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Authors: Aimee Thurlo

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BOOK: White Thunder
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She was less than three minutes from Neskahi’s position when she got a call from him. “They continued south after turning onto a dirt road just past highway marker twenty. Right now they’ve
stopped about fifty yards east of Eltsosie’s hogan behind some junipers. They’re probably out of sight from his place, but I can see them clearly. There’s just enough moonlight for me to use my
binoculars. They’re getting out that rope, it looks like. And a big lantern.”
“Is Eltsosie home?”
“I think so,” he said. “There’s no vehicle, but his horse is in the corral and he’s got a fire going.
I can see a puff of smoke and an occasional glowing ember shoot up from the smoke hole in the center of the hogan roof.”
Ella took the turnoff Neskahi had indicated, cut her lights, then proceeded slowly down the dirt road, hoping to avoid any noise that would alert Krause and Simmons. Spotting Neskahi’s unit, she parked beside it and cut the engine. The two vehicles effectively blocked the road
at the point where it crossed an arroyo. Even the big Expedition would be unable to deal with the eight-foot vertical drop off.
Reaching for the shotgun clipped to a bracket behind the seat, she slipped out of her vehicle silently and joined Neskahi, who was crouched low between two big clumps of brush, north of the hogan. The Anglo men he was watching were about sixty yards farther out, looking
down at a big piece of corrugated aluminum on the ground. The ten-foot-long piece of metal had rocks placed atop it in several places, obviously intended to keep a strong wind from blowing the thin sheet away.
“They’re arguing about something,” Neskahi whispered, handing her his binoculars. “They’re easier to see now that they’ve turned on one of those big electric lanterns. And we’re going to
be nearly impossible to spot because they’ve lost their night vision.”
“I wonder why the old man’s staying inside? He’s deaf, not blind. Unless he’s asleep, he couldn’t help but notice that big lamp. It lights up the whole area.”
“I was just going to get to that,” Neskahi whispered. “After we spoke last time, Simmons went up to Eltsosie’s hogan. Eltsosie came out, they talked—or gestured a lot—then
Simmons wrote something on a piece of paper and showed it to the old man. After reading the note, the old man went back inside and hasn’t been back out since. No telling what Simmons told him.”
“That sheet metal on the ground. You wanna bet it’s covering
one of those mine openings?” Ella noticed the two men were removing the rocks now, tossing them to one side.
Hearing a faint sound behind them,
Ella and Neskahi both whirled, aiming their weapons. Seeing Blalock and three other armed men approaching, crouched low, they both relaxed.
“Is that any way to greet the cavalry, Clah?” Blalock hissed with a grin.
“We’re Indians. Get used to it.” Neskahi snickered, putting his pistol back into the holster as FB-Eyes and three men carrying assault rifles and a shotgun joined them.
“I’ll keep
watch, Ella,” Neskahi whispered.
“Here, take this,” she said, handing Joseph her shotgun. He nodded and turned to watch Krause and Simmons.
As the four Bureau men gathered around her, Blalock introduced them quickly.
The agents—one a short, young-looking Hispanic man and the others seasoned-looking Anglos six feet or taller, nodded matter-of-factly with grim expressions. Ella figured that they
were all probably pretty pissed off because Simmons, one of their own, had crossed the line and was maybe responsible for the injury and possible death of Andy Thomas.
“Where’s Simmons?” Blalock asked next, his hand curled around a bolt-action Winchester with a nightscope.
Ella pursed her lips and gestured toward the SUV. Blalock motioned to his men, who formed a loose skirmish line behind cover,
giving each other room. Blalock then moved in for a closer look with Ella. The rogue agent was tying a length of rope to the tow ring of the vehicle while Krause dragged away the corrugated metal, revealing a dark hole about five feet in diameter.
“When do you want to make a move?” Blalock whispered.
“We’ll have to box them in, but I don’t want to risk a crossfire,” Ella said. “Have two of your
men go around to the west and use the hogan for cover. Joseph can circle left with your other man and take a position northeast of the perps. You and I will provide cover for them while they get into position. Once everyone is in place, I’ll move in.”
“I’ll go with you.”
Ella shook her head. “I can move faster and more silently. You cover my back with your rifle.”
He scowled but nodded, knowing
she was right.
“With everyone in place, the perps will have nowhere to run except south, away from their vehicle, and if they’re stupid enough to draw weapons, we’ll all have a clear field of fire. But we want to take them alive if we can.”
Blalock nodded. “Less paperwork.” Moving away, he spoke quickly to the others, then came up beside her again as she took over Neskahi’s position. “I’ll watch
out for you. With this rifle I can hole a quarter at a hundred yards.”
Krause and Simmons continued their preparations, arguing back and forth as, first, Simmons, then Krause looked down into the mine shaft, aiming a powerful flashlight. Finally Simmons took the rope and began to fasten it around his waist in a bowline.
After getting verification from Blalock, who could see the others were in
position by using his night scope, Ella moved forward quietly. When she reached the outside of the illuminated zone, she slowed, staying low.
Simmons, at the edge of the mine shaft and about to step down, suddenly decided to take one more quick look around, and spotted her as she moved forward. Reaching down to his waist, he pulled out his pistol and snapped off two quick shots. One whizzed by
her ear, the other over her head as she hit the dirt
Ella fired back and, at nearly the same moment, heard a rifle crack from behind her. Simmons’s body jerked and fell back, disappearing into the mine shaft. Krause, apparently unarmed, turned to run south. Bullets impacted on the ground around him, and Neskahi and one of the FBI agents yelled “Halt!” at the same time.
Krause flattened. “Don’t
shoot, don’t shoot! I’m unarmed.”
Ella got to her feet and ran forward, ignoring Krause. The rope leading from the SUV to Simmons was taut but she had no idea how far had Simmons had fallen into the mine shaft. She edged forward carefully, then circled around to the other side of
the hole to look in. It was too dark to see much of anything, but somewhere below Simmons was groaning and cursing.
Pulling a flashlight from her jacket pocket, she held the light well away from her body and inched toward the edge, circling in case Simmons had somehow managed to hang on to his weapon and was aiming up. He was about fifteen feet down, hanging on to the rope with one hand, his body against the cut sandstone wall of the mine shaft, a blood-soaked hand pressed against his chest. The rope, which
was still looped around his body, had saved him from falling any farther.
“Clah! What the hell is going on? You just shot a federal officer,” Simmons challenged angrily. “Get me out of here and call an ambulance.”
As Blalock and the other agents moved in, Krause suddenly scrambled to his feet and took off running, brushing past Ella before she could grab him.
“I’ll get him. Don’t shoot,” Ella
called out, then added, “Let Simmons dangle, and look for Andy Thomas down there.”
Ella raced after the mortician, glad that she’d avoided looking directly into the lantern on the ground, so her eyes were at least as well adjusted to the darkness as Krause’s. Alternating between watching the ground before her and the area ahead, she kept a steady pace, following the man from the sound of his
heavy footsteps. Suddenly, as she went past a large boulder, she saw Krause ahead, frozen to the spot.
“Stay where you are!” she ordered, closing in on him.
“I’m not moving,” he called back softly without even turning his head. “There’re snakes everywhere. I just stepped on one, and there’s another coiled in front of me.”
E
lla turned on her flashlight again and aimed the beam of light at the ground. “There’s only one snake. You must have stepped on that branch instead.” She studied the timber rattler coiled just in front of Krause, half sheltered by a low sandstone outcropping. The rattling of his tail reminded her of the sound made when shaking a hollow gourd half full of rice.
“Back away from
it slowly,” Ella instructed quietly. The snake was obviously out hunting for rodents, not undertakers, but Krause’s presence had put the creature in defensive mode.
“Just shoot the damn thing!” he whispered harshly.
“It’s not ready to strike—not yet, anyway,” she said, noticing the swelled area several inches past the rattler’s jaws. It had swallowed prey not long ago and was still sluggish.
“Back up.”
“Dammit, shoot it!” he hissed.
“No,” she said flatly. Navajo ways taught that to kill a snake would drive away the life-giving rains. Snakes were linked to Thunders and the Lightning People. Although she wasn’t superstitious, she found it repulsive to kill an animal or any other living creature unless there was no other choice. And, at the moment, Krause was in no immediate danger,
despite what he believed. “What do you say we talk about Agent Thomas,
then
I rescue you.”
“That’s blackmail,” he said.
“You’re warning me not to break the law?” Ella said, and chuckled. “Just step back slowly and carefully. I’ll cover you, if it’ll make you happy.”
Krause moved out of range, one step at a time. As soon as he cleared the snake’s strike zone, Krause turned, and as he looked
at her, his face contorted with anger. “Where’s your gun? I thought you were protecting me.”
“Oh, yeah.” Ella brought out her pistol. “Turn around, I need to handcuff you.”
Ella read him his rights as she patted him down. After verifying that he didn’t have a weapon, she led him back toward the hogan. “If I were you, Krause, I’d start talking. When I left, Simmons was already starting to sing.
He said he was working undercover to get evidence on you and Rainwater.”
Privately, Ella wondered if Simmons was still hanging by the rope or if he was out and in a talkative mood. Somehow, she doubted that. But a bluff could be useful.
“I’m not saying another word without my attorney,” Krause said flatly.
“You and Simmons know Andy Thomas is probably still alive, otherwise you wouldn’t be
here. I’m sure Andy will have a lot to say once we pull him up. But since Simmons is the only man outside my department who knew Thomas had phoned us, that fact will put his butt in a sling. Simmons has enough legal background to know how smart it is to make the first deal. Think a former FBI agent wants to go to prison—all by himself and unarmed? If he cuts a deal before you do,
you’re
the one
who’s going to be screwed, that’s a guarantee.”
Ella knew there was a chance that Andy Thomas had died since his desperate phone call about three days ago. But Krause would be on the defensive and not likely to talk if he even suspected that he’d be facing murder charges. A softer approach was the most logical option.
“You said Simmons is blaming all this on me?” Krause asked, turning to look
at her. He stumbled on a rock and nearly fell.
Ella nodded, then yawned as if slightly bored by the whole
thing. “Watch your step.” She aimed the flashlight in front of him so he could see a little better.
“This scam was his idea and if Simmons had pulled Thomas off our backs like he was supposed to none of this would have happened. When Simmons found out that Thomas was going after Rainwater,
he came up with the idea of coldcocking Thomas, then hauling him away from the Navajos so we could work on him and find out what he knew. We were even wearing masks so Thomas couldn’t make a positive ID. But things got fouled up. Thomas wasn’t out cold. He was faking, waiting for a chance to get away. He grabbed his cell phone from where I’d set it after emptying his pockets, then dove out the
door.
“We tried to track him, but there were open mine shafts everywhere around here. I almost fell into one of them myself. I went back to the SUV to get a flashlight, but when I returned, Simmons said he’d heard a yell, like someone falling.”
“So you gave up the search?”
“No, we kept looking around for hours, but couldn’t find a thing. When it started getting light outside, we saw the hogan
and the old man. He’d come out to take care of his sheep, I guess, or else he heard us walking around. He had a rifle, so we decided to leave before he spotted us. But I’m telling you,
Simmons
jumped Thomas and clobbered him, not me. I’m not to blame for what happened to that FBI guy.”
As they returned to the lighted area beside the mine shaft, Ella turned Krause over to one of Blalock’s men.
Seeing FB-Eyes standing beside the hole, aiming a flashlight down, she went to join him. “Simmons still down there?”
“No. I had my guys give him first aid, then haul him away to the hospital. He’s lucky he’s alive. He was wearing a vest, or my shot would have killed him for sure.”
“The bullet from the rifle should have penetrated anyway. He must have been wearing body armor.”
“More like body
armament. My bullet hit the cylinder of a backup revolver he had in a shoulder holster. Gonna leave an
imprint for sure.” Blalock looked anxiously down at Neskahi who was climbing up the rope from inside the mine shaft.
“No Agent Thomas,” Ella observed, seeing Neskahi alone and, as she glanced at Blalock, noted that he looked as discouraged as she felt.
They both took hold of the rope and pulled
Neskahi up the rest of the way. “Is Thomas dead?” she asked, her voice taut.
Neskahi shook his head as they grabbed hold of him and helped the chunky officer to solid footing. “All I can tell you for sure is that he’s not there now. But he
was
in there earlier today. The shaft goes straight down, then at the bottom angles off in a steep slope for another twenty feet before ending with a solid
wall. Down there, out of sight from above, Thomas scratched the date and some names into the sandstone. I also found his cell phone. Someone stomped it into pieces. I was hoping to get a camera so I could go back down and take photos.”
“You’re sure he’s not buried down there somewhere? A lot of these mines are unstable,” Ella said, remembering her own experience in one. Even the memory left a
bitter taste in her mouth.
“Nope, the ground is intact and there are footprints everywhere. And judging from the fact that I saw two different size and type shoes, somebody was down there with him. But even the climb up the lower slope to the bottom of the main shaft would be difficult without a rope. He didn’t get out on his own, that’s for sure.”
Ella glanced at Blalock. “Maybe the old man
knows more than he told Simmons,” she said, gesturing toward Eltsosie’s hogan.
“Sounds like it to me,” Blalock nodded. “But you or Neskahi should interview him. I’ve got a feeling an old traditionalist would be more comfortable speaking his own language, or at least to another Navajo.”
“I’ll do it,” Ella said, then motioned to Neskahi, who was examining some marks on the ground. “Joe, take a
look around for any sign of Agent Thomas or any previous visitor, then start processing the aboveground site.”
Bringing out her cell phone, she got Justine on the line and explained the situation. “I need you and Tache here with the crime-scene van, and bring climbing gear. Also, do you know any of the tribal mining engineers? We need someone who’s very familiar with mines of this era.”
“I’ll
call my uncle Ernie. He worked as a mining engineer in the late ’60s. He’s retired now, but he’s sharp as a tack and knows his field.”
“Get him here ASAP, then,” Ella said.
“I’m going to the hospital to question Simmons,” Blalock said as she hung up. “I’ve already made a call to Big Ed, and he said he’d meet me there. Are you going to follow after you talk to the man in the hogan, or will you
be staying here with your people?”
“I’m staying. Simmons may or may not give us any answers that’ll help us find Agent Thomas, but Eltsosie or the evidence may tell us what we need to know.”
“You plan on searching the area?” Blalock asked. “If so, I can send my guys back within the hour.”
“Hang on until I speak to the old man. If there’s a chance Thomas is still around, I can use your people.”
“If we get anything at my end, I’ll let you know immediately,” Blalock said.
“Thanks. Same here.”
Neskahi came back to where she was standing. “No sign of any footprints that match those I saw down in the mine, except at this one spot.” He pointed to the east side of the hole, away from the hogan. “I think you’ll find what’s there real interesting.”
Ella walked over, and, using her flashlight,
examined the marks. There were three sets of footprints and an indention at the rim of the mine opening that looked as if it had come from a rope.
“One person was using a rope here,” Ella observed, “probably anchored to a vehicle, like Simmons did. Then there’s this long, connected trail, like a person was being pulled or dragged. I also see a set of footprints I’m guessing belong to Eltsosie.
They’re small and look like they came from moccasins. Since they’re superimposed over the other two, that tells us he was here last.”
“That’s the way I read this, too. A man hauled Thomas out, and carried or dragged him to a vehicle. Then Eltsosie came out to take a look,” Neskahi said.
“So Thomas was rescued … but by whom, and what did they do with him?” Ella mused. “Looks like I need to talk
to Hosteen Eltsosie,” she said, using the Navajo word for “mister.”
“It’s odd that he still hasn’t come out,” Neskahi said thoughtfully.
“Seeing Anglos on our land is often not a good sign, particularly to someone like him,” she reminded. “First, strangers disrupted his land when they came in with their mining equipment and pretty much did away with his chances to live a traditional life,” she
explained. “And we don’t know if Simmons threatened to kill his animals or him if he didn’t stay away. The words ‘Trust me, I’m from the government’ are normally enough to make most people run away screaming—and it’s worse here on the Rez.”
Ella saw him nodding as she walked away.
Ella skirted the mine shaft and came up in a direct line to the hogan so she could be seen. She knew Eltsosie
had been watching. She’d seen the blanket doorway moving the few times she’d looked over. But no one had come out.
Fighting the temptation to simply walk up, she stopped, squatted down and studied the ground. Two sets of prints led to the entrance—one from new-looking shoes obviously belonging to Simmons. The other, close together, indicating small steps, came from soft-soled moccasins and were
probably Eltsosie’s.
Finally, an elderly man who must have been close to ninety came out, holding an ancient-looking thirty-thirty rifle. Though his face was weathered and lined deeply, his hand was steady and his eyes were clear. “What do you want?” he asked in a very loud voice.
Right to the point. She couldn’t fault him for that. She held up her badge. “You haven’t come out, sir, so I was
curious. Are you all right?”
He held his hand cupped over one ear. “What?”
Ella drew closer, and shouted the question again.
“Yes, but the Anglo with the government badge said that there was a dead man in that old mine. He said he’d be getting the body out so I wanted to make sure I stayed away until it was gone,” he shouted back, unaware of the loudness of his own voice.
She shook her head.
“That wasn’t true,” she said, hoping to put him at ease. “But now I need to ask you a few questions.”
Eltsosie nodded. “Come in.” He gestured to the doorway. As soon as they went inside, he went clockwise to the south side as was proper and she to the north of the roundish interior of the hogan. A small lantern hanging from a wire attached to a ceiling log provided a cozy glow, though the smell
of kerosene was a bit distracting.
Eltsosie walked over to a large plank shelf attached to one of the pine logs that comprised the walls and retrieved a hearing aid from atop an unopened can of sliced peaches.
Ella looked at him with raised eyebrows and the old man grinned as he inserted it in his ear.
“Sometimes I don’t want to hear,” he said, this time in a normal voice. “When I go to Shiprock,
I make everyone shout, and they all hate it, except for the children and the really old Navajos. They just laugh. But I especially like to upset big shots like that Anglo with the gold badge. He thought I was stupid and didn’t know English, so I had fun with that. When he started shouting his face turned as red as cactus fruit,” he said, laughing.
Ella smiled, then heard a vehicle outside that
she recognized from the engine noise. Justine and Ralph Tache had arrived. “So tell me. Have you seen anything unusual happening around here?”
“A few hours ago, after sunset, someone came up in a dark blue carry-all with a tribal Forest Service sign on the door. He parked out there in the area of that hole for about a half hour. I thought it was just one of those engineers who are trying to do
something to get the mines sealed up. When he tied a rope to his bumper and climbed down, I quit watching and had supper.”
BOOK: White Thunder
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