Redback (20 page)

‘Game over, Nate,’ Marquez said. ‘We videotaped you getting the horns out of the trunk.’

Thompson looked from Marquez to Muller. His face said Marquez was right. His plea was to Muller.

‘Warden, you know that my sister died of cancer last winter. It’s her boy I’ve got to raise. Everyone knows that.’

‘Then, if you care at all about the boy,’ Marquez said, ‘get the horns out right now.’

If not for his nephew, Marquez doubted Thompson would have done it. He unfolded the blanket on his truck hood.

‘I was going to sell them and put the money in a college account for the boy.’

They were white-yellow with the half-moon curve and striations of bighorn. Marquez ran his finger along the horn. ‘What did you cut them off with?’

‘A battery-powered surgical saw he had. It’s for amputating in wars.’

‘Who is he, your client?’

‘Yes, sir.’

Marquez turned one of the horns in his hands. He felt the weight of it. Thompson confessed that his plan was to take the horns to Los Angeles where he knew a broker who could sell them. But neither the horns nor his confession got them any closer to identifying Thompson’s client, and it soon became obvious that Thompson wasn’t just trying to protect the man.

‘He didn’t tell me anything,’ Thompson said. ‘I was just a mule to him.’

‘When he left here where did he go?’

Thompson pointed toward Nevada. ‘Drove off that way.’

‘I’m going to show you an old photo,’ Marquez said, and then borrowed Muller’s keys and retrieved the charcoal sketch the Round Valley artist made and the faxed photo Anderson had sent. He studied the photo again and felt heat rise to his face and saw Billy Takado in the late afternoon in the bull ring. If Thompson recognized the photo his decision to join Desault’s task force would be made.

‘Where did you get that?’ Thompson asked after picking it up and squinting at it.

‘Is that him?’

Thompson nodded. He stared at Marquez.

‘Oh, yeah, that’s Maitland.’

When they left Thompson they drove back to Alice Durrell’s house. They found her in the studio. She didn’t look at the photo for more than a second before saying, ‘That’s him, and you’re better off not looking for him.’

‘Don’t worry, Alice, we can handle him,’ Muller said.

‘Of course, you can.’

She studied Marquez’s eyes, smiled a sad smile, touched his arm, and then turned back to her studio.

THIRTY-EIGHT

M
arquez pulled off on to the road shoulder near Mammoth Lakes Airport. He called Desault.

‘Stoval was here and he may be in Vegas now. It’s worth checking.’

‘Why Vegas?’

Marquez recounted Terri Delgado’s story of being invited along on the hunt that would end with a long weekend in Las Vegas. He went slowly through the chain of events with Desault.

‘Where are you?’ Desault asked.

‘North of Bishop at Mammoth Lakes. I’m on my way home. Stoval is traveling under an alias. Patrick Maitland. M-A-I-T-L-A-N-D.’

‘OK, I got it.’

‘He hired a local guide down here named Nate Thompson and shot two bighorn sheep on the Mount Williamson Zoological Preserve. He used the name Patrick Maitland with both the guide and the woman that tipped us. Anderson faxed me a photo I showed them and both ID’ed him.’

‘If he’s traveling under an alias I can hold him. If I can prove it, I can keep him out of the country. How do I reach the woman with the Vegas story?’

Marquez pulled his logbook and then read off Delgado’s cell number.

‘When he left Thompson’s house he had a bighorn head with him. I’ve called Nevada’s Department of Wildlife as well as US Fish and Wildlife, so they’re looking for him, too.’

‘I wish you hadn’t done that.’

‘Well, Ted, this is about wildlife. I don’t know what plans he has for the head, but he can’t carry it around indefinitely and there are only a handful of taxidermists in that area, so between Nevada’s and Fish and Wildlife they should know where to look. Let me give you the names and numbers of who I talked to in those departments.’

He heard Desault’s pen scratching. Then a question came.

‘What made you show this guide a photo of Stoval?’

‘A bunch of small things I’ll run through with you later. If Nevada Wildlife can tie him to the horns then they can make an arrest and the guide here will testify against him.’

‘I’ll call the Field Office in Vegas and talk to you later.’

When he hung up with Desault he pulled back on to the road and started to believe they had a real chance to take Stoval down. He drove north up 395 and then over Monitor Pass and on into the Tahoe Basin. After he was out of the mountains and just a couple of hours from home, Muller called and said, ‘I found it. Coyote dragged it away from where Alice saw them dump it, but it’s bighorn. There’s something else that’s bizarre and with it. I’ll have to drive back out and ask Alice Durrell about it.’

‘What’s that?’

‘A postcard with a skewer through it, like a shish kebab skewer. When I look at the drag marks I can tell it was near where they dropped the head. The postcard was skewered into the ground between two sage bushes. I haven’t touched it yet and I’ve got an evidence bag in my truck. I’ll get it and bring it back.’

‘You’re saying it was stuck in the ground near where the head was before the coyotes got it?’

‘That’s right.’

‘OK, what’s on the postcard?’

‘You want me to handle it? I bagged it as evidence.’

‘Go ahead and take a look at it.’

Marquez listened as Muller opened the plastic evidence bag. He could tell Muller was holding his cell to his ear with his shoulder.

‘The picture is mountains, ocean, and boats. It’s torn though.’ He laughed. ‘Looks like one of the coyotes bit through it.’

Marquez heard him muttering to himself and then wind gusting was loud and made Muller hard to hear as he said, ‘It’s a town in Alaska. I thought it was Alaska. What do you make of that, a bighorn head and a postcard from Seward, Alaska?’

‘I don’t make anything of it yet, but my sister lives there.’

‘Then you ought to see this. It’s a weird thing.’

‘Has your cell phone got a camera?’

‘You want me to email a photo?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I’ll do it right now.’

Marquez emailed the photo to Desault and got ready to call him. He punched in Desault’s number, then erased it and called Darcey instead.

THIRTY-NINE

T
he next day Marquez drove to Sacramento so they didn’t have to do it over the phone. The morning was already hot and the lawns around the capitol building humid as he and Chief Blakely walked to a place on J Street she liked. They took an outdoor table in the shade of a plane tree and the chief ordered a mineral water, Marquez black coffee.

‘They’re calling it a failure at the supervisory level,’ she said, ‘but it’s not as bad as it sounds. They acknowledge that you were pulled away by an ongoing operation, and that Brad disobeyed a standing order that would have kept him from crossing the slope without backup in place.’

‘What’s the bottom line?’

‘That I want you to remain as head of the SOU, the director wants you replaced, and the legislators who fund the budget feel you have to be replaced or we’re going to run into trouble this year. Personally, I don’t believe that.’

‘Director Morgan wants me replaced.’

‘Yes, but he understands what happened. There’s not going to be any disciplinary action and they understand how stretched the SOU gets. No one has any illusions about that.’

If the Director of Fish and Game wanted him out of the SOU, then it was done. Nothing Chief Blakely could do would change that and he got it about the legislature. Every year it was a battle to prove the money for the undercover team was well spent. If he remained in place after a finding of supervisory negligence it would create an opening for those who wanted to cut the budget.

His coffee and the chief’s mineral water arrived, and suddenly coffee was the last thing he needed. Even knowing this was coming, it was very hard.

‘When does all this come out?’

‘Monday.’

‘So everybody would like to get clear this week?’ When she didn’t answer that he said, ‘I’ll step aside today.’

She shook her head and he read real emotion there and it touched him.

‘I’m going to talk to the press about you and tell them what you’ve done for California, and I’m going to say again to you, don’t leave the department.’

‘What would I do here, Janet?’

‘You’re not leaving.’

‘Even after I’m gone I’ll keep working with the team to make sure the cases go in whole. I think Melinda Roberts should step in for me.’

She looked pained and older and answered, ‘You’ve already told me that.’

The chief didn’t refuse to accept that his long run was over, but Marquez continued talking about the open cases, the court appearances he’d have to make, time he should spend with Roberts or whoever got the nod to replace him. He looked across the table at his old friend. It felt strange to work so many years and have it end as simply as this. But he didn’t know what else to do other than talk about the open cases, the things that would need taking care of.

He talked with Katherine the whole drive home and she said, ‘I can’t change you. I know that, and that’s how it is, but, John, there are always going to be people like Stoval. That’ll never end and I feel like you’re being used. Seems to me the FBI is starting to outsource and you fit what they’re looking for. I’m not going to get all emotional right now, but I wish you weren’t going to do this, though I know you are.’

‘I am about to call Desault.’

He didn’t get a call back from Darcey yesterday, but he got one now.

‘John, I’m not worried about it and I’ve got a gun that I know how to use.’

Seward wasn’t a big town. There was fishing, tourism, and the jump-off point for Kenai Fjords National Park. Her restaurant and bar was right there in the small boat harbor and anyone coming into town would only have to ask, ‘Where do I find Darcey Marquez?’

‘What can I do about it anyway?’ she asked.

‘Watch for anything unusual. Call me and I’ll get on the next flight.’

‘Come on, John, in what movie? And what does that mean anyway? Watch for anything unusual. Everyone around here is unusual. This place attracts unusual. And I don’t have time to watch out for it, let alone avoid it. Do you know what I’m doing right now? I’m deep frying halibut and French fries. I’ve got five orders for fish and chips, two for halibut sandwiches, and one grilled salmon. I don’t have any vegetables prepped yet, or anyone to do it. I’ve got a half-ass bartender who got fired off a fishing boat last week and is out there over-pouring for his friends right now. I’ve got my cell phone in my left hand. What am I going to do, watch out the window or just keep an eye on the people who come in?’

He called Desault after he hung up with Darcey.

‘How long will it take you to get the creds, the passport, and the rest?’

‘Not long at all.’

‘All right, I’m in.’

‘That’s great news. I mean, that’s great news. The Department of Justice just got itself wildlife enforcement. Let’s meet here tomorrow. Welcome aboard, no, welcome home, welcome back to the Feds. This really makes me happy, John. This is a good decision.’

If it made Desault happy, it made Katherine sad and his promises to her sounded hollow. He stayed in Sacramento, stalled until late afternoon, and then he parked outside the Water Resources building and rode the elevator up to Fish and Game headquarters. Chief Blakely wasn’t in her office, but her assistant let him in and he put the six green logbooks on her desk. He stacked them one on top of the other, the oldest on the bottom. He laid his resignation letter next to the books, started to leave the room, and then walked back from the door to the green logbooks and rested his hand on the warm cover of the top one. He kept his hand there for several minutes, standing alone in the late sunlight in the chief’s office, emotion coursing through him as he let go.

III

Angel of the Wild

FORTY

T
hey flew low and fast, skimming the tundra, hoping to startle a bear. It was Stoval who spotted a big grizzly feeding on a caribou carcass. He shouted to the pilot, ‘Right side, three o’clock.’

The pilot banked hard as the bear ran and now willows bent under the rotor wash as the helicopter settled lower and Xian Liu, rifle raised, waited for the helicopter noise to flush the bear out of the willows. When it did, the pilot held the copter steady and Liu’s shot caught the bear in the hindquarters. But the bear hardly slowed.

A half mile later they hovered close enough again, though the bear was only partially visible under another stand of stubby low trees. Stoval had the pilot bring the helicopter down fifty feet. He wasn’t sure Liu could make the shot and turned to him and asked, ‘Want us to put you on the ground?’