Shooting Chant (20 page)

“He didn’t use a mask?”

“None of them have, and that’s why I don’t think they mean to create a problem. It’s the guards who are
making me tense.”

“Is there anything that identifies the protestors as members of the Fierce Ones, or could it be an independent action?”

“They have those black arm bands with the four sacred mountains in white, just like before.”

“I’m on my way,” she said, then gestured to Harry. Thanking the principal and Charlie Ben, she rushed back to the car with Harry.

“We’re needed over at LabKote.
The Fierce Ones are protesting there. So far there has been no violence, just threats, but from the sounds of it, the situation’s like a powder keg—it won’t take much to make it blow.”

ELEVEN

Ella filled Harry in on what she knew as they sped south toward LabKote, sirens and lights on.

“I expect that they’ve zeroed in on that company now because they heard about the death of Kyle Hansen and want to make sure a Navajo takes over that position,” Harry said. “And that brings up another possibility we’re going to have to deal with. Sooner or later someone will accuse the Fierce
Ones of having murdered Hansen so he could be replaced with a Navajo.”

“That’s not really the MO of the Fierce ones,” Ella said. “It’s more along the lines of what the Anglo Brotherhood might have done, except in reverse. That group would have been perfectly capable of killing a Navajo to insure an Anglo would get a particular job. They gave us some serious problems in the past, but they’ve all
but disappeared. We don’t have anyone on the Rez now who would use those tactics.”

“Tactics are subject to change depending on the situation, particularly with an unpredictable group like the Fierce Ones,” Harry said.

By the time they reached LabKote, she’d used the radio network to brief the two patrolmen and Justine, who were already there, standing by.

As she got out of her Jeep, Ella spotted
Clifford. Her brother gave her a nod, and continued walking in the picket line, which moved back and forth, blocking the gate. Everything seemed calm and orderly.

Then Ella glanced over at the three grim-faced guards standing inside Labkote’s fence, and her short-lived optimism faded. They had left the outside guardhouse unmanned. All three were armed with riot guns, pistols, and Mace. She could
also hear the hum that signalled that the electric fence was on.

For a company that only sold sterilized laboratory supplies and glassware, this seemed a bit much. Then again, she had no idea how much money it would cost to replace the equipment or decontaminate the clean areas if anything was compromised.

As she started toward the fence, intending to talk to the security guards, Clifford and
Glen Lee came up to her. Ella had known Glen almost all her life. He had a small farm, livestock, and a large family. He wasn’t what anyone could term a rabble-rouser.

“Join us on the line,” Glen said. “As a cop, your support would mean a lot to the community.”

“I can’t do that, and you know it. I’m here as a cop, not a private citizen.”

“There won’t be any trouble today,” Clifford said. “If
someone tries to leave the plant, we’ll step aside. We’ll do the same with anyone who needs to go in. This won’t play out the way it did at the tribal offices.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Ella said, seeing the reporters from a Farmington TV station pulling up in a van. “Stay away from the fence, too. It’s more than just a hot wire.”

Glen nodded. “Talk about paranoid,” he muttered. “These LabKote
guards are packing a lot of firepower, don’t you think?”

“They just look afraid to me,” Clifford said. “I think they’ve seen too many old cowboy and Indians movies where the Indians attack the fort, you know?”

Glen laughed. “Maybe so.”

“I’m going to go talk to them,” Ella said.

“Jesse Woody has been trying to do that since we first arrived, but the guards won’t let him in, and the supervisors
won’t come out,” Glen said.

“The security guards are probably undertrained and nervous. Let me see if I can get them to relax a bit.”

As Glen moved away, Ella took Clifford aside. “This isn’t the place I would have chosen to talk to you, but I need to ask you something directly. Would the Fierce Ones get involved in a kidnapping?”

“You’re talking about Senator Yellowhair?” Clifford asked. “I
heard about that,” he added, then shook his head. “No, that’s not something our group would do.”

The kidnapping wasn’t general knowledge yet, but on the Rez news seldom needed to make the papers before everyone knew about it. “You really should give your involvement with this group some hard thought, Brother. You’re in with a crowd that’s known for acting first and thinking later.”

“No, not
anymore. They want me to remain part of their group, and I’ve threatened to quit—and, work against them—if any physical confrontations or destruction of property takes place. I’m going to lead them in a new direction, you’ll see. Our tribe needs the Fierce Ones, but they have to be a strong, positive force.”

“It sounds as if you’ll be taking over Jesse Woody’s position as spokesman,” she said
with a tiny smile.

Clifford shook his head somberly. “I’m a Singer, first and foremost. It’s my duty to be available to anyone who needs healing. I won’t turn away from that.”

Ella looked over at LabKote’s covered loading dock and caught a glimpse of a tall Anglo man wearing jeans, a baseball cap, and a fatigue jacket, holding a Colt .223 semiautomatic rifle. A cold chill ran up her spine as
she recognized Morgan. There was something about the look on his face. She’d seen it before in police officers who had been in too many confrontations to see the prospect of another with either fear or anticipation. It was a settled look, one that, in many ways, was a lot more dangerous than either of the two more common responses.

She hadn’t confirmed Morgan’s background yet, but it would be
something she’d want to do soon. She was still searching for the person who killed Kyle Hansen, and as she looked at Morgan now, she had no doubt that he would be perfectly capable of committing the act.

Ella had her officers stand between the protestors and the electric fence, not to safeguard LabKote’s people, but on behalf of the protestors. The press was also being kept way back because of
the danger posed by the electric fence, but they still were able to use their cameras to film everyone.

The protestors remained orderly, but Ella couldn’t quite push aside the feeling that things could go downhill fast if one of the protestors made the wrong move.

Justine came up then, interrupting her thoughts. “If the protestors pull something like they did at the tribal offices, we’re going
to have some people maced, shot, or electrocuted. What should we do if one of the guards starts shooting? Stop them, even if we have to shoot back?”

“You bet. But I don’t think it’ll go that far. Look at the security guards.” Ella’s eyes darted back to the LabKote security team, and to Morgan. “The oldest one is what, twenty? They’re inexperienced and torn between wanting to mix it up and afraid
of what’ll happen if they do. But it’s clear that Morgan, the man wearing the baseball cap and fatigue jacket, is in charge. Look at his posture and the way he holds that assault rifle. I’ve got a hunch that if anyone can keep those guards from making a crucial mistake, it’s Morgan. He’s maintaining control over his men.”

“I wish I could be as sure as you are,” Justine said.

“I’m not certain
enough to lower my guard, if that tells you something,” Ella admitted. “But something about LabKote’s people is bugging me.” She paused, trying to figure it out. “No, to be more precise, it’s Morgan who’s worrying me. I know he has a military background, the marines, but he really looks out of place here.”

“How so?”

She considered it. “He looks too calm,” she said at last.

Justine nodded. “Yeah,
you’re right. He’s like a shark in a goldfish pond. But where would someone like that fit in?”

“In some war-torn country no one can either spell or pronounce, because he likes the excitement,” Ella said. “I wonder why he left the marines?” Seeing Ted Landreth come out of the main building and move toward the protestors, her attention became riveted on him. “Get ready. Something’s up.”

Landreth
stood just inside the fence and waited for Jesse Woody to approach.

“I’m here to see if we can work out the grievances you seem to have against our company. We can talk in my office, but you’ll have to come in unarmed, and alone.”

Jesse held out his arms, palms upward. “I’m not armed. None of us are.”

“Good, then you won’t mind if you’re frisked before we let you inside the building?” Landreth
said.

“Not at all,” Woody answered.

Landreth waved to Morgan, who signalled one of the security guards on a handheld radio. The guard activated a portable transmitter, and the gate opened.

Morgan spoke into the radio again, and the other guards stood in the gap as Woody passed through. Once Woody was clear, the guard closed the gate again, and Morgan came up to quickly and efficiently frisk
Woody for weapons.

Now that Morgan was standing close to the fence, she watched him carefully, noting he still wore a handgun, and had the black leather case she assumed held a folding knife instead of Mace. Morgan was certainly a man who believed in being prepared.

Morgan looked up and his eyes held hers. She didn’t look away and, for what seemed like an endless moment, she saw the open challenge
in his gaze. Then someone called him and he nodded to her, then went back to the building.

Jesse stayed inside for nearly forty minutes, but when he came back out, there was a smile on his face and the protestors visibly relaxed.

Jesse exited the fenced-in area with less ceremony than when he’d entered, and met with the others and the press that had come to cover the event. “LabKote supervisors
have agreed to meet with us again and discuss our demands. They don’t know of any Navajo who is qualified to take over the job that’s now open, but at least they’re willing to let us look, and then give them a recommendation. It’s a start—a good one.”

As the group dispersed, and the press returned to their vehicles, Ella breathed a sigh of relief. Justine came up to her then. “If it’s okay, we’re
going to go back to our regular duties now.”

Ella nodded. “That’s fine. The crisis is over but, before I leave, I’m going to talk to Morgan again.”

“You’re going to put pressure on him?”

“No, he doesn’t strike me as the type who reacts well to that technique. I just want to ask him a few pointed questions—like why he and his men were so heavily armed. The situation certainly didn’t call for
it.”

“You want me to go in with you?” Justine asked.

“No, that’s not necessary. I’ve met with him before, and I don’t think he’s going to give me any trouble. It’s not to his advantage, especially now that this incident has ended. If I read LabKote correctly, they’re hoping all the publicity they’ve been getting will fade away as quickly as possible.”

“Is there anything in particular you need
me to do next?” Justine asked.

“You can do background checks on Walter Morgan and Ted Landreth, just to confirm what they’ve given me already. Find out if those pregnancy tests were filed or not, and get me a list of whose files were taken besides mine and Mrs. Yellowhair’s. I also want you to try and find Avery Blueeyes and Atsidi Benally as soon as possible.”

“I’ll do that. I also spoke to
the Blueeyes’ family earlier and they claim Avery is fishing somewhere, but they don’t know where. I considered putting out an APB, but we don’t have enough legal justification. We have no evidence, circumstantial or otherwise, linking him to the kidnapping,” Justine said. “I got a chance to question Atsidi, but he has an iron-clad alibi. He was on a field trip to a historical site with his students
when the senator was kidnapped. Of course, that doesn’t mean he wasn’t an accomplice.”

“For now, concentrate on Blueeyes, then. We can’t put out an APB, but we can find him and bring him in for questioning.”

“I’ll keep digging. Even if he’s holed up somewhere, I’ll find him,” Justine said, getting into her unit. She waved good-bye, and drove off.

As soon as all those outside LabKote had gone,
Ella went up to the booth at the front of the gate, where a guard had been stationed. “I’d like to talk to your head of security,” she said flashing her badge. “Walter Morgan.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” the guard answered. “I don’t suppose you have an appointment.”

“No, but maybe I can get a warrant, if you insist on forcing the issue. I’m still investigating the death of one of your employees.”

The guard picked up the phone and had a quick, soft-spoken conversation with someone on the other end. “Mister Morgan will be out in a moment.”

This time there were no games. In just a few minutes, Morgan came out and met her.

“Hello again, Investigator Clah,” he said as the gate was opened. “I understand you want to talk to me.”

“I do. I have a few questions regarding your security measures.”

He smiled, but his expression didn’t soften. “I figured you might. I saw you standing out here, watching my people more than your own.” He gestured toward the building. “Let’s go to my office.”

She watched Morgan as he remained just a step or two ahead of her, setting the pace. He was clearly a man who liked remaining in control, especially on his own turf.

A moment later they were inside a
small office that was as stark and as spartan as she’d expected from someone like Morgan. Like his home, there were no family photos anywhere. A security camera was attached in a corner near the ceiling, looking down on the entire room. Morgan’s assault rifle rested across his desk, which held only a computer and keyboard, and there was a large metal gun cabinet against one wall. Another small table
held a tape recorder and telephone console. Most people’s work spaces said something about them, but this office was more like an interrogation room.

“I understand that you had your security people make it clear that you’d shoot any trespassers,” Ella said. “Were those riot guns and your Colt loaded?”