Badger Games (33 page)

“Was this a tip?” Tucker asked. Max said it had been. “Let me guess,” Tucker said. “Anonymous? A phone call? To you, specifically, or just the department?”

“Me,” Max said. “I'll make it quick, then I got to go. Caller asked for me, said a man would make a delivery at a parking lot. One individual would get in the car. The driver would cruise while the individual checked out the goods. They would be in cell-phone contact with another vehicle. Caller didn't know where that car would be. If the goods were okay and if the party on the other end said the money was okay, the driver would stop at some prearranged point and the individual would hop out with the goods and get in another car, which would be going the other way. We barely had time to make the scene, but we spotted the car, followed, and the first stop he made was to pay a toll at the Triborough Bridge.”

“The guy with the goods got away,” the colonel said. “But you tailed the deliveryman? Have you arrested him, then?”

“For what?” Max said. “Giving a guy a ride?”

“So, you don't have the goods and you don't have the money, either. How do you know it's—”

“Ostropaki? I saw him, once, remember?”

“And where is he now?”

Max gave the address in Brooklyn.

“What will your report say?” the colonel asked.

“Blown lead,” Max said. “It looks suspicious, but that's all. We did the best we could. We didn't know in time to set up anything. I'll be asking Barnes if I should question him, pick him up, whatever. My guess is that Barnes will tip off the NYPD, they'll watch him, pick him up sometime soon on some unrelated charge, and we'll be notified and have a chance to talk to him. I imagine that, at that point, you'll be notified.”

“I imagine I will,” Tucker said. “Well, thanks, Max. I appreciate the heads-up on this. It's good not to have it sprung on one.”

“Just keep me in mind, Vern, if it works out for you.”

“I will Max. You'd better call Barnes now.”

When he set the phone down, Tucker lay back in the bed. Edna drew close, and he put his arm around her but continued to stare into the darkness of the bedroom. She didn't say anything. It was her way. He was grateful. He was also tired. It was nearly four
A.M
. Out in Montana—he subtracted two hours—it was almost two.

“Get some sleep,” he said to Edna. He lay there until she fell asleep, then rose and went to the shower. Afterward, he left a note for Edna, explaining that he was going in to the office. He didn't mention Ostropaki, only that he'd call later, that lunch might not be possible.

It was raining pretty steadily. Once in the car, he tried to call Jammie. The service said, after several rings, “The party you are trying to reach is either out of range or otherwise unavailable. Please try your call later.” As he was entering his office, however, the phone was ringing. It was Jammie.

“I was going to leave a message,” Jammie said. “What are you doing there at this hour?”

The colonel explained about Ostropaki.

“I thought he was dead,” she said.

“Apparently not. What do you know about him?” the colonel asked.

“He was a contract agent, wasn't he?” Jammie said. “Or was he—”

“More?” the colonel broke in. “In a way. But this is not a good time to discuss it. What are you calling about? It's pretty late there.”

“How about Max?” she asked.

“You know Max? He's just fishing for a job. He hates working with Barnes and those guys. Are you in your car? What's going on?”

“We may have found Bazok,” Jammie said. She explained that she was on her way to meet Joe Service, up some back road. The cell phones had some kind of interference. She had stopped to use a pay phone at the village en route. “He thinks he may have your man cornered.”

“Badger in the holt,” Tucker said. “This could be dangerous. Be careful. But what about Franko? Any word on him?”

“For all I know, Bazok may have found Franko,” Jammie said.

“Where did he go to ground?”

“The situation's not clear to me yet,” she said. “Somewhere out in the boonies. Communication isn't good. That's why I'm on the road.” She didn't mention the mine.

“Quite a morning,” the colonel said. “Raining here.”

“Dry and clear here,” Jammie said.

“You know … I've got a lot on my plate,” the colonel said. “I think I'll leave this to you and Joe. I take it no local yokels are involved?”

“Really?” Jammie was surprised. “No, the locals don't know anything about it, as far as we know.”

“That's good,” the colonel said. “Let's leave it to Joe. How are you two getting along? You three.”

“Joe was a little jumpy at first, but we're cool. Helen is leery of me, but she's okay.”

“Leery? Ah, girl stuff? Well, she'll get over that. Now, you can offer your assistance with the badger, make suggestions, but let the decisions be Joe's. Let me know as soon as it's resolved. I'll probably be at the office, at least for a while yet, but call my cell number.”

“As you say,” Jammie said. “Are you expecting to see Ostropaki?”

“At some point, I imagine,” the colonel said. “But probably not immediately, maybe not even today. It depends on how things turn out. Why?”

“I was wondering if you shouldn't come out here,” Jammie said. “It may not be easy to get the badger out of his fort without involving the locals. You could be a big help with that. Bazok may know about Ostropaki.”

“I would think so,” the colonel said. “But it can't be helped. Let Joe run this, but if the badger looks like he's getting away … don't let him.”

That was pretty clear. “Should I pass this on to Joe?” she said. “What about Franko?”

“Franko is Joe's job. He's got my instructions. Bazok … that's a matter for our disposition—yours, as it happens. So, no, I don't think it's necessary to confide in Joe about Bazok. Joe has badgerlike qualities himself. They're famous diggers, you know.”

Jammie almost laughed. “Badgers?” she offered in a comic accent. “We don't need no stinkin' badgers.”

Tucker was silent for a moment, but the best he could offer in response was, “Oh, dear.” Then, “All right, call me as soon as you can. I may need some help on this other business.”

“That might be a good idea,” Jammie said. “Maybe you should hold off on meeting with Ostropaki until we're through here.”

“Well, we'll have to see what develops,” the colonel said.

Jammie saw Joe on the road, well down the hill from the Seven Dials. He hopped into her car and told her to take it slow, with her parking lights only. “This road's a little hairy for no lights,” she said.

“You can do it,” Joe said. He seemed in high spirits. “Did Paulie get the message? I couldn't be sure how much got through. Damn these mountains and phones.”

“He said he thought you had Boz cornered, in this mine,” Jammie said. “Isn't that right?”

“We haven't seen him,” Joe said, “but Frank's truck was parked up there. Luckily, Frank had a key, so I coasted it down to this turn-out here—logging trucks use it. Just pull in. We can hike up.”

The big Dodge Ram was parked next to the Durango. Before they started up the hill, Joe selected some armament. He took the H&K and offered Jammie an AK-47. “Have you ever used one of these?” he asked. She said she had.

As they made their way up the hill he explained the situation. He assumed that Boz had taken refuge with the old recluse Kibosh. The fact that the light had been on, then turned off suggested that Kibosh was aware that he was harboring somebody dangerous, but that Kibosh was still able to act with some freedom. They hadn't noticed any activity since they'd arrived. Frank was still on watch. He was armed with one of Joe's shotguns. Joe had decided that it would be the most effective weapon for Frank, who wasn't a hunter, no kind of shooter at all.

“I don't suppose you have some stun grenades or tear gas on you?” Joe asked her.

Jammie laughed. “Is that your plan?”

“It'd sure be handy,” Joe said. “Any other suggestions?”

“Let's get a look at the situation first,” Jammie said.

Frank was relieved to see them. He was standing well back from the entrance to the mine, among some ponderosas. “No movement,” he told them.

Jammie sized up the situation. It seemed clear. The obvious solution was to wait for Bazok or Kibosh to come out as they normally would, in the morning. If one or the other showed in some reasonable time, they could easily position themselves on either side of the door, with another shooter in good cover back a ways to one side. With any luck, regardless of who came out, they'd be able to take that man. If it was Bazok, that would be all that was required. If Kibosh, it would remain to flush Bazok out, and there would be no reason for restraint. Kibosh, of course, would be able to inform them how well, if at all, Bazok was armed. Frank volunteered that Kibosh, at least, had a .30-06 deer rifle that fired a single shot at a time.

But, alas, the element of the tunnel system made it a different game. Frank explained to Jammie that Kibosh knew a route through the mountain with an exit at the river, not far from Frank's place. Paulie, at the other end with Helen, knew the exit that Kibosh had used before. The question was, Where was Bazok most likely to be right now? Sleeping unawares here, or on his way to the other side?

“I think we have to assume the tunnel is in play,” Joe said. “Maybe Kibosh hasn't told him about the route, and even if he has, it probably wouldn't be Boz's preferred approach to Frank's place. But if he knows we're out here, that'll be his escape hatch.”

Jammie saw the point. They could wait here for hours, in the belief that Boz was unaware of their presence. Or they could force the issue, drive him toward the other exit.

“I hate to give up the easy option, by letting him know that we're here,” Joe said, “but we could sit here until ten o'clock, maybe later, waiting for him to wake up and come out. Without easy communication with Paulie and Helen, someone has to go back, and pretty quick, to man the other end.”

Jammie agreed. The people on the other end would have to wait, too. The communication problem was critical. Also, where should they put their main guns?

What was needed was a SWAT team. “I think it's time to call the colonel,” she said. Then she waited patiently while Joe argued her out of that.

“Okay,” he said, “that's settled. Now, two reasonable assumptions: they don't know we're out here yet, and Kibosh is still alive. Boz will need Kibosh's help to get through. Let's say he is able to get that help, willingly or coerced. How long will it take them, Frank? The minimum?”

Frank said that the best he could recall, Kibosh had told him that he could get through in a couple of hours. Frank was skeptical of that figure—that had been a few years back. There was no telling what the tunnels were like now. Two hours would be the absolute minimum. More like three or four.

“Could they possibly make it in an hour?” Joe asked. “Just in theory?”

“No way,” Frank said. “If it were a straight path, it would take an hour to walk it.”

But he was not happy about Joe's idea of starting the hare. He feared that Kibosh was in too great a danger that way. He was for waiting, on the chance that Kibosh would come out, probably quite early. “He's an early riser,” Frank said. “For all we know, he and Boz are getting along fine in there. Probably snoring away. Kibosh is a friendly old cuss. He'd take in a wounded bear, I'm afraid.”

“That's about what he's done,” Joe said. “Face it, Frank: your friend is in mortal danger just sitting next to this maniac. You saw how he was at the house. The longer we wait here, the greater the danger becomes.”

Frank wasn't sure. Waiting seemed such an ideal solution. “Let's wait till dawn, anyway,” he said.

“It's not going to happen,” Joe said firmly. “In about five minutes I'm going in. If Boz is in there we'll have an exchange of fire. If all Boz has is the rifle, Kibosh's main danger will be from us. I hope Kibosh isn't hurt. The chances are … fair. The chance of us nabbing Boz by waiting is only slightly better. If we don't get Boz—or, God forbid, Kibosh—then Boz will have a hostage and I don't like your friend's chances at all.”

Frank gave in.

“Here's how we do it,” Joe said, glad the arguing was past. He was ready for action. He outlined his plan to them both. When it was clear and they accepted it, he told Jammie, “You stand on the near side of the entry, Frank on the far side. I'll bring up the truck. You'll be ready to fire at Boz, as soon as you're sure of your target, Jammie.

“Frank, just fire in the air, make some noise. If they're not in there and we can be fairly sure that they've made an attempt to get through, at least one of us will have to stay here to make sure they don't double back. I guess that'll have to be you, Jammie. Frank can stay, if you like, and I'll have maybe a half hour to get to the other side.”

Jammie shrugged. “Let's see what happens first; then we can figure out the rest. Somebody could get hurt.”

Joe accepted that. He saw them stationed, then ran back down the hill. He set the H&K submachine gun on the seat of the Dodge Ram and stuffed extra clips into his pockets, Boz's Glock into his belt. Then he revved it up. “Here we go,” he said to himself, and started his run. He raced the big truck up the road, the lights on, and at the little clearing before the entrance to the mine, he swerved and floored the accelerator. The big truck plunged into
the frame structure of the entry with a splintering smash. Just before impact, he had a glimpse of Jammie jumping out of the way.

The impact was greater than he had imagined. Having slipped the shoulder harness of the seat belt off so he could duck down to avoid any gunfire, he was thrown violently against the steering wheel. He could hear the shotgun blasting. Great! And there was, as yet, no fire from the AK-47. Momentarily dazed, he found the H&K and crawled out of the wreckage, incongruously thinking that the colonel was going to have to pay Frank for damage to his truck.