Land of Entrapment (34 page)

“I’m scared.”

“That’s okay. Just get away from the house and go to the Allsup’s. Everything will be fine. Trust me, okay?”

“Okay.” She did sound really scared.

“Now go on doing what you do and just let them think you’re going about your business. You can do this, Megan. I know you can. You’re a tough cookie.”

She took a deep breath. “Okay. Brown Chevy Trailblazer. Big guy, Mark. Okay. I have to go.

Thanks, K.C. I’ll—I’ll see you later.”

She hung up. I immediately called Mark. He answered and I told him what Megan had said.

“Okay. Why don’t you swing by at four and we’ll get things set up and move out.”

“Yessir. See you in a few.” I hung up and stared out into the rain. By three it had lessened to a slow drizzle. I wondered what you were supposed to wear on a police raid. I went back to Megan’s and changed into jeans and a dark blue tee. I also put my hikers on, thinking that sandals might not be a good idea.

I called Melissa. She didn’t answer so I left a message telling her Megan had called me and it looked like she’d be coming home soon, I was heading out to APD, and I’d let her know what was going on as soon as I had another chance. Then I called Sage.

“Hey!” she answered. “Did she call?”

“Yeah. It’s a go. I’m getting ready to go to APD

right now.”

Pause. “Please be careful.”

“I will. You be careful going to Santa Fe. And watch out for those benefactors. Some of ’em are out for blood.”

She giggled. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“I don’t know what time we’ll be done at the station. And I have no idea what state of mind Megan will be in or what she’ll want to do.”

“I just need to know that you’re okay.”

“I’ll call you at least once.”

“Good. I’ll talk to you later,” she said, relieved.

“Good luck with the show.”

“I think you need more of that than me. Be safe.

Bye.”

“Bye.” I hung up and stood staring out the door for a while. The rain had stopped and the world was in the process of drying. I made sure I had my wallet and some cash and locked up. I pulled away from the curb at three forty-five.

Chapter Nineteen

MARK DROVE CASUALLY around the Edgewood neighborhood, canvassing it. He passed 457 Partridge once but didn’t go by again. He cruised the street that Allsup’s fronted and then parked at a Kroger store about a mile away and checked in with various units.

I was lying across the back seat on my stomach, feeling like I was wrapped in armor. Chris and Mark had strapped me into a Kevlar vest at the police station and I now had newfound respect for law enforcement. Not only were these things heavy, but they were restrictive. You definitely had to be agile and strong to move effectively in them.

When Mark was out of earshot, Chris teased me about leaving me face-up on Sage’s front porch with the vest on, stranded like a turtle on its back. I retorted that maybe that wasn’t a bad idea and she just grinned and punched me in the chest to test it.

She and Mark were both wearing vests as well. Mark’s was under his button-down denim shirt. Chris’s was over her black tee.

Cody texted me at five-ten PM but he provided a completely different address. Mark decided that Cody didn’t trust me, especially after what had happened on Tuesday. So he had a couple of cops go check it out. Sure enough, the address was an abandoned house, boarded up. “Probably wanted to jump you in,” Mark said, referring to the gang practice of beating the shit out of new initiates for thirty seconds.

It wouldn’t surprise me. Different white supremacist groups had different initiation practices for hardcore members. Given Cody’s reluctance to smack Sage around, I doubted he himself would try to jump me in, but Ray probably had no compunctions about that.

And neither did Skinhead Girl or Ray-Bans. I was extremely glad that Megan had called earlier and confirmed that the meeting was at the Partridge address.

“How you doin’ back there?” Mark broke my train of thought.

“Never better,” I answered. “But based on this vest alone, I don’t think police work is in my future.”

He chuckled and continued to monitor the police band and then check in via walkie-talkie to local units who were getting into position. I lifted up a tad to check my watch. Seven-fifteen. I felt sort of queasy. I had both my cell phones in easy reach and I awkwardly checked them again to make sure everything was operational.

Edgewood local police were working in conjunction with the Santa Fe County Sheriff’s Office.

Technically, this wasn’t APD’s jurisdiction but Mark’s expertise with the gang unit and the fact that he had been conferring with Edgewood law enforcement about 457 Partridge for a few weeks, as well as Chris’s knowledge of the case, brought them in. The New Mexico branch of the FBI even had a couple of boots on the ground, given their interest in domestic terrorism.

I hadn’t actually spoken to a rep yet, but Chris said that they’d want to talk to me soon enough about my work and how I had managed to track the Desert Rats. Gus Clayton was the guy who’d contact me.

Given that Megan had just recently told me that the Rats might be stockpiling and planning a possible bombing, the FBI came a little late to the party, but I was glad they were here and that everybody seemed to be cooperating. Too many times in the past, it seemed that in situations like this, law enforcement agencies didn’t coordinate effectively or stepped on each other’s toes and it got ugly. I hoped that didn’t happen here.

I listened to Mark’s cop lingo as he answered radio calls and I heard Chris’s voice, cool and confident. I rarely got to see her in action and it gave me a whole new appreciation for the work that she did. “All right, we’re gonna move in,” Mark said. He sounded completely relaxed, like he had just said

“Well, I’m gonna grab a burger.” I, on the other hand, felt like I needed to puke my guts out. I shut my eyes, forcing myself to breathe as deeply as I could with the vest on. I felt the Chevy pull onto the street. Oh God, oh God, oh God.

Mark slowed down a few minutes later and turned left into what I assumed was the Allsup’s parking lot.

One of the good things about this particular store was that it seemed to function as a hang-out for lots of different people. Consequently, Mark didn’t draw any attention as he sat in his vehicle ostensibly looking at an atlas. “How are you doing?” he asked without turning around.

“Well, I haven’t hurled yet, so I guess that’s a good sign.”

He grinned. “I don’t care what Gutierrez says, Fontero. You’re all right.”

I smiled against the fabric of the back seat. I was compulsively checking my watch now. Seven forty-five. Night would fall soon. Shit shit shit. Come on, Megan. Seven-fifty. Damn damn damn. Where are you, Megan? A male voice I didn’t know called Mark’s handle on the radio. I turned my head and watched him reach for the handset. “Two-five-four. Go ahead.”

“We are in position. It’s a full house. Target is on her way, over.”

“Roger that. Two-five-four out.” He slid the handset back into its holder.

“Show time. Stay down until she’s here.”

“Yessir,” I acknowledged. She’s on her way.

Megan’s on her way. Anxiety wrapped around my esophagus like vines. Mark got out of the SUV and left the driver’s side door open. If I twisted my neck slightly, I could see him through the corner of the windshield, standing on the driver’s side leaning on the hood. I heard him say “Hi” to somebody and I heard Megan’s voice.

“K.C.?”

I sat up and opened the door behind the driver’s seat. “Hey!” I got out and pulled her into a hug. She started crying.

“I’m so sorry,” she kept saying as she clung to me.

She felt too thin.

“Get her in,” Mark said firmly but gently.

“Okay,” I took her hand. “Lie down on the back seat.” I helped her in then climbed in with her. Rather than stay on the seat, she hunkered on the floor behind the front passenger seat. “Hang in there.” I grabbed her hand again and Mark shut the door behind me. He had parked in the spot farthest to the left of the Allsup’s entrance so no one could pull up on the driver’s side. He remained outside, cell phone in his hand. To casual observers, it looked like he was waiting on a call. I was sitting up in the back seat.

She’s here. Megan’s here. She was staring at me. She looked more like Melissa than the last time I had seen her, though the thinness of her face made her look even older than her sister. An expression reminiscent of her second round with rehab hovered in her eyes, that boundary between hope and hopelessness.

“Welcome back, kiddo.” I leaned down and kissed her on the forehead.

Mark leaned in, bracing his hands on the driver’s seat. “How long before they send someone to get you?”

“Any minute now,” she answered. Fear clogged her voice. What the hell had those bastards done to her?“Who?” Mark asked.

“Usually Timmy. He’s short and kinda fat. Since there’s a meeting tonight, Cody will be dealing with that. It’ll be Timmy or this other guy they call Boots.

He wears these huge black Doc Martens with white power fists painted on the outsides in red. They go up almost to his knees. He was there tonight, so he might come. He’s pretty scary.”

So Ray-Bans is Boots. A guy known only by the articles of clothing he wears.

Mark reached for his handset and spoke quietly into it.

Or they might not send anyone, I thought. Because they just might be busy over there. I watched Mark for a bit. I was still holding on to Megan’s hand, clammy in mine. Why are we still here? Why don’t we leave?

“Company,” Mark said. And then the front passenger side window exploded in a thousand shards of glass. I automatically balled into a fetal position. I heard the sharp pops of gunfire and three thunks as bullets hit the passenger side. Mark returned fire. Without thinking, I hauled Megan to my side of the car and positioned myself over her. She screamed and started crying, trying to cover her head with her hands. Her fists smacked me in the face a couple of times. Mark shouted into his headset.

“Suspects are on the move! Requesting back-up!”

Shouts and screams erupted in the parking lot.

Farther away a few gunshots popped in the air. Holy shit! “Stay with the vehicle!” Mark ordered. He took off running across the parking lot toward Partridge.

“Stay down,” I said to Megan, trying to keep my voice calm but Jesus Christ, we had just been shot at and I had no frame of reference for that. I climbed over her and got into the driver’s seat. Mark had left the keys in the ignition. One of the Allsup’s clerks was standing out in front of the store shouting into a cell phone. Two people by the gas pumps were doing the same thing. I glanced out the broken window and my blood froze. Four skinheads approached the Allsup’s from across the side street that intersected with Partridge. Two had baseball bats and the other two carried chains. They looked really pissed off and they were headed right for the Chevy. How had Mark missed them?

“We’re about to have some more company,” I said, trying to sound pleasant as I turned the key. Good fucking God. The clerk saw them coming and he ran inside and pulled the door shut. I rammed the Chevy into reverse and slammed my foot onto the accelerator. The skins were running now and they caught up with the Blazer and banged on it while I tried to get the vehicle into drive. Megan moaned and whimpered in the back seat. The skins got in a few good swings with their makeshift weapons.

Metal slammed against metal as a chain thunked against the driver’s side and a dull thud and the tinkle of glass breaking advertised that one had smashed the right headlight. I inappropriately thought that Mark was not going to be happy about the damage to his vehicle. Megan was screaming again but I focused on getting us out of there. I rammed the gearshift into drive and accelerated. The tires screeched. The skins dodged out of the way but chased me as I roared onto the side street that Chris and I had taken just a few days earlier. I barely avoided another car whose driver laid on the horn and swerved into the Allsup’s parking lot. I thought I heard sirens somewhere in the distance.

Megan started sobbing and mumbling.

“Sorry, kiddo. Hang in there.” How the hell am I sounding so calm? Gunfire split the evening air again and too late, I realized I was headed toward it. I glanced in the rearview mirror. The skins from Allsup’s were still running after me. It would take a few seconds to pull a U-turn. More than enough time for them to catch up. And they might be armed with other weapons. As if he heard me, one carrying a baseball bat pulled a pistol out of his pocket. I saw him take aim and fire. He missed and my peripheral vision registered a flash of movement to the right.

Mark, standing on the corner of Partridge and this street. He gesticulated wildly at me. I accelerated directly for him.

“Hang on, Megan!” I slammed on the brakes and Mark pulled the passenger door open and threw himself onto the seat, directly on the glass. His left shoulder was stained with blood.

“Fuck!” I shouted.

“Go straight!” He grabbed the handset and started barking instructions into it. More gunfire from the asshole behind me actually hit this time. With a dull plunk, a bullet found the tailgate. I slammed the accelerator hard and roared down the street, hoping no kids or dogs ran out in front of me. Mark requested more back-up to handle the four from Allsup’s.

“Turn right,” he commanded. I did and drove for a block. “Right again.”

He was bringing us in from the other side. I wasn’t sure this was a good idea until I saw several police cars with flashing lights lining both sides of the street. Several police officers trained weapons directly at us. Mark leaned out the window and shouted, holding his badge up. I slammed on the brakes and he got out. I turned the engine off and put my hands up. Megan was silent. I turned to check on her. She was rocking back and forth on the floor of the SUV.

“It’s okay,” I said softly. “We’re surrounded by cops. We’re okay.”

Four officers approached the vehicle, guns down.

“Everything all right?” A guy with the Sheriff’s Department addressed me.