Zuni Stew: A Novel (22 page)

In the back seat, Jack loaded a Beretta 9MM handgun. Yolie preferred a Glock. She gave her handgun an affectionate pat, leaned against Jack’s shoulder, promptly fell asleep. He nodded off moments later. His life now seemed to have purpose.

Tito remained alert, focused. Silent.



Phillips hung up—more calls from news media. A television on a rolling cart spewed sound bytes.
Corruption. Uranium. Enriched uranium ore shipped to the Southwest.
His name wasn’t mentioned...yet.

He knew details of his realignment bill would soon hit the fan. He called his Albuquerque office, told them to set up a press conference for late afternoon.

39

M
urphy had watched his wife in action in the ER. He knew something about burn victims. After cleaning Knapp’s wounds as best as he could with hydrogen peroxide, he had applied Vaseline, encasing the worst areas in plastic wrap. He prayed the poor, unconscious man wouldn’t wake up until they found help.

The semi belched and began rolling. At the wheel, Murphy reached for the CB microphone.

“Who’re you calling? We’re not scheduled to report for another two hours.”

“Control.”

Knapp’s second-in-command instructed them to take the boss to Senator Phillips’ ranch. Explicit directions. No hospital, the boss wouldn’t want that. As a second thought, the man asked, “How bad is he?”

“Real bad. Half his face. Half his torso,” said Murphy. “He could die on us any minute. If I wasn’t a religious guy, I’d leave him.”



Knapp Chemical Processing Company’s main office was in chaos. FBI agents were all over the place. A driver team reported that Knapp was near death. Washington was notified.



Maria cleared the table, balancing beer glasses and a near-empty plate of
bizcochos
.
“Muchas gracias, Maria,”
said Phillips. “Ray, come with me.”

The senator slowly made it to his desk. Lit a cigarette. Offered one to Ray, saying, “I’m calling a press conference for late this afternoon. No more crap is going to come out of those shitty press guys, catch my drift? Slick pricks with their lies. Lies!” He slammed both hands on the table. “Only the jackass from KOB, and that guy from the
Albuquerque Journal.
But you search them, and their staff. Don’t you dare let anyone you haven’t checked get to the house.” Ray started for the door, but was interrupted. “Get the men. Pull them off whatever they’re doing. Spread them high and low. Tell them to shoot anything you point to.”

“You got it, sir.” Ray left, the unlit cigarette in the corner of his mouth.



Thunder reverberated across the chamisa-covered plains below Taos. Wheeler Peak was shrouded by cumulonimbus clouds, towering vertically. Rain on the way.

“Watch for 64 going to Eagle Nest,” Jack said from the back seat. Map in hand, he added, “The turn-off is after the church in Ranchos de Taos.”

The winding road climbed and narrowed, in and out of pale light. Tight turns, flowing water to the right, crossing to the left. Granite spikes. The sky darkened. A battered pickup ahead slowed them down, then began to drift to the other lane.

“Looks like that dude is hammered,” Josh said.

“Peel out when you can. Something in my bones says we better get moving,” snapped Lori.

“Right on.” Looking in the rearview mirror, Josh saw Yolie hand a file folder to Jack. “Wait ‘til you see what she’s got on him, Jack.”

“I’ve nailed him. Copies have been mailed to Director Kelley. I intend to wrap this up,” Yolie said, peeling an orange. She handed a segment to Jack. “Doctor Jack, any special woman in your life?”

Jack popped the orange in his mouth, rolled down the window a bit. Spit out a seed. “No time. I’ll do it right later.”

Lori smiled, but he didn’t see it.



The gate was open, easily spotted. The landmark, an open yoke with
PHILLIPS RANCH
clearly carved into the wood. The sidelifter turned on to the rutted dirt road. Only minutes passed before a white, mud-splattered pickup drove straight at them. Both trucks stopped.

A stooped elderly guy wearing a slicker, rifle barrel partially revealed, climbed from his vehicle. He called out, “What do you guys want? Are you lost?”

Murphy looked down from the cab at the man. “We’ve got a critical burn victim.” Windshield wipers scraped the glass. “We were told to bring him here. The senator’s a real good friend of my boss.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Ray said. “Well, you can’t turn around here. Too tight for your rig. Follow me up to the house. The senator can check out your story.”

“What about the patient?” Murphy said.

“Get him out. The boss will want to see him. If need be, we can put him in the bunkhouse.” Ray kicked his muddy boots against the running board. Backed the truck up the drive, went inside to get the senator.

The drivers had placed Knapp on a clean white sheet in the sleeping compartment. Luckily, the man was out cold. Murphy told the other driver to crouch behind Knapp’s head, so he could slowly pull the sheet forward until they could lift the sheet and lower him to the ground.

Phillips and the foreman watched from the front porch. Knapp’s clubfoot touched the ground. His mouth opened. Only a garbled moan. One eye opened.

Despite the hideous devastation, Phillips recognized Knapp. “Shoot him! Shoot all of them,” snapped the senator.

Ray raised his rifle and did what he was told.

Unexpectedly, Phillips attacked Ray from behind with full force, knocking him to the ground. The rifle skidded away in the gravel drive. Using his cane, Phillips repeatedly struck him on the head, then ripped off Ray’s yellow slicker, and grabbed the rifle.

Stunned, shaking his head, and spitting out gravel, Ray managed to turn to see the senator running away without his canes, waving the rifle.



“Should be there soon,” said Jack, speaking loudly over the roar of the Wagoneer. “We should hit a broad plain, the lake at Eagle Nest. It’s just beyond that, on the left.”

“I want to make something clear,” said Lori. “I’m the youngest, but I’m in charge. I’ll also take the blame if we screw up. As a federal agent, I outrank Josh. Yolie’s been behind a desk too long. Jack and Tito are civvies. I’m also an expert shot.”

“I’m okay with that,” said Jack.

In unison, the rest of the team agreed. Lori was the boss.

“This is the goddamned windiest road I’ve ever seen,” said Jack. “There it is. Turn left. Right there.” Josh hit the brakes, swerved off 64 and on to the dirt road.

“Thanks for the advance notice,” said Josh.

At last, Tito spoke. “I have been here before. I was very young, but I remember a big, fancy house. Not far, surrounded by hills. We should...”

“Stay high,” finished Lori.

Josh downshifted, engaged the four-wheel drive. “Which way, kid?”

Tito closed his eyes. “Right. I feel it.”

Within minutes of leaving the road, they topped out on a rugged hill. The hacienda was directly below. Lori was instantly out, standing on the running board.

“What the hell?” muttered Jack. A sidelifter—a huge semi-trailer—and a pickup were parked in the circular drive. There were lifeless bodies sprawled on the ground. Front door wide open. A woman appeared momentarily at the door, then disappeared.

“We walk from here,” said Lori. “Lock and load. Tito, you stay put. Watch for anyone else approaching. Josh, you lead. I’ll cover your backs.”

Moving low and fast, Josh reached the semi. Protected from view, he inched toward the bodies. Jack placed a hand on his shoulder. Josh jerked back, whispering, “Stay back, Doc.”

Jack ignored him. Moved forward to examine the victims. Yolie and Lori moved quickly to the porch. With no coaxing, Maria stepped outside. Hands up. Tears running down her cheeks.

“¿Donde esta el senador?”
asked Yolie. Maria stared at her blankly, wondering whether to tell her where he went.
“Señora, por favor, es muy importante.”
She held up her shield. “¿
Entiende?”

“La carretera que atra viesa el cañón,”
said Maria.

“Tenemos que salir. Quidate.”
Yolie turned to leave.

Maria reached out to touch her arm.
“Vaya con Dios.”

Outside, two of the bodies had bullet holes in their heads. Killed instantly. The third. Partially charred face. Partially burned body. Jack guessed fifty percent. He rolled him over. Even with half a face burned beyond recognition, he still recognized him.

“Knapp. Anthony Knapp.” He called out for Lori. “You were right. It’s Mr. K, the sonofabitch that had my family murdered!”

“No time to celebrate, team,” said Lori. She spun around to see Tito. “I told you to stay with the Jeep. The weapons...”

“Jeep is behind the barn. Somehow I knew where to go. I spotted eight men. With rifles. Guarding a ridge above Box Canyon.”

“Maria said there was a little-used trail that would lead to
Cañón de Cajón,
” said Yolie.

Lori took over. “Tito, get the Jeep. Josh, Jack, move the bodies. Cover them up. Yolie, make sure Maria is safe. I’m calling this in.”

“Slower, Josh,” Lori said.

Hunkered behind the wheel, Josh crept along the steep track leading into the box canyon, watching the armed men. Spaced at one-hundred yard in a semi-circle around the rim above them. None of the riflemen had made a move. Time seemed to no longer exist. There was no time at all. Only the Now.

The thousand-foot cliff creating the end of the canyon came into view as they slowly rounded a bend. The canyon floor, dotted with chamisa, scrub pine, narrowed. Closing in on them. The Jeep entered deep shadows. Josh pulled to a stop, and asked, “What are the rifle boys doing?”

“Nothing,” said Jack and Yolie in unison.

“Well, no better time than now,” said Lori. She opened her door and climbed out, keeping both hands in full view. A breeze ruffled her hair. She raised her arms, turned around. The yellow FBI insignia on her vest obvious. One by one, the others climbed out.

Tito, the last one out, was the first to notice. The riflemen had disappeared. They all heard the sounds of baying dogs ricocheting off the canyon walls.

“What just happened?” said Jack.

“I have no idea,” responded Tito.

In the shadows, Phillips crouched between two massive boulders abutting the canyon wall.
I’m cornered.
He pushed harder against the cliff face. Wild-eyed, he fired the rifle haphazardly. Shots reverberated back and forth, making it impossible to determine their origin.

“Everyone down,” yelled Lori. “Spread out.”

Phillips kept firing until the magazine was empty. He dropped the rifle, lowered his head, closed his eyes. “Come get me,” he mumbled out loud. A huge bear rose upright one hundred feet away. The grizzly moved toward him. A roar. Another vicious, terrifying, threatening roar.

“Father!” screamed Tito. He ran toward the grizzly.

Another enormous menacing roar filled the air. The entire canyon. Before their eyes, the bear dropped to all fours, loped amazingly fast down the backside of the hill and out of sight.

“Father!” Tito stopped abruptly, dropped to his knees.

They caught up with Tito. They all saw what remained of a mutilated body.

Jack ignored the bloody mass, his focus on Tito. Tito’s face contorted, a deep, pitiful groan rolled forth between clinched teeth. He tipped over to the ground, writhing in overwhelming pain. Jack dropped down beside him. Lori, too. Tito’s body twitched involuntarily.

Lori tapped Jack on his shoulder. “Look.”

Twenty feet behind them, the dogs were sitting down, all silently looking at Tito. A cold blast of air poured over the mountain peaks, sweeping down into the canyon. Lenticular clouds condensed in the crest of the waves. A split second after the sun dropped below the horizon, the polished pearl-like clouds diffracted. A flash.

A high-pitched, unearthly scream emitted from above. Looking up, Jack saw a huge bird diving straight at him. Not at Jack. Straight for Tito.

“Lori! Falcon,” whispered Jack. They both ducked. Hit the dirt, his body protecting her.

Another ear-piercing sound enveloped them, like the bugle of a monster bull elk. The charged air churned around them. The peregrine falcon’s wings whipped viciously as it whirled past, accelerating skyward. At lightning speed, the outline of the bird quickly turned to a tiny black dot. Gone.

Tito fainted.

“What’s happening?” Jack said aloud. Tito?” Jack looked at him intently. “Breathe. Breathe, Tito.”

Tears flooded Tito’s cheeks. He opened his eyes. “Father is dead.”

Lori noticed the fetish in Tito’s hand. A small bear. “Where did you get...”

“Father passed it to me.”

“When?”

“As his Spirit passed.”

Author’s Notes

D
r. Jacobs lived and worked at the Black Rock Hospital, Zuni Pueblo. Adding to his experiences, the author found the following sources invaluable: