Oath to Defend (21 page)

50

Casey and his men had returned to Senator Hazelton’s cabin and were seated on stools at the marble kitchen counter, enjoying a beer and watching Liz prepare a salad to accompany her linguine. Drake was carefully slicing fresh mushrooms for the salad when Paul and Margo Benning arrived for dinner.

After introductions and a quick tour of the cabin, everyone was in or around the kitchen and getting in the way of the chef. Margo shooed all the men out. “You boys go outside while I help Liz with dinner,” she said. “That goes for you, too, boss. Can’t you see she doesn’t need your help?”

When the men were gone, she gently began her interrogation. “I don’t mean to pry, honey, but what happened to your face? Are these men treating you right?”

Liz gave the best smile she could. “They’re all gentlemen, Margo. They’re taking good care of me. They had nothing to do with these cuts.”

“From what I understand, my boss had
everything
to do with those cuts on your face,” Margo replied. “If you weren’t here trying to help him do whatever it is he’s trying to do, I doubt you’d have those cuts. You mind telling me what happened?”

Liz looked up from the salad and studied the face of Drake’s secretary. The concern she saw in her soft brown eyes, while definitely sincere, exceeded what the cuts on her face warranted. The concern wasn’t entirely for her, she realized, but for Drake as well.

“How long have you worked for Adam?” she asked.

“Six years this fall,” Margo said. “Five years when we both worked in the district attorney’s office, and this last year when he decided to open his own office. Why?”

“Because I suspect you’re more interested in knowing that he’s not in any danger than you are in knowing how I got these cuts.”

Margo had to smile. “Might be honey, but you getting cut up hanging around my boss already tells me he’s off doing his soldier thing again. Since his wife died and he got involved with that assassin last month, he’s taking risks he doesn’t need to be taking. Maybe I just wanted to know if you’re over here taking those risks with him.”

“Those risks are part of my job.”

“Does your job include taking time off to be with him instead of being in Portland like your agency expected you to be?”

Now Liz had to smile. “You don’t waste any time getting around to what’s on your mind, do you? How did you know I was supposed to be in Portland?”

“I keep an eye on him for his mother-in-law. She finds out things when I ask her. The senator knew you were supposed to be in Portland but decided to take a few days off and spend them here in Bend.”

“What is it you want to know?”

“You interested in Adam?”

As Liz turned away to refill her glass of wine, she felt herself blushing like a schoolgirl caught staring at the boy she hoped would ask her out on a date. She picked up the bottle of chardonnay and with a gesture asked if Margo wanted a refill as well. Leaning over to pour the wine, she shrugged her shoulders.

“In my job,” she said, “I meet a lot of men. Most of them either want to see me socially or find a way to embarrass me professionally. Either way, they’re all trying to use me in one way or another. I’ve never met one like Adam. He’s a man’s man, but a gentleman, too, and he could care less if I’m here or in Portland. He’s on a mission. I’m just along for the ride because I’m beginning to trust his hunches.” She set the bottle back on the counter. “But to answer your question…yes, I guess I am interested in your boss.”

“Be careful you don’t get hurt,” Margo said. “Socially, I mean. He’s had a rough year since his wife died. I’m just now getting him to focus back on his law practice. He is a good man, but he’s still hurting.”

“Who’s hurting?” Drake asked as he walked into the kitchen. “You need Ricardo to get something for your cuts, Liz? They sent me in to see how soon we’re going to eat?”

“Go back out there and tell them to have another beer,” Margo said. “We’ll call you when dinner’s ready. The only thing that’s hurting is your manners. You ought to be ashamed, working this poor girl when she’s been injured. Don’t any of you men know how to cook?”

Drake raised both hands in surrender. “We couldn’t talk her out of it, Margo. It’s kind of like trying to talk you out of something. You two are a lot alike.” He turned and left to rejoin the men on the deck outside.

“Looks like it’s us girls in the kitchen again,” Margo said, “slaving away for the men.”

Both women laughed.

~~~

Out on the deck, Drake announced that dinner wasn’t quite ready. Then he pulled Paul Benning aside. “Have you been able to trace the call Vazquez made to cancel his dinner appearance tonight?” he asked.

Benning shook his head. “Not yet. The woman he called, Mrs. Harsh, has been tied up with the fundraiser and dinner and too busy to take any calls. That’s what her assistant said. I have the number she uses at the polo club, but her assistant wouldn’t give me her cell phone number. We can only trace the call from a cell phone to locate your guy’s location. I’ll pay Mrs. Harsh a visit tomorrow at the polo match and get her cell phone number.”

“We won’t need it if Vazquez shows up,” Drake said. “Isn’t there some other way to get her cell phone number?”

“Well, there are no cell phone directories, but I can try to find her on one of the social media sites. There are a couple reverse cell phone directories, too, but they may or may not have her listed. If you need it tonight and if I can use your computer, I’ll try to find her number after dinner.”

“Thanks, Paul. That would be great. Any idea what the women are talking about in there? There’s more talking than cooking being done.”

“My guess would be they’re talking about you.”

“Me? Why would they be talking about me?”

“Possibly because you have a woman staying with you that Margo doesn’t know. Or maybe it’s because your secretary wants to know what you’ve been doing here. Or here’s another possibility: the woman who doesn’t know you very well wants to hear all the secrets the woman who works for you knows about you. Take your pick.”

“It’s that last possibility that has me worried. Think I should go break it up in there?”

“No way, it would only delay our dinner. They’ll find a way to finish what they’re talking about even if you could break it up. Have a glass of wine and enjoy the evening. You lost control of things as soon as the women took over your kitchen.”

When Casey walked over and asked how much longer until dinner was ready, Drake laughed. “That ice cream you had at the Sunriver mall didn’t tide you over?”

“Temporary solution to a permanent problem,” Casey said. “Sorry we didn’t learn more about O’Neil when we toured his hangar house. He wasn’t there, and the place hardly looked like it was being used.”

“Was his Escalade there?”

“No, it wasn’t in the garage.”

“Was his jet there?”

“It was in the hangar. The realtor didn’t let us look around much, but the Hawker was there.”

“Mike, we need to talk with him,” Drake said. “Let’s try again tomorrow after the polo match. He’s involved somehow, and I want to know how.”

At this point, the men’s conversation was interrupted when Margo marched out onto the deck and summoned them in for dinner. The way she smiled at Drake as the men filed by made him wish he had stayed in the kitchen.

51

Drake’s day began early the next morning with a run on the cart paths around the Crosswater golf course. When he got back to his father-in-law’s cabin, the first rays of sunlight were reaching the meandering river and the mist was starting to lift. The smell of bacon cooking greeted him, and when he came into the kitchen, he found Casey humming to himself as he stood in front of the big gas range, watching the bacon sizzling in the cast iron skillet.

Casey looked up. “Hope you’re hungry,” he said. “Crack a couple dozen eggs for me in that bowl on the counter. The guys will be downstairs in a minute. I haven’t seen Liz yet this morning. That sure was some dinner she fixed last night.”

“Yes, it was.” Drake picked up the first egg. “So why are you cooking bacon, eggs, and pancakes to go with that fruit bowl, granola, orange juice, and coffee you’ve already set out? You think that’s enough breakfast?” He smiled to disguise the sarcasm in his voice. “I had to go running before I could even think about eating again.”

“That’s precisely why,” Casey said as he turned slices of bacon over. “Who knows when we’ll get to eat again? You have to be prepared for the unexpected, my friend. That’s what my daddy taught me. On a ranch, you can wind up chasing stray cattle and be gone for days.”

“With that new helicopter of yours, I doubt it would even take a day to find your strays. You want me to beat these eggs?”

“Please. And add a little milk and salt and pepper. So what are the plans for the day?”

“I’d like to see if we can talk to Vazquez before his match. And I think we should send Ricardo and Billy back to the ranch. Those are the only two places I know where to look, the polo field and the ranch.”

Casey nodded. “Did your secretary’s husband hear back on the phone trace he was asking for?”

“He tried to find the cell phone number for the lady Vazquez called,” Drake said, “but he didn’t find anything. He’s going to see if the sheriff’s office here in Deschutes County can help find her number before he meets us at the polo match today.”

“What do you want me to do while you’re at this polo thing?”

“Why don’t you and Larry come with me to see Vazquez? If he has his men with him and doesn’t want to talk to me, I could use some backup.”

“He likes me,” Liz said as she walked across the great room and took a seat at the kitchen counter. “Can I come too? I can always flash my badge and threaten to book a room for him in the Guantanamo Hilton.”

Drake looked up. “Good morning, Liz. I thought you weren’t going to deny anyone their due process until we had more to go on.”

“I heard that you once threatened one of the ISIS goons with a parking ticket for sitting too long on a bench outside your office,” she said. “I figured if it worked for you, I might want to give it a try. Widen my investigatory repertoire a little.”

“It sounds like I might need a new secretary,” Drake said, “one who knows how to keep my operational secrets to herself.”

“Don’t you dare! Margo and I are friends. I think it’s the beginning of…”

“…a beautiful friendship,” Casey completed the movie quote. “Care for some orange juice, Liz?” He nodded his head at Drake. “We’ll talk some time when he’s not around about the rest of his operational repertoire. I think you’ll find it very interesting.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Drake said, forcing a smile. “First it’s my secretary, and now it’s my former best friend.
Et tu, Brute
?” When Casey only grinned, he added, “Cook breakfast and remember who once considered paying for you to be here.”

As the eggs were scrambled and the pancakes were done, the rest of the team wandered in and found seats at the counter or the dining table to have their first cup of coffee of the day. Liz pitched in and helped Casey serve breakfast, whispering conspiratorially as she stood next to him.

Drake watched the two of them enjoying themselves, apparently at his expense. It made him think of the times he had watched men prepare for battle, joking around to lighten the mood. They weren’t heading into battle, but it was clear the possibility of the missing nuke being in the area and the chance that Vazquez would be leaving soon was weighing on all of them. If he left and they didn’t come up with something concrete soon, he was looking at a very expensive three days in the high desert of Oregon. There was no way DHS was going to reimburse him for asking Casey and his men to join the hunt if it turned out to be a waste of time.

By nine o’clock, the last few crumbs of their elaborate breakfast had been consumed and the dishes cleared away. The men loaded their gear in the two Yukons, with Gonzalez and Montgomery leaving for Wyler Ranch and Casey and Green waiting for Drake to lead them to the polo match on the other side of Bend.

When Drake and Liz were seated in his Porsche, she put her hand on his shoulder. “We’re going to find it, Adam. You were right last month about the attempt to assassinate the secretary, and I believe you’re right this time, too.”

“I hope you’re right,” he said with a sigh. “I hope you’re right.”

52

Traffic slowed to a crawl on Highway 97 as they approached the turnoff that led to the Red Lava Ranch, home of the High Desert Polo Club and host of the Pacific Polo Invitational. It was still over an hour before the Invitational started, but the county road that led to the ranch was already bumper-to-bumper from the turnoff all the way to the white-fenced ranch.

“Have you ever been to a polo match?” Liz asked as they idled forward to the ticket takers on both sides of the entrance to the ranch.

Drake smiled. “We don’t have much polo in the Northwest, but I’ve seen polo played in the Middle East. Pretty tough sport, from what I’ve seen.”

“It began as a training game for mounted warriors in fifth century-B.C. Persia,” she told him. “They played it with as many as a hundred men on each side. It was a miniature running battle. My dad took me to polo matches in San Diego when I was a kid and wanted a horse. They didn’t have women playing polo then, so after I studied the sport for awhile, I lost interest. It’s a dangerous sport and an expensive one.”

“Expensive because of the horses?”

“That and the training the top polo ponies require. A top polo pony sells for two hundred thousand dollars or more, and the best players will bring as many as a dozen ponies to a match. My dad was very successful in real estate, but you know what? I couldn’t get him to buy me a polo pony.”

“Smart man. So are these polo players all rich boys?” he asked as he slowed to hand the ticket taker his ticket and a ten dollar bill for his passenger.

“Some are,” she said, “but most of them ride for teams that have a
patron
,
a sponsor. I think most of the players we’ll see today do this as a hobby. They’re not professional polo players.”

Drake followed the line of cars, SUVs and pickups to the parking lot, which was a field on the west end of the long polo field. On the south side of the full-size polo field, three hundred yards long and one hundred and sixty yards wide, white party tents had been set up for spectators who wanted to be out of the sun and for vendors offering beverages. On the north side of the field, the horse trailers were parked parallel to the field, with each player’s polo ponies tethered to the side of his trailer. At the ends of the polo field, collapsible white goal posts, set eight yards apart, marked the ends of the playing field.

After helping Liz out of the Porsche, Drake studied the horse trailers. “I see Vazquez’s trailer,” he said after a minute, “but I don’t see him there with his ponies.” They stood beside the car for a minute, deciding what to do. “Let’s wait for Mike and Larry and then wander through the crowd,” he said. “Our boy’s probably signing autographs. We need to get him somewhere with a little privacy.”

Liz decided this was a good time to continue her tutorial. “The match is divided into six chukkers, each seven minutes long,” she said. “There’s a little time between chukkers, maybe three or four minutes, and five minutes or more at halftime. We won’t have a lot of time once the match gets started.”

When Casey and Green walked up, Drake said, “Okay, let’s find Vazquez and follow him over to his trailer before the match gets started. That should give us some privacy and the time we need to talk with him.”

‘It doesn’t look like they’re letting spectators over near the polo ponies,” Casey said. “Liz, did you bring your badge?”

“Right here,” she said, taking the black leather federal badge case with her ID in it out of the back pocket of her jeans. “I think I can get us over there to talk with him.”

“All right!” said Drake. “Let’s go find our guy.” The four team members started walking down the line of vehicles toward the white tents and the crowd gathering along the south side of the polo field.

“Looks like this polo club allows people to bring their own food and drinks,” Casey observed. “I see a lot of picnic baskets and tailgating going on over behind the tents over there.”

“Help us find Vazquez first,” Drake said. “He’s the only lead we have right now. When we’re finished, maybe someone will take pity on a guy that just had breakfast an hour ago.”

Drake led the way through the clusters of spectators along the south side of the polo field until they reached the first white tent that was open on the side facing the polo field. The people standing under the tent were drinking champagne in plastic flutes they had purchased from a bar in the rear of the tent. A banner over the bar and an adjoining table covered with silver buffet warming pans announced the area as the domain of the High Desert Polo Club.

“Larry,” Drake said, “why don’t you see if Mrs. Rebecca Harsh is here. She’s the lady who took the call saying Vazquez couldn’t make the dinner last night. She’s the organizer of the Invitational, so maybe she knows where he is.”

On the other side of the polo field, polo ponies were being saddled and readied for the match. Polo mallets were laid out next to folding armchairs for the riders, along with their helmets, kneepads, and gloves.

As Drake surveyed the field, Green walked up to him. “I found Mrs. Harsh,” he reported. “She said Vazquez is in the clubhouse with the club’s officers. They auctioned off a private session with him to make up for the dinner he missed last night. She said as soon as they finish there, they’ll come directly here and get the match started. We won’t get a chance to talk with him before then.”

“Well,” Drake said, “then it looks like we get to watch a little polo. Where’s Mike?”

“Mrs. Harsh saw him looking at the food and told him to help himself.” Green nodded his head as Drake grinned. “He said he’d find you in a minute.”

“Adam,” Liz began waving her hand in the air, “there’s Margo and Paul.”

Drake’s secretary was walking smartly toward them, her husband in tow. She was wearing a floppy black hat, a black and white polka dot sundress, and white sandals. After giving Liz a warm hug and commenting on her outfit, she turned to Drake. “Boss, I hope you like my dress,” she said. “Liz said you owed me for taking up so much of my husband’s time this week, so I bought myself a new outfit and put it on the office account.”

Drake looked from one woman to the other. “This friendship you two are developing is beginning to worry me,” he said. “But I’ll have to say you do the office proud in your new attire, Margo. You drug Paul here for the weekend, so I guess I did owe you.”

“Actually,” Margo confessed, “when I learned why you were coming to Bend, I Googled this Marco Vazquez and decided I had to come and see what a genuine international playboy looks like. Has he made an appearance yet?”

Drake looked toward the clubhouse and saw a small crowd exiting the building with Vazquez in its center. When they reached the edge of the polo field, he continued on alone to his trailer, waving at the crowd along the sideline.

“He’s doing that right now.” Drake pointed as the buzz around the polo field grew noticeably louder.