Wounded Falcon: Brotherhood Protectors World Page 3

  Agent Love sighed and pulled a report and opened it.

  “I interviewed your suspect, Mr. Johnny Standing Bear,” she said. “What a charmer that guy is, by the way. I’d just as soon be in a room with an angry rattlesnake. At any rate, he indicated he was roughed up by two Navy SEALS, friends of the alleged victim, Ska Long Ghost.”

  “That incident happened before I arrived on the scene,” Andrews deflected. “Again, Agent Love, we took down a rapist and woman batterer without firing a shot. It was a success story.”

  “How did those Navy SEALS know where to find Mr. Standing Bear?”

  “Why don’t you ask them?”

  “I did. They both said they didn’t recall. In fact, they both went into great detail about how you warned them to avoid vigilante action.”

  Andrews shrugged, “There you have it.”

  “You know, Agent Andrews, it was almost as if their testimony was rehearsed.”

  “Can’t help you there, Agent Love.”

  This was the first time she felt as though Agent Andrews was covering something up. It was obvious to her that he was not telling her the complete truth about this situation.

  “You know what I think, Agent Andrews?” Love asked.

  “I’m certain you’re going to tell me,” he answered.

  “I think you had no evidence to tie Mr. Standing Bear to Ska Long Ghost and you used these two Navy SEALS to shake him down. You knew you couldn’t legally do it, so you found two men who would do it for you. I think you gave them Standing Bear’s address in Nashua and maybe even conspired with them on how to handle a . . . personal visit. I believe those two SEALS were lying to protect you.”

  Andrews was impressed. Agent Love was certainly no lightweight. She nailed it. It was exactly what happened. He decided to neither deny or confirm it.

  “That’s what you think, is it?”

  “I do,” she reiterated, “and that my friend, is misconduct.”

  “Look, Agent Love. Johnny Standing Bear was a murderer, a meth dealer and a sex trader who was released from prison because of our inability to process evidence appropriately. I found two men who witnessed him beating and raping Ska Long Ghost years earlier and convinced them to testify. I reopened the case. Standing Bear was arrested and subsequently convicted and not a single shot was fired. He is in jail serving a thirty-five-year sentence and not one person was harmed to make it happen.”

  “I know all of that, and again, I will tell you, Agent Andrews, I am in awe,” Love said. “It was, once again, brilliant work.”

  “But?” Andrews said.

  “But again, it’s yet another example of you circumventing the system, ignoring FBI protocols and, in this case, violating a man’s civil rights. Those protocols are in place for a reason and . . .”

  Agent Love was interrupted by Madge, who brought their food on a serving tray.

  After Madge set their plates, she looked at Andrews, “You need anything else, darling?”

  “No, I’m good,” Andrews answered.

  “I’m good too, in case you were wondering,” Love snipped.

  “I wasn’t.” Madge flashed a smug smile and left.

  “Your attitude will be reflected in my tip . . . Madge,” Love snarked.

  Madge squinted at Love. Love glared back.

  “I’ll take care of your, tip, Madge,” Andrews said.

  “Thank you, kind sir,” Madge replied. She flashed Love one last venomous look and left.

  “I don’t think I’ll be getting a Christmas card from Madge this year,” Love said.

  “If you do, I’d have it tested for anthrax.”

  “You never answered my question about circumventing the system in the Johnny Standing Bear case,” Love noted.

  Andrews sighed, “Agent Love, maybe it’s time for you to tell me why you really wanted to talk to me. I know it’s not about a slime ball like Standing Bear. As much as Director Rice hates me, even he wouldn’t send you all the way out here for that.”

  Love paused. He was right again. He was seeing right through her. All her best techniques were thus far . . . failing.

  “Fair enough. Why don’t you tell me about Rainhorse?”

  Andrews shrugged, “I thought we might circle back to him sooner or later. Rainhorse is a full-blooded Cheyenne; big sucker; strong as an ox; ex-military, Rangers, Special Forces; went on to become a paid assassin. He retired from that life. He’s said to be doing work for UNICEF right now, but the truth is . . . nobody really knows where he is.”

  “A paid assassin, huh?”

  “Reformed assassin,” Andrews corrected.

  “He’s still a murderer,” Love said.

  “He was trained to kill in the military,” Andrews said. “He killed scumbags, evil dictators, and other enemies of the state. As it turned out, he developed a taste for ridding the world of those who killed or abused women and children. When he received his honorable discharge, there wasn’t a lot of call for trained killers in the private sector. He ended up working as a paid assassin for Barnabas Quince. While working for Quince he killed drug warlords, sex traders and murderers. No one cried for his victims.”

  “Like I said, a murderer,” Love repeated. “A murderer who worked for a murderer.”

  “A former assassin who eliminated some of the most notorious criminals on the planet, like Barnabas Quince.”

  “And that made what he did okay?” Love asked.

  “In a lot of people’s minds . . . yes.”

  “What about yours? Do you think it’s okay?”

  Andrews shook his head, “No, but I will say that the world is a better place because of him, and like I said, he retired from the killer-for-hire business. He turned himself in. He paid his debt. He risked his life to save the city of Seattle.”

  “You sound like you admire him.” Love observed.

  “I do, in more ways than one.”

  “Explain.”

  “Every society has people who are willing to make money by taking advantage of those who are vulnerable: children, women, druggies, the homeless. Rainhorse sought them out.”

  “You make him sound like some champion for the little guy.”

  “If I make him sound that way, it’s because I believe just that.”

  “How did he kill these people?”

  “Rainhorse is deadly efficient with a gun, knife or his bare hands.”

  “He sounds like one tough son-of-a-bitch,” Love noted.

  “That’s putting it lightly,” Andrews said. He paused momentarily, in reflection. He began to smile.

  “Something funny, Agent Andrews?” Love asked.

  “I was just thinking about a story I was told about him,” he answered.

  “Please share it,” Love said. “I love a good funny story.”

  “He disappeared shortly after I met him. I saw him. He was so shot up, I was certain he couldn’t survive, but when his body disappeared, I began an investigation.”

  “So far, the story is not funny,” Love noted. “What’s so amusing?”

  “Well, I began questioning people on the reservation, people who knew Rainhorse. The man is a legend in the Cheyenne community. Agent Love, have you ever heard of the Teihiihan?”

  “The what?”

  “It’s pronounced ‘ty-hee-ya-han.’ It’s Cheyenne for ‘cannibal monster.’ The Teihiihan were mythical creatures, the most feared and dreaded monsters in Cheyenne folklore. They were humanoid, strong, with sharp fangs, and attacked in large numbers. The Teihiihan were savage creatures who rose from the dead on a battlefield, attacked and ate the living. You couldn’t kill them because they were already dead. They were said to be unstoppable.”

  Love nodded, “So, the Cheyenne believed Rainhorse was one of these Teihiihan?”

  “No,” Andrews replied, chuckling, “The Cheyenne believed Rainhorse was the man you called to kill the Teihiihan.”

  Love couldn’t resist a small smile, “This Rainhorse does sound badass.”

&
nbsp; Andrews nodded.

  “You negotiated a work release for Rainhorse, when you were assigned to the Barnabas Quince case, correct?”

  “I did, along with then-Chief of Staff Burk,” Andrews replied.

  “The deceased Angela Burk?” Love snarked.

  “Yes, the deceased, proven criminal conspirator Angela Burk,” Andrews added. “It turned out she was a mole for Barnabas Quince—a well-paid mole.”

  “I read about the case,” Love admitted. “You exposed her. Good work.”

  “Thank you.”

  Love checked out Andrews’ strong jawline and four-day scruff. It was hard to get it out of her head. Still, she was starting to extract information. She needed to shake it off and focus.

  “Agent Andrews, isn’t it true that on the way from the prison to the command center, you were ambushed by an associate of Rainhorse, who then escaped?”

  “Yes, it’s true.”

  “So, a twenty-five-year decorated FBI agent lost a key resource mere hours after he was turned over to your custody? You can see how that might raise a few red flags, can’t you?”

  “It’s all in the record, Agent Love. Why are you asking me this?”

  “Because, according to the record, you diverted from the planned route, and an associate of Rainhorse was waiting for you on that route.”

  “Rainhorse wanted hamburgers,” he said.

  “Must have been a damn good burger.”

  “I wouldn’t know. We never made it there.”

  “That’s your story, then. Rainhorse asked your detail to divert to a desolate road because he wanted a burger? You drove onto a secluded road directly into an ambush.”

  “When you say it that way, it doesn’t sound so good.”

  “You need to take this interview seriously, Agent Andrews,” Love cautioned.

  “I’m sorry. Yes, it happens to be the truth,” Andrews replied. “There were two other agents there, too. You can talk to them to verify it.”

  “I will,” she said. “So, after Rainhorse ‘escaped,’ he basically went on to save the city of Seattle from a nuclear holocaust and killed Barnabas Quince . . . pretty much all on his own. Is that right?”

  “We helped at the end.”

  “Because Rainhorse called you and provided you instructions?”

  Andrews sighed.

  “He was very instrumental,” he admitted. “The clock was winding down. I . . .”

  “You know what I think, Agent Andrews,” Love interrupted. “I think your ‘gut instinct’ told you that Rainhorse could accomplish the mission better on his own, so you conspired with his associate to set up this ambush in order to free Rainhorse to conduct an unauthorized, independent investigation, and then coordinated support for him. You were playing with fire, Agent Andrews, in this case, nuclear fire.”

  Andrews put his fork down and glared at her, “Agent Love, that is a wild accusation and completely untrue. It was not my idea to get Rainhorse out of prison to help with that assignment. It was Rice’s idea. I fought against using Rainhorse but I’m glad I lost that argument. If I had won, it’s very likely Seattle would have been incinerated. As far as the ambush goes, Rainhorse negotiated a stop at the Burger Dive as part of his prison release agreement.”

  “Which you could have also conspired to include,” Love interjected.

  Andrews sighed, ignored the comment, and continued.

  “I thought it was a ridiculous request, but I’ll admit, I didn’t suspect he was planning an ambush around it. In my defense, Director Rice was personally involved with the release agreement. So was Agent Burk. Neither of them suspected anything, either.”

  “As we both know, Burk is dead, and Director’s Rice version of events differs from yours.”

  “Shocking,” Andrews mocked.

  “Let me be clear,” Love said. “You’re suggesting that Director Rice knew about the trip to the burger joint prior to heading there?”

  “I worked only with Burk, but she said Rice was part of the negotiation,” Andrews said. “Rice definitely signed the agreement. You can review the original and see for yourself.”

  Andrews’ comment made her sit back. First, there was the comment that it was Rice’s idea to release Rainhorse to help track Quince. Now this. Rice had made a big deal of Andrews diverting the route and walking head on into an ambush. If what he said was true, Rice not only knew about the diversion, but approved it. For the moment, she needed to change the subject and come back to it after speaking with Rice.

  Love sighed and leaned forward, “I need to interview Mr. Rainhorse.”

  “Call him then,” Andrews snapped.

  “We’ve tried. He’s disappeared.”

  “As I said earlier, he allegedly works for UNICEF now,” Andrews repeated. “Try his field supervisor.”

  “We have. He’s not there. He’s off the radar.”

  “You can try reaching him through Lindsay Vanderbilt,” Andrews offered. “If anyone can reach him, Lindsay can.”

  “I’ll check into that. I also need to question the accomplice, the person who ambushed your detail and allowed Rainhorse to get away.”

  “I don’t know who the accomplice is,” Andrews claimed.

  The fixation Love had for Andrews’ looks began to wane, as the evasive nature of his answers began to irritate her. Perhaps he was hiding something, she thought.

  “Come now, Agent Andrews . . .” Love balked. “You never made an attempt to find the person who made a fool of you?”

  “We had a few things on our mind at the time,” Andrews snapped. “You know; mass murder, terrorism, espionage, nuclear holocaust. Everyone was grateful to Rainhorse for the risk he took and what he accomplished. Finding his associate and holding it over his head seemed a little . . . petty.”

  “And you have no idea who the associate was?”

  “No, I do not.”

  “Would Ms. Vanderbilt know?”

  “I don’t know. You can ask.”

  Love began to fume.

  “I will. There is one other accusation of collusion to discuss. There was a huge gunfight at the end of the Lindsay Vanderbilt kidnapping case.”

  “Now your digging into ancient history, Agent Love.”

  “The report says Rainhorse was shot multiple times and believed to be dead,” Love continued, ignoring the comment.

  “That’s right,” affirmed Andrews. “So, I take it you suspect I colluded with him or someone else to fake his death to get everyone off his tail?”

  Love gave Andrews a condescending smile, “Have you been reading my notes?”

  “It’s a pretty easy guess.”

  “So, did you help him fake his death?”

  “That question was asked of me in the past,” he admitted. “Lindsay’s step-father, Sam Steele, was also on the scene. Sam is a licensed EMT. He examined Rainhorse and pronounced him dead. That was good enough for me. You can speak to Sam Steele about it.”

  “I think Rainhorse had an accomplice in the wings, waiting to scoop him up if he got injured. Perhaps, even, the same accomplice who ambushed you later.”

  “Interesting theory.”

  He was being coy and evasive, she thought. It was annoying her.

  “I’ll ask you again, Agent Andrews; who is this accomplice?”

  Andrews shrugged, “Don’t know.”

  “Okay, we’re done here, and I must say, I’m disappointed,” Love said.

  “Why? Because I didn’t cave in to your good-old-girl approach?”

  “I gave you an opportunity to come clean, to fess up,” she maintained. “I could have helped you make a clean exit, perhaps even with your reputation intact. Now, I’ll have to use company resources to dig up all the dirt, and I will uncover all the dirt, Agent Andrews, I promise you.”

  “Good luck with that,” Agent Love.

  Love stood, “I will find Rainhorse and I will get to the bottom of all this.”

  She tossed a fifty-dollar-bill on the table and picked u
p her leather case.

  “Agent Love?”

  “Yes?”

  “If Rainhorse does not want to be found, you won’t find him.”

  “You don’t know that. I’m pretty good.”

  “I believe you’re good,” he agreed. “I just believe he is better. No offense.”

  “None taken.”

  “And in the small chance you actually do find him, do yourself a big favor.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Don’t piss him off. Bad things happen to people who piss him off.”

  Agent Love froze momentarily. Normally, she let huffing of that nature roll off her back. This time, Andrews’ comment sent chills down her spine.

  She huffed and walked off just as Madge approached the table.

  “Your lady friend didn’t eat her salad,” Madge noted.

  “She had to go,” was all Andrews said.

  “She’s a wildcat, isn’t she?”

  “You have no idea.”

  “What do you see in her? If you don’t mind my asking.”

  “Oh, we’re colleagues. We aren’t . . . together.”

  “Really? You couldn’t prove it by the way she was looking at you.”

  “Huh? Oh, no, you’re mistaken.”

  “Darling, I’ve been working at this roadside diner for twenty-years and I know when a lady has her eye on a man, and trust me, that lady has eyes for you. Every time you weren’t looking directly at her, she was undressing you with her baby brown eyes. She may not let you see it, but she couldn’t hide it from me.”

  Andrews shook his head. His face reddened and he was unable to suppress a chuckle.

  Madge picked up the fifty-dollar-bill, “I’ll bring your change.”

  “Keep it.

  “But the bill is only twenty-three, ninety.”

  “Madge, keep the change; you earned it. I’ll see you next time.”

  Chapter 3

  Agent Love wrote her report on the flight back to Washington, DC. This case was going to be far more difficult that she anticipated. First, the man was a skilled, competent, experienced agent. He deserved the benefit of the doubt. He was hiding something, however. He was being coy with her at the end but she never once got the feeling he was covering up a major conspiracy. She believed he skirted around the rules to get the job done, but what good agent didn’t do that from time to time?