Earthway (25 page)

She cleared her throat. “About eight months ago an Anglo ex-Army sergeant named Frank Atwood bought some land in The Meadows area, south of the Hutch Canyon Road.”

Noticing the confused looks, she clarified. “In the county, several miles north of Kirtland and that old gas flare tower.”

Several individuals nodded, so she continued. “Atwood started his own survivalist group—The Freemen. Their compound
is called Camp Freedom. According to the county sheriff, they stay to themselves and haven’t posed a problem.”

“Possibly because no one lives out there except rabbits,” Ella said. “I read a story about them in the Farmington paper.”

“Have you ever noticed that what they choose to call themselves is usually the opposite of what they really are?” Blalock commented. “In this case ‘freedom’ is probably
the last thing they have.”

Anna chuckled. “I also found out that they have their own Web site and it’s filled with their cult propaganda. Near as I can tell, Atwood and his followers distrust everyone who doesn’t think exactly like they do. He blames the
absence of God from people’s lives for everything bad that’s ever happened,” Anna added.

“So he’s their spiritual leader, too. I suppose that
means he could have a grudge against Ford for, say, theological reasons?” Ella asked no one in particular.

“The Freemen also have quite a bit to say on their Web site about the upcoming nuclear power plant. The Freemen think that something with that potential for disaster shouldn’t be on the reservation. They’re convinced that Navajo Nation leaders can’t be trusted with something that has such
a ‘capacity for misuse,’ ” Anna said, reading from her notebook. “Those are their words, by the way, not mine.”

“Maybe we should go pay them a visit,” Ella said, looking at Blalock.

“We won’t be able to get into their compound without a warrant, and we don’t have enough to get one,” he said.

“They’ve made significant purchases of weapons, reloading equipment, and supplies—including several
types of gunpowder—but it’s all legal,” Anna said.

“What about their leader’s background?” Ella asked. “Who’s Frank Atwood and how did he end up here?”

“He served overseas in the Army and was wounded in Afghanistan bad enough to be sent home to Denver,” Anna answered, holding up a photo of the man. “According to my background check, Atwood’s held a number of jobs after his discharge, but has
had difficulties adjusting. He writes weekly letters to area newspapers blaming the system, big business, and the failure of established religion for every problem facing the nation. He’s an advocate of smaller, self-sufficient and independent states, and the elimination of income taxes, which he considers illegal. He’s swayed others with his party line and that’s how the Freemen got started. Those
who become Freemen have to sell all their assets and put their money into Camp Freedom’s nonprofit account, which also has tax-free status as a church. The official line is
that it all goes to support the members, but I’d be willing to bet that good ol’ Frank, the minister, gets a generous salary,” Anna said.

“Sounds like a cult with a strong leader whose sheep follow him without question,” Blalock
said. “And the way he’s got things set up, he doesn’t have to deal with anyone he doesn’t approve of—like the rest of the world outside his compound.”

“Agreed, so why is he taking issue with events outside his walls? Those guys are usually isolationists,” Ella said.

“Normally that’s true,” Anna said, “but about six months ago, he began trying to spread his influence and recruit new followers.”
She looked down at her notes. “He went up against the coal generating plant several miles west of Camp Freedom, and the older tribal facility farther south. The emissions from the smokestacks, according to him, were poisoning the land. The operators of the big drag line they use to scoop out the coal started finding bullet holes in their cabs. On two occasions the bullets caused damage to the machinery.
That forced them to shut down and make expensive repairs. The companies have since posted more perimeter security.”

“I can’t say I know Atwood, but I’ve met him,” Teeny said, his voice coming over the speaker. “He wanted to hire me to get something on John Buck, the man who owns the ranch just north of his compound. Buck wouldn’t sell, so Atwood wanted something he could use against the guy to
force his hand. He thought I was the man for the job because I’m Navajo and so’s Buck. When I said no, it took him by surprise. He insisted on a meeting, hoping to change my mind.”

Teeny paused, then continued. “When I met with him, he had two of his bodyguards with him—ex-Navy SEALs, judging from their tattoos. The plan was to lean on me if I refused.” There was a pause. “Turned out he didn’t
have enough SEALs.”

Ella smiled, but said nothing. Blalock burst out laughing.

“Here’s the thing though,” Teeny added. “These guys have learned from the Waco episode several years ago. They’re very careful not to break any laws, or flash any weapons, and no one gets near Atwood unless he grants them an audience.”

“We can’t force him to talk to us,” Ella said, trying to figure out a way around
that.

“I know of a way to persuade Mr. Atwood to let you inside his compound,” Ford said, his voice coming over the speaker. “I could go over officially—as a minister—and say that we’re soliciting donations for our youth programs. I’ll even issue an invitation for their children to attend our Bible classes. You could come along as my assistant, Ella.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you
to go anywhere near that compound, Ford,” Ella said slowly.

“From what I’ve heard, it’s your only shot at getting inside,” Ford answered.

Blalock nodded. “He’s right.”

“But if Atwood’s behind the attempts on Ford’s life . . . ,” Ella said, letting the sentence hang.

“Neither Atwood nor his people would dare try anything there, not with you and the rest of his followers as witnesses,” Ford
answered. “I’m sure he’s learned from the Waco disaster.”

“Ford’s right about that,” Blalock said. “I’ve studied the tactics of these religious fringe and cult leaders, and their control over their followers hinges on their ability to present themselves as larger-than-life role models. Atwood wouldn’t dare risk an open confrontation with a man of the cloth.”

Ella thought about it, studying the
faces of those around her. Most seemed to agree with Blalock and Ford. “All right,” she said finally. “We’ll say that we’re part of a group that’s canvassing the area. That way he’ll know we’re not alone.”

“I like that,” Justine said with a nod. “It adds another layer of safety to the operation and still gets the job done.”

“Looks like your plan’s the way to go, Ford,” Ella said.

As everyone
began leaving the office, Blalock lagged behind. “Stay sharp the moment you enter that compound,” he cautioned, “And you might see if you can borrow some extra gadgets from Bruce Little. Hearing and seeing whatever you’re doing would be very useful to those of us providing backup outside.”

“But any evidence we’d get from an unauthorized transmission like that wouldn’t be admissible in court,”
Ella answered.

“That’s not the point. I was only thinking of it as added protection. That’s why I suggested Bruce Little,” Blalock said.

Ella toyed with a pencil on her desk, lost in thought. “I still don’t like the idea of taking Ford out of Teeny’s secure compound. If our sniper today had spotted Ford, he’d have become the target, not you or me.”

“Ella, there’s something you need to remember,”
Blalock said. “Reverend Tome’s past wasn’t all peace, serenity, and turning the other cheek. And from what I’ve seen, a part of him misses the challenges of those days. Preacher or not, he won’t become a liability. He’s got serious training and he’ll be able to handle himself.”

She didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. They both knew that truer words had never been spoken.

E
lla arrived at Teeny’s the following morning wearing a conservative blue suit and sensible shoes. As Teeny ushered her into the main room, Ella saw Ford at the computer, Abednego at his feet.

“Ella,” Ford said, standing. “I’ve never seen you in a suit and skirt. You look nice.”

“Don’t get used to it, buddy. When I left the Bureau, I thought I’d seen
the end of city clothes,” she replied, grinning. “So how are you three getting along?” she added, anxious to change the subject.

“The reverend’s good company,” Teeny said, his lips stretching back to reveal a healthy set of teeth.

Ella knew that was Teeny’s version of a smile, but even his grins had a deadly edge.

“As far as I’m concerned, it’s good to be able to talk to someone who understands
codes, and the latest software—particularly the kind that’s not even available yet,” Ford said.

Ella chuckled. “My two favorite guys are nothing more than computer geeks.” Taking the seat Teeny offered her, she explained what she needed.

Teeny went to one of the desks at the back of the room and came back holding a pair of devices the size of shirt buttons.
“These will relay whatever you see
and hear. The reason I suggest that each of you carry one is because if one’s compromised, we’ll still have the other. You’re going straight into the lion’s den, Ella.”

“I know,” she answered softly.

“Since they’re not exactly legal, I offered to wear both of them, but his way’s safer,” Ford said.

“By the way, Ella, here’s an important heads-up,” Teeny said. “Atwood’s got a thing for Navajo
women.”

“He’ll never place a hand on you,” Ford said quietly.

The expression on his face took her off guard. It was more than determination—it was the cold confidence of a man who’d tested himself and knew exactly what he was capable of.

“If anything goes wrong, you’ll have backup immediately. I’ve arranged things with a few . . . friends,” Teeny said as he placed the bug on Ella’s jacket.

“Don’t say another word,” Ella answered. “I’d rather not know.”

Ella stopped by her car long enough to pick up a few things. Afterwards, she and Ford set out in his old sedan, which had been fixed then kept out of sight in Teeny’s two-car garage.

“I know Bruce’s place is basically a warehouse,” Ford said, “but it’s sure a comfortable one. I like having access to the wide range of computers he
has in there, too. The only thing I hate is that, under the present circumstances, I can’t leave whenever when I choose. I miss my freedom.”

Ella nodded. “I couldn’t stand being cooped up either.”

“The most frustrating thing about it is that I know I can take care of myself. I would never take a life to save my own, but I’d never hesitate to kill an attacker to protect the life of an innocent.”
His gaze was direct as it settled on her.

“If you mean me, let me assure you, I’m no innocent.
And I’m quite capable of taking care of myself—and you, too—if need be,” Ella said.

“And I, you.”

There was no particular emphasis to his words but she hadn’t expected the undertone of strength . . . and power . . . behind them. “You’ve never told me much about yourself—your past, that is,” Ella said.

“I’m a minister now. That’s all that matters.”

“I’ve been deluding myself all these months, haven’t I?” Ella said, her eyes narrowing as a sure realization swept over. “I barely know you at all.”

Ford didn’t answer right away. “The past isn’t nearly as important as the present. You know how I feel about you. What happens next—that’s up to us. But let’s not discuss this right now,” he said, pointing
to the listening device.

Ella smiled and nodded, knowing Teeny was as close as if he’d been sitting between them.

“Once we get to the Freemen’s compound, I’ll take the lead,” Ford said. “I’m more of a draw there,” he said giving her a smile. “And I’m glad to see you came properly armed.” He pointed to what she held on her lap.

“It was my father’s Bible. Under the circumstances, it seemed more
appropriate than my service weapon.” She didn’t bother to add that she
did
have a backup pistol nestled between her breasts. “Just remember that we need to see Atwood,” she added. “He’s the only one that matters.”

“I know, and I’ve got a plan. I’ll tell them that in exchange for a one-hundred-dollar donation, their children can attend fall Bible camp at Waterflow, tuition free. The way I figure
it, only Atwood will have the clout to approve that.”

She nodded. “Good plan. Also, if by some odd chance I get recognized, I’ll point out that I’m the daughter of a well-known former Christian minister on the Rez, and I’m a volunteer. They can look it up on the Internet and verify who
my father was. He was a fixture in the Four Corners until his death.”

“I could also say that you’re my bride-to-be.”
He smiled at her. “I can be
very
convincing.”

“You don’t have to tell me that, Reverend,” she said, laughing.

They arrived twenty-five minutes later at Camp Freedom, a collection of metal-roofed buildings constructed on a rise in the rolling desert east of the Navajo Nation. The entire property was surrounded by tall, chain-link fencing topped by three strands of barbed wire. Further in was
another even taller stretch of coyote fencing that added privacy and formed a wind break. The front gate, a solid metal structure that rolled sideways to open, was closed. At first glance, parked in their car fifteen feet from the barrier, there seemed to be no way for Ella and Ford to announce themselves.