Chapter 22
The sun had set by the time I received the information I’d requested from the Taskforce. I told Jennifer to head to the Papago
Farms FOB while I transferred it to a thumb drive, figuring that since they were on two-week rotations, they were running
twenty-four hour operations and could help me even if it was way past business hours.
I’d hoped that Chief would have detailed information on the whereabouts of the Ghost, but he had not. The good news was he
admitted to helping the Ghost cross the border, which was the first indication that we were on the right path. The bad news
was he seemed to believe Mexico wasn’t his final stop, but he had no idea what it might be. He claimed to not even remember
what name the Ghost was traveling under, but I figured that was bullshit, since he’s the one who’d forged the TO tribal ID
the Ghost had used to cross the border. On the other hand, he’d spilled just about everything else I’d asked him, to include
the story of the van and the men who’d driven it, so maybe he was telling the truth. Either way, it didn’t really matter,
because I had my own way to find the name, which was why I was driving back to the FOB.
We had made it out of the grocery store before it penetrated Chief’s criminal brain that I was taking him with us, quite possibly
off the reservation that protected him. He’d shown his first signs of resistance, trying to squirm out of my hands. I’d set
the tone early, hammering his gut and then bouncing his face on my knee when he doubled over.
He’d fallen to the ground, writhing and moaning, and Jennifer had glanced back from her security posture.
She started to say something and I shook my head, letting her know I wasn’t about to lose it and was playing an act.
I told her to unlock the trunk of our rental and she’d done so.
I’d hoisted Chief to his feet, put on my mean face and said, “Too bad being a federal agent doesn’t matter on the rez.
I’ll just have to do this the old-fashioned way. ”
I slapped one hand on his throat and another on his crotch, lifted him up and slammed him into the trunk. He started to scramble
and I folded his legs up, shoved them in, then slammed the lid. Jennifer was giving me the side-eye, and I put a finger to
my lips.
We’d driven out to the desert, Jennifer behind the wheel, and I’d instructed her to hit as many potholes as she could. We’d
found a dirt road, took a left, and bounced down it for about a mile. I saw some sort of dilapidated shed off the road, closed
on three sides with a metal roof and surrounded by trees. I’d told Jennifer to park, jerked Chief out of the back, and thrown
him in the shed.
I’d only gotten to the part of the act where I pull a knife out before he started singing. I didn’t even have to smack him
around. I’d kept asking questions while Jennifer took notes, and eventually we both ran out of steam. I’d pressured him on
the name—and I mean some serious pressure—but he didn’t cough it up.
We put him back in the trunk and I’d called the Taskforce, telling Jennifer to head back to the FOB.
Veep said, “Tell me you got something.”
“I’ll send a complete SITREP shortly for Wolffe, but tell him verbally I have a direct line on the Ghost. He’s in Mexico,
but I don’t know where or how he’s traveling. I need you to send me the complete biometric profile we took of him.”
Veep said, “That’s easy. I’ll get it run to you immediately. What about the van? Any leads on who broke out the Ghost in the
first place?”
“Yeah, I’ll include the particulars in the situation report, but basically it’s a drug-running gang. One’s named Flynn, one
is Taco, and one other is either Tusk or Pinky. Flynn is the only name I got that wasn’t a nickname.”
“Bikers?”
“I don’t know. My source said they use the Tohono O’odham Nation to slip across the border and bring back loads through the
Nogales port of entry, but he didn’t know about any specific gang affiliations. I have a cell that’s got their contact numbers
in it, but the source said they always use burners, new ones each time. He never initiates contact. They do, and it goes from
there. They might—I say again, might—still have these phones, but probably not.”
“So these are the guys who killed Marley?”
“I can’t say that positively. All I can say is that these are the guys who brought the Ghost out of Utah to the Mexican border.
There could have been a switch—it is a little bit of a drive—but either way, if these guys aren’t the shooters, they’ll know who the shooters are.”
He said something off the phone, then said, “Got the biometrics. Sending it to you now.”
“Good. Let Wolffe know what we’ve found. I’m headed back to the CBP FOB and I’ll update if I find anything new.”
“I’ll let him know, but . . .”
“But what?”
“Wolffe’s going to shit a brick when I tell him where you are. I didn’t clear it through him. You want me to wash this like
you discovered it in Utah?”
“No, don’t bother. Look, my source said the Ghost was crossing the border to meet up with his ‘sponsors.’ That’s what he called
them. Somebody else is paying the freight here, and Flynn, Taco, and Pinky are just conduits. Whoever is the brains behind
the breakout is outside the United States.”
“Okay . . . you want me to tell him that too?”
“Yeah. You can let him know where I am, and that I’m working the problem. In fact, when he starts to turn purple, tell him
I said I wanted the Rock Star Bird in Tucson, with you on it.”
“Uhhh . . . why?”
“Because we’re going to track the Ghost, why else?”
“Pike, maybe you should tell him that . . .”
“I don’t have time for that. In fact, I need you to call Knuckles and Brett and tell them to get to Tucson. I’ll meet you all there.”
“Pike, that stuff all has to be cleared with the Oversight Council.”
I said, “Gotta go. Good luck,” and hung up the phone.
Jennifer said, “You’re just going to let him handle that?”
I checked my phone for the download from the Veep, then pulled out my laptop, saying, “I have to airdrop this stuff to my
laptop to get it on a thumb drive.”
She said, “You’re avoiding my question.”
“No I’m not. By the time Wolffe blows his stack, I hope to have a location.”
She pulled into the FOB, parked, and said, “How?”
I finished up the file transfer, pulled out the thumb drive and said, “By using this.”
We exited the vehicle and went inside the FOB, and were met by a new CBP officer. I said, “Hey, we’re the Homeland Security
agents from earlier. Is Jose around?”
“No. He’s racked out.”
“What about Chet?”
“Same.”
“Can you wake Jose please? It’s important.”
He looked like waking Jose wasn’t going to be a pleasant job, but agreed, walking through a door and disappearing.