Smoke Signals (A John Tall Wolf Novel Book 4) (18 page)

She completed the change, dropping down to four legs, moving at an easy pace.

There were other wild creatures in the woods with her, wolves and a mountain lion. Not far off. The ordinary members of her species would give them wide berth lest they become prey. She, however, was anything but ordinary. She was a creature of legend, and the other lesser beasts knew they were the ones to scurry away from her approach.

Basilio Nuñez was now running for all he was worth, within the limits of his dim senses and thready musculature. Mixed in with his human scents was the tang of metal. A gun? No, there was no sweet stink of lubricant present. Guns were always oiled. Filled with cartridges that reeked of gunpowder. Here there was only metal. The
sicario
had a knife.

The one advantage humans had over wild things was that they could laugh.

She would have done just that in her everyday form. The pitiful man thought a knife was going to help him? Well, he’d learn, and soon. Then she might laugh.

Keeping pace with Basilio didn’t require her to do more than trot. Gave her the freedom to search out one specific member of the forest populace … and there he was. Oh, so hungry, too. From that point, the game was easy.

She picked up speed, proceeded to make as much noise as she could. Let the
sicario
hear her coming up behind him. To his credit, he seemed to have unusually good hearing for his kind. He began to run with desperation. She could hear his breath come harder and even the accelerating, panicked beat of his heart.

The horrible knowledge that he’d become a prey animal filled his mind.

He wasn’t ready to turn and fight yet. That would come soon. She ran ahead to her quarry’s right and growled. Crossed to his left and yipped. Closed the distance from behind and growled louder. He undoubtedly would have run straight into many a tree if she hadn’t been giving him vocal cues as to which way to veer.

In the end, she herded him into a clearing that Basilio sensed would be the arena in which he lived or died. Well, where he could cling to the slim hope that he might somehow get away with his life. That dim flicker of optimism expired when another creature entered the space.

Brother Bear.

Though it was none of her doing, it pleased her to see the clouds above part at just that moment and the moon shone on the clearing like a spotlight. Basilio Nuñez saw the bear clearly, sensed it was the same animal he’d faced before. This time, though, there wasn’t a line of people behind him with firearms to drive the creature away or kill it.

This time, all Basilio had to defend himself was a kitchen knife, which might as well have been a sewing needle for all the help it would be to him.

Lacking language in her present form, Coyote nonetheless formed the thought she was sure Brother Bear already had in mind.
Bon appétit
.

She turned and trotted off into the trees. Hadn’t gone far before she heard the
sicario’s
first, last and well deserved scream of mortality. One fewer kidnapper in the world to threaten Freddie Strait Arrow. To disrupt her plans.

Mateo Trujillo walked into Tesla unarmed with his hands in the air.

His timing was such that Julián Fortuna was just being led to an FBI vehicle for transport back to Seattle where he would be held as the range of charges to be brought against him would be determined by the U.S. Attorney’s office. Julián’s jaw dropped when he saw Mateo.

He quickly regained his wits and said to John and Special Agent Mulgrew, “That’s him, the man who was sent to kill me. He’s Fausto Zara’s second in command.”

His hands still raised, Mateo shrugged. “That’s half true.”

“Which half?” John asked.

Mulgrew didn’t wait for an answer. With a nod of his head, two of his burlier agents grabbed Mateo and cuffed his wrists behind his back. The same way Julián was secured.

Once that formality had been accomplished, Mateo answered John’s question. “The fact that I was
Señor
Zara’s top aide. I did not come here to kill my young amigo, though. I came to make sure he would be able to testify along with me. Verify what I have to tell the American authorities.”

Julián sneered and said, “Bullshit.”

Mateo chuckled. “He doesn’t know it, but he flatters me.”

“How’s that?” Mulgrew asked. “Of course, you don’t have to say anything.”

He recited Mateo’s rights, including the one to remain silent.

“That’s okay,” Mateo said. “I have to talk to let you in on my little secret.”

“What’s that?” Mulgrew asked.

“For the past ten years, I’ve worked for your CIA. I’d like you to contact my case officer at the Agency.” He gave Mulgrew a number to call.

The FBI special agent looked at John, who, after all, outranked him in the federal bureaucracy.

John took the passed baton without missing a step.

“You know what,” he said, “I’ll just call the vice president’s office at the White House. With something like this, I think we should go straight to the top. Maybe even bring the president into the loop.”

Mateo looked at John with disbelief. He saw the tall man’s
indio
features. Could one such as him really have such powerful connections?

Mulgrew knew just what Mateo was thinking.

The FBI man nodded to dispel any doubts the new prisoner might have.

“Director Tall Wolf is wired in right to the top,” he said. “Guys, take this CIA-connected gentleman to his ride. We’ll hold him until we get word from Washington.”

“Just a minute,” John said. He asked Mateo, “Did you give the order to shoot Gustavo Morales?”

It took Mateo a moment to make the connection. “The
campesino
in the forest? No, it was the fool who calls himself Baker. He shot before I could stop him.”

“But you hired Baker and the others, didn’t you?” John asked.

Mateo hesitated a long moment before answering. “Yes.”

“Why did you need four armed men to accompany you here?” John asked.

When Mateo hesitated again, Julián answered for him. “He came to kill me and steal the bribe money I had on hand. Maybe take as much of the processed marijuana as he and his men could carry, too.” Looking at Mateo, who was glaring at him hatefully now, Julián made a spot-on guess. “If he truly is betraying Fausto Zara, he was looking to pad his retirement fund.”

Mulgrew asked Mateo, “Any rebuttal?”

“I want to speak with my CIA case officer. That is all I have to say.”

“Sure, but as Director Tall Wolf said, we’ll see what the White House says first.”

Mateo and Julián were led off to separate SUVs.

Mulgrew shook John’s hand. “Nicely done, Mr. Director. I don’t know how all this is going to play out, but better it should happen in DC than Seattle.”

John said, “Yeah, well, that’s why we get the big money.”

Beebs screened the video of the takedown of the mercenaries shortly after the FBI left town. His audience consisted of John, Rebecca, Freddie, Marlene, Ernesto and Valeria. He told John, “I didn’t want to take a chance on the feds grabbing it. You know, except for you. You’re cool.”

“Thanks,” John said. He gestured to Marlene. “But you’re forgetting the Acting Secretary of the Interior.”

Beebs looked at her and blinked. “Is that who you are?”

She nodded.

“Sorry,” Beebs said. “No offense intended.”

Marlene only grinned, in a way that still sent a chill through Beebs.

The photographer quickly moved on to show the video on his iBook laptop. The capture of the three mercenaries looked easy as pie. Well planned and executed. Everyone complimented Rebecca on her archery. Ernesto said,
“¡Viva Canada!”

Marlene asked Rebecca, “If it had been necessary, could you have made your shots fatal hits?”

With a straight face, she replied, “If necessary, yes.”

John asked Beebs, “Just in case I wasn’t such a good guy, you sent copies of the video to a couple of cloud servers, right?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Beebs nodded.

“Good,” John said. “Keep their locations to yourself, but in the meantime, I’d appreciate it if you sent a copy to my phone and another to a friend at the FBI. He’s a good guy, and I think he should see this.”

John gave Beebs his phone number and one for FBI Deputy Director Byron DeWitt.

With that business concluded, Ernesto Batista cleared his throat and asked John, “What will happen to my wife and me? Us and our countrymen.”

John thought about that for a moment. “Immigration issues really aren’t my responsibility. You want to pick up the ball, Madam Acting Secretary?”

Marlene shook her head. She thought the arrival of Europeans in the 15th century was the immigration problem to worry about. Those people showed no sign of going home.

John continued, “As I see things, most people who were born here are concerned about losing jobs and their local culture to newcomers. It’d be a good idea for everyone to learn English. That way, if someone’s bad-mouthing you, you can return the favor in a language they’ll understand. In terms of jobs, if someone were to
create
them for you and your friends, the competitive pressure for existing job openings would not increase.”

John looked at Freddie, who grinned back at him.

“I’ve already been thinking about that. Having skilled farmers and arable land available, developing artisanal crops might be a cool business to get into.”

Ernesto frowned. “Marijuana?”

“No, no. People should be able to get high on good food and the company of good friends.”

“And music,” Valeria said.

“And visual art,” Beebs added.

“All that,” John agreed. Looking at Marlene, he added, “The telling of tall tales, too.”

Freddie quickly outlined a management and labor proposal to Ernesto: A living wage, profit sharing, health coverage, education assistance and, best of all, the freedom to say
adios
if you wanted to move on.

Freddie’s law firm would also represent the workers on immigration issues.

Initially, the new workers could stay in the vacant houses in town.

Other plans would be developed as the business warranted.

With the general situation well in hand, John asked Freddie for a personal favor.

“I’d like to borrow your plane.”

“Going back to D.C.?”

“With a stop here and there along the way. Might need it for a week or so.”

“Take it. I kind of like the bigger plane I chartered to get out here. Using that for a while would be smart before I decide if I want to buy one.”

A billionaire who analyzed things before he threw his money around, John thought. The kid just might wind up owning a nice chunk of the country. John patted Freddie on the shoulder and said thanks.

John’s last conversation before leaving was a private one with Marlene.

“I heard you stepped out for a short while after Basilio Nuñez made his getaway.”

“If you heard it, it must be true.”

“I didn’t want to say anything in front of anyone else, but I assume the guy won’t bother Freddie or anyone else ever again.”

“No, he won’t.”

“Fine by me,” John told her. He stared into Marlene’s predatory eyes and saw a hint of what had happened to the
sicario
.
He looked her up and down in a way that actually made her feel uncomfortable.

“What are you doing, Tall Wolf? Leering is unlike you.”

“I’m not leering. I’m looking and I just can’t see it.”

“See what?”

“If you ate that guy, there’d have to be a sign on you somewhere. A little bulge in your tummy or something.”

“I didn’t eat him,” Marlene snapped.

“If you didn’t, something did. I saw it in your eyes.”

The idea that John could read her mind scared Marlene.

“The
bear,”
John said with a smile. “You fed the killer to the bear. That’s a good one.”

Marlene was at a loss how Tall Wolf could understand her so completely.

John gave her a wink and said, “Go easy on Freddie. The kid has great potential.”

Driving back to Seattle, Rebecca asked John, “What were you and your boss talking about?”

“Marlene? I asked if she wanted to come to our wedding. She begged off.”

Rebecca knew he was BS-ing her, but she decided to let the matter ride.

“So who are we going to invite to our spur-of-the-moment ceremony?”

John said, “Your parents and mine. If you don’t mind, I’d like to have Byron DeWitt be my best man, if he can make it. Is there anyone you’d like for a maid of honor?”

“Maybe Celine Dion, if she’s in town.”

“You’re joking, but with my connections …”

“Don’t you dare. Our parents and your friend will be fine.”

“Something’s bothering you,” John said. “Your career situation?”

She nodded. “Those hosers we caught back in Tesla? They’re Canadian.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And that Beebs kid did a real nice job of shooting his video. And if I have to say so, I did a pretty nice job with that bow. So how long do you think it will be before the whole world, including Canada, sees what we did? And by we I mean me.”

John said, “Probably not long at all, but so what? You’re a heroine, if that word is still politically correct. You’ve got no worries there.”

“I’ve been telling myself that, but I’m still not convinced. I think it’s going to have some kind of unexpected impact.”

John said, “I’m the last one to doubt anyone’s intuition, but you know whatever happens we’ll see it through together, right?”

“I do know that, and if you can’t fix it, I’ll ask your mom to cast a spell on someone.”

Serafina Wolf y Padilla being a witch among other things.

John laughed. “She’d do it for you, too.”

Clark County required no waiting period to receive a marriage license. You filled out a form, showed a legal ID and paid a fee.
Voila
.
You were good to go. There was also no requirement that the ceremony take place in a hokey, commercial wedding chapel.

John was a nominal Catholic. Rebecca was a Christmas and Easter Protestant. They found a Unitarian minister willing to marry them in his home. The man and his wife were transplants from Boston. The home they’d had built for themselves was the only Cape Cod in their subdivision. The nuptials were to take place in their parlor.

Freddie Strait Arrow’s Gulfstream had to take on a relief crew to fly first to Calgary and pick up Rebecca’s parents, Inspector Peter Bramley and Ms. Reva Bramley. Washington, DC was the next stop, where FBI Deputy Director Byron DeWitt came aboard. Dr. Haden Wolf and Ms. Serafina Wolf y Padilla joined the wedding guests in Albuquerque, New Mexico. From there it was just a quick hop to Las Vegas.

While the guests were still in the air, the bride and groom went shopping for their wedding outfits. Rebecca chose a high-necked, long-sleeved french vanilla mini-dress by St. Laurent that showed a yard of gorgeous legs. In her heels, Rebecca stood within an inch of her groom’s height. John went with a Hugo Boss classic fit wool suit in navy blue.

The guests also dressed to the nines. After hugs, handshakes and busses to the parents and in-laws, John asked for a moment alone with Byron DeWitt. The deputy director handed John a pair of house-keys and his cell phone.

“Your honeymoon digs on the beach in Santa Barbara. The ocean’s in plain view, the amenities include everything you could ask for and the weather is perfect. But then it usually is.”

“No earthquakes on the calendar?” John asked.

“Only the ones you and your lovely bride provide.”

John supposed he’d asked for that one. He asked DeWitt, “You spoke with Mr. McGill?”

The deputy director nodded. “All you have to do is hit number 1 on the phone. His office is on speed dial. He’s expecting your call.”

“You shared the video with him?”

“I did. The vice president and the president also saw it. Everybody was quite impressed with the future Mrs. Tall Wolf’s archery. Go ahead, make the call. Oh, one more thing. The vice president really wanted to come with me, but she didn’t want all her security people to be a bother for you.”

“That was very kind of her. I’ll have to send her my thanks.”

“Your getting married also made her want to push up our wedding date,” DeWitt said.

John asked, “Are you ready?”

“I am. Mr. McGill’s been giving me pointers. Go on, make the call. You don’t want to keep your bride waiting. I’ll stall them for a minute or two.”

DeWitt strolled off to keep his promise and John hit 1.

James J. McGill answered on the first ring. “Director Tall Wolf?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I saw the video Deputy Director DeWitt sent me. I also took the liberty of reviewing Lieutenant Bramley’s service record with the RCMP. That’s quite the impressive woman you’re marrying.”

“She is. I believe you’d know something about that.”

McGill laughed. “I do, without a doubt. Regarding the idea you’ve raised, I think it’s a real possibility, but I would want to talk with Ms. Bramley. Or should I say Mrs. Tall Wolf? Has she made up her mind about how she’d like to be addressed?”

John said, “We’ve discussed it. She said whatever works to her advantage for the occasion at hand.”

McGill laughed. “I like that. Well, the two of you talk about the idea, and I’ll be happy to speak with her.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“My best wishes to both of you, and the president also sends her regards.”

John rejoined the others and returned DeWitt’s phone to him.

His mother gave him a nudge. “You don’t need your sunglasses right now, do you?”

John took off his Ray-Bans and turned to look at his bride.

“Business call?” Rebecca asked.

John said, “Made sure our table at Denny’s is ready when we leave here.”

DeWitt grinned and asked Rebecca, “You do know what you’re getting into, right?”

Before she could reply, Reverend Dexter asked, “Is everyone ready?”

They were. The Bramleys stood next to John; the Wolfs stood next to Rebecca. DeWitt stood behind John’s right shoulder. To keep him from making a break for the door, he’d later joke.

Dexter said, “We are here today in the company of family and a friend and in the sight of God to join Rebecca and John in wedlock. Love consists of this, that two people protect and touch and greet one another. What greater thing is there for two human souls than to feel that they are joined together …”