SEAL's Code (23 page)

Because he had
his
backup plan, he wasn’t worried about whether or not Amauro’s plan worked. His confidence was high as they arrived at the outskirts of Tuba City, until they came upon a chopper resting in the middle of the roadway. Fisher put on his brakes, but there wasn’t going to be time to stop without hitting the expensive helicopter with the resort logo on it, so he swerved off the road, nearly flipping the truck over, hit a small boulder, and abruptly came to a stop.

He was dazed from his forehead hitting the windshield, suddenly aware he had been knocked clean out. He was going to ask Yellowhorse about it, but found an empty seat next to him and a large hole in the front windshield large enough for the Indian’s body to go on its maiden flight into the desert night air. He felt the warm blood trickling down his nose and forehead, some of it getting into his left eye. He knew scalp wounds bled profusely, for some reason. He looked for something to wipe it away, and, finding none, used the back of his arm.

“That’s quite an entrance.”

Tommy Bahama, the Aztec Gold bouncer was holding a Glock to his forehead, in case Fisher didn’t already realize he was in trouble.

“Out of the car, asshole.”

Fisher wasn’t sure he was the one Tommy was referring to, so he briefly looked behind to the second seat and then shrugged. What had he done wrong? He’d missed ruining Mr. A’s million dollar private helicopter. That was something he should have been rewarded for, not threatened with.

The door was opened and Bahama pulled him out by the shirt collar. He knew that although the bouncer was strong, there was no way he could hold him up with one hand, since his other hand was on the Glock. Fisher didn’t want to fall to the sandy ground; he barely kept his balance, and when he was released, began weaving until he got purchase.

“You come by yourself?” he asked Bahama.

Is that even your real name, you asshole?

“Shut the fuck up, stupid. I think Amauro’s had it with you and your screw-ups. Corwin’s told him plenty about your little personal kingdom and your little jobs on the side, lining your pockets with bribes and shit.” The bouncer walked behind him, pushing the barrel of the gun between his shoulder blades. “We go this way, jerkoff. Let’s find out how Mr. A’s doing with the lady.”

“Where is Corwin?” Fisher asked, searching the area.

“Back in Vegas. Doing his job.”

Fisher tried to turn around to see if he’d remembered to turn off the truck, or the lights, or if the truck was even drive-worthy, but before he could get a good look, his wrists were immobilized in a zip tie. Suddenly his plans had shriveled like the ball sack on a neutered dog. The sharp pain in his back from the barrel of the gun reminded him he’d better go with the flow for now, until he could embrace some hope. Right now, he had none. It was all he could do to keep from shitting himself. His badge, his power, and the protection of the good people of Gallup weren’t going to be enough now.

Marshall’s Trading Post was dark inside, but they walked around to the back. Two armed guards stood outside the rear entrance. Fisher could see light coming from a crack under one closed door. He was prodded inside, past the guards, and heard the door close behind him.

“Mr. A,” the bouncer called out.

Suddenly the door opened and Antonio Amauro walked out into the darkened anteroom, dressed in slacks and a white shirt, unbuttoned and rolled up at the sleeves. His hands looked dirty, and then Fisher recognized the unmistakable scent of fresh blood.

“Just in time.” Amauro stood close to Fisher and patted his cheek, slightly harder than he needed to, just short of making it a wet slap. “So, Sheriff, I have one last job for you, and then I won’t ask anything else. If you fail, of course, it will go very badly. So pay attention, okay?”

Though he was trying hard, he did feel his bowels loosen and a tiny amount slid down his inner thigh on the right. He was pushed into the room. In the center, duct taped to a chair, sat Zelda Tohe, but she didn’t look much like the Zelda he’d known. Though she’d taken a considerable beating about the brow and eyes, her hatred of him flared in her dark eyes. She spat blood on his expensive cowboy boots.

Bahama chuckled.

“Mr. A, I’m not quite sure—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Bahama yelled in his ear and raised his arm like he was going to hit him with the butt of the gun.

Amauro grabbed his employee’s arm and stopped him. “You kill him now and I’ll make you the same proposition I made him. So don’t fuckin’ test me. It’s been a bad day all around.”

Zelda started laughing and got slapped with the back of Mr. A’s hand.

“Okay then, where were we?” he asked. “Oh yes, Mrs. Tohe was going to tell me where the computer was, since she had some death wish to agree to a meeting and come without the very thing requested of her.” He turned to Zelda. “Weren’t you, Mrs. Tohe?”

“Like I told you, they took it with them.”

“You see, Payette? She isn’t very cooperative. She’s been telling me the same thing over and over again for the past hour. I’m thinking you might be able to convince her I mean business.”

He was prodded again with the Glock. Stepping forward, he bend down and addressed Mrs. Tohe. “Zelda, we have your daughter. That part of the message Yellowhorse told you was accurate. This is about your daughter.”

Her eyes widened as his message hit home. “I’ve worked for this man for nearly eight years. You can see how he treats
me
. Imagine how he would treat you, someone he has no use for.”

He heard Bahama chuckle at his back.

“Where’s Yellowhorse?” she asked defiantly, looking around him as if she could see the Navajo enforcer.

“I’m afraid he took a little trip to see his ancestors, Zelda. I think it was painful. These people mean business. There is nothing to save and nothing to protect. Your daughter isn’t anywhere near here. She’s in Las V—”

“Shut the fuck up!” Amauro shouted, keeping him from finishing his sentence. “It makes no difference where she is. But he’s right, she’s nowhere close by.”

Zelda looked between the three men standing in front of her.

“I want to see her first.”

Amauro swore. Bahama sucked in air. Fisher released more stool and didn’t care any longer. He was sure he was going to die tonight anyway, regardless of the outcome.

“If you see her, Mrs. Tohe, it will be to identify her body. That’s the only way you’ll see her. Your only chance is to get us this computer. Now where did you hide it?” Amauro asked.

Zelda gulped in air, finally releasing her hesitation at offering information, and gushed, “The FBI guy and the two SEALs—I think the whole team’s coming, too—I heard them talking about it before they left.”

This was good news to Fisher. If he wasn’t killed in a shootout, perhaps he could spend the rest of his days in a dry prison cell after all. Life was definitely looking up.

“SEALs?” Amauro faced Fisher. “You didn’t tell me about any fuckin’ SEALs. What’s this all about?”

“My daughter is all but married to one. None of you will live to get to meet any of them. You’ll just be taken out like the dogs you are. The SEALs are going to save the day. You’ll see.”

“Nah, no SEALs. Wilson runs little Navy boats, that’s all. Has a little special forces training, no big deal,” Payette said, trying to be helpful.

“Not so. My daughter’s man is a sniper with SEAL Team 3.”

Fisher shrugged. “That’s news to me. She does have a baby, but I never knew anything about this. Wilson is the only military man I know of. They’ve probably formed a hunting party. Got their bows and arrows all lined up. Big fuckin’ deal.”

“You’re wrong, you asshole. That FBI guy’s a mean sucker. You think you’ll get out of here alive? You’re mistaken! And the FBI has my computer. Only a matter of time before they come and get you.” Zelda was screaming hysterically, her face grotesque in its purple and red bumps from the face-beating. Fisher had never beat up a woman, and he hoped he’d never have to.

“Come here.” Amauro pulled Fisher by the collar and took him outside into the anteroom. He spoke softly. “So, where is this daughter of hers and the baby, hmmm? You got any clues?”

Fisher thought about it for a second. “I honestly don’t know.”

“Think, dammit. A lot is riding on it. Your
life
is riding on it, Fisher.”

“They’ll probably be protecting her, but probably at their house. Mr. A, what are you thinking? You don’t need her.”

“She’s insurance.”

“But if the FBI has the computer, they’re not going to negotiate.”

“I’m counting on the fact that she hid the computer somewhere. Why else would she come all this way without it? She knows where it is. She’ll tell us if we have her daughter.”

“I don’t like it, Mr. A.”

Amauro turned his back on him. In a sudden movement, he swung his arm around and caught Fisher in the right temple with something hard. Fisher felt himself go numb and collapse. He didn’t feel himself hitting the floor.

‡

T
he little convoy
slowed down just at the outskirts of Tuba City. They drove slowly through the nearly-deserted structures, dimly lit in moonlight with an occasional outdoor lamp. At the end of the way east, they saw something blocking the highway. They stopped by the scene of the helicopter parked in the middle of the road and Sheriff Fisher’s truck down a small swale, it’s right bumper raised, embedded on a large rock.

“Who the hell is that?” Danny asked.

“New Mexico plates, I’m guessing it belongs to Asst. Sheriff Fisher. The chopper is private. The casinos use them to pick up high rollers,” Wilson said. “Looks like it’s from the Aztec.”

“Never seen one out here before. Even when the President came out once when I was a teenager, he came in a motorcade,” said Wilson.

“Only one reason this chopper is here,” said Danny.

Wilson nodded agreement.

Both trucks killed their lights, parking off the road behind a shed, out of sight. All four men gathered their equipment silently. Danny donned his night vision gear, and then touched the back of Drews’ shoulder, causing the agent to jump.

“Shit, Danny, you scared the crap out of me,” Sanders whispered.

Danny answered him by putting his finger to his lips. Using several vehicles and a large moving van parked in the street as cover, they located an alleyway behind the Trading Post. Some room inside the post was lit, sending a glow to the rear. Except for the occasional outside light, everything else in the town was completely dark, which gave them the perfect advantage. A dog barked somewhere, which annoyed Danny. He wanted the element of surprise on their side.

He instructed the three others to stay put while he silently skirted the building, carefully looking inside and searching his surroundings. At the rear, he saw the opened doorway with light flooding inside the large office filled with desks and file cabinets. Just outside the rear door of the building, he saw two guards with H&Ks slung over their shoulders, all dressed in black. He heard voices coming from the lit office, but couldn’t make out who was speaking. He counted at least two, perhaps three separate voice pitches. His further search revealed no other guards, so he returned to Wilson and the two agents waiting by the street.

“Sanders, make the call. I see two men guarding the back door, both with heavy arms. I know there are people inside. You get us some backup just in case, but we don’t wait. We go.” Danny knew he was violating his promise to Kyle, but he doubted Sanders or anyone else had as much experience doing house searches.

The agent hit a single number on his keypad and whispered into the phone, confirming to their backup where they had stopped.

“They’re on their way.”

Danny motioned with one finger, and pointed to Lyle, at the front of the building, and then to the rear. The three men followed his lead, Sanders and Wilson falling behind him and Lyle in a crouched run to guard the front entrance and street. He and Wilson each came from opposite sides, in stealth movements. At the same moment, each took down the guards, leaving them unconscious, but alive and fully restrained.

They heard Zelda’s voice piercing the quiet, and then heard the slap of flesh followed by silence. Sanders heard it as well. Wilson checked the back door, finding it unlocked, and opened it two inches, just enough space to toss a lit flash bomb inside. In three seconds, the loud explosion echoed throughout the desert plane, arousing several dogs. The light inside the office was immediately extinguished. Danny adjusted his goggles for IVR and saw the heat signature of one individual sliding along the back wall, making an arc toward them.

Wilson tapped his shoulder. Danny watched Wilson dig out his slingshot, aim it at a glass pane of a side window and let the pebble fly. The shattering glass drew fire from the gunman. Danny threw a knife and heard the satisfying gurgle of the blade hitting the man’s throat. He collapsed without further movement. He and Wilson quickly went inside and prepared to breach the office doorway.

A man’s voice shouted out, “I’ve got Zelda. You let me pass.”