Chapter 11: Code November!

Saturday, May 2nd^, was a cool and blustery day in Louisville, Kentucky. The venue at Churchill Downs was packed to the rafters, as it was for every Kentucky Derby. Maggy had reserved comfortable seats in the upper grandstand where they enjoyed the venue in total luxury. Peter looked unremarkable; dressed in his typical denim jeans and suede shirt, he boasted an elaborately woven blanket coat with traditional tribal designs and his signature Geronimo hat with its unique silver and turquoise band. His artificial feet were covered with deerskin moccasins. Kathy matched him in casual comfort but had her hair styled in wavy curls that gleamed blue-black in the frequent bursts of sunlight. Lenna wore a tribal-patterned long gown that fit her perfectly. The two native women looked resplendent as they strode through the busy venue with Peter between them. Maggy wore a hip-hugging pencil skirt with a low-cut silk blouse that favored her sleek figure and curvaceous cleavage. She stood almost as tall as the other two women in her stiletto heels. She led the procession into the massive complex. Two giddy teenage girls clung to her arms. Felicity was speechless on her left while Charity gasped and bounced excitedly on her right.

They arrived several hours before the first of fourteen races and enjoyed a leisurely site tour. Once comfortably settled in their suite, the girls promptly excused themselves to run amok. Their beribboned VIP passes allowed them access to nearly any part of the venue. Four security personnel accompanied them, including Kennedy, Arturo, and Antoine. Each bodyguard carried a briefcase filled with cash that they promptly turned over to the betting officials for counting and registration since all horse bets had to be made with cash per state law.

The adults humored the two teens when they decided to pool their money and get in on the action. Between them, they managed to scrape together $385. Peter had no qualms about boosting their resources and nodded to Maggy, who worked all the wagers. Charity and Felicity returned every so often between the races, toting their heavily marked F.A.S.T. sheets. They spent every moment they could inspecting each animal before their scheduled race and collected dozens of jockey autographs. It was a dream come true for the two adolescent girls, with minimal supervision.

“Have you ever seen such a thing?” Kathy exclaimed. “I’ve been to some big-ass concerts, but this is incredible!”

Lenna was content to sit back and enjoy the expansive menu of catered foods she could order from her seat and have delivered in minutes.

Peter smirked as she made no bones about eating everything she could get her hands on. She avoided the champagne and cocktails but sucked down enough lemonade to cause her frequent potty breaks. Kathy settled for a double cheeseburger with a bucket of fries, which she shared with Peter and the girls whenever they briefly appeared to discuss their views on the next group of horses. By the end of the seventh match, the girls secretly gloated over their combined earnings, totaling over $650. They decided to sit out the next few races to replenish themselves with enough food to feed a small village. When bored of sitting with the grownups, they wandered off again to explore other parts of the raceway.

“Those two are thick as thieves,” Maggy mused as she sat back with her feet up on the empty chair before her. She wore a pair of binoculars around her neck to observe each race in greater detail.

“I’m glad they could come,” Kathy replied with a smile. “Thank you for accommodating them on short notice.”

The smaller financier shrugged. “I was glad to do it,” she replied. “That young woman has been snapping pictures like crazy. I can’t wait to see how her artistic expression turns out.”

Charity never traveled without her sling bag containing her sketchbook, pencils, and Canon 35mm SLR. Felicity tried to be patient whenever the girl dropped everything and took a few moments to sketch a scene or three. Of all the drawings she did, people and horses were her favorite subjects. During the 11th race, Peter asked her to go down and reconnoiter the horses for the upcoming Derby itself. When the two girls returned, they shared conspiratorial expressions.

“The favored horse is some mutt named Arazi,” she whispered next to him, pointing at her F.A.S.T. sheet. “He’s pretty and surrounded by rich-looking Arabs in their shiny white robes and turbans.”

“But...” he prompted, sensing the caveat.

She leaned closer, “These three are all business!” she replied, showing her circled prospects. He was pleased that Lil E. Tee was one of her picks.

The Bay was hardly remarkable as the racers were loaded into their posts. Peter nodded a final signal to Maggy, who stepped over to the VIP cage to finalize their wagers. The four security personnel hovered nearby.

“I have been advised that the venue does not have enough cash on hand should we win our stakes,” she advised Peter moments later. “They asked if we would be agreeable to a check to cover part of it.”

He shrugged indifferently. “Whatever you say,” he replied. “You’re the one who dragged us here, remember?” Though secretly, he was glad she did.

“I want to look you in the eye and gloat if your insufferable prescience fails you in the next 10 minutes,” she smirked. The four security detail members also placed bets, along with the position she placed for Charity and Felicity with their $750 ‘all-in’ stake. She had put a logical spread of side wagers based on standings to try and mitigate the loss if he proved wrong.

He wasn’t.

“I’m freakin rich!” Charity screamed as she bounced excitedly in the limousine, laughing like a lunatic. Maggy slowly counted the bills, splitting hers and Felicity’s winnings fifty-fifty. For her part, the latter girl gawked incredulously at the stack of bills piling up in her outstretched hands.

‘Six thousand two hundred ... six thousand three hundred, and six thousand four hundred,” Maggy recited as she finished divvying up their loot. “Not a bad haul, girls.” To keep it simple, she rounded their winnings to the next even $100.

“Woohoo!” Charity squealed again and turned to squeeze the stuffing out of her aunt. “I’m freaking rich!” she repeated.

“I’ve never seen this much money in my entire life!” Felicity exclaimed breathlessly.

When they pulled up to the Omni Hotel, the girls practically burst from the rear of the stretched Lincoln as soon as the doors were opened. They danced gleefully with their arms linked while the adults gradually climbed out and joined them in the expansive lobby.

“Let’s go shopping,” the younger girl blurted merrily as they rode the elevator to their floor. “I wanna buy something!”

Charity nodded eagerly but handed the majority of her bankroll to Lenna. “Can you hold this for me, Momma?” she asked. “I’m gonna buy Sherrod Hosteen’s truck when we get home.”

Lenna frowned dubiously, “Are you sure about that, girl? That old rattletrap has seen better days.”

“Dicky says his uncle and Jerrod rebuilt the motor last year and replaced the tranny and clutch too.”

“Still blows smoke and backfires every time they drive it to school,” Felicity interjected.

“That’s because they don’t know how to drive,” Charity retorted.

“Sounds to me like the rings are bad,” Kathy replied as they entered the suite.

Lenna promptly kicked off her shoes and collapsed into one of the recliners. “I wouldn’t trust those boys to pour piss out of a boot if the instructions were on the heel,” she snorted tiredly.

Kathy joined her in the oversized chair and hugged her. “Why don’t you save money and use Len’s truck? She might even sell it to you now that she can afford whatever she wants.”

The pregnant woman turned to look at her with a frown, “What are you talking about?”

Kathy chuckled. “Girl, after the bet I just made for you and those babies ... You are the richest dirt dweller on the whole Rez!” She hugged the incredulous woman tightly and kissed her cheek.

‘SOURCE>RELEVANT>IMPERATIVE>Morris, Reginald Carl>AT LARGE.’

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me!” Peter snarled as the computer screen flashed the bulletin over the database he was working on. He clicked on the box and quickly read the report. He burst from his chair with a loud curse. Reggi Morris was the depraved ex-boyfriend who had tried to kill Lenna the year before.

“What’s up, babe?” Kathy asked, lounging on the bed next to his desk.

“That fucker Reggie escaped from the Coconino County Detention Facility when they were getting ready to transport him to Eyman Prison!” He stormed out to the living room.

She sprang out of the bed and leaned over the desk. “Oh fuck!” she breathed. “You think he’ll...”

“Yep,” he replied.

“We’ve got to get her out of here! Some place safe!” she exclaimed. “What do we do?”

He picked up his cell phone and called the black RV beside the Fleetwood.

“Brent, can you come inside for a minute? We have a situation.”

“Be right there...” the newest member of their detail replied before hanging up.

Brent Suttles was a former Linebacker from Ole Miss who became a logistics officer in the Army. He resigned his commission after four years of obligated service. He was recruited immediately by Raytheon ISR, a private security firm established to provide protective paramilitary support for their Patriot Missile defense systems bound for non-US customers. After half a decade of globetrotting, he decided to settle down and was head-hunted even before he left RTX for the private security industry.

Peter handed him the grayscale mugshot of Reggie Morris, sporting a significant discoloration over his right cheek and orbital socket from his clash with Tanner, the hired bodyguard who captured him in the lobby of the Hilton Double Tree in Flagstaff. “This fuckhead is probably going to try and grace us with his presence soon,” he muttered and briefly explained their previous encounter with the psychopath. “I want you to call in the secondary team to make sure he never gets close to this property.

“Very good sir,” Brent replied, simultaneously sounding slightly eager and guilty over the prospect of some action. “Will you be taking the family away, then?”

Peter considered and then shook his head. “No, I want to ensure he has every reason to come. Then we will ensure he never has a reason to try again.”

“Understood,” the man replied grimly. He produced his cell phone and dialed a number as he turned and nearly walked into Lenna. “Pardon me, ma’am,” he mumbled apologetically. “Papa Twelve Actual,” he stated into his phone. “Code November ... Code November ... Code November. Acknowledge!” His voice faded as he stepped outside.

“What is going on?” the Apache woman asked as she rubbed her belly. Although she barely showed, her maternal instincts were hard-wired with her third pregnancy.

Peter handed her the mugshot while Kathy stepped over to wrap a protective arm around her.

“Reggie?” she growled. “What has he got to do with anything? He’s gonna be serving life for murder one plus his third strike...” her voice trailed off as she recognized the dark expression in Peter’s eyes. “What?”

“He escaped custody during his transfer between holding facilities.”

“WHAT?” she screamed as the color drained from her face. “When?”

He turned to the computer, “The alert went out forty-five minutes ago from the Coconino Detention Facility in Flagstaff.” He glanced over as his cell began vibrating. He picked it up, “Hey, Mags.”

“Shit!” Lenna exclaimed, turning back toward the kitchen. “He could be on his way here already!”

Peter covered the mouthpiece. “I certainly hope so.” He turned back to his conversation with Magdelaine.

Kathy followed the woman into the kitchen, where she busied herself making a pot of coffee. “Don’t worry, Len,” she assured her friend. “Ain’t no way that wily little fuckhead will get anywhere near you or the babies with Peter and Maggy’s private army protecting us.”

“They found his prison garb alongside the road on I-40 West near Bellemont,” Maggy said in Peter’s ear.

He pictured the map in his head and frowned. “That’s going the opposite direction.”

“Yeah, I’m scratching my head over it, too,” she grumbled. “Something doesn’t seem right, and the word on the wire is that the Coconino Sheriff is requesting help from the State Patrol. He disappeared too quickly and smoothly not to consider the possibility of one or more accomplices.”

A little worm of doubt began wiggling at Peter’s subconscious. “What are we missing here?”

“I wouldn’t put anything past ... them.”

Oh Fuck! he thought as an icy sensation crept into his guts. “I want everyone you can spare up here, now!”

“Already en route,” she replied. “I’m staging a team in Rainbow City and another by the lower escarpment route out of Whiteriver. Helo will arrive with the third team at your location in an hour.”

“I need to call Bradly and Sue and get the Tribal Police on board,” he cursed. “This ends here and now!”

“We got this, Cher,” she assured him. “There’s no way he’s getting close to Lenna or her babies.”

He glanced at his watch. It was only 10:45 a.m. on Tuesday, May 5th, three days after the Derby. Charity was in school. He decided then and there that she would get a cell phone immediately. “Send the R.C. team to get Charity out of school.”

“On it,” she said, and the line went dead.

“All we can do is wait,” Brent stated calmly an hour later once everyone had reported in. He had changed into tactical clothing with web gear and body armor. His body bristled with weapons and equipment, and he carried an M4 assault rifle slung at his side. He listened in to constant communications via a small headset. His frown was telling, “R.C. team reports that Charity was not at school. Her teachers said she often leaves before dismissal but left before the lunch bell, this time with no word. Her horse is missing from the corral.”

“Dammit!” Peter cursed. He had already contacted Bradly and Sue. The tribal police were calling in their active reserves.

In addition to the local police and his security team, a small team of Indigenous volunteer fighters had formed, calling themselves Bachos. They were an intense group of men and women of all ages who gathered and trained with the security teams hired by Magdelaine. They were provided money, clothing, and equipment in exchange for their training and volunteer time. They were considered a reserve unit and could be activated by pagers, which all of them carried. Despite their loose definition of discipline and order, they were highly valued because of their familiarity with the territory and willingness to apply leverage outside civil boundaries. They were called upon when Peter returned to the Navajo Country Detention Facility. They were activated with the first alert and assigned tasks when they reported in.