw that Ron Ketchum was behind the wheel.

He couldn’t tell if one or two people were sitting next to the chief.

Whatever the number, somebody was holding a rifle.

Fat lot of good that was going to do them.

He was going to get to the point on the water he wanted to reach.

Nobody could stop him now.

Ron saw Jake Burkett coming his way. Looked like the sucker was running full out. For just one heart-squeezing moment, the chief thought it might be Burkett’s intention to ram him. Heaven help them all if the two boats collided at the speed they were going. But Ron saw the approaching craft settle in the water as it slowed.

He exhaled in relief and cut back on his own vessel’s speed.

As far as he could tell, Burkett was now carried forward only by momentum. Then he raised a small square object in his right hand, held it above his head.

Tall Wolf said, “Oh, shit.”

A moment later, Ron and Keely could see why.

The little stainless steel box had the yellow-and-black radioactive material symbol on it.

Fucking Jake Burkett was smiling at them. Like he’d pulled a get-out-of-jail-free card from his sleeve. Well, that wasn’t going to happen.

“Can you take him?” Ron asked Tall Wolf quietly.

Keely had already gotten off of Tall Wolf’s lap, knelt in front of him, her semi-auto in hand.

“Yes, but is that the smart move?”

“We’re not letting him go.”

“No, we aren’t,” the special agent agreed.

Keely said, “Let’s circle him. If nothing else, we’ll make him turn to keep an eye on us.”

The two men aboard liked that. Circle Burkett like a shark now that his boat had come to rest. Let him know who was the predator and who was the prey.

Ron kept a distance of fifty feet. Tough shooting for Burkett if he had a handgun on him. A gimme for Tall Wolf with a scoped rifle. Of course, if Burkett’s weapon of choice was the shock wave from a bomb, they were all goners.

Burkett watched them complete their first circle with seeming amusement. He remained seated at the captain’s console on his boat. The face plate had been removed from it, and with heat rising in his face, the chief recognized where fucking Burkett had hidden his bomb components.

Sonofabitch.

Then two things happened. Burkett said, “You want to stop the silliness now?”

And Ron saw the patrol boat with Oliver aboard approaching them.

The other two police vessels hung back.

Ron held his hand high. Oliver kept coming, though not as fast.

The chief handed his cell phone to Keely and told her the number to call.

“Please tell the deputy chief to keep his distance,” Ron said.

Keely relayed the message. Oliver’s boat slowed to a crawl, but kept coming.

Burkett laughed and said to the chief, “Good help is so hard to find.”

Ron said, “We’ve got you, Jake. There’s nowhere to go.”

Burkett’s face relaxed, as if he was at peace.

He looked first at Ron and then at Keely.

Then he turned to Tall Wolf. “You’re so mysterious behind your sunglasses, but you know better, don’t you?”

Burkett’s question turned the chief’s and Keely’s attention to Tall Wolf.

The special agent nodded. “I saw it in a dream. It was me instead of you. I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

“I think I will. Do you have it all figured out?”

“I thought so, for a while. Then I did a little math. I don’t think you mined enough gold to pay for the property where you found the motherlode,” Tall Wolf said.

Burkett said, “Oh, I took plenty, and I’d bet there’s enough gold to buy that property and a dozen more mountains besides. I think there are
other
motherlodes out there. So much gold that recovering it would destroy all this beauty. That’s what I was trying to warn against with the first bomb. It would have happened if Hale Tibbot had been left alive.”

“So you had him killed,” Ron said.

Burkett only smiled. Then he said to Tall Wolf, “You’re right. I didn’t
mine
enough gold to pay for the property.”

Oliver’s boat now bobbed on the water twenty feet behind Burkett.

The deputy chief passed his handgun off to the cop with him.

Ron knew just what he had in mind. Tall Wolf and Keely could see, too.

The chief shook his head.

Burkett noticed. “One of your people is about to do something foolish? Then I’d better say goodbye.” He got to his feet and pulled up his shirt. They all saw he was wearing a scuba diver’s weight belt. Negative buoyancy.