C. Box - Free Fire

Clay McCann said, “No more accidents like Mark Cutler.”

“We had no choice,” Langston said. “He was about to-”

“No more ambushes of park rangers like Judy Demming.”

“That wasn’t planned,” Langston said, stammering. “It just happened.”

“Okay,” Portenson whispered inside, clearly relieved. “We’re back on track. He just got the bastards to incriminate themselves.”

McCann changed the subject. “When we agreed that I would take care of Hoening and the Gopher State Five, you agreed to pay me for it. I did my part. You didn’t do yours.”

Barron said, “The SEC-”

“Fuck the SEC,” McCann said. “My deal was with you.”

“We can still pay,” Barron said. “If we can get things back on track like you say. If we can make an announcement to attract investors-”

McCann exploded: “That’s what you should have done months ago!”

Layborn said to Barron, “Why are you letting this asshole dictate to us? Can’t you see what he’s doing?”

Ward looked terrified, Joe thought. He almost felt sorry for him.

“So,” McCann said, “I’ll ask you one more time. Did you bring me my money?”

Silence. Ward looked as if he was about to break down. Joe saw Langston make eye contact with Layborn, giving him a prearranged signal.

“Even better,” Layborn said, unleashed, narrowing the distancebetween him and McCann. “I brought you this,” and before Joe could react, he raised his weapon and fired twice, pop-pop , the gunfire splitting the silence. The impact of the bullets sent McCann toppling straight over backward in his rocking chair.

“Jesus!” Ashby shouted, scrambling.

Suddenly, Layborn swung his pistol toward Bob Olig, saying,“And you-”

Through the radio, McIlvaine barked, “Pull!”

And Layborn’s head exploded from automatic gunfire. His headless body stayed erect for a second before crumpling to the floor.

“Freeze!” McIlvaine shouted from the dark. “All three of you, down on the ground, hands behind your heads, now!”

Ashby threw open the gift-shop door. Joe, Nate, and Portensonran out behind him. Joe felt adrenaline shoot through him like electric currents as he scrambled, the afterimage of Layborn’s death seared into his vision.

Everything was happening at once: agents were thundering down the stairs in their heavy boots; Olig was screaming and cursing from where he was now hiding behind the fireplace; Langston, Ward, and Barron were dropping to their knees and flopping onto their bellies as ordered.

Within half a minute all three were cuffed and searched. Only Langston had a weapon. Barron was pleading, saying he had no part in anything, was an innocent businessman. Langston hissed at him to shut up, but Barron was already offeringto testify in exchange for a lighter sentence.

Ward was in apparent shock, staring at a river of Layborn’s blood as it snaked across the floor toward him.

As Joe walked toward the still-living triumvirate of EnerDyne,he saw something white and blood-flecked rolling slowly across the hardwood floor and reached down and snagged it as if spearing a lazy grounder at shortstop. Layborn’s glass eye looked at him accusingly from his palm. He remembered what Demming had said and rotated the eye. Yup. The National Park Service logo was on the other side.

Joe’s heart was still beating hard when the agent from the gift shop came out beaming, said to Portenson, “We got it all on tape. It’s perfect.”

“Then shut the system down,” McIlvaine said, with a menacingsmile.

By then, McCann had been helped to his feet and was standingthere gasping for air. Despite the Kevlar vest under his parka, the impact of the bullets had punched the breath out of him, and he wheezed raggedly. Olig had stripped off his vest and thrown it across the room as if wearing it another second insulted him somehow. He was furious, he said, about how close he’d come to death, how long the agents had waited.

Joe squatted next to Chuck Ward. Ward still had the distant, almost animal look of shock on his face. Joe had seen many game animals in the back of pickups with the same look.

“How could you do this?” Joe asked. “How could you betray the governor like this? Worse, how could you betray Wyoming?”

Ward studied the hardwood floor inches away, tears forming in his eyes.

Joe repeated his question, and this time it got through. He absentmindedly worked Layborn’s glass eye in his hand like a big prayer bead.

“He knows everything, Joe,” Ward said.

“Who?”

“The governor. Our boss. Nothing gets by him when it comes to revenue.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Then don’t. You’re so naive.”

“You’re lying.”

Ward turned away with a bitter smile. He was lying, Joe thought as he stood up. Of course he was lying. Of course he was lying.

Portenson skipped over and gave Joe a bear hug, almost lifting him off the ground. “It was perfect,” Portenson said. “Your plan, it was perfect! Even better, it’s federal prosecutor-proof! This is the biggest arrest we’ve ever made in our office, and I was in charge! I’m going to get the hell out of this fucking state afterall.”

He kissed Joe sloppily on the cheek, and Joe looked away.

“I’m next,” McIlvaine said, stepping up after Portenson let go. He wrapped his arms around Joe and clamped hard, nearly squeezing Joe’s breath out.

“Okay, okay,” Joe grunted.

But McIlvaine didn’t let go. Instead, he squeezed harder. Suddenly, what was about to come next hit Joe like a hammer. The realization was worse than McIlvaine’s grip.

“Get his weapon,” McIlvaine ordered one of his men, who plucked the Glock out of Joe’s holster.

Across the room, before Joe could shout out a warning, two agents clubbed Nate to the ground with their rifle butts. They took his.454 and cuffed him behind his back, shouting at him to “stay the fuck down.”

Joe tried to get loose, arching his back in a wild jerk, attemptingto take McIlvaine to the ground with him, but the FBI commander was too strong. After Nate was bound with an agent on top of him and a gun jammed into his temple, McIlvaine pressed his mouth to Joe’s ear.

“I’ll let you go now, but don’t try to save your friend. There are way too many of us, and you saw what happened to Layborn.”

When McIlvaine released him, Joe staggered away, sucking in racking breaths. He saw Portenson staring at him, shaking his head sadly.

“We had a deal,” Joe said, gasping.

“Yes we did,” Portenson said, “and I honored it. But you didn’t have a deal with him. ” He gestured toward McIlvaine.

“He’s been on our list for quite a while,” McIlvaine said, confirming without saying what the whispering campaign on the radios had been about.

Joe threw himself at Portenson and his fist caught the FBI agent square in the nose, hard, smashing it flat against his face in a concussion of dark red blood. Portenson dropped to the floor, unconscious. Joe tumbled on top of him, cocked his arm back for another blow, when McIlvaine and two other agents tore him away.

Before cuffing Joe around a knotty pine stanchion to keep him out of the way, McIlvaine leaned into his ear again and said: “Don’t you know by now? Never trust a Fed .”

Through a fog of rage and betrayal, Joe watched as the assaultteam read Miranda rights to James Langston, chief ranger of Yellowstone Park; Layton Barron, CEO of EnerDyne; Chuck Ward, chief of staff for the governor of Wyoming; and Nate Romanowski,ex-special forces officer and outlaw falconer. Layborn’s body had been rolled up in dustcovers taken from tables in the restaurant. Portenson moaned from where he lay on the couch near the fire, holding a handkerchief to his head.