Earthway (5 page)

“Tell me you weren’t counting on him keeping me in the kitchen,” Ella added with a smile.

He looked up at her and grinned. “There are very few things a man can count on in this life, but Abednego’s love of cheese is one.”

“Boy, are you good with non-answers!”

Ford gestured for her to sit down at the kitchen table, then started a pot
of coffee brewing. “I spoke to the people I work with—yeah, I said work, not worked—and I’ve got permission to tell you whatever you need to know. But I think you’ve already put a few things together.”

“I know you haven’t always been a pastor and that you have experience in code breaking,” she said, remembering a case he’d helped her with in the past. Justine had done an unofficial background
check on him back then and had discovered that Ford had more security clearance than both of them put together.

When Justine had tried to dig deeper, her computer screen had flashed an “access denied” warning, followed by a blank blue screen.

A week later, Ford had warned Ella about being too curious and encouraged her to talk to him directly. He’d promised to answer what he could—which had
turned out to be darned little.

“It’s been a while since I’ve worked for the government—the FBI actually—but I’m doing classified work for the Bureau again, this time on a contract basis,” Ford said. “Before I became a minister, my Bureau cover was that of an analyst working on scams and crimes involving Native American casinos.”

“If that was your cover, what was your real job?”

“I was analyzing
all forms of communications coming from, and passing to, foreign nationals—suspected terrorists—living inside the US. I was based in various tribal offices—away from Washington and prying eyes and ears, even the innocent kind.”

This was the kind of directness that had initially drawn her to Ford, and she was glad to be getting the real story at long last.

“I hadn’t done that kind of work in
years. Then a few weeks ago, I was contacted again,” he continued. “They’d picked up messages in one of their big data-mining operations that suggested terrorists were planning to take some action against our nuclear power plant here on the Rez. They wanted me to identify all the players involved and thought my work as pastor would be the perfect cover. The basic problem is that
Tsétaak’á
Generating
Station has received too much attention, being the first of its kind in the US.”

“It’s the first new commercial reactor of
any
kind in this country in around thirty years.” The Navajo tribe had named it
Tsétaak’á
, Hogback, after the prominent rock formation
close to the site.
“Specifically
, what did the Bureau want you to do?”

“The FBI asked me to monitor all communications to and from a local
Navajo professor at the community college, Dr. Jane Lee.”

“What tipped them off to her?” Ella asked, wondering why her department—at least Big Ed Atcitty, her boss—hadn’t been alerted. Homeland Security, for one, supposedly encouraged interagency communications and information sharing. Yet Dr. Lee, at the moment, was just a name she’d heard before, nothing more.

“They’d been watching Dr. Lee
because of her ties to old anti-nuke activities, in and out of state. She’s also got a record of arrests at several of those demonstrations.”

“Along with maybe a hundred other activists, I imagine.”

“There’s more. She subscribed to one of those Internet services that’s supposed to create a virtual link between her computer and the company’s proxy servers. Theoretically, that makes any e-mails
she sends out anonymous. The service is called Kloset. Only the company itself knows who you are and where you’ve been.”

“Kloset—and the Feds?”

“Yeah. They have some people on the inside, naturally, looking for this very thing. And for a very brief time, Dr. Lee corresponded with someone—still unidentified—and they discussed ‘taking out’ the Hogback reactor, ‘one way or the other,’ ” Ford said,
emphasizing the words. “But now the messages have stopped. She’s switched to sending, and receiving, coded messages through another, less attention-gathering Internet service. Maybe something tipped her off.”

“So the Feds think Dr. Lee and this unknown person plan to attack
Tsétaak’á
, maybe with a bomb? Or are you guys thinking of a takeover, like that raid several years ago on the coal power
plant?”

“We don’t know,” Ford answered.

“Either way, that would be nearly impossible to accomplish with anything other than a Special Forces team. From what I know, and have seen on recent visits, security at the facility is excellent. Their guards have received the best training available,” Ella said. “What else does the Bureau have besides these e-mails?”

He gestured for her to follow him
back to his office. Sitting in front of his computer, a model and make Ella wasn’t familiar with, he soon accessed the file he wanted.

Ford brought up digital images of a middle-aged Navajo woman with grayish-white hair taking photos of the plant with a telescopic lens. From the various backgrounds, it was obvious Dr. Lee had been observing the facility from different locations.

“These were
taken by hidden security cameras at the plant. Since then, I’ve also learned that she’s downloaded design schematics that only an engineer would find useful. Thing is, Jane’s no engineer.”

“And the FBI thinks she’s working with one or more other individuals?”

“It’s my job to determine who, how many, and what they plan to do—without tipping our hand. The biggest concern is that she may have been
recruited by foreign agents eager to use anti-nuke Navajo activists like Jane as assets. If there’s a terrorist cell working here, other Navajos, some highly placed, may be involved, too. That’s why the Bureau’s keeping a real tight lid on this. I doubt that even Police Chief Atcitty knows.”

“If he does, he’s kept it to himself. Is this why you got involved with the college and agreed to give
the lecture series?” Ella asked.

He nodded. “It was a way to get closer to the chief suspect. But I still have nothing. So far, we’ve spoken on several occasions, but always on a professional or friendly basis.”

“Have you talked to her about the
Tsétaak’á
Generating Station at all?”

“I brought up the subject in passing. It’s a hot topic right now since the installation of the pebble-bed reactor
vessel is imminent. But she refused to discuss it. She actually told me she had no opinion on the subject.” He paused and rubbed his neck.

Jane Lee’s lack of response surprised her. Ford always made whomever he was speaking to feel as if nothing elsewhere on the Rez could possibly matter as much to him. It was that special charisma that had made him such a popular pastor.

“You got
nothing
?”
Ella asked incredulously.

“Jane told me that she wasn’t in the least bit interested in that place. Her tone was so dismissive I almost believed her.” He smiled slowly. “But I don’t give up that easily.”

Ella laughed. Now
that
was the Ford she’d come to know. “So what did you do?”

“You’ve noticed I’ve recently acquired a lot of very handy hardware. One little gadget looks and functions just
like a generic ballpoint pen from the bank she patronizes, but it’s also a tracking device. I slipped it into her purse. I figured she’d be easier for me to follow that way, and I wanted to keep track of her comings and goings. I also made it my business to gain access to her laptop, though that was trickier. To do that, I had to wait until she got online, then I hacked into her system.”

He paused,
and after a beat, continued. “But I suppose it’s also possible she ‘back hacked’ me. Or maybe she found the tracking device in her purse, and figured out who planted it. The signal went dead five days ago, and if she’d just thrown it out, I would have been able to track it. The device was very durable.”

Abednego put his paw on Ford’s lap, removed it, and repeated the process several times. Ford
petted him and smiled. “He wants to go lay on the porch. He’s used to doing that for an hour or so every evening. He was on his own for a
long time before animal control found him, and the big guy obviously likes the outdoors.”

Ford opened the front door, allowing the dog to go lay on his square of old carpet. “If it gets too cold for us with the door open, I’ll bring Abednego back inside. After
everything that’s happened, I want to keep an eye on him.”

“I’m fine. In fact, I think you keep your house too warm,” she answered, leaning back in her chair and stretching out her legs.

“I grew up east of Gallup, and it was really cold in wintertime. In order to keep from running out of propane when our money got low, Mom kept the house temperature as low as we could stand it,” he said. “When
I finally left and got a place of my own, I swore I’d never wear my coat indoors again.”

Ella listened without interrupting, hoping he’d continue. When he didn’t, she wasn’t surprised. Ford seldom spoke about his past.

Ella heard Abednego sigh contentedly from his bed on the porch, his gaze on Ford. As she watched master and dog looking out for each other, she wasn’t sure who took the most comfort
in the constant eye contact between them—Ford or Abednego.

“How big a threat do you think Dr. Lee poses?” Ella asked, bringing their focus back to the investigation at hand. “What do your instincts tell you?”

Ford had an almost uncanny sixth sense about people. He attributed it to his religion and his deep connection to the God he served. She was more inclined to believe it was a result of his
training as a pastor and his firsthand knowledge about the weaknesses of human nature.

“Do you think that Dr. Lee could be behind the attempted break-in here at your house?” Ella added.

“Without the tracking device, I can’t verify that for you one way or the other.”

“If she managed to connect the device to your visit, that could explain her coming here,” Ella said slowly. “She’d want to know
how much you’ve uncovered about her—especially if she’s involved in criminal activities.”

“If you’re right, then Dr. Lee will probably try again,” he said. “And next time, she’ll have another way to deal with my dog.”

She was about to reply when they heard two dull pops outside. Abednego scrambled to his feet and ran out into the yard, barking furiously.

Reacting instinctively, Ella flipped
off the lamp switch and raced to the door, gun in hand. Crouched low, using the wall as cover, she looked out. She saw a flash from beyond the fence and the whine of a ricochet off the sidewalk.

Dropping to the floor, she rolled to her right, bringing her pistol up, the faint glow of her sights lining up on a dark, moving shape in the yard.

“Abednego! Get out of the way,” she yelled.

Gravel
flew and an engine roared as a car raced away, its lights out. She didn’t have a good target, and in the quarter moon, the only thing Ella could determine was that the vehicle was light—maybe white or yellow.

Ford reached the doorway and crouched down beside her as she was putting away her pistol. “Did someone just take a shot at you?”

“No, at Abednego. But the shot missed. You hear it ricochet?”
She stood and pointed toward the highway a quarter mile away. The shooter had turned east and was racing away at high speed, lights now on. “There he goes.”

Ford hurried out to check Abednego, who was sitting by the fence. He grabbed the dog’s collar and ran his hands along the animal’s head and sides, checking for wounds, and finding none. “Did you get a look at the shooter?”

“No, just a muzzle
flash, but those pops were too loud for a pellet gun. I’m thinking it was a .22 this time.”

“Yeah, I agree. If you’ve still got your flashlight, let’s take a look around.”

Ella checked the inside wall of the entryway first, wondering if the rounds had impacted there. The shooter had been aiming at a low-lying backlit shape on the porch, a difficult shot.

Ford moved past Ella and took Abednego
inside. When he emerged again, he was alone. “I put him in the back bedroom for now. I wouldn’t want him to make a mess out of any evidence that might be here.” Ford had also brought out a huge lantern, which put out a great deal of light.

“Here’s the thing,” Ella said, thinking out loud. “The shooter wasn’t after the lights this time. Nothing came through the window in our direction or the open
doorway, and that last shot passed right by Abednego.”

Crouching down, Ella ran her hand over the wall directly behind Abednego’s doggie bed. “Here we are.” She reached for her pen knife and pried out the round from the wood siding, being careful not to deface the bullet.

“Thank the Lord I hadn’t replaced the bulb yet,” Ford said in a heavy, weary voice. “I’m obviously still a target, and anyone—man
or beast—who’s around me gets to share in that danger.” He paused and looked directly at her. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“This is exactly where I should be, Ford. Trust me, I know my job,” she said, her heart going out to him. Ford wanted to protect others. It was part of his nature and the essence of his work. “Tracking criminals down is what I do best, and we now have solid evidence. We’ll put
this person—or people—away.” She looked down at the small, nearly intact .22 round in her hand. Due to the softness of the wood siding, the bullet still had rifling marks that could be compared.

“A twenty-two short?” he asked.

“Yeah. It’s quieter than the longs, or long rifle cartridges. Even so, chances are the shooter also made, or purchased, a
sound suppressor. Being basically illegal, those
aren’t very common. I’ll use that to start the tracking process.”

Ford expelled his breath in a hiss. “Bombs, bullets, silencers . . . this isn’t what I’m about. I made a commitment to bring good into the lives of those around me,” he said, his voice filled with disappointment . . . or maybe despair. “I wish I hadn’t taken on this Bureau work.”

“What’s happening is
not
your fault. You’re trying
to save lives.” Seeing his pained expression, she continued. “My job is to restore the balance between good and evil so that all can walk in beauty. That’s what
I’m
all about. And Ford? I’m
very
good at what I do.”