C. Box - Free Fire

“Those bastards,” Joe said.

McCann shrugged. “It’s amazingly easy to buy public officials.Everybody knows that. Barron was a master of it, and quite a salesman.”

Joe was disgusted. The governor’s chief of staff and the chief ranger for the park had exchanged their positions of trust for big personal payoffs. Worse, they’d gone off the deep end to protect their interest, including the ambush of Judy Demming, the likely murder of Cutler, and targeting Joe and his family. As much as he despised McCann, Langston and Ward were as bad or worse.

The snow was building up on the road and Joe had to slow down. At least four inches had fallen and stuck. Park policy was not to plow the roads in winter, but to let the snow build up untilonly snowmobiles and snow coaches could use them. That meant if he got stuck, it could be days before someone found them. And, based on what they were learning, there were no guarantees that whoever found them would be friendly.

“Okay, so EnerDyne wants to harvest the microbes,” Joe said. “That I understand. But how did it happen that you turn into Rambo?”

For the first time, McCann smiled. Joe could see him in the mirror, and he thought McCann looked smug.

“That came about by happenstance. One of my clients is an elk poacher. He kills the elk, cuts off their antlers, and sells them to Asian firms who grind them up and sell it as an aphrodisiac.”

“I hate poachers,” Joe said, “nearly as much as bureaucrats who go bad.”

“I’m a lawyer, I don’t make moral judgments.”

“Which is why you’re an asshole,” Nate growled.

“Anyway,” McCann said, gaining in arrogance as he went on, Joe thought, “his hunting ground is near Bechler ranger station,technically in Idaho. He was contacted by the Idaho Fish and Game, who told him they were watching him. He came in to see me to find out whether Idaho could arrest him or not, since he was doing his poaching on federal park land. So as I researchedhis question, I found the loophole. I couldn’t believe it when I found it. I told Barron about it and said I’d take care of his Hoening problem if he’d make me financially secure for the rest of my life. You see, I’d learned about the annual reunions of the Gopher State Five from Hoening himself. I knew where they’d be, and when they’d be there.”

“You sound proud of yourself,” Joe said.

McCann shrugged. “Why shouldn’t I be? I committed the perfect crime.”

“So why didn’t you just leave with the money after you killed Hoening and the others?” Joe asked. “Why stay around to be caught?”

“First, I’m not caught,” McCann said. “Second, Barron renegedon me. It turned out he’d filed false financials with the SEC, and all that public money he promised was tied up in regulations.He simply didn’t have the cash. He lied to me.”

“Imagine that,” Joe said.

“Worse than that,” McCann said, “they panicked. They really are amateurs. Instead of concentrating on ways to get me the money, they screwed everything up by lying and delaying further. I knew they had decided to get rid of me somehow, so I stayed ahead of them and got myself put in their own jail where I’d be high profile and safe. Meanwhile, they tried to eliminate all of the witnesses, or anyone who might potentially be a witness. I want no part of them anymore, or EnerDyne. I just want my money.”

“But they want you,” Joe said, “so you won’t talk and implicatethem.”

“Yes.”

“Why did you kill that woman and the ex-sheriff?”

“They knew too much. If someone got to them, they might have exposed me.”

Joe said, “So you lured them into Idaho to kill them. You’ve admitted to kidnapping.”

McCann said, “Sure, I talked under duress. Under the threat of torture from your friend here. After being kidnapped and assaulted.Sorry, my confession won’t stand since I’ll claim I said whatever I had to to save my life. It would be your word against mine.”

He beamed at Joe.

Joe dug his microcassette recorder out of his pocket and held it up.

“Want to bet?” Joe said. “Anybody who hears this tape will hear how proud you are of what you did. None of it sounds forced out of you.”

McCann went white and his mouth sagged open.

“Shut him up,” Joe said, and Nate eagerly dove over the seat with the tape and stretched it across the lawyer’s mouth.

“You’ll get death,” Nate said, smoothing the tape.

“Assuming he lives long enough to get to trial,” Joe said, turning and looking into Clay McCann’s wide, panicked eyes.

And seeing that less than a hundred yards behind them was a park ranger Ford Explorer with wigwag lights flashing, gaining on them by the second, snow flying from the tires in twin plumes of white.

“Uh-oh,”Joe said.

McCann turned, saw the vehicle, and whimpered. He sagged in the seat to hide. The Explorer closed the gap, fishtailing a littlein the snow as the driver accelerated.

“Who is it?” Nate asked, squinting. “Can you tell?”

“My guess is Langston and Layborn,” Joe said, reaching behindhis back and gripping the Glock, putting it on the seat next to him. “Here we go.”

“I can put a bullet into the grille,” Nate said, “knock them out.” He ran the window down so he could lean outside. The cab of the truck filled with swirling snow.

“Hold it,” Nate said, “there’s only one guy inside.”

Joe concentrated on driving because it was getting harder to see where the road was in a sea of white. He shot a glance in his mirrors. Yes, there was only the driver, and Joe recognized him.

“Don’t shoot,” Joe said. “It’s Ashby.”

“Are you sure?”

“Ashby’s not involved, is he?” Joe called to McCann, who grunted something back.

“What did he say?” Joe asked Nate.

“I think he said no.”

“Let’s pull over and take our chances,” Joe said. “We can reallyuse Ashby’s help if he’ll cooperate. Be ready.”

Joe didn’t dare pull off the road and chance getting stuck in the snow, so he gradually slowed down. The Explorer stayed with him, a few feet behind, until both vehicles were stopped. Because of the way the wind-driven snow moved steadily across the meadow on either side of the road, it seemed to Joe as if they were still moving.

“Cover me,” Joe said, opening his door and jumping down. Snow lashed him in the face.

Ashby was out of the Explorer, his hand perched on his holsteredgun.

Joe held up his hands to show he had no weapon.

“Up against the truck and spread ’em!” Ashby yelled. “And tell your buddy to get out and do the same.”

Ashby was wearing sweats beneath his parka, and had apparentlyjumped out of bed to pursue them.

“Hold it,” Joe said. “I’m on your side.”

Ashby withdrew his gun, held it with both hands in a shooter’s stance, aimed at Joe.

“Del,” Joe said, feeling his belly clutch up, “calm down. We have McCann. We’re using him as bait. Before you try and arrest me or pull that trigger, there’s something you need to listen to. We’ve got new information and you’re not going to like it.”

Ashby wavered, Joe could see it in his eyes.

“Five minutes,” Joe said. “Just listen to McCann’s confession.Then you’ll want to help us out.”

“Confession? Everybody knows what he did.”

“But not why he did it,” Joe said.

“He’ll tell me?”

“He doesn’t need to. I’ve got it on tape.”

Ashby seemed to weigh what Joe said, and while he did he glanced toward the pickup. His face dropped with shock and fear. Joe quickly followed Ashby’s sight line. The muzzle of Nate’s.454 aimed straight at the ranger.

“He’ll blow your head clean off with that,” Joe said.