Never-ending-snake (17 page)

“Kevin’s answered my direct questions, but if he thought he could better serve the
Diné
by holding back some of the details, he’d do that without hesitation.”

“Any leads on the cash Adam had on him?”

She shook her head. “That whole money issue still remains a question mark. All I know for sure is that both Kevin and Adam are still targets. Kevin will be released soon—the hospitals aren’t keeping them long anymore—and I can make sure he’s got protection at home or at a safe
house. But Adam’s a different story. He needs constant medical care, and may need more surgery—at least that’s my guess.”

“So what’s your plan?”

“I want to have him transferred to Kirtland Air Force Base as soon as he’s stable enough to be moved. I think that’s the safest place for him here within our state, and it’s a direct flight. Blalock can help me with the red tape. Albuquerque can provide more medical expertise, when and if needed.”

“But there’s more to your plan, isn’t there?” Big Ed said, observing her
closely.

Ella nodded, then after pausing to gather her thoughts, continued. “Once he’s on base and secure, I want to release the story that he passed on, and that his family has gone into seclusion to grieve.”

“What about the funeral? He’s a public figure now, and people will want to acknowledge his passing with some kind of ceremony. There’ll also be a horde of politicians wanting to be seen
in the patriotic glow cast by a fallen hero,” he said with an expression of disgust.

“Getting cynical, Chief?”

“Getting real, Shorty, and you know I’m right. Elections are coming up soon.”

“Then we’ll have to sidestep that issue. The easiest way will be to say that Adam will be buried in a private ceremony, and let it go at that.”

“I’ve got news for you. The press isn’t going to let it go,”
Big Ed said.

“If they can’t get to the family, they won’t have a choice,” Ella answered.

“Do you intend on placing the family in protective custody?”

“No, I just want them out of the way. I was hoping you could talk to the base commander and arrange for them to
be given temporary on-base housing. That way they can stay close to Adam—and be out of our way. That’ll free up officers from protection
duty, too.”

“I may have to go through the tribal president, but I’ll see what I can do. Give me a couple of hours, then come back to my office,” Big Ed said, picking up the phone.

Ella walked down the hall to Justine’s lab. As she stepped inside she saw her partner standing at the counter, conferring with Benny Pete. The BlackBerry had been taken apart and the memory card data downloaded to
a lab computer.

“How’s it going?” Ella asked them.

“I don’t think any data was lost, but this level of encryption isn’t something we can break here,” Benny said.

“Teeny’s our best bet now, Ella. I’ve already transferred the data onto a flash drive,” Justine said.

Benny nodded. “I hear Mr. Little’s got some software that rivals CIA and NSA sources.”

“He writes his own, and his hacker friends
design special programs for him that are nothing short of amazing,” Justine said with a nod.

“I’ll take it over to him,” Ella said, and held out her hand.

Justine entered a few commands, then removed the small flash drive from one of her computer’s USB ports. Placing a cap on it, she handed the data storage device to Ella. “Benny can take care of things here at the lab. I’ll go with you.”

“That’s not necessary,” Ella said.

“It is, actually. Remember Big Ed’s orders? For all we know, you’re still one of the targets,” Justine answered. “You need backup.”

As much as she hated to admit it, Justine was right. “We have to find a way to identify the actual target of the attack. Otherwise, it’ll tie up an officer every time I go out.”

“Teeny’s our best hope right now, and he’s already
working the case.”

“You mean because of his involvement with Kevin?” Ella asked, wondering how Justine had found out.

“What involvement?” she asked, then seeing Ella’s expression, shrugged and continued. “You know that Teeny and my sister Jayne are still seeing each other, right?” Seeing Ella nod, she added, “Jayne told me that Teeny’s mad as hell that someone used you for target practice. He’s
stirring up the bushes, hoping something will poke its head up. And if it does, blood’s gonna flow.” She shrugged. “Jayne’s a little on the overdramatic side, but from what I know about Teeny, I don’t think she’s far off the mark.”

Ella’s knew her friendship with Teeny was special. They had a bond that was hard to describe, but was as dependable as the morning sunrise. “Teeny and I need to talk.
Let’s go.”

Justine pulled up next to the cameras at the gate of the fenced compound Teeny called home and waved into the lens. The home-slash-office, a metal warehouse, was located east of Shiprock but still on the Rez. A moment later Teeny pressed the buzzer and the gate swung open.

“I’m sure glad to see you, Ella, and you, too, Justine,” he said, meeting them at the door
and inviting them inside. “Have you ladies had lunch yet?”

“No, we haven’t eaten,” Ella answered. “If you’re inviting us to lunch, we accept.” Teeny was a world-class chef and the temptation was too much to resist.

Teeny laughed, his gaze taking in the wound on her scalp. “It’s good to hear that you’re back to normal.”

As Ella brought out the flash drive containing the BlackBerry’s stored memory
data, Teeny waved them to a chair.

“I need your help,” Ella said, giving him the highlights. “Justine was able to transfer this from the memory card on Adam’s BlackBerry, but the files are encrypted.”

“We were hoping that your skill can do what our programs can’t,” Justine added.

“Count on it,” he said, studying the flash drive Ella had
handed him. Moments later, the device was connected to
one of Teeny’s computers. Rolling his chair back away from the desk, he glanced at Ella. “I’m glad you came. I’ve got some information you might be interested in. As I’m sure you’ve heard, I’ve been asking around about the incident at the airstrip.”

“You really should have checked with me on that first. You’re not with the department anymore and this is police business,” Ella said. “Okay, now
that I have that out of the way, what did you find out?”

He grinned at her, but the problem with Teeny’s smile was that it looked more like a sneer. It was nothing short of frightening to anyone seeing it for the first time. The expression contorted his features into something sharp and deadly, and could make even hardened criminals spill their guts.

“Kevin’s made himself some serious enemies
over the years, and he knows it,” Teeny said. “Not just with Casino Enterprises, but with a goodly number of our own people. He put the Aspass brothers away for skimming from the tribe, remember? Then new information came to light later on, and they were released.”

Ella nodded. “I remember that case. It looked like Aspass Construction had been embezzling from the north San Juan bridge project.
Then the money was found in the wrong bank account and the screwup traced to an accountant Kevin had recommended. Kevin nearly lost his job after that mess.”

“He got lucky when word finally got out that it hadn’t been his choice, that Robert Buck, his boss, had ordered him to take the men to court. But the fact remains that Kevin won the case and the Aspass brothers spent nearly three months
behind bars.”

“So you’re saying that the Aspass brothers were behind this incident?”

“No, not at all. I’m saying that’s only one of many possible
motives for the shooting—and that’s in addition to the casino lawsuit. Through his work as an attorney, Kevin has cost people their money, and sometimes their freedom. You’ve got tons of enemies yourself, too, Ella, because you’re a good cop who closes
most of her cases. And Adam . . . he’s a hero all right, but everyone who’s human has made a mistake or two in their past. Maybe he’s not as squeaky clean as people would like to believe he is.”

“You’ve got something on him?”

Hearing his oven timer go off, Teeny walked into the kitchen. As he pulled an enchilada casserole from the oven, a wonderful aroma slowly permeated the entire warehouse.

“Adam invested his own money in the Prickly Weed Project via a tribal partnership program that allows private citizens, even non-Navajos, to buy in. Since he’s being paid to push the project for the tribe, his financial involvement could lead him to make certain agreements that might favor him and his co-investors at the expense of his employer. Technically, though, what he’s done is not illegal.
And he’s not the only one. There are a lot of others who represent the tribe in one way or another and have serious money invested in the success of the Prickly Weed Project,” he said, looking up at them as he placed the hot dish on a wooden trivet to cool.

“Like whom?” Ella asked.

“Robert Buck, Kevin Tolino, Billy Garnenez—even our tribal president. And Abigail Yellowhair, the late state senator’s
wife, has close to a quarter million sunk into the project, if you believe the stories. I’ve even got six figures out of my own pocket on this venture. Think of it. The Southwest is filled with that damn plant. This project could be the best thing that’s ever happened to our tribe. Forget the casinos. If we can get economical levels of fuel from a weed that’s as common as sand, those Middle
Eastern boys are going to be weeping into their
thobes
.”

“Huh?” Justine’s eyebrows shot up.

“Those white robes the Saudis wear,” Teeny responded.

“You learning about Saudis’ dress codes now?” Ella asked.

“One of my employees just returned from eighteen months in Iraq. I pick up trivia here and there.”

Teeny placed a huge portion of the casserole onto a plate and handed it to Ella. He then
served up an identical portion on a second dish and gave it to Justine.

“What are you really saying, Teeny?” Ella asked as they ate. “About the tumbleweeds, I mean. You lost me.”

“Tumbleweeds, Russian thistle, prickly weed,
ch’il deeníní
—same plant, different names. To get off the ground, the Prickly Weed Project needed some serious energy-industry backing. The choice was eventually narrowed
to one company, called Industrial Futures Technology, IFT. They had experts in the field as well as the technology to carry it through. But getting them on board has been nearly impossible. It’s not the science that’s in question—it’s the money that the project will take to get off to a good start. IFT didn’t want to commit that much time and money into an unproven venture like this one. But something
changed their minds. It’s not official yet, but an agreement has been reached, papers signed, and they’re now ready to get moving.”

“How good are your sources? Do you trust this information?” Ella asked.

“Yeah, absolutely.”

Although he’d taken a portion at least three times larger than what he’d troweled onto her plate, Teeny had finished lunch. He stood and walked over to his computer keyboard.

Meanwhile, Justine and Ella practically licked their plates clean. The combination of salsa, beef, cheese, and freshly made corn tortillas could not be beat.

“You could make a killing if you ever opened your own restaurant,” Ella said.

“No way. Cooking’s what I do to unwind. I’m a cop—private these days—but investigative work’s in my blood. You, more than anyone else, should be able to understand
that.”

Ella nodded silently. As much as she loved being a mom, she needed her work, too. The challenge, the demands, the danger—they got under your skin. Law enforcement was as much a part of her as breathing.

And that was the problem with the job she’d been offered in D.C. Though it paid a generous salary, and would allow her to give her daughter things she’d never been able to before, it would
put her behind a desk most of the time. More importantly, it would also take her away from the place where her skills were needed most. Tribal officers were in short supply these days, and critical to the
Diné
.

Yet, being honest with herself, she had to admit that the major hold-back had little to do with all that. On the Rez, the connections between people were real and nearly tangible. The
clans linked almost everyone, giving each person a feeling of belonging that was unrivaled on the outside. She truly wanted her daughter to grow up feeling those ties, and with a real sense of who and what she was.

“Okay, I’ve got some partial information,” Teeny said reading the computer screen. “Some of it is still garbled, possibly from physical damage to the device, or maybe just another
layer of subtle encryption, but I was able to run a program that reconstructed most of the data. It looks like the list of companies Adam contacted in D.C. on behalf of the Prickly Weed Project—before IFT took over, I would imagine. The company names seem to fit with energy production or technology.”

“That’s all that’s on the chip?” Ella asked.

“Of course not. But if you want the rest, I’m going
to need a few more hours so I can run some programs that’ll reconstruct the portions that are still garbled.”