Special Agent Page 15

  “Yeah, it makes sense.” Tony agreed.

  “Maybe the feds are looking at you.”

  “Oh come on, they should know I can’t be a white supremacist.”

  “It doesn’t mean they trust you.” I said.

  “Well, that’s annoying. Obviously I can be trusted.”

  “Of course you can be trusted. It’s not as if you would tell anybody about this…”

  Tony rolled his eyes and then he gave me a dirty look.

  I laughed.

  “Hey, don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.”

  Thirty

  As we made the turn onto the street where Diondro’s mother lived, we found a Chapel Hill police cruiser parked facing us, about a half block from the house. The officer inside the car flashed his lights as we approached. Farther up the street, we could see there were pickup trucks parked in front of Mrs. Taylor’s house, and there were two men with shotguns sitting in chairs in the shade provided by the carport.

  Tony flashed his lights and rolled down his window, as he stopped his unmarked Crown Victoria beside the Chapel Hill P.D. cruiser.

  “Good afternoon, sir. May I ask who you gentlemen are and what business you have in this neighborhood?” The officer asked.

  I had to smile. Not long ago, it was a common practice for white police officers in white neighborhoods, to stop cars with black drivers and ask the same question. This was the exact reverse scenario.

  I was pretty sure the Chapel Hill cop was aware of the irony, and he found it just as amusing as I did.

  “I’m Lieutenant Escalante with Tyler P.D. and this is my associate, Mr. Tucker. We are friends of the Taylors, and they’re expecting us.”

  “Yes sir. Go right ahead.”

  Tony drove up to the house and parked behind one of the trucks. The men with the shotguns had shifted over in front of the house.

  Diondro came out the front door and waved us in, indicating to the armed men we were not a threat. He held the door for us as we went inside.

  Inside, we found Mrs. Taylor and the Reverend Mrs. Jefferson in the kitchen, enjoying each other’s company, over coffee and some homemade cookies.

  “Mamma, Mr. Tucker and Tony are back,” Diondro announced.

  “Well, well, that’s just fine. Would you gentlemen enjoy a cup of coffee and some fresh cookies?”

  Tony started to shake his head, but I cut him off.

  “Yes ma’am, we surely would.”

  “Get you a cup. They’s hangin’ over there, under the cupboard.”

  I grabbed a coffee mug off a hook and headed for the coffee pot. My blue mug said Chapel Hill Bank & Trust in gold letters. I saw Tony had grabbed a green mug with East Texas Feed & Seed, in white letters.

  “Diondro say you went to see the Sheriff, over to Henderson.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Tony said.

  “Praise the Lord for law and order. The Lord instructs us to do justice, to love mercy and to walk humbly… Amen?” asked the Reverend Mrs. Jefferson.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Sit yo’selves down,” instructed Mrs. Taylor.

  Tony and I joined the women at the 1950’s vintage dining table, topped with harvest gold colored Formica.

  “It’s nice to see the police car down the street. How long do you think they will be able to provide that service?” I asked Mrs. Taylor.

  The Reverend Mrs. Jefferson replied for her. “Bless God. There are two police in our congregation, and the Chief of Police is my nephew. We’ll have a police sitting right there, until this trial is over. Hallelujah!”

  I tried to hide my smile.

  “Those men out side, with the shotguns…” Tony started.

  “Glory to God! Those brothers are members of my flock, and some men who live here in this neighborhood have volunteered as well, so someone will always be there, till this trial is over, umm hum. Praise the Lord!”

  “Reverend Jefferson, there’s an ordinance against…”

  “This is private property. Are you a Chapel Hill police?” the Reverend Mrs. Jefferson asked, holding her hand up and pointing at the ceiling.

  “No ma’am.” Tony answered.

  “Well then, you might want to mind your own business. Thank you, Jesus!”

  Tony was now struggling to hide his own smile.

  I decided to change the subject.

  “So, Diondro, will you be staying here with your mom, or coming with us?”

  “The trial is just a few days away. You said you and Tony think it will be a slam dunk, right?”

  Tony and I both nodded.

  “Do you still think they’ll leave us alone, once that punk goes to prison?”

  I looked at Tony, hoping to have him answer the question.

  “The only reason y’all are in any danger now, is because the guy you jumped is the current gang boss. He hates you and he gives the orders. Once he gets his sentence of twenty to life, there are guys just standing in line to replace him. Whoever is the heir to his throne has no beef with you; in fact you will have helped them ascend to power.”

  Diondro looked to me.

  “I agree. If there is any indication that’s not the case, we’ll help them change their minds.”

  Diondro thought about it for a moment.

  “Ok. I want to stay here with my moms.”

  “Hallelujah! Glory to God! That’s the right answer. You a fine young man, Diondro,” said the Reverend Mrs. Jefferson.

  “Oh, my baby, I’m so happy. I’ve missed you so much. Thank you, Jesus!” Mrs. Taylor said.

  Diondro managed to look happy and consternated, all at the same time.

  “Mr. Tucker, may I speak to you and the Lieutenant outside, for a moment?” asked the Reverend Mrs. Jefferson.

  “Yes ma’am. We are just on our way out.”

  “Before you go, I just want to say thank you. Thank you both, for taking care of my boy,” Mrs. Taylor said.

  “It was my pleasure, ma’am,” Tony replied.

  “I’m glad we could help. Diondro, you feel free to call me, if you need anything. We’ll get your TJC admittance things squared away, as soon as the trial is over,” I added.

  “Yes sir, thanks again.” Diondro said, shaking my hand.

  He walked over and shook Tony’s hand as well.

  “Thank you for all you’ve done, sir. I won’t ever forget the things I’ve learned hanging out with you.”

  “Don’t be a stranger. You come around the cop shop any time you like, Diondro.” Tony said.

  Outside, the Reverend Mrs. Jefferson got right to the point.

  “Diondro says you’re both Christian men. That true?”

  Tony and I exchanged a look.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Tony answered.

  “Praise the Lord. You know God sent you into this boy’s life?”

  “Yes ma’am, I suppose so.” Tony said.

  Reverend Jefferson fixed me with a look.

  “I believe I would like to have a word with you alone, for a moment.”

  “J.W., I’ll wait for you in the car,” Tony said.

  We watched him walk away. He seemed to be in a terrible hurry. It must have been because he wanted to get in the car and get the air conditioning going.

  She turned to me.

  “Is you an angel?”

  “I beg your pardon…”

  “There is something about you… more than meets the eye.”

  “Of course not, I’m as human as you are. I’ve just been around a lot longer.”

  “You a Shepherd, aren’t you?”

  “Isn’t that the function of a church pastor? You know, someone like yourself. A shepherd has a flock. You have a flock. I do not.”

  “There are shepherds who lead the flock, and there are shepherds who guard against the predators.”

  “Don’t most shepherds do both?”

  “Umm hmmm, and there are Shepherds who seek the lost sheep.”

  I nodded.

  “So there are.�
�

  “Umm hmmm, so there are. Thank the Lord!”

  I winked at her, and went to join Tony in the car.

  As I walked away from her, I was hurrying a little myself.

  Thirty-One

  Christine came into my office and closed the door behind her. She was wearing a coral colored, knee length sleeveless dress, with contrasting turquoise jewelry. The jewelry looked to be some old Navajo pawn pieces. The necklace was a heavy, handmade chain, with big Kingman cabochons. She had matching earrings and a bracelet. The effect was stunning and made her look like a red headed fashion model. I wondered where she had found shoes that matched her dress.

  “John, there is someone here to see you,” she said.

  Her coming in to speak to me was odd, because just by glancing at my monitor, I could see the man waiting out in the reception area. She could have just called me on the intercom.

  “Ok. What’s up?”

  “He says he’s with the FBI.”

  “Well then, show the man in.”

  “John, you aren’t in any trouble are you?”

  “Oh, so that’s it. No, I’m not in any trouble, not that I know of. Go ahead and send him in.”

  Christine walked to the door and held it open.

  “Mr. Tucker will see you now,” she said, with a big warm smile.

  She could be dazzling when she wanted to.

  The man who entered my office was about 5’10” and about 200 pounds. He was well dressed, in a pin striped charcoal suit, had longish hair, stylishly greying at the temples, and he wore expensive Oxford loafers. His face was only slightly off balanced by a nose which had clearly been broken, at least once. The overall affect was that of an attorney who liked to cage fight, and he was clearly dazzled by Christine. He could hardly take his eyes off her.

  I stood to greet him.

  He shifted his attention to me, as Christine stepped out of the room, closing the door behind her.

  “Mr. Tucker, I’m FBI Special Agent Douglas Booker. I’m the Special Agent in charge of the Tyler office.

  “Agent Booker, I’m pleased to meet you. I remember you from the child abduction case last year, although we never met,” I said, as we shook hands. “Please have a seat. Can I offer you a cup of coffee?”

  “Thank you, no.”

  We sat and regarded each other for a moment, across the top of my desk.

  I was wondering if his heavy brow was a by-product of using anabolic steroids.

  “I imagine you’re wondering why I’m here…” Agent Booker started.

  I waited.

  “First, let me send greetings from a friend of yours. Jack McCarthy, asked me to say ‘howdy’ for him.”

  I nodded.

  “How is Jack?”

  “He’s doing well. He’s now a Regional Director with DHS.”

  “That’s nice.”

  “I must say, I’m surprised by your appearance. What I mean is; I was expecting an older man.”

  “Why?”

  Well, Jack said you and he had worked together as agents in DHS, for several years, up until maybe five or six years ago?”

  I nodded.

  “Yeah, sounds about right.”

  “Huh, you and he are both about the same age, but neither of you looks to be over thirty,” he observed.

  I didn’t like the direction this conversation was going. I changed the subject.

  “I guess you would know a good bit about me, if you’ve been talking to Jack.”

  “Yeah, he shared your file, although your file says you are quite a bit older than you look. No offense intended, but if you’ve had some work done, it’s extraordinary. You look like your photos from your days in the Navy.”

  I wondered what file he was referring to. My DHS employee file was one thing. Was there another file about which I had no knowledge? Did DHS know my history? This was bothersome. I needed to steer him away from this line of thought.

  “Clean living. Surely you didn’t come here just to see what I look like.”

  “Uhh, no, just an observation. As I said, no offense intended.”

  “What can I do for you, Agent Booker?”

  He studied me for a moment, and then he appeared to make a decision.”

  “You attracted quite a lot of attention last year, when you and Lieutenant Escalante found those missing kids.”

  I waited.

  “Your name popped up several times in the news and you have become something of a local celebrity. You will remember the child abduction was a federal case, because of the little boy who was transported across state lines.”

  “I remember.”

  “Then a couple of funny things happened.”

  I stared at him.

  “Well, not funny, exactly. More along the lines of ‘odd’ I would say.”

  I continued to stare.

  “Your name came up in a conversation some of us were having, about a local hate group.”

  I shrugged and made a “move along” motion with my hand.

  “What is your connection to the Righteous Army of God?”

  I felt a wave of relief roll over me. This wasn’t about me. My secret remained secure.

  I considered my response.

  “If you’re referring to the white supremacist hate organization, I have no connection.”

  “It was reported to me you have informed the local LEOs you suspect a member of the RAGs, in an apparent homicide.”

  “I do.”

  “How did you arrive at this suspicion?”

  “In my investigation into a matter on behalf of one of my clients, I stumbled onto it, quite by accident.”

  “What do you know about the RAGs?”

  “I know more than I want to and somewhat less than I will, before this is finished.”

  “Uh huh… Jack told me you played your cards close to the vest.”

  I shrugged again.

  “You had a top secret clearance, when you worked for the Department of Homeland Security.”

  I stared at him, some more. Where was he going with this?

  “Look, we may have gotten off on the wrong foot.”

  “I still don’t know why you are sitting in my office.”

  Special Agent Booker nodded.

  “Fair enough, let’s start over. Mr. Tucker, as you know, domestic terrorism falls within the scope of my agency’s duties to protect and defend the citizens of the United States. The FBI is actively engaged in an investigation of the Righteous Army of God. The RAGs is a larger organization than most people realize. There are active chapters in at least half of our states. The Federal prison system is full of them, as are many of the State prisons. In addition, the RAGs have ties with other hate groups and they are a significant part of the white supremacist movement in this country. We have reason to believe they are planning some sort of major event. Perhaps even on the scale of Oklahoma City.”

  I considered the information for a moment.

  “Is that the connection between your agency, the FBI, and the Department of Homeland Security?”

  It is, yes, one of the connections. It was through that channel I came to have information about you.”

  I wondered what “information” he was referring to.

  “Again, why are you here, in my office?”

  “I was just getting to that. You have apparently developed some sort of information source, or connection with a person of interest in our investigation of the RAGs.”

  “… And you want me to back off?”

  “No, not at all, on the contrary, we want you to develop the relationship, if you can. We need all the information we can gather. We have a source ourselves, but an additional source could be very helpful.”

  I rocked back in my chair and gathered my thoughts.

  “Agent Booker…”

  “Call me Doug,” he interrupted.

  “Alright, Doug, I have a very tenuous contact with a member of that group. One of my people is in a position to interact
with him, but it could all end tomorrow. I intend to see justice is done in the murder of a Mexican national. If it turns out your, so called ‘person of interest,’ is the killer, I’ll do everything I can to see he gets put behind bars.”

  “Now hold on, this is a much more important matter than the supposed murder of some illegal alien.”

  “I thought you government types are supposed to call them ‘undocumented immigrants’ or just immigrants.”

  “Whatever, the point is - domestic terrorism is a far more serious threat to the people of the United States.”

  “It depends on your perspective; I understand, but…”

  “… Let’s just take this one step at a time and see where it leads us,” he interrupted.

  I took a deep breath.

  “OK, sure. We can work together. We both want to see justice prevail. Like I told you though, this could all fall apart tomorrow, maybe even today.”

  “I’m not looking for promises, just a little cooperation.”

  I nodded.

  “I’ll keep you in the loop, as my operative reports his progress, but I do need a promise from you, as well.”

  “… And that is?”

  “My operative is on the edge of a very dangerous situation. He’s risking his job, his personal safety, maybe even his life. I want you to promise me if this gets too dicey, you will help me get him out.”

  “We’ll be happy to assist him in any way we can. Do you have a lot of confidence in this guy? I want to meet him, of course.”

  “He’s a fireman by training and occupation. He only works for me part time. He’s using vacation and sick days to stay on this case. At some point very soon, he won’t be able to do that anymore.”

  “What’s his name?”

  Agent Booker was starting to annoy me.

  “Show me your credentials.”

  By the look on Agent Booker’s face, I could see I had just returned the favor.

  “I thought we were past this.” He said

  “I don’t know you and I don’t trust you. You can be sure I’m going to check you out.”

  “Fair enough,” Doug said, as he handed me his badge case.”

  I quickly photographed the info on his photo ID card and his badge number with the camera in my smart phone…