Special Agent Read online

“I got the impression there weren’t many, if any, other people involved. I think that was the whole core group, but like I say, I got the impression they are planning to draw some others in from the main body of the RAGs.”

  “Did you get any license numbers from any of the vehicles?” Doug enquired.

  “No, there was no way I could have done that without attracting attention.”

  “OK, you’ve actually given us several pretty decent leads. Thanks Gary. I know this has not been easy for you.” Doug said.

  “I’m hoping you’ll be able to move on these guys soon. I don’t want to teach them anything about creating or using explosives.”

  “I understand. We’ll move as fast as we can. You’re aware that once we make arrests, you’ll be our primary witness?”

  “Fine, I’ve got no problem taking these guys down, Doug.”

  “We’ll need to meet with you sometime in the next couple of days, to have you look at some photographs and ID some or all of the people who were at that meeting.”

  “Good, the sooner the better. OK?”

  “Yeah, I hear you. We’ll be in touch.” Doug assured him.

  “OK, bye.” Gary hung up.

  “Doug, how do you plan to get photographs of everyone who was at the meeting?” I asked him.

  “We already know the identities of Watkins and the three men Gary first met with. We should be able to identify those sheriff’s deputies pretty quickly. We’ll snatch up all those guys and put the screws to them. We can make them identify Jerry, Jim-Bob, Charlie and Evan. They have some connection to the others.”

  “This is coming together. You should be able to make arrests with what you’ve got right now.” I observed.

  Doug was thoughtful.

  “You have no idea how tempted I am, but I want to talk it over with Jack. I could round up the known suspects tonight and charge them all with conspiracy to commit murder and domestic terrorism. We could charge Watkins for the murder of the Mexican, too. But the opportunity to round them all up at one time, in one place, is even more tempting. I have to weigh all of the potential pros and cons of each option. In the meantime, we’ve got wire taps and other monitoring on Watkins, Hollister, Turner and Brown. We may gain useful intelligence and evidence from them. I can’t wait to nail Brown. He’s a ranking officer in the Smith County Sheriff’s department.”

  “You’ve handled this really well, Doug.”

  “Thank you. That’s the way the FBI rolls. That’s what I’m trained for. Still, ‘there’s many a slip between cup and lip’. This whole thing will go south on me if anyone else gets hurt or killed before we take them down.”

  “I guess you know my opinion about that.”

  “What, you have some mythological fairy story about talking unicorns you want to tell me?”

  I shook my head and grinned. “God bless you, Doug. I’ve never even heard of a talking unicorn. Have you heard the one about the guy who had a talking donkey…?”

  Fifty-Three

  On my way to the office, the next morning, my truck informed me, Gary was calling.

  “Hey, Gary, what’s up, any news?”

  “I thought the FBI was going to bring me in to look at pictures.”

  “I believe that’s the plan.”

  “Well, I haven’t heard from them.”

  “I don’t think they’ve had quite enough time to make the identifications yet.”

  “Will you talk to Doug and find out what’s going on?”

  “Sure, I’ll do it right away. Call me back in ten minutes. Are you still working on the demo job in Bullard?”

  “Yeah, call me.”

  He hung up.

  Gary’s attitude annoyed me. He knew the FBI was pushing hard to make the identifications. Then I thought about what Gary was going through. And that made me think about how hard all of this was for Doug to manage. I remembered the dead DA and what his family was suffering. I was worried about Gary, and I wanted to see Watkins punished for murdering Eduardo Ruiz. My mind was bouncing from one thing to another like a pinball. Confusion is a weapon often used by our enemy. I took a moment to seek guidance and listen for a still small voice, I realized what my problem was. I was trying to juggle too many chainsaws.

  If I continued this way, sooner or later, I would make a mistake.

  Sometimes you have to set down one of the chainsaws.

  I called Doug.

  “Special Agent Booker,” was the way he answered the phone.

  “Doug, it’s John, do you have a minute to talk?”

  “Barely, what’s up?”

  “Our asset is getting pretty desperate to see an end to this thing. How soon do you see arrests being made?”

  “We’ve made some progress in identifying those sheriff’s deputies. I have their jackets, with pictures to show him.”

  “That’s good, really good. He’s ready to come in.”

  “Well, I’ll meet with him to look over the pictures, but he needs to hang in there till the end.”

  “He wants it to end now. Again, how soon will you make the arrests?” I pressed.

  “I have no idea, certainly not within the next few days,” he snapped. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to work out the logistics of this many arrests? If we try to arrest each of them separately, we have to coordinate multiple teams to make simultaneous arrests. If we miss one of them, he will tip off the others and it could become a real nightmare. The suspects will probably be armed, wherever we decide to take them. I’m thinking it would be better if we attempt to take them all in a single raid, on that next meeting. The problem with that is we can’t be sure all of them will be there, and it could turn into a pitched gun battle. Either way, I’ll have to get our elite tactical team, some local LEOs, and the Rangers coordinated with air and ground transport. We have to plan for every eventuality. We don’t need another screw up.” He concluded.

  “So, you’re still debating when and how to do it?”

  “Among other things, we’re hoping to gather some decent evidence and further information from our wiretaps. Your friend just needs to take a deep breath. This will all be over soon.”

  “Can you do me a favor?”

  “Maybe, depends on what it is.”

  “Meet with our asset as soon as you can. Show him the pictures, so he can make the identification and encourage him it’s all going to work out.”

  “I thought that was your job.”

  “It has been, but I’m in your way and he needs to work this out with you.”

  “So, you’re out of it now?”

  “I’m trying to be. He’s going to call me in a few minutes. I would like to be able to tell him you have news, and you want to arrange a meeting. Then I’ll let you work out the details with him.”

  “Fine, I’ll figure out a way to meet with him, without tipping off the opposition.”

  “Great. My understanding is that once you make the arrests, he’ll go into the witness protection program until it’s time to testify at the trials. Is that correct?”

  “Yes, John. I’ve already alerted the Marshal’s service. They’ll be ready to provide him with protection and move him on a moment’s notice.”

  “OK. Be sure to tell him that, too.” I said.

  “Are you alright? It sounds like you’re struggling with something.” Doug asked with some concern evident in his voice.

  “This is hard for me. It’s hard for me to let go. It’s hard for me to trust you.”

  “Oh ye of little faith’, I thought you trusted in God?”

  “You know, you’re absolutely right. I do. You do the same.” I said brightly.

  “That’ll be the day.” He answered, as he hung up the phone.

  When Gary called me, I encouraged him as best I could and told him Special Agent Booker was anticipating wrapping the whole thing up within a week. I gave him Doug’s direct number and told him he should coordinate with Doug from then on.”

  “So, is this goodbye? Am I ever
going to see you again?” Gary asked me.

  “Once you go into witness protection, they will re-locate you and change your identity. No one you have ever known will be able to get in touch with you, and you should never contact any of them.”

  “… For how long?” Gary asked.

  “Gary, Doug explained all this to you. You understood what this would mean when you made the commitment to see it through.”

  “Yeah, I know… It’s just that… Thank you, John. You’ve been a good friend.”

  “Listen, Gary, the United States Marshal’s service is very good at this. I have every confidence in them, but if you ever need me…”

  “I know, man.

  “Alright, you hang in there, and God be with you.”

  “… And with you.”

  We were both silent for a moment. Then Gary spoke up.

  “OK. Bye,” he said, as he hung up.

  Christine came in and saw the look on my face.

  “John, what’s wrong? You look like you just lost your best friend.”

  “Sort of, I just left Gary in the capable hands of the FBI.”

  “Oh, no!”

  “Oh yes. Special Agent in Charge, Doug Booker, now has the responsibility for what happens to Gary.”

  “Why?”

  “They’ll have it all wrapped up in a week or so. At this point I’m not much help to either Gary or the FBI. Once they round up the killers and co-conspirators, Gary will go into witness protection with the US Marshal’s service.”

  “Doesn’t that mean we won’t ever see him again?”

  I acknowledged her question with a slow nod.

  “Is there any way I can say good bye to him?” Christine asked.

  “Yes, if you do it pretty quickly. You could go down there to Bullard and see him on the job site.”

  “Can I?”

  “Sure, but you should have some sort of cover story, especially if you’re likely to cry and hug his neck.”

  “You know me so well.”

  “I understand how you feel.”

  “Things are changing awfully fast, aren’t they?” She said, sadly.

  “Yes, Christine. From our perspective it seems fast. One thing leads to another, as surely as the changing of the seasons.”

  She was thoughtful for a moment, almost somber, and then she shook it off.

  “Speaking of seasons, I’m really looking forward to the holidays. This time of year I think about fires in the fireplace, hot chocolate, Thanksgiving and all the feasting. I think about celebrating the birth of Jesus and all the Christmas cheer.” She informed me.

  “Will you be going back to the Hill Country for Thanksgiving and Christmas, again this year?”

  “Yep, the whole family will be there. You should come with me. Don’t spend the holidays by yourself.”

  I wobbled my head.

  “Thanks for the offer, but I hope to have other plans.”

  She was thoughtful again. I never get used to the way women’s emotions can turn on a dime.

  After a moment, she smiled and said.

  “Hope. That’s what keeps us going, isn’t it?”

  “Sure, we have hope because of our faith.”

  “We wouldn’t have hope without our faith, would we?” She asked, rhetorically.

  “Makes you wonder where the atheist finds hope.”

  “We have hope because we know how much God loves us. That’s pretty much all we need, isn’t it?” She asked.

  “… Faith, hope and love.” I answered.

  Christine smiled and winked in agreement.

  Fifty-Four

  Late in the day, Gary called me.

  “Tomorrow night, John, the meeting of the Righteous Patriot’s Brigade is set for Friday night. That’s tomorrow night.”

  “OK. Calm down. Have you talked about it with Doug?”

  “Yeah, he wants me to go to the meeting.”

  “Have they made any progress on identifying the men you met?”

  “Doug says they’ve identified all of them and they got everything they need to round them all up. That’s his plan, man. They’re going to raid the meeting and arrest everyone at once.”

  “Do you know where the meeting is going to be?”

  “Same place as last time. They gave me good directions.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “I don’t know, John. I’m just kind of freaking out.”

  “It will all be over soon. All these weeks of fear and sacrifice, I guess you feel like you’ve been on a roller coaster ride.”

  “Yeah, that and I’m worried about going to the meeting and then it being raided. These guys won’t just surrender.”

  “Doug has promised to keep you safe.”

  “I know. It’s just…”

  “… Scary, you’ve never been in a situation like this before now, and it scares you.”

  “That’s part of it. Also, I hate having to go and teach these guys how to make Molotov cocktails.”

  “Is that what they asked you to do?”

  “Well, no, not specifically. They want to learn about all kinds of explosives and incendiary devises. I figured to stall them by starting with the easiest and most common to make. I’ll point out they can be made pretty much anywhere, from commonly available materials and have tremendous destructive potential. Also, they don’t leave any kind of signature or clue that can be traced back. I’ll only take about a half-gallon of gasoline with me for demonstration purposes.”

  “They could practice constructing them with water. That would eliminate the risk and you would need even less gasoline.”

  “Yeah, I like that idea. It would be safer for everybody involved.”

  “Good plan, especially since you’ll be raided at some point in the process. You don’t want somebody dropping a jar of gasoline with a lit wick. There won’t be any actual explosives on the property, right?”

  “No, they had some black powder, but they used it all in the first attempt with the pipe bombs. They expect me to teach them about other kinds of explosives and how to make them.”

  “Did Doug ask you to wear a wire?”

  “No, he never even mentioned the possibility.”

  I was glad to hear it. I needed more information before I decided what my course of action should be.

  “Tell me everything about the meeting place.” I said.

  Fifty-Five

  The next morning, I drove my truck to the old farmhouse, the meeting place for the “Righteous Patriot’s Brigade”, the radical arm of the RAGs.

  I had been analyzing aerial images most of my life, from the time we had first started taking pictures from the sky. The first aerial pictures were taken by men in balloons, then pilots of single engine aircraft. They were crude by today’s standard. Later we used cameras mounted on the aircraft; eventually we learned how to use satellite imagery. Because I had more experience analyzing every kind of aerial images of non-urban land and structures than Doug (or pretty much anyone else) did, I had already identified what I thought was the correct property. I had no trouble following Gary’s directions.

  I drove right in, down the sloped and snaky driveway that was unpaved and dusty. I parked where it ended beside the old farmhouse, a couple of hundred yards from the road. Other than the house, the only other buildings were an empty hay barn about twenty five yards away, and a sagging pump-house for the water well. The yard was choked with tall grass and weeds, trampled down between the hay barn and the house. I could see where several vehicles had been parked here and in the hay barn.

  Since there were no other vehicles parked down there now, and the feel of the place was vacant and little visited, I wasn’t too concerned about running in to anyone who might pose a threat. None the less, as I walked around the outside of the house, I called out several times to see if anyone else might be on the property.

  As soon as I was confident I was alone and the house was unoccupied, I peeked in the windows. All I saw was empty
rooms. I could see into two empty bedrooms without a stick of furniture, a living area that included the kitchen, and other than a shed like back porch, that was all I could see from outside the building. I opened the rusty old screen door and stepped up into the back porch and saw that at one time, the washing machine and perhaps clothes dryer had been enclosed here. I tested the back door and found it locked. Because of the cheap construction, time and my pocket tools made slipping the lock the simple task of only a moment.

  I had already determined there was no alarm system. Although the house was supplied with electricity, running from a power pole in the yard, there was enough light inside that I didn’t need to turn on any of the overhead fixtures. A quick tour revealed that the only furniture in the house was a table, shoved into a corner of the kitchen/living area, a ratty old couch, and a bunch of folding chairs leaning against a wall. There was a single, rather dirty bathroom between the two empty bedrooms. The only adornment in the house was a blood red flag, nailed to a wall. The flag had a black cross on it. A cross with a big “R” at the top, a big “A” on the left side with a little “o” in the middle, and a big G on the right. It was the flag of the Righteous Army of God.

  I opened the refrigerator and found it was packed full of light beer in cans, a few bottles of water, and nothing else. I grabbed a paper towel from a roll on the counter and wiped my prints off the refrigerator door handle. Better safe than sorry. There was an empty trashcan under the sink, but I put the paper towel in my pocket.

  There was nothing else to be seen in the house. It only took me about five minutes to photograph everything inside the house.

  Outside, I scouted around a little until I found a well-worn trail that wandered off into the woods. It was too narrow for a car or truck, and had the tracks of all-terrain vehicles. I decided to go for a hike.

  The trail meandered through the woods and although there were places where it branched off, I stuck to the main and most worn part of it. After about twenty minutes, and a little more than three quarters of a mile of walking, I came to a small clearing. There was evidence here that the clearing had been used as a parking lot. It appeared to be a place where people came to unload their ATVs to go for a ride in the woods, or maybe hunters headed out to their blinds. There were several trails converging here.