The Ninth Day Page 20

  Sumner stepped closer. “Don’t worry about jurisdiction. I have it—or at least the ATD has it—over the airplane. I really think you need to come with me.”

  “Why? You’re just impounding another cartel jet, right?”

  “This one’s spray painted with a skull and crossbones on the side.”

  Banner rolled his eyes. “Drug runner art? Trying to scare the locals from getting too close?”

  Sumner shook his head. “I think it’s more than that. I think it’s a serious warning.”

  “Warning of what?”

  “It could be wired to explode. It could be loaded with a toxic gas. I don’t know. But I can’t help but think it’s a warning we should heed.”

  Banner moved to the bathroom and scooped up his shaving kit. He returned to the luggage and arranged it inside. “I’ll concede that you and your organization have a deeper understanding of the cartels in this hemisphere, but why assume they’re on the right side of things? Seems to me that they’d love to let some police officers be blown sky high with a booby trap of their making.”

  “The image wasn’t on the plane when I chased it. It was added after they landed.”

  “Still, I don’t think it merits both of us going there. I don’t see how I can help you.” Banner tossed a polo shirt into the luggage and picked up another.

  “I think Caldridge had something to do with it.”

  Banner stopped in mid-toss. The second shirt landed short of the suitcase. “What in the world makes you think that?”

  “Call it instinct.”

  Banner cocked his head to one side as he looked at Sumner. “I’m not buying that line. What aren’t you telling me?”

  Sumner downed the rest of his coffee in one gulp. “If you can spare the time, I’d like you to come with me. Let’s leave it at that.”

  Banner locked eyes with Sumner while his mind raced. He immediately reconsidered his earlier assumption that Sumner had been outmaneuvered. Clearly something occurred out there that was not ordinary. He finished piling the rest of his clothes into the suitcase and flipped it closed.

  “All right, then. Let’s go.”

  Sumner drove and Banner spent the entire journey wondering about the plane. He sent a short text to Stromeyer telling her that he wasn’t headed out just yet. When she asked why, he explained the situation as best he could in the shorthand required by texting. His phone rang.

  “I know you’re in the car together, so don’t say anything, just listen,” Stromeyer said. “I just wanted to remind you that he could be violating ATD policy if he knows something that he’s not saying.” Banner couldn’t have agreed more.

  “I think we need to see how this plays out and trust that we’ll know what to do when the time comes.” Sumner stared straight ahead. Banner thought he was doing his best not to eavesdrop on the conversation.

  He heard Stromeyer sigh over the phone. “Just don’t let him jeopardize his job. There’s no sense having two in trouble. Assure him that if he brings her in we’ll do everything we can to straighten this out. I still believe that she’s being coerced in some fashion.”

  “I agree and I’ll keep you posted,” Banner said.

  “Great. I’ll manage the Caribbean situation for now.” When they reached the plane, Banner got out of the car and stood by the door, staring. The scent of wet paint hung in the air.

  “It doesn’t get any clearer than that, does it?” Sumner said.

  Banner nodded. “I didn’t expect it to be so graphic.” There was a crowd of local law enforcement busy taping off the area. Banner jerked his chin in their direction. “They know not to approach it?”

  Sumner nodded. “Look there.” He pointed at a group of men dressed in yellow jumpsuits standing next to a truck with lettering that read HAZARDOUS INCIDENT TEAM. Next to it sat an ambulance and one fire truck.

  “Ah, I didn’t see that. Good,” Banner said. He squinted at the plane. “The paint is still wet. She close by?” Banner waited to see if Sumner would pretend as though he didn’t know who the “she” was that he was referring to.

  “I don’t know,” Sumner said. Banner contemplated the plane. He hadn’t seen a Fokker in quite some time. They were long out of production and used primarily in Europe.

  “Only guy I know who flies a Fokker is in Africa,” Banner said. “It’s not the usual cartel model, is it?”

  Sumner shook his head. “I’ve actually never seen a Fokker this side of the Atlantic.”

  “Strange,” Banner said.

  Sumner nodded. “I’ve given up trying to figure out the cartel guys.”

  The hazardous incident team waved the uniform police officers away. They turned to the plane and approached it cautiously. One, his head covered with a helmet and an air pack on his back, pulled the door down.

  “That’s the unlucky guy who gets to go in first,” Banner said. “What if it’s wired?”

  Sumner shook his head. “Bomb squad’s already been here. Determined that there isn’t a bomb.”

  The man poked his head into the opening. After a moment, he disappeared inside. He was gone for a few minutes and reappeared at the entrance, holding up a wrapped brick in his gloved hand for everyone to see.

  “Nothing more than a shipment of weed,” he said. He tossed the brick to a nearby colleague. “Check it?” He descended the ladder and stripped off his helmet. “Let’s get it out of there and burn it.” The rest of the team lined up to climb the ladder. They removed their helmets, but kept their gloves on. Within minutes they were throwing bricks of marijuana out of the plane into a pile.

  “At least it wasn’t anything dangerous,” Banner said. Sumner, though, looked pensive, his face set in a frown.

  “Why would she paint a skull and crossbones for a routine marijuana shipment?” he said.

  Banner paused. The question was a good one. He watched the pile of marijuana grow. The officers were milling around, talking, some laughing now that the immediate danger was passed.

  “You’re assuming she painted it. Maybe she didn’t. Maybe the pilot did.”

  Sumner still looked unsatisfied with the explanation. “Dramatic, empty gestures aren’t her style.”

  “I agree. She’s too logical. She wouldn’t waste her time unless it was important,” Banner said.

  The hazardous incident team leader and another officer walked up to Sumner. “You from ATD?”

  Sumner nodded.

  The team leader waved at the marijuana pile. “The leaves checked out. Marijuana. We’re keeping one brick for evidence and some photos, then burning the rest. Take these.” He handed Sumner and Banner two packages. “They’re temporary face masks with about eight minutes of air pumped into them from that battery pack on the front. Less if you’re breathing heavy. You’re pretty safe here, but once we light the marijuana you should use these if you want to get any closer.”

  “No one allowed to get high on the job?” Sumner said.

  The man smiled. “Yep. Policy.”

  Banner watched an officer wearing one of the temporary face masks pour a liquid over the pile. When the leaves were soaked he waved everyone back in preparation for lighting it. He tossed a match and the bricks lit up in flames with a whooshing sound. Smoke billowed into the air, but with the lack of a breeze, it continued straight up in a dark column. Banner watched it burn. Sumner stopped his conversation with the team leader to watch also. Several men hovered around the fire.

  “You sure the plane isn’t rigged with a bomb?” Sumner asked after a few minutes.

  “You mean inside?” The hazardous team leader shook his head. ”Nothing there. We’ll get the plane’s interior fingerprinted. Can you find out who owns it?”

  “It’s an unusual model. That will make it easier.”

  There came a choking noise. One of the officers closest to the bonfire grabbed at his throat. He was hunched over in obvious distress. A second ran to him, placing his hand on the man’s back and saying something. He staggered back, hold
ing his throat. After a moment, he too, bent forward. His legs buckled and he fell to one knee.

  “What the hell?” the hazardous team leader said. He made a move to go to the men, but Sumner held him back.

  “Get your helmet on,” Sumner said. He cupped his hands to his mouth and yelled at the officers near the smoking marijuana, “Move back. Now!”

  Banner ripped at his temporary face mask, opening the package as fast as he could while still keeping his eyes on the fire. Several more policemen appeared affected. The first two stumbled away. The clearing erupted in chaos, with policemen running to drag the affected men to the ambulance, and the others running away from the fire. The officer that had waited with the team leader started past Banner, heading toward the column of smoke.

  “Wait!” Banner grabbed at the fireman’s arm. “Take this.” He handed the mask to the fireman, who shoved it over his head as he jogged to the scene.

  Sumner pulled his own mask over his face and split off in the direction of the fire truck. The ambulance siren blared, underlaid with a beeping tone as it reversed away from the scene.

  The team leader, helmeted and covered, reached the fire and used his hands in a push back motion to herd the officers far from the pyre. Two firemen tried to run past him to the fire truck, but their faces were uncovered and the team leader stepped in front of them. They retreated a safe distance away. Two more officers, closer than the others, started to hold their stomachs as if they were going to be sick, but instead drops of blood started from their noses.

  Banner jogged backwards as he watched the fireman he’d given his mask to climb into the truck. It began to rumble. Sumner headed toward it and leaped on the running board while he spoke to the fireman. After a moment Sumner appeared at the truck’s top. He grabbed a stationary hose mounted on the roof. Water spouted from the nozzle and he directed it at the flames, using both his hands and focused on dousing the fire.

  Within a minute the marijuana stopped burning. Two firemen returned to grab additional tanks. They sprayed a tamping foam onto the pile, effectively smothering it. The black column of smoke was reduced to almost nothing.

  The ambulance turned around, its wheels churning up the turf, and went screaming down the road. The unaffected policemen hung back, with shocked looks on their faces. Banner could feel his pulse pounding and his breath hitch, but he couldn’t tell if it was from inhaling the smoke or the stress of watching the incident go down. He swallowed but his mouth was dry.

  Sumner clambered down from the fire truck. He jogged to Banner, ignoring the firemen, team leader, and the remaining police officers. When he reached Banner, he stopped, pulled off the face cover and stood there, his chest heaving and a grave look in his eyes.

  Banner leveled a stare at Sumner. “If you know anything about what I just saw, I expect you to tell me. Now.”

  Sumner hesitated.

  That’s right, Banner thought, think about what you’re doing.

  “I don’t know anything more about what I saw than you do,” Sumner said, his words seemed carefully chosen.

  “How much are you telling me? All of it?” Banner pressed.

  Sumner gave him a shrewd look. “As much as I think is necessary.”

  Banner sighed. “I hold her in high esteem, too, but you’re doing her no favors protecting her, you know that? She would be safer with us, even if that meant in custody. And something tells me she can explain what it was I just saw, because, I tell you, I can’t explain it.”

  Sumner shook his head. “If she wanted to be in custody she would find a way to get there.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. I’m going first to Kansas City and then on to the Caribbean before I get back to D.C. You need me, get me there, because I’ll be out of contact once I reach the Caribbean.”

  “Got it. I’ll call if I need to, but I think she’s deliberately avoiding us, and I’m going to let her work her angle a bit longer.”

  “As long as she isn’t working you in the process,” Banner said.

  Chapter 34

  “Rather than steal a car, wouldn’t it just be easier to disable the tracking device and keep the car we have?” Emma said.

  They were driving past field after field in Oklahoma.

  Vanderlock shook his head. “Those are tough to find. They’re hidden somewhere under the chassis. I don’t know that I could locate it if I wanted to, and then I don’t know that I could disable it.” For a moment Emma wished they’d had Oz with them. She had no doubt he could disable any GPS device he encountered. Emma saw a combine working a distant meadow.

  “I have a better idea,” Emma said. She pointed at the combine. “I’ll bet he left his house unlocked.”

  Vanderlock snorted. “No way. Anyone could just waltz in and rob him blind while he’s out working.”

  Emma laughed. “You were raised in a city, right?”

  Vanderlock nodded. “Johannesburg. Why?”

  “Because people in the country leave their front doors unlocked, their keys in the car, and if they don’t, they always, always have a fake rock or concealed jar near the front door that has a spare house key. Just find a small road off this main one and take it. We’ll start checking houses.”

  “I want to see this,” Vanderlock said.

  “Then we need to find a phone.”

  Vanderlock flicked her a glance. “I thought the deal was you’d give it one more shot with the lab before you call Banner.”

  Emma shook her head. “I made no deals. And I’m not calling Banner.”

  Vanderlock turned down a rutted road, and they bounced along, the Caliber’s suspension creaking with each bone-jarring pothole. A sickening smell wafted into the car.

  “I know that smell,” Emma said.

  Vanderlock nodded. “Me too. It’s a still.”

  “Can you find where it’s coming from?”

  Vanderlock kept going, and the smell grew. They came upon another dirt road angling off from the first. A handwritten sign nailed to a tree read, TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT. Vanderlock stopped at the intersection and idled there, looking at it.

  “Think they have a truck to transport their moonshine?”

  Emma nodded. “I believe they just might.”

  “Well let’s go get it. I want you in a lab yesterday. Can you get my gun out of the duffel? We may need it.”

  Emma twisted around and fished in the duffel. Her rib cage banged against the seat back as the car continued to jerk up and down. She pulled out the weapon, sat back in her seat, and checked the clip.

  Vanderlock flicked her a surprised look. “Since when do you know how to shoot?”

  “You taught me, remember?”

  “I taught you how to shoot an RPG. I don’t recall teaching you how to shoot a gun.”

  “Rocket-propelled grenades, guns, they’re all the same,” Emma did her best to keep her voice nonchalant.

  Vanderlock hooted. “Yeah, right. One’s a bazooka and one’s a pistol. Tell me the truth.”

  “Sumner taught me this year.”

  Vanderlock drove around another pothole before giving her a shrewd look. “What else did he teach you?”

  Emma ignored him and continued to check the weapon, looking up only when the car stopped.

  In front of them sat a house that had once been elegant, but was now just tired. A large porch wrapped around the two-story structure with peeling blue paint. The house had the depressing air of a structure long forgotten. The front door, covered by a screen, was closed. To the right of the door was a boarded-up window. The plywood covering was warped at the edges. The stench of rotten corn and moldy yeast assaulted them, and Emma found herself holding her breath. Vanderlock drove the car over a lawn filled with large swaying weeds. They rounded the side of the house to the back and continued down a small path cut between the trees. Branches hit the car’s sides and snapped against the windshield. They emerged into a clearing, where a metal still was cooking away. No truck in sight. Vanderlock got out of the car and stro
lled over to inspect the cooker.

  “Hey! There are some finished bottles here.” He held up a plastic milk jug filled with a clear liquid. Vanderlock uncapped it and took a sniff. He reared back. “Damn, that’s strong! Bet this stuff is a hundred twenty proof, easy.” He took a swig. Emma watched in fascination as his face first turned pale, then flushed red. He started to wheeze. She jumped out of the car.

  “You okay?” She watched tears form in Vanderlock’s eyes as he tried to contain his reaction to the booze.

  “Water,” he whispered.

  She smiled and went to the Caliber, reached a hand through the open back-door window, and snagged a water bottle. She tossed it to Vanderlock. He opened it and started drinking in huge gulps.

  “Was it that bad?” Emma asked.

  Vanderlock shook his head. “Not bad, just white lightning.”

  Emma reached out and took the car keys that dangled from his hand. “I’ll drive for a while.” Vanderlock nodded, picked up the bottle, and headed back to the car. “Wait,” Emma said, “you’re bringing that swill?”

  Vanderlock gave her a huge smile. “Oh yeah. This is just what I need. No car here, we’re going to have to test your theory and find a house to rob.”

  Emma turned the car around and bumped across the lawn back to the road. They retraced their path, passing the “Trespassers will be shot” sign, and then she turned onto the main road, a long county highway, well paved, flanked on either side by wheat fields and stretching into the horizon. After ten minutes, she glanced in the rearview mirror. A black Mercedes, followed by a black BMW hurtled toward them.

  “Strap in, La Valle’s men are coming on fast.”

  Vanderlock twisted in his seat to look behind them. “Damn, they used the tracking device. Can you shake them?”

  “In a Caliber? Not likely. If that’s La Valle’s BMW, then it has double the horsepower, easy. If it’s armored, the plating will add some weight. Maybe slow it down.”

  Emma pushed the pedal all the way to the floor and the Caliber responded with a surge of speed. The engine started humming, making a high-pitched whine. The road stretched out before them, rimmed by the wheat and offering nothing in the way of cover. Vanderlock pulled out his weapon and kept watch in the side-view mirror.