David Dun - Overfall

“My Grandfather Stalking Bear decided that I inherited the Spirit Walker thing.”

“Fascinating.”

“It’s intuition pure and simple.”

“Did all Indians around these parts believe the same?”

“Well, there were some distinct differences. Only my tribe believed in Spirit Walkers, but all the tribes had the spiritual leaders known as Talth.”

“So tell me your tribe.”

“You can keep your trap shut?”

“Of course.”

“You threatened me with the New York Times.”

“I said I was wrong. I concede.”

“I’m a Tilok.”

“What’s your name? Your real name.”

“Oh, no.” He shook his head. “Let’s go back to Indians. Even in things as basic as language there were differences. The Yuroks spoke a language related to the Woodland Algonquian tribes of the northeastern United States, while the Karuk spoke Hokan, the oldest language in northwestern California, and the Hupa spoke the Athapaskan, which was a language common in the Pacific Northwest and the Southwest. Pretty amazing to have such diversity in one small area of northern California.”

“What do the Tiloks speak?”

“A dialect of the Algonquian tribes, but Mom says it’s pretty different. Before English, none of these tribes could talk to each other without a multilingual translator. Their economies, social structure, and spiritual beliefs were similar but there were differences. My mother can tell you what was common and what was not. Tiloks were travelers, not so much lowland Indians except seasonally. In spring and summer Tiloks went to the high country. They were hunters, trackers, and traders.”

“Why does she say that your soul lacks harmony?”

“I told you that you need to leave me with a few secrets.”

“Okay, just a little more. Tell me about your dad.”

“He was the penultimate tough guy. Life was about holding out the proper facade no matter what. Laugh at adversity, joke when others cry, never have a really serious conversation, and never under any circumstances be vulnerable.”

“Must have made a heck of a one-man platoon.”

“He was a parajumper. The bad-ass rescue patrol. The president or a cabinet member goes down, needs rescuing, or a pilot behind enemy lines, or a hiker on Mount Denali… the toughest rescues around are given to the parajumpers. That’s what you wanted to know.”

“I’m not spying on you, Sam. Relax.” She squeezed his arm. “I do, though, fully intend to find out everything there is to know about you.”

“Curious creature, aren’t you?”

“I am,” she said, and quickly drifted off to sleep.

He didn’t really doubt her. It seemed that he was seriously losing his grip with this woman.

He used the plane’s satellite phone to call the office.

Typhony answered.

“How’s it going?” Sam asked.

“Really good but I can’t talk now, so I’m giving you Paul.”

That’s weird, Sam thought.

“Yo,” Paul said.

“Are we making progress?”

“You bet. I called Hal Godwynn. Apologized for the middle-of-the-night wake-up. Said you’d be talking to him, that you really needed his help. He’s cranking up as we speak. He knows it’s big and says there’ll be a lot of mouths to feed. Fifty thousand dollars to try, with a fifty-thousand success fee and fifty thousand more as a home-run bonus. Success is that he finds a plane leaving Canada with Jason on it and tells us where it landed. Another fifty-thousand home run if we actually find him and we get him back.”

“Okay.” Sam heard something in Paul’s voice.

“We’re thinking Jason was smart enough to circumvent file-folder security but never cracked the code to open the document. So he gave us a folder that he locked with a document inside that was encrypted by Grace Technologies. We’re working on breaking it. Grogg is going to run about two hundred big computers in series for about an hour and see what he can do.”

“We need to break it open. Jason had to have a reason for thinking it would be interesting.”

“So when you gonna be here?”

“Soon. Tell me what’s wrong, Paul.”

“Oh, it’s nothing critical; it can wait until you get here. Some people want to talk with you.”

“Which people?”

“Trust me on this one, Sam. It’s one of those things you should get into when you get here and it will definitely keep.”

“It’s why Typhony wanted off the line.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Okay. I’ll be right there. I can hardly wait.”

Someone had screwed up. Sam knew that. And the miscreant wanted to tell his or her story.

“What’s wrong?” Anna asked.

“You faker.”

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

“If you could hear, you know they wouldn’t tell me.”

“What do you think?”

“Don’t know.”

“Who’s Hal?”

“A retired FAA administrator. He has a knack for tracing aircraft flying in controlled airspace.”

“I hope he figures it out.”

“I do too.”

“Sam, I want to go to the office with you.”

“That’s out of the question.”

“If you let me come, I’ll… well… I’ll pay closer attention to what you say.”

“Oh, that’s a real concession.”

“You’re looking for my brother. That’s where everything is happening. You’ve got what… bunches of people in there all working phones and computers and God knows how many people out in the field feeding you information.”

“You can’t come.”

“What if I promise to follow orders? How about that?”

“For the entire job you promise to do what I say?”

“Nearly.”

“What kind of lie is ‘nearly’?” Sam laughed. “At least be convincing. You get the anemic lie award.”

They drove through the streets of LA, she watching his face in the flickering of the night-lights, Sam talking easier now. She sensed he had decided to take a chance. He pulled through the gate, past the guard shack, and into what was obviously a very private parking area. She saw a lot of cars for what she considered the late hour.

“Looks like your crew is hard at it,” she said.

“That’s one I don’t understand, though.” He indicated a sporty-looking Porsche. “Four hundred and twenty horsepower, 413 foot-pounds of torque, zero to sixty in ten-point-oh seconds, and all-wheel-drive. It belongs to Jill, and she’s supposed to be in the mountains with Grady.” Then he leaned forward and peered down to the end of the row. “What the hell?” he said. “That’s my mother’s car down there.”

Sam had a look on his face that she hadn’t seen-a cross between anger and worry.

Inside they were met by Typhony and Paul. Jill stood just behind the pair. Everybody in the office was looking out of their cubicles, most standing.

Sam saw his mother in the doorway to the lounge. Beside her was Grady with a yellow pad. There was a hush about the place, none of the soft clicking from the keyboards. Everybody was watching as though he were a cop breaking down the door of a bookie salon. For a second nobody spoke or even moved.

“What’s happening with Grady?”

“I brought her here and put her to work,” Jill said.

“Paul?”

Paul looked at Jill.

“Paul said no way. Said we would have to follow procedure and that she wouldn’t work here for months, if then. I argued and he said take it up with you. But I brought her in anyway, when he wasn’t looking.”

“You broke a company policy?”

“I’ll be happy to fire her ass,” Paul said.

“She was just trying to help…” Grady called out.

“Go back to your desk, Grady,” Jill said. “This is my business.”

“I’m speechless but I’m sure it won’t last,” Sam said. He craved a cigarette.