Chapter 39
“Here we go again,” Noelle said under her breath.
She stood in the back of the room with Max and Mercy Kilpatrick, listening as the SWAT commander spoke to his team.
Earlier the Portland FBI SWAT team had sent two members ahead to recon the area from which Jeff Garrison had sent his location.
The rest of the team members looked physically tired, but everyone had determination in their eyes.
They wanted to go out there again; they wanted to find who’d killed their fellow agents.
“How do we prevent another fuckup like last night’s?” Max asked softly.
“It won’t happen again,” said Noelle with a certainty she didn’t feel.
At least it was daylight and the snow had stopped.
FBI SWAT team leader Stevens was still in the hospital with a minor skull fracture and concussion.
The second-in-command of the team had stepped up.
Special Agent Pete Preston. Now the team leader.
From what Noelle had seen so far, the command transition was seamless. All attention was on Preston, and he spoke with confidence. He put up enlarged satellite photos showing two cabins among dense forest.
“Here’s what we’ve got so far from recon,” said Preston.
“The larger cabin is where we believe SAC Garrison sent out his location. It’s owned by district attorney Julie Ferrandis.
We’d hoped to stage at the smaller cabin two hundred yards away, but recon reports it has a dozen vehicles parked at it.
They photographed all the license plates, and we’re running them now.
They cleared the cabin, finding evidence of recent habitation.
Foodstuffs. Sleeping bags. They’ve currently moved on to the second cabin.
” Preston’s phone buzzed and he touched the screen.
“I’ve got a list of the vehicle owners. Looks like they’re mostly from Deschutes County, and several of the names have been associated with militias in the past.” Preston was rattling off names when Max visibly flinched at one.
“Agent Preston!” Max took a step forward.
“Mark Bourdon was brought up as a possible suspect in the car bombing of Judge Howard Holtz. He was released from prison eight months ago, I believe. Holtz ID’d him as the most likely suspect based on his actions toward Holtz in the courtroom.
It’s very possible he’s responsible for the murder of the man in the trunk.
And two other murders we’ve been investigating. ”
“Thank you, Agent Rhodes. I’ll move him to the top of the investigation list.” Preston paused and squinted at Max.
“Your recovery status?” Noelle wasn’t surprised the agent had asked.
Half of Max’s face was still bright red, and he looked as if he’d been beaten.
Colorful bruising had appeared on his cheekbone and neck.
“I’m fine. Just a little toasted.”
A quiet ripple of grim amusement went through the room of agents.
An image of Special Agent Keyes’s burned body flashed in Noelle’s mind, and she fought back a wave of nausea.
That could have been Max.
Another agent approached Preston, a piece of paper in his hand, and they had a quiet discussion for a long moment.
Preston took the paper and turned back to the room.
“Our recon team has done some scouting of the second cabin. More vehicles are parked at this cabin, and recon reports a guard with a rifle at the front entrance and another on the rear deck.”
Mutters rose in the room. Preston held up a hand for quiet.
“Our belief that county and state leaders are in that cabin has been confirmed by again running the license plates.” He looked at the paper and started to read.
A grumble went up as he read SAC Jeff Garrison’s name and was quickly followed by a louder reaction at the name of Oregon’s governor.
DA Ferrandis, Bend’s mayor Doug Ross, judges Howard Holtz and Cassandra Tedesco.
“Several of these people have been close friends for years. It’s believed that the families of all these officials are present in the cabin, and that the guards indicate a hostage situation has taken place.
” He nodded at three team members who had stood and gathered their things when he said “hostage.” “I want our hostage negotiators on scene ASAP. I think we’ve got a fantastic team here, but I’ve also requested they activate HRT out of Quantico. ”
Hostage Rescue Team.
Noelle glanced at Mercy and Max. Both agents had their gazes locked on Preston, apparently not surprised at the request for help from the East Coast. The energy in the room was restless, and agents shifted in their seats.
“Has anyone laid eyes on the hostages?” asked an agent.
“Recon has not seen the hostages,” said Preston.
There’s a possibility they’re already dead.
“Let’s head out,” said Preston. “We’ve got an hour drive.”
What if we’re too late?
A few minutes later, Max and Mercy were in Noelle’s vehicle as she drove.
The SWAT team led the way, and several vehicles of agents followed, spaced out a bit so it wouldn’t appear that a large law enforcement action was underway.
But there was no hiding the mobile command center RV or the BearCat.
Noelle hoped word wouldn’t travel ahead to the cabins that something big was about to happen.
“Information on Mark Bourdon was just sent out,” said Mercy, looking at her phone. “He’s stayed out of trouble since his release eight months ago, but he hasn’t had a job.”
“At least not a job on the books,” added Noelle.
“Could be,” Mercy continued. “His address is in Prineville, and he attended all check-ins with his parole officer until two weeks ago. The officer says he’s been unable to reach him.
And of course, under ‘Associates’ are Thomas Hammaker and a few of the same names that Agent Preston read off in the briefing. ”
“But Hammaker wasn’t linked to any of the vehicles at the first cabin?” asked Noelle.
Mercy paused as she double-checked the list. “He’s not. It’s possible he’s not there.”
“I don’t understand,” said Noelle. “Maybe he rode with someone else.”
“What was Bourdon doing during the two weeks his parole officer couldn’t reach him?” asked Max. He rode in the passenger seat and was applying more salve to his burns.
“Probably planning a car bombing, a few murders, and whatever is happening up at the DA’s cabin,” said Noelle. “I think it’s all tied to Hammaker too.”
“Did you hear anything from Emma Chambers?” asked Mercy.
Noelle’s heart contracted. “No. She’s been silent.” She wondered how long she’d carry guilt for not acting sooner to help the girl.
“I’m sorry, Noelle.”
“She’ll turn up,” said Noelle, trying to convince herself.
“Information is coming in on the possible hostages,” said Max, studying his phone.
“They’re gathering data on everyone’s immediate families, trying to get an idea of who and how many could be in the cabin.
Right now they’re estimating eleven adults and six kids.
Ages six months to nine years.” He paused.
“I met Judge Holtz’s wife and twins. I have no doubt they are in there. ”
“At least Garrison isn’t married,” said Mercy. “He used to date Judge Tedesco, but now he’s good friends with her husband.”
“Everyone else is married,” said Max. “They’ve been contacting their offices, trying to find out if coworkers knew if their families went.”
Noelle gripped the steering wheel. After the disaster last night, she prayed today’s operation would not be deadly.
An hour later a staging area had been set up near the first cabin, blocking the road that led to both cabins.
Two special agents cleared the first cabin again and stayed on-site, keeping watch for any returning kidnappers.
“There appears to be a cell under the cabin,” said Preston as they grouped for a briefing outdoors.
“Someone was held there. They found bottled water, protein bars, and a bathroom bucket. There’s a well-broken path in the snow that leads from cabin one to cabin two. ”
The FBI SWAT team was fully geared up, listening intently.
Another dozen law enforcement personnel, including Noelle, Max, and Mercy, wore ballistics vests and helmets.
The additional personnel were there for support and to back up the SWAT team, and they would handle any arrests.
Each had a shield, and several of them had AR-15s slung over their shoulders.
Everyone wore an earpiece, a microphone, and a radio.
Preston had the large satellite photos and was marking them up, assigning his team. “Repeat, Blue-seven,” he said into his mic, listening hard as he stepped back from the photos on the folding table. “Permission granted, Blue-seven and -eight.”
Preston looked at the group. “The recon team is following one of the guards who left his position at the front door to take a leak.”
“Catch him with his pants down,” mumbled one of the team.
“We have the cabin’s building plans from the city,” said Preston. “But knowledge of what’s happening inside would be priceless.”
A woman appeared in the mobile command center’s doorway. “Negotiators are ready, sir.”
“I’ll let you know when your speaker is in place,” Preston told her. “I want more intel first.”
Noelle knew the negotiators would start with a loudspeaker outside the cabin, essentially a long-distance bullhorn, requesting that the kidnappers use a provided radio for communication.
Preston touched his earpiece. “Copy, Blue-seven. Bring him in.” He looked at the assembled team. “We’ve got him. Went off without a hitch.”
Several of the team bumped fists, and Max grinned at Noelle and Mercy.
“The guard says that if anyone misses him at his position, they’ll assume he split,” said Preston. “Says the leader is already pissed about someone who left. Let’s move his vehicle in case they come looking for him at the first cabin.”
A few minutes later, the two SWAT team members appeared from the woods, escorting a very tall man in a heavy coat and hat.
Noelle gasped.
I know him.
“That’s Trevor Baylor,” she told Max and Mercy.
“Evan and I interviewed him about being at the party location where Michael Munoz’s body was found.
This is the last place I’d expect to find someone like him.
” Noelle strode toward the commander as she studied the young man.
His shoulders were slumped, and his cheeks were wet from tears.
“I didn’t want to do it. They made me. I really haven’t done anything,” he kept repeating.
Another connection to the Michael Munoz murder.