Strong Darkness (42 page)

But then he moved his free hand to one of the keyboards instead, gun still trained on her as he prepared to initiate a command sequence and steadied a single finger into place. “I think I'd rather see you witness me activate the plan. All those phone numbers you see scrolling on the screens before you dialed in minutes, your country dying a slow and agonizing death. My family's revenge at last.”

He had fallen into her trap, attention divided, a man lacking familiarity with a firearm. Caitlin twisted slightly to the left, angling for her charge. If a lucky shot found her, then so be it. But Zhen's plan would be stopped.

And then Kai, moving with a dancer's speed and grace sped past her, brushing up against Caitlin just enough to knock her off-kilter. Throwing herself on her father and taking him to the floor.

Kai looked up, her father dazed but struggling to free himself beneath her. Caitlin saw the flatness, the emptiness in her gaze. Followed it downward.

To the detonator in her grasp, Kai's eyes flashing an unspoken message as her thumb moved into place.

Caitlin burst into motion, charging for the elevator. She twisted around once inside and caught one last look at Kai, their eyes meeting as the doors closed automatically. The elevator began its rapid ascent, several seconds passing before a blast shook the cab sideways, then up and down. Caitlin remembered noting the elevator walls cracking before she was hurled forward into the darkness that swallowed her.

 

110

E
L
P
ASO,
T
EXAS

“Sinners repent or more will die! Sinners repent or more will die! Sinners repent or more will die!”

A few days later, her arm in a sling and her ears still ringing from the percussion of the blast at Yuyuan, Caitlin approached Reverend William Bryant Tripp across the parched ground of Concordia Cemetery just outside El Paso. The Mexican border lay barely a hundred yards to the south and she'd forgotten that this historical landmark lay on desert grounds. That was in stark contrast to the lush foliage of contemporary facilities like Mission Burial Park in San Antonio, where she'd last confronted the leader of the Beacon of Light Church.

Tripp twirled a finger though his handlebar mustache as he watched her approach, separating himself from his chanting throng to meet her well before it.

“Have you come to apologize in person, Ranger?”

“No, Mr. Tripp, I've come to place you under arrest.”

He smiled smugly. “We measured this time. We're a thousand feet away and then some,” he said, gesturing toward the quiet graveside ceremony for another young soldier killed tragically, this time in a helicopter crash stateside.

There were just a handful of people in attendance, and Caitlin couldn't help but wonder if the fact that the sideshow circus of the Beacon of Light Church showing up might have discouraged other friends and family members. A special exception had been granted to allow the young man to be buried on these historic, sun-scorched grounds with other family members who'd also served their country in centuries past. Unusual to say the least, but so were the crumbling concrete markers and broken wooden crosses that littered the dry dusty earth.

Tripp shook his head. “Haven't you learned your lesson by now?”

“Oh, I'm not arresting you for trespassing or disturbing the peace—nothing like that. I'm arresting you for murder.”

A flyer with the logo of the Beacon of Light Church drifted between them on the breeze.

“And who exactly did I kill?” Tripp asked casually, twirling a finger through the other side of his mustache now.

Caitlin held the brim of her Stetson against the stiffening breeze and swept her gaze about the sprawling flat grounds that stretched all the way to a mesa set to the west. “Lots of Chinese are buried here, you know, almost all of which worked the railroads.”

“I wasn't aware of that, Ranger.”

“I'm surprised you'd even set foot here in view of that, Mr. Tripp, given your general distaste for that culture.”

“It's
Reverend
Tripp, and I'm not sure what you're referring to.”

“Yes, you are. You raised the issue yourself back at Mission Burial Park in San Antonio. How your church members, your very ancestors, served as missionaries in those railroad work camps trying to convert the Chinese to Christianity. You called them ‘heathen hordes.'”

“Which makes the cause of my forebears no less noble, Ranger.”

“But that cause stopped in 1883 after that massacre in Langtry killed a whole bunch of them along with plenty more striking Chinese railroad workers. Ugly, little-known part of Texas history, Mr. Tripp, that took the lives of women and children too.”

“What's that have to do with you coming all this way to accuse me of murder?” He glanced beyond her dramatically. “Or should I be looking for another bulldozer somewhere on the grounds?”

“Sinners repent or more will die! Sinners repent or more will die! Sinners repent or more will die!”

“Not this time, sir,” Caitlin said, raising her voice over the chanting that had grown suddenly louder as a young man's casket was lowered into the dusty ground a thousand feet away. “I raise that issue because your hatred for the Chinese is a matter of record. I think you blame them for getting your ancestors killed in that massacre. I think it's something that's haunted you for a long time until you decided to take your own revenge.”

“What are you accusing me of exactly, Ranger?”

“The murder of five Chinese call girls in five different cities along the original rail line built by the Southern Pacific. I checked, Mr. Tripp. Turns out you were there to disrupt a military funeral in each and every one of them when the murders took place.”

*   *   *

Tripp stared at her for what seemed like a very long time.

“That's ridiculous,” he said finally.

“We've got security camera footage from all five hotels where the murders took place showing a man who meets your general description,” Caitlin told him. “Except for the fact he was clean-shaven.”

With that she reached out, grabbed Tripp's mustache by one of the handlebars and yanked, tearing it off and leaving a sticky layer of residue behind.

“Just like you, as it turns out,” Caitlin finished.

Tripp swiped a finger across his bare upper lip, trying hard to show no reaction at all. “That's hardly enough evidence to arrest me.”

“Maybe so, Mr. Tripp.” She flapped open a plastic evidence pouch and dropped the fake mustache inside. “But we found a piece of artificial hair in the Menger Hotel that I believe is going to be a perfect match for this. Another was recovered at the Lubbock murder scene I'm betting will match up too.”

“Sinners repent or more will die! Sinners repent or more will die! Sinners repent or more will die!”

Tripp's features had frozen up solid. He stared at Caitlin hatefully, trying to muster up some bravado he couldn't find.

Finally he took a step backward, closer to his chanting faithful, his spine stiffening. “You just bought yourself one of the biggest lawsuits in Texas history.”

“I don't think so,” Caitlin said, shaking her head. “See, my great-grandfather had the wrong man pegged as the killer of Chinese women murdered in that camp where the massacre took place, just like I did for a time. I think the real killer back then was really one of the missionaries out to punish those Chinese prostitutes for their sins. If William Ray Strong ever considered that notion, he probably would've figured out that same missionary was present in all the camps where murders took place. Playing God, just like you decided to do a hundred and thirty years later. Guess ruining the funerals of young American heroes wasn't enough for you.”

“Sinners repent or more will die! Sinners repent or more will die! Sinners repent or more will die!”

Caitlin slid her gaze over to the members of the Beacon of Light Church. “I wonder how your supporters over there would react if they knew about those movies you must've watched to find your victims. I'd have a story ready for them too, if I were you.”

Tripp ran his tongue over his upper lip, expression wrinkling at the taste of the remaining glue. A thousand feet beyond, family members were now tossing handfuls of parched earth atop the coffin of their loved one. A few were looking toward the chanters and their picket signs held high toward the sky, squinting into the sun with fists clenched by their sides. A man and a woman Caitlin took to be the young man's parents stood holding between them the ceremonial American flag with which they'd been presented.

“The state of Texas will be hearing from my lawyers, Ranger.”

Caitlin used her good hand to whip the handcuffs from her belt. “You can call them from the car, sir.”

 

E
PILOGUE

Their influence was worked not by recklessness or foolhardiness, but by the steadiness of their purpose and performance—and by the sureness among both the law-abiding and the law-breaking, that thought of self would never deter the Ranger from fulfilling the commitment of his vows as an agent of the law, order and justice.

—President Lyndon B. Johnson, 1965

 

 

W
ASHINGTON,
D
.
C
.

The reception to honor first responders was held in the Crystal Room of the White House, sponsored by the secretary of homeland security who was busy holding court in a corner while Caitlin hovered nearby. She'd abandoned the sling but she still wasn't hearing too well out of her right ear.

“Ranger,” the secretary called, spotting Caitlin and starting over.

Caitlin heard only half the word, the rest lost to her damaged hearing. She liked the fact that the secretary was a woman too and they'd gotten along quite well in the past, having met while she'd been at Quantico for her annual two-week stint on homeland security issues.

“Do you have a moment?” the secretary asked, steering her toward a set of French doors that led out onto a patio, its outdoor furniture removed for the season and fall leaves beginning to gather in clusters. “There's something I want you to know. The Chinese government has agreed to disable the two satellites launched by Yuyuan to transmit the signal to all those cell phones. In a few days, they'll be nothing more than junked steel floating in the sky.”

“You mind asking them to wait a bit longer on that?”

“Why?”

“I have my reasons, ma'am, but it might be better if you didn't hear them. Truth is we've got other fish to fry anyway, and I came here today to make sure you got that grill going as well.”

The secretary gazed back through the French doors, as if wishing she'd never stepped outside. “I don't believe I understand.”

“I believe you do. I'm not saying you were involved in, or had any knowledge of, the alliance between Yuyuan and your office. Let's call it a rogue operation that may leave some echoes.”

“Echoes, Ranger?”

“Sounds that ring out for a time after what spurred them's long done.”

“I know what an echo is.”

“Then I'm sure you know we can't afford any here. That means whoever else is involved needs to be gone. That means no blowback or somebody going back to guns to cover their tracks.”

With that, Caitlin handed the secretary an envelope.

“You'll find a dozen names inside, ma'am, all listed as John Does after being killed in a gunfight in East San Antonio. Right now it's down as gang related.”

“Right now,” the secretary of homeland security repeated thoughtfully, taking the envelope stiffly in hand

“We've positively ID'ed the victims. Dig a little deeper and I'm sure we'll find a treasure trove of black-ops experience that's better not made public. I believe it's in your best interests that remains the case.”

The secretary stiffened. “You've made your point, Ranger. And for the record none of this was necessary. This whole matter ceased to exist the moment I was informed that there were those in my department operating as lone wolves. That's not acceptable and won't be tolerated.”

“I appreciate that.”

“Then can we go back inside?” the secretary said, folding her arms across her chest. “It's a bit chilly out here.”

“One more thing, ma'am. Our medical examiner can't confirm that either Li Zhen or his daughter were killed in that blast at Yuyuan. If Li Zhen did manage to survive, I want you to know we're gonna find him no matter where he's at or what it takes. Anybody in your office knows anything that can help, I'm sure they'll be in touch.”

“I'll pass along a directive to that effect.” The secretary of homeland security started back again for the French doors and this time Caitlin let her. “The Rangers always get their man, don't they?”

“Close enough, Madam Secretary,” Caitlin said, looking her right in the eye.

*   *   *

“I know there's a reason why we came out here today,” Cort Wesley said, as he and Caitlin walked toward the graves of her grandfather and father in Mission Burial Park, the cemetery located on the San Antonio River where they were buried side by side shaded by flowering cottonwood trees in clear view of the historic Mission Espada.

“Can I ask you a question, Cort Wesley? When you talk to that old friend of yours from prison—”

“Leroy Epps.” Cort Wesley nodded.

“—Leroy Epps. You believe he's really there?”

“Gaw head, bubba. Tell the lady,”
he heard Leroy's voice chime in from alongside him.

“Yes, I do.”

“Then maybe that's why I felt the need to pay a visit here. Maybe my dad or granddad will do the same.”

“Tell her it don't work that way. But this sure is a nice place to spend a man's passing years.”