Final Disposition (26 page)

      Then all four men watched as the fourth soldier calmly walked over to the OSP Patrol car, opened the driver’s side door, popped open the trunk, walked around and opened the trunk, pulled a semi-auto pistol out of a MP holster, pulled back the slide to check the chamber, released the magazine, examined it briefly, re-loaded it into the pistol, held up three fingers, then replaced the pistol in the truck, closed the lid, and walked back to the Humvee.

      “We seem to have circumstantial evidence that you did, in fact, fire three shots from that pistol,” Gladstone said.  “Might I ask who or what you were shooting at, lad?”

      Cellars hesitated for a long moment, and then shrugged as if to say ‘what the hell to I have to lose now?’

      “As stupid or unlikely as this is going to sound, Major,” Cellars said, staring directly into Gladstone’s eyes, “I fired three shots from that pistol at a shadow that I thought was going to try to steal your Humvee.”

      Gladstone’s reddish brows rose curiously.

      “A shadow?”

      “That’s right.”

      “Are we speaking figuratively or literally here, sergeant?”

      “I saw what I thought was a shadowy figure standing alongside the road.  I stopped to see if he needed help.  But when I approached him he disappeared, leaving no tracks in about four inches of snow that covered the ground as far as I could see.  And then, when I turned around, I saw a shadow — no figure, just the shadow — running forward and reaching for the door handle of the Humvee.”

      “And that was when you shot at … it?”

      “That’s correct.”

      “And what happened then?”

      “It — disappeared,” Cellars said uneasily.

      “You mean ‘ran away’?”

      “No, disappeared — vanished, like it had … exploded at the instant the bullets hit … assuming that they did.”

      "Ah.”

      Gladstone turned to Talbert.  “All I can tell you, Captain, is that the impact points on the window pane were very closely spaced — perhaps a couple of inches apart from center of group.  The shooting appeared intentional … as opposed to wild or random.”

      He started to say something else, but Talbert was already shaking his head and smiling.

      “Angus, Mike,” he finally said, “would you mind leaving Colin and I alone for a while?  I think we have some serious things to discuss here.”

*     *     *

      “You still don’t recognize me, do you, son?”

      They were both sitting on opposite sides of the metal table now, the snow falling down around their heads and shoulders, sipping at cups of steaming coffee.  The two Army Majors had retreated to the front of their Humvee, and were now standing at parade rest — holding loaded and cocked 9mm Berettas behind their backs in their gloved hands — as they kept a careful eye on the meeting.  The fourth soldier now stood about ten feet to the right of the Humvee with a scope-mounted M-4 carbine held calmly at the ready position.

      To the left of the Humvee, three members of the OSP SWAT team stood beside their vehicles with a scoped bolt-action sniper rifle and two shotguns held at equivalent ready positions.

      None of the watchful soldiers and SWAT Team officers seemed to be the least bit concerned about the cold and the falling snow swirling around their boots.

      “No, sir, I don’t.”  Cellars shook his head slowly.  “I recognize your voice, so I assume I’m talking to Captain Talbert … the person I was talking to over the radio a few minutes ago … and those guys seem to know you, so I have to assume you are who you say you are.”

      “I am.”

      “And you certainly know who I am, so why the —?” Cellars started to ask, gesturing with his head back at the two dark blue OSP patrol vehicles, and then felt a chill go down his spine when he saw Talbert shrug as if to say ‘maybe … or maybe not.’

      “You
still
don’t know who I am?”

      “Let’s just say it’s a complicated issue that hasn’t been completely resolved yet.”

      “So if I were to suddenly lunge across this table at you —”

      “You wouldn’t make it,” Talbert said evenly.  “Mike and Angus would see to that.  But I really don’t think that’s why you’re here —”

      “But you’re obviously prepared for that possibility … as was Sergeant Bauer,” Cellars said, remembering the wide-eyed look on the patrol sergeant’s face, and the edge of fear in his voice.  “That’s why you told him to take me into custody … in a manner appropriate for someone who
might
be a dangerous and threatening individual, in spite of his outward appearance and official ID.”

      “That’s correct.  And, in that regard, finding Bauer unconscious in that Army ambulance, and now you in his uniform and with his patrol car, really hasn’t improved your … situation any,” Talbert added.

      “But you seemed — what? — relieved when you realized that I really did shoot those rounds at a shadow and hit that Army Humvee,” Cellars pointed out.

      “That’s because Detective-Sergeant Colin Cellars did very similar things a few days ago, before he was hurt,” Talbert said.

      “But you’re using the third-person, meaning you’re still not completely convinced that I’m actually Cellars?”

      Talbert shrugged.

      “But I’m right here, available for close observation … and even for testing.  You could always take my prints and then confirm my ID while Mike and Angus keep me company,” Cellars pointed out.  “Being an MP unit, I’ll bet they even have a CSI kit in that Humvee.”

      “Unfortunately, that wouldn’t help.”

      “My fingerprints wouldn’t help you identify who I am?” Cellars said disbelievingly.  “Don’t you have my official prints on file?”

      “I’m sure we do.”

      “But that still … wouldn’t help?”

      “Correct.”

      “How about a DNA swab … or even a blood sample?”

      “None of that gives us the final confirmation that I need before I can trust you completely,” Talbert said firmly.

      “I’m sorry,” Cellars said, shaking his head slowly, “I just don’t understand … any of this.”

      “I know, son,” Talbert said.  “You will, soon, one way or another … but until that time comes, we’re going to have to do things my way.”

      “Okay,” Cellars nodded, “I’m agreeable to that … not that I’ve got much choice in the matter.  So, what are you doing now, take me into custody with the Army’s help?”  He nodded his head over at the up-armored Humvee.

      “No, they’re really not here for you,” Talbert said as he tapped the cardboard box.  “To begin with, I’m giving you this.  Go ahead, open it up.”

      Cellars set the box down onto the adjoining seat, tore off the single piece of sealing tape, opened the lid, looked inside, blinked, and then pulled out a small black leather folding case that was resting on a pile of clothes.

      “What’s this,” he asked, holding up the case.

      “Your old badge … a little worse for the wear, but it’s still valid … along with a new set of credentials.”

      Cellars opened the case and stared at the scarred-up gold-plated badge.

      “I could have given you a new one, but I thought you might appreciate the sentimental value … not to mention the visual reminder to be a little more careful in the future.”

      “You’re re-instating me as an Oregon State police officer?”

      “Not really,” Talbert shook his head, “because, as far as I know, you were never un-instated.  You just disappeared on us for a few days.  What I’m doing is giving you your badge back, along with some clothes that you left in your locker at the station.  Thought it was about time you gave Tom back his uniform.  It looks a little out of place on you.”

      “You’re putting me back on duty … even though you still don’t trust me completely.”  Cellars gestured with his head again at the apparently still-watchful SWAT troopers on the left side of the parking lot.

      “Things are not always as they seem, son,” Talbert said.  “I had to re-learn that the hard way, just recently … and I suspect you will, too.”

      “Re-learn?”

      “What I’m really doing,” Talbert said, seeming to ignore the question, “is putting some safe distance between us by officially putting you back out on the firing line, which isn’t necessarily a nice thing for me to be doing to one of my injured-on-duty investigators.  But I don’t think I’ve got much choice in the matter, and you sure as hell don’t … because you’re already out there anyway, walking around out there with a target on your back, official or not.  So, if you’re dead set on poking around at your past, and stirring up trouble everywhere you go, as you seem to be, I figured you might as well be doing it with whatever support the OSP can provide.”

      Cellars started to say something, but Talbert waved him off.

      “So, when you get a chance to change clothes — which you will do some time after all of us leave here — and you get to the bottom of that box, you’re going to find a wallet that you left in your locker containing a couple of credit/debit cards and some cash, an official shoulder-holstered 40-caliber Sig Saur pistol, and some extra magazines and ammo.  It’s not your original duty-issued weapon — we haven’t found that yet — but the weapon has been checked over by the station armorer, and you should be familiar enough with its operation.”

      “Uh, thank you, I guess …” Cellars said hesitantly, continuing to look down at the open box for a few more seconds before looking back up at his now-snow-covered commanding officer.  “Do you want to continue this conversation inside your car, where we can all be a little more comfortable?” Cellars asked, gesturing with his head at the falling snow.

      “Patience, son, we’re still not there yet,” Talbert said as he took off his Captain’s hat and brushed off the snow.

      Cellars blinked as he saw the mass of jagged and reddened scars on Talbert’s head.

      “You got hurt,” he said with a hoarse whisper, “like I did?”

      “Let’s just say that you and I
may
have been injured under similar circumstances,” Talbert replied as he replaced his hat.  “That’s something that hasn’t been … confirmed yet.”

      “The shadows …?”

      “I saw some shadowy figures a few days ago, too, that were difficult to explain,” Talbert replied with little or no emotion in his voice that Cellars could detect.

      “Did you … shoot at them?”

      “I probably would have, if I’d had the chance; but I didn’t,” Talbert said enigmatically.

      Cellars decided that he didn’t even want to think about the underlying meaning of that statement.

      “And your memories?” he asked hesitantly.

      “My personal memories are, for the most part — and as far as I am aware — fully intact.”

      It took a few moments for the import of Talbert’s words to hit home.

      “Oh.”

      “Exactly,” Talbert said, “so why don’t you tell me, as concisely as you can, so we don’t both  freeze to death out here, exactly what you think you know about this secret federal government investigation going on at the Bancoo Indian Reservation.” 

CHAPTER 18

      “I don’t know much,” Cellars said.  “The first time I heard about it was when Tillman called in to the Sky Search Show to rant at Bellringer.  I didn’t think much about it at first, because the whole situation in that studio was so bizarre.  But then, a little later, when I remembered the doctors at the clinic saying that I’d been injured in some kind of local Army training exercise, it occurred to me that the two events might be related … and that Tillman might be able to give me more information.  So I went to see her at her office.”

      “In the future, you want to stay away from that crazy broad,” Talbert advised.  “She and Slogaan are pretty much a matched set, and she’s been driving me nuts ever since her son was apparently kidnapped —”

      “Eric was kidnapped … is that she said?”

      “Why, what did she tell you?”

      “That he went missing on a hike with two of his friends, and she hadn’t heard from him for over fifteen hours.”

      “When was that?”

      Cellars thought for a moment.  “About three and a half hours ago.  Roughly nine o’clock this morning.”

      “Well, her story’s changed,” Talbert said.  “The new version is that her son and his friends were going out to snoop around in the Bancoo Reservation last night, and planning on camping out at an old fire watchtower — Forest Service Tower Twenty-Seven, I believe it was.  Anyway, they were all supposed have met at a certain time — two-thirty in the afternoon — and hiked in together, but Eric never showed.  So, after waiting a half hour, the other two decided to go on ahead … figuring that Eric would show up the next morning.  But when he didn’t, they went out looking for him … got about a third of the way back to their original rendezvous point, and found a water bottle with the initials ‘ET’ printed on it that they’re certain belonged to Eric.  That was when they called the Senator.”

      “Senator Mariott?”  Cellars blinked in surprise.  “Why would they call
her
?”

      “Because one of Eric’s hiking buddies is Jefferson Marriott, the Senator’s son,” Talbert said matter-of-factly, “which probably explains why she ultimately called me.”

      “What did you tell her?”

      “The obvious … that the Bancoo Reservation is restricted federal territory, and that our State Search and Rescue teams have no authorization whatsoever to enter those lands.  In fact, we’re expressly forbidden — by federal statute and treaty — to do so under any circumstances, period.”

      “I’m guessing she probably didn’t like that answer.”

      “No, she didn’t. In fact, she gave me a direct order to ignore those restrictions, and to send our teams in immediately.”

      “And you refused.”

      “Correct, she’s not in my chain of command … which is precisely why I am — at this very moment — ignoring a direct order from
my
boss to return the Governor’s call immediately.”