скачать книгу бесплатно
“Sir, I’m Homeland Security—”
“We know who you are,” said Judy Coopersmith, her chin now aimed at Rylee like a knife. “You holding my boy?”
“No, ma’am. Morris was arrested for shoplifting by local law enforcement. He has a hearing scheduled for this morning.”
“You come here to tell us this?” said Coopersmith.
“No. I’m here investigating a case.”
“You here to shut us down?”
Visions of Waco, Texas, flared like a dumpster fire in her mind.
“I am not. My job is to secure our borders.”
“Well, we can assure you that this border is secure. Nobody sneaks through this patch of ground without us knowing. Yourself included.”
“That’s reassuring,” said Rylee. “Has anyone tried recently?”
The two exchanged a look but did not reply. No answer is still an answer, she thought.
She took a leap of faith that their mutual threat made her, if not an ally, at least not an enemy. “We have intelligence that indicates something dangerous might be coming over from Canada. I’d ask you to be extra vigilant and hope that you will alert me if there is anything that threatens our national security.”
Another long look blazed between the two.
“Why do you think we’re up here?” asked Coopersmith. “Just a bunch of crazies playing war games in the woods? We know what’s coming.”
“And you do not think the federal government is capable of stopping threats from foreigners.”
“If I did, why would I build a bunker?”
Rylee glanced toward her vehicle. “I’d best get back.”
It was a long, long walk...to her vehicle. She did not draw an easy breath until she was safely behind the wheel. However, when she pressed the starter, her vehicle gave only an impotent click. The engine did not turn over on any of her next three attempts. There was no motor sound. In fact, the only sound was the thumping drumbeat of her heart.
THE FOG HAD settled into a steady drizzle by midday. Axel reached the stretch of old timber bordering Coopersmith land. He’d received a tip from Hal Mondello, who knew how to spot a fed’s car if anyone alive did, that Rylee had headed past his place. Beyond Mondello land was the cult that called itself the Congregation of Eternal Wisdom. Beyond that was Hal Coopersmith’s spread and his survivalist family. He didn’t know which was a worse place for Rylee. For personal reasons, he decided to try Coopersmith’s first and backtrack if necessary.
Hal Mondello was not a friend, but he protected his self-interest. Having the sheriff rein in a fed nosing around would be to his benefit. Hence, the call.
Mondello called himself a farmer, but everything he raised went into his cash crop, moonshine. Hal supplied most of the entire region with hard liquor. His brew was popular for its potency and the fact that it was cheap, due to Hal’s complete avoidance of paying any federal tax. That made his moonshine a working man’s favorite. Thankfully, that sort of violation fell under the auspices of the ATF, who had found his operation too small to be bothered with.
Axel raced out to the Coopersmiths’ main gate, running silent, but exceeding the speed limit the entire way. He understood the Coopersmiths’ desire to live off the grid, be largely self-sufficient, but he didn’t understand living in a constant state of fear of some upcoming disaster from which only you and yours would survive. What kind of a world would that be, anyway? The thought of only Axel and his family surviving such a calamity gave him a shudder.
On the other hand, he did admire the Coopersmith family. Before they’d taken to their compound and ceased interacting with the outside world, Axel had been to their farm and respected the close-knit group. Anything could be taken too far. Religion came to his mind and he shuddered again.
He’d just be happy to have a family that didn’t scare him so much that he didn’t dare leave them out of his sight. And he owed Stanley Coopersmith for getting him out of his abysmal situation and helping him take his GED. Without him and Kurt Rogers, Axel didn’t know where he might be now.
Axel was pleased to find Stanley’s oldest son, Edward Coopersmith, minding the gate when he roared up. He and Eddie had enlisted in the army together and the two had been friends up until a year ago when his father had shut the family up on their land.
By the time Axel had left his sheriff’s unit, the dust he’d raised was falling about them in a fine mist, settling on his hat and the hood of his car. Here, beneath the cover of trees, the drizzle had not succeeded in reaching.
He and his former comrade stood on opposite sides of a closed metal gate.
“Where is she, Eddie?”
“Who?”
“The homeland security agent your family is detaining.”
Eddie could not meet his gaze.
“No concern of yours, I reckon.”
“Eddie!”
His friend gripped the shoulder strap of the rifle slung over his shoulder so tightly his knuckles went bloodless.
“She’s up at the farm,” Eddie admitted.
“Under duress?”
“Not that I could see. But they was armed. So was she, come to that.”
“Trespassing?”
“Well, she was.”
“Eddie, she’s a federal agent. You do not want her harmed.”
His friend offered no reassurance.
“Bring me up.”
“No outsiders.”
“I’m not an outsider. I’ve eaten at your table. Your ma taught me algebra.”
“Still...she ain’t your concern.”
Axel imagined the news crews and federal helicopters circling the compound. He had to stop this right now. Looking back, he didn’t know why he did it. Perhaps because it was the only idea that popped into his head.
“She’s my girl,” said Axel.
“She’s what now?” Eddie cocked his head.
Axel doubled down. “That’s why she’s up here, berry picking.”
“With binoculars?”
“She’s my fiancée and I won’t have her touched.”
“If she’s your girl, why she up here alone?”
“Rylee is deciding if she wants to live up this way. I imagine she got...confused. Turned around.”
“She was armed.”
“Everyone up here is armed. We got bear and moose and elk.” And survivalists with semi-automatic assault rifles, he finished silently.
Eddie released his grip on the rifle strap to scratch under his jaw at the coarse black beard. He looked so much different than from just a few years back when he was muscular and fit. Now his body looked undernourished and his face gaunt.
Axel watched Eddie as the man considered his options in silence.
After a long silent stretch, Axel had had about enough. “Open the gate or I’m ramming it.”
“You can’t do that.” Their eyes met.
“I’m getting my girl so open up or stand aside.”
Chapter Five (#u33d6a793-5388-5215-9aa5-4545932e00cf)
“Your girl, huh?” His old friend did little to hide his disappointment and Axel wondered if perhaps Eddie was attracted to Rylee. His answer came a moment later.
“She’s very pretty. Kind of prickly, though.”
“True on both accounts.”
He realized that here on the compound, Eddie had little opportunity to meet eligible women. Rylee was a beauty and smart and he was certain she would have zero interest in locking herself up on nine hundred acres to wait for disaster.
Rylee was here to stop that impending doom from arriving. He admired her for that.
“Eddie, I’m getting in my vehicle. That gate best be open before I get there.”
It wasn’t a bluff. He knew that his modest yearly budget did not include major damage to his vehicle, but he was getting up to the farm. By the time he had his unit in drive, Eddie was swinging back the gate.
Axel paused just inside to speak to Eddie. “Why don’t you come to my place for dinner one day?”
“Can’t.” Eddie made a face.
“Open invitation,” he said and headed off. Axel bounced along the twin groves that served as the access road to the compound, his windshield wipers screeching over the glass as he tried to clear the mist and mud.
RYLEE HAD BEEN stripped of her weapons and now accepted escort to one of the outbuildings. Judy Coopersmith had left her to see to her youngest son, Morris, who was heading to court today. Before leaving, she warned her husband, Stanley, that this little gal is a guest and is to be treated like one.
Stanley Coopersmith had his brother Joseph working on her car that had either a bad starter or a bad battery. Stanley thought Rylee should see something in his garage before leaving. She had time on her hands and so if Mr. Coopersmith wanted to give her a tour, she was happy to take it.
The garage turned out to be a huge prefab carport of aluminum, with a vertical roof that looked wide enough to park two tractor trailers in.
“We use it to repair our vehicles and construction. It’s right in here.”
The odor of motor oil, mildew and rust assaulted her before they’d cleared the single door that stood beside the huge twin garage doors. Inside, two pickup trucks stood end to end, one on blocks and the other with the hood open and a greasy tarp draped over one side.
Beside these casualties sat a backhoe with the bucket removed and showing one broken tooth. Along the back was a long tool bench. She picked her way past various replacement parts that littered the grease-stained concrete. On the cluttered surface of the tool bench sat one pristine device. It was a drone—white, approximately thirty-four inches with eight rotors, one of which had been damaged. She glanced at Coopersmith, who motioned her forward.
“Go on,” he said.
“Where did this come from?”
“Darned if I know, but I took that shot. It was carrying something, like a duffel bag. It dropped it across the river before I made that shot. Crashed out back and we scooped it up.”
“What’s across the river?” she asked.
He looked startled. “That’s the Mohawk Nation.”
“Do you believe that it is theirs?”
“No saying. I didn’t shoot it until it was over my place.”
“And its cargo?”
“Dropped on the Kowa side of the river.”
“Did they retrieve what the drone was carrying?”
“Can’t say. But I know someone has been trying to activate that drone remotely.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because the damn thing keeps moving around the garage. It’s why I chained her down.”
Rylee used a cloth to lift the drone. “Heavy.”
“Thirty pounds and no serial number. No markings at all that I can see.”
“When did you find it?”
“Yesterday.”
Monday, she realized, and the same day that Border Patrol followed a small man dropped off on the Canadian side, who crossed the border through a wooded area and then fled onto Mohawk land carrying a duffel bag. Had their suspect had the drone to carry out the cargo or did he have outside help?
“Were you planning to report it?”
“No. I was planning to take it apart and keep it. But if you want it, I’ll accept offers.”
“Offers?” She did a poor job holding back her surprise. “How much?”
“Take five hundred for it.”
“Done.”
