Chapter 8

I thought about Tall Feather’s suggestion: turn the bad guys over to the Navajo tribe. Not the officially recognized Navajo Nation, with elected officials and courts and police. Turn them over to the TRIBE. I thought of the Shoshone men outside my hacienda in Wyoming talking about how the white man would ‘come for me.’

Tall Feather had gone back to the kitchen. I heard the backyard door open and he said to Rock, “Tell one to guard this one. The other would come with me to guard the one downstairs.”

Rock said, “Hoagande, Guard,” in the Shoshone language. “Ogoe, come.” Then they presumably went down to the basement.

The dogs. If the dogs took them apart, that wouldn’t be good. First, we’d have the bodies to deal with, because FOR SURE we couldn’t call the cops. Could the dogs do it? Oh, I had no doubts. I wondered about what would happen to the dogs themselves.

This wasn’t exactly a hidden location. It was now 5:40, and Burnside North was waking up. I needed advice. I did what I always did. I called Linc.

‘Ring ring ring.’ Pause. ‘Ring ring ring.’ Pause. ‘Ring... ‘.

“Lexi, what’s up?”

“We had intruders at 4:17 this morning. Two men in hoods and black clothes. Between the dogs and my guys, the situation is under control. They’re tied up in my basement. Big Tex is here, along with Tall Feather.”

“Tall Feather?” he asked. “Why is he there?”

“Tex said he was playing poker with him and some other guys. Tall Feather invited himself along.”

“Oooooookay.” He went silent for about five seconds. Five seconds is a long time when you’re waiting for an answer.

“So,” he finally said, “what’s the status now?”

“We’ve got all out of them that they know.”

“What’s that?”

I told him that they were going to kill me. Rape me as I bled out in the desert. I told Linc all I had about Leonard Shoemaker. I also told him that Tall Feather had called in his ‘superiors’: Chief Soaring Eagle and Wild Mustang. And what he ‘suggested’ for a solution.

That was a long monologue. Linc’s turn.

“First of all, when you talk with anybody about this, it WILL be either face-to-face or on these phones. They are scrambled, so nobody who is eavesdropping – or may be eavesdropping – can tell what you’re saying. That means using these phones on both ends. You clear on that?”

“Yup. I’m clear,” I affirmed.

“Next, they didn’t tell you about all that detail, did they?”

“Uhm ... no, they didn’t exactly TELL me. I got it from ... uhm ... other means.”

“And you’re confident you’ve gotten ALL the information about this and about who are the people who set this in motion?”

I thought about it. “Yes, I’m sure that what they know – and what I know – is the truth as far as they know it.”

“That’s an interesting limitation,” he mumbled. “Okay. I need to talk to Big Tex.”

“Wait one. He’s downstairs.” I went to the door to the basement and called Tex. I didn’t want to bring the phone down where everybody could hear. I pointed him to the phone, shut the door and went to my meditation room.

Of course, I went to meditation levels, and tapped into Tex.

“I hear you had an exciting morning,” Linc said.

“Yeah, pretty quiet, actually. The dogs and the boys had it all wrapped up by the time I got there.”

Okay. This was going to be ‘airplane pilot speak.’ Like when the pilot says, in a calm voice, ‘We’re going to be landing in a corn field, not the airport, but it’s no big deal. Just put your head between your knees and kiss your ass goodbye.’ Ho hum.

“Lexi told me what she learned from the op-for. Did you hear any of that?” Linc asked. I assumed that ‘op-for’ was tough-man lingo for the bad guys.

“Neg. I heard that they were going to get paid fifty large, and were going to kill her. Also the contact phone number. It’s in the 301 area code,” Tex replied.

“Who’s watching them now?”

“Bear, Rock, Tall Feather and one dog each. I think they’re safe. I trust the dogs the most.”

Linc laughed. “I agree. I don’t know where the 301 is, do you?”

“Yeah. Maryland suburbs of D.C.”

“Hmm. We had a run-in with a law firm in that area. They have political connections. We spanked them pretty hard. Maybe it’s them. But it was a long time ago.”

“Lawyers can hold a grudge for a long time ... I know we can sweat the s-b’s for more info. We haven’t started debriefing them yet,” said Tex.

‘S-b’? What’s that? Sons of Bitches? Scum Bags? It surely wasn’t Sweet Boys.

“Lexi is sure she’s got everything they know. She got it from ‘other sources,’” Linc said. “I trust her ‘other source.’ She even got a breakdown on the description of this Shoemaker guy.”

“Hmm,” said Tex. There was one of those five second pauses. “I know a little about that source. I think ... Okay, I’ll go with that.”

“The question now is: if we turn them over to the cops, word will get out – fast – and there’ll be lots more trouble coming down on your head.” Linc was thinking on his feet – something I admit he did well. He told Tex what Tall Feather had suggested.

“Turn them over to three old Navajos?” Big Tex was really dubious.

“They said they wouldn’t do anything the Great Spirit didn’t approve of. I think I trust their medicine more than the FBI’s medicine.”

“Hell, I can go along with that. Won’t be the first scumbag that I’ve lost track of.” Tex thought back to hitting a perp on the head and tossing him into a swamp. I’d ask him about that someday – or NO, I wouldn’t ask, on second thought. I’d let that dog lie.