The Grey Man: Payback, page 10
The old man leaned back. “I’d really like to get a shot at that damn US Attorney, Deal wasn’t it? He’s the sumbitch that caused this!”
Billy replied, “Oh, he got taken down, apparently thanks to the US Attorney in San Diego. He took it directly to the general counsel, who apparently had Deal pulled back to DC. As soon as he got back, the GC and professional conduct types got his ass in an interview room and he cracked like a cheap piece of plastic. Apparently, his rabbi was one of the civil rights types that decided since they won the election, they could do what they wanted. And since Deal had been going after cops in New York, intimidating a lot of them into leaving the department, and getting nice settlements from NYPD against these so called illegal searches, seizures and arrests of Bravo Mikes and Illegals, they put him in Dallas. Turns out that bunch was in the middle of replacing all the US Attorneys from Texas to California with their butt buddies in a concerted effort to stop the prosecution of drug runners, smugglers, and illegals in the Border States. Once Deal caved, they fell all over each other trying to claim it was by direction…”
“I’ll direction his ass. If Jesse dies… I’ll just add his ass to the list.”
“John, stop that shit! Jesse is a long way from dead, and she’s got the best care we can get for her. You and I both have seen people come back from a lot worse! As far as Deal is concerned, I’m also filing with the ABA[19] on his ass, and I’ll guarantee you he’ll never be able to get a job with a reputable law firm if I have anything to do with it.”
Satisfied, the old man leaned back and Billy ran through the rest of the plan for the funeral. Two hours later, Billy and the old man stepped off the airplane at the small private airport near Raleigh and for once Billy was quiet. Retired Sergeant Major Harrington, looking like he could still do a twenty-mile ruck march stood waiting at the corner of the FBO’s building. While Billy dealt with the pilots, the old man walked slowly over and said, “Mike, I’m truly sorry about Toby. If there was anything I could have done…”
Mike Harrington held up his hand, “I know there was nothing you could do, and I don’t blame you, John. I truly appreciate what you did for Toby, and you probably did more to give him some satisfaction with life than he’d have ever seen here.” Turning to Billy, he said, “’Preciate your coming too, Billy. The three of us and Mattson will be the only ones allowed to attend the funeral, since we all knew them since they were kids.”
Billy said, “Did you get the beeves for the funeral ceremony?”
“Yep, I bought four and Deng came up with the money for two. That will feed everybody and be enough to satisfy the ‘Yards that will be here and expecting a traditional funeral ceremony. Did you bring anything of Toby’s for the tomb offering?” Harrington asked.
The old man held up a suitcase. “Got his hat, boots and the knife he took out the shooter with.”
Harrington nodded. “Thanks, John, that will bring Deng some peace, and she’s got a burial blanket that she’d made for herself that she’s going to use for Toby, and she’d hoped you’d bring something of his back. Gonna be a church service, then a traditional burial on their land. Deng’s husband has been brewing beer, and I understand they got some dancers together to do the traditional funeral dance too.”
Billy asked, “Do you need us to do anything? Everything set with the funeral home, church and…”
Harrington turned away for a second, wiping his eyes he replied, “It’s all taken care of, and I owe you both. The thing I want to know is: why?”
Billy said, “Mike we’ve always known there were bad people out there, hell we spent a good portion of our lives fighting them. This… Well this was just plain evil.”
***
While the church service was sparsely attended, it seemed as if the entire extended Montagnard population showed up for the traditional burial. Deng, as the mother, wrapped Toby in the traditional burial blanket, and he was put in the ground. His hat, boots and still bloody knife were placed on top of the grave, much to the appreciation of the ‘Yards. The traditional clay pots of beer were tapped, and the dancers did the traditional funeral dance, and the beer and food flowed freely. A number of ‘Yards came up to Deng and complimented her on Toby and the food, causing her to alternately beam in happiness that she’d met expectations and sob in grief knowing Toby would never come home again. Billy, the old man, Mattson and Harrington participated in the rituals as they could, and seeing the crowd starting to get restless, decided it was time to bow out gracefully. Deng broke down when the old man hugged her, and she thanked him in Degar for Toby’s life and giving him the chance to succeed. Tears flowed freely on both sides, and Harrington finally persuaded Deng’s husband to take her back inside while they left.
After the funeral, Mattson bowed out, saying he needed to get back home, so Harrington took them to a local bar to get a little time with just the three of them. Desultory talk about the funeral and how much the kids had grown seemed to be the extent of the conversation until Harrington
banged the beer mug down. “Dammit, I know you’re going to do something, and I want in.”
The old man looked over at Billy then said savagely, “Are you sure? I’m going to kill that sumbitch Zapata and anybody else I can find down there. I’m going to teach those fuckers a lesson about fucking with me or mine. I’ll get all I can get, and honestly, the odds are we’re going to end up dead.”
Harrington looked beseechingly at both of them. “John that was my grandson they killed. I’ll never see Toby again. How can you not let me go? We’ve always taken care of our own, you know that…”
Billy looked at both of them and said quietly, “Can you be ready to go in a week? Affairs in order?”
Harrington nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
The old man said, “It’s going to be five days of hard riding just to get there, and if we survive five more days coming out probably under fire.”
Harrington grinned, “Just like the old days in other words. At least this time it won’t be through the damn jungle!”
Billy cautioned, “Yeah, but those old days are damn near forty years ago.”
Harrington replied, “Shit, Billy, I never thought I’d survive them, so I figure the last forty years are gravy. If I gotta go out, I’d rather it be this way than in a damn bed somewhere.”
Billy looked at his watch. “Okay, we need to get going. Be ready in four days from today, and I’ll send the airplane back for you. Low profile, don’t tell anybody, understood?”
Harrington nodded silently. Finishing their drinks, they piled back in the car and Harrington dropped them at the airport with a quick handshake for Bill and the old man.
Back on board, the old man turned to Billy. “I don’t like this, Billy. I know Mike wants to be in on taking down Zapata, but I just don’t know…”
Billy leaned back. “Yeah, I hear you, but I can also see his point. He’s got a vested interest. Also if he goes then the community feels like they’re involved. You know how they think…”
The old man sighed. “Yeah, revenge and tribal honor drive a bunch of stupid shit.”
Billy replied, “I know, but if they hadn’t done that stupid shit, you wouldn’t be here today John. Remember that.”
The old man threw up his hands. “Oh, I get it, I just don’t have to like it. I know how well I work with Francisco, and I haven’t seen or worked with Mike in thirty plus years. Ah shit, I’ll make it work somehow.”
They spent the remainder of the flight going over details and planning a way to get down into Mexico with the least chance of being detected, and methods of communication that might work. In the final plan, it was decided to go in on horseback, and only communicate in emergency or on pre-planned times.
Plans and More Plans
While the old man and Billy were in North Carolina, the women in the community had completed the funeral preparations for Juanita. Since Francisco and Juanita had no family locally, nor any to support the wake, the women had once again taken charge and the wake was in full swing. The padre had set aside the time at the church for the Mass in the morning, and the funeral home had prepared a gravesite out at the ranch in the family graveyard. Since Francisco was still in the hospital, Felix and his son were honchoing two crews: one doing repairs to the kitchen and one cleaning and laying out tables for the meal and reception after the burial.
In the sheriff’s office, a meeting was in progress with Jose, Clay, Bucky, Doc Truesdale, and Deputy Hart over how to handle the situation surrounding the funeral and transport. They had managed to keep who lived and who died out of the papers and without titillating details, the story had died.
It was pretty much agreed that the shooters were still in the area, they would probably make a try tomorrow at Francisco and the old man. How to defend it was the question at hand. Jose pounded on his desk. ”Dammit, I have no idea how many people are going to show up tomorrow, and I’m pretty sure from Belinda that half or more of the Hispanic community is going to turn out, along with every rancher in two or three counties, and who knows how many LEOs are coming in either. This is going to be a royal clusterfuck… The church is nowhere big enough!”
Bucky made a calming motion with his hands. “I can get you at least ten shooters, put five on each location at dawn, and with the number of police cars in the caravan. I think the hit is either going to be tried in town, or once we get to the ranch.”
Clay said, “And sure as hell if we try to put bodyguards on either John or Francisco, they will go bat nuts, so that’s off the table. At least we’re not trying to move an invalid to the service. Speaking of which, Doc, any change with Jesse?”
Doc shook his head. “Nope, the specialist looked at her again this morning. Swelling in the cranial vault is stable to reducing slightly, but she’s still in a coma. The leg is coming along, and I got good color and autonomous response cues to pain this morning. Actually, I’m more worried about atrophy than anything else right now on the leg. She’s fighting, and Angelina says she’s seen rapid eye movement, so that indicates there is brain function across all levels. Problem is, till we can bring her back, there isn’t shit we can really do to help her right now.”
The sheriff said, “Yeah that reminds me, the retired gunner told me they’ll have two new guys coming in today. So I need to get them in here, deputize them and then turn them over to him. He said he’ll run the integration into their watch bill on the door and grounds.”
Deputy Hart asked, “Can we maybe get them to help for the funeral?”
Doc shook his head. “No, they stay on Jesse.”
Jose got up and brought back an aerial of the town. “Okay, Bucky, if you’re giving us five, we need to decide where they make the most sense. One covering the back of the church, here.” He stabbed the map with his finger, “And the rest covering the intersections at Main and Hornbeck, and Hornbeck and Front. Anybody got a problem with that?”
Hart asked, “What about the underpasses on I-Ten? Or do we put a couple of reserves out there?”
Bucky said, “Leapfrog the ones from Main and Hornbeck. That makes the most sense, one car on each side.”
The sheriff pulled down another aerial. “Okay, for the ranch, we’ll need to cover primarily highway eighteen, and the ranch itself. Clay, can your folks handle the highway?”
Clay replied, “What we’ll do is get the troopers to block the road at Gomez for an hour, and also up at fourteen-fifty. That should keep traffic off eighteen, and we’ll put a car or two just north and south of the ranch. I’d put the shooters out with horses rather than tie ‘em down, that’s a lot of property, and they’d be hard pressed to cover it with only five folks. I think any tries that get made are gonna be in town, myself.”
The sheriff shrugged. “Well, all we can do is the best we can do.”
Everybody nodded and with that the meeting broke up.
***
Late that evening, Billy’s jet landed at the Ft. Stockton airport, and the old man quickly deplaned. Walking into the hangar, he fished his keys out, threw his bag in the back of the truck and drove slowly to the hospital.
Sitting in the truck in the hospital parking lot, he called the ICU. Trey answered in his deep bass voice. “Trey, John Cronin. I’m back. Any change?”
Trey said, “No sir, nothing new. She’s stable and other than some meds for pain, all we can do is wait right now. Both docs were here about twenty minutes ago and they didn’t change anything. Shoulder is doing good, leg is doing good and they think the pressure is down a bit in her head.”
Hanging his head, the old man replied, “Thanks, Trey. How is Francisco doing?”
“Well, doc brought him out of the sedation this afternoon, and he seems to be coherent and functional, but we’re going to keep a close eye on him. He was asking about the arrangements. So’s not to upset him anymore, I told him everything was handled. But I don’t know where his clothes are.”
The old man replied, “I know where he keeps his suit and good boots, I’ll go get them and bring them…”
Trey interrupted, “Mr. Cronin, you go get some rest. Ain’t a damn thing you can do here but worry, and we’ve got a bunch of overqualified worriers already here. Jesse don’t know who’s here anyway, so you get some rest and nothing is going to happen until ten in the morning. You can bring his suit when you come in tomorrow. Or do I have to come sit on you?”
The old man chuckled. “Alright, Trey, I’ll do that. But I damn sure better be called if anything and I do mean anything changes!”
Smiling, Trey said, “Yessir, boss, I’ll be doin’ that,” and hung up.
The old man shook his head, realizing how good Trey was at dealing with people. You wouldn’t expect it out of an ex-second team All-American guard who stood six feet six and weighed almost three hundred pounds. The more the old man thought about it, he came to understand that Trey really was a gentle giant. And it somebody really did piss him off, he could just pick them up and throw them halfway down a football field.
Driving back out to the ranch, he pulled in the back gate and then closed it behind him before pulling up next to the old house. Looking over at the new house, he wondered what to do. It had taken the Rangers and DPS three days to process the house and he’d only been back in once to get his clothes. He jumped when Felix asked from behind him, “Are you alright, Mr. Cronin?”
Gathering himself back up, he turned. “Felix, I honestly don’t know what to do. The kitchens pretty well tore up, and so are some of the walls. If Jesse dies, I may just burn the sumbitch to the ground and be done with it. We buried Toby today, and that was hard. Tomorrow is going to be worse. But Francisco is awake and seems to be dealing with things, so I need to get his suit and boots to take in tomorrow morning.”
“Mr. Cronin, if you want, we can fix the house. You know I do woodworking, and we’ve got some others in the community that would be more than willing to pitch in.”
Bowing his head, the old man said, “Felix I can’t tell you how much that means to me. But I’d have to pay you for everything, and I wouldn’t want to impose.”
“Mr. Cronin, you and yours have been friends with us for damn well over a hundred years. We know what you’d done, along with your father to help folks out around here. This would be our chance to give a little back.”
Felix stopped for a second, then continued, “You’ve never asked for much from us, and you’ve always treated the men and the kids you stopped fairly, maybe too fairly. Jesse’s never turned up her nose at associating with us, either. Hell, Lupe is one of her best friends and they’ve been that way since kindergarten. Y’all have walked the walk as far as we’re concerned. That means a lot to the community; actions speak a lot louder than words.”
“Thank you, Felix, thank you.” The old man turned away so Felix wouldn’t see his tears. Walking slowly to the old house, he went directly to bed and fell into a deep dreamless sleep.
Juanita’s Funeral
Waking automatically at 5 AM, the old man detoured into the kitchen area and turned on the coffee pot before heading to the bathroom for his morning ablutions. Coming out, he was pouring his first cup of coffee when there was a knock on the door. Picking up his .45, he walked cautiously to the front door, and peered out. Seeing Felix, he opened the door, keeping the .45 behind his leg. “Morning, Felix, what can I do for you?”
Felix held up a garment bag and a Styrofoam to-go plate. “I have the clothes for Francisco, including socks and underwear. And I also brought you breakfast from the truck stop. It’s not home cooked, but it’s the best I can do under the circumstances.”
The old man stepped back in. “Come on in. Put the clothes on that chair and I’ll take the food back to the kitchen. What time did you get up to get all this done?”
“It’s no problem. Ricky and I are staying in the bunkhouse, so I got him up and sent him for breakfast while I got a shower and picked out the clothes for Francisco. He’s eating now, and as soon as he gets a shower he’ll take care of the horses and head up to make sure the cattle are up in the North Forty and out of the way before he opens the fence by the cemetery. We will manage the parking and save places for the hearse and cars in the funeral party right below the cemetery. The other folks may have to walk a bit, but that’s the best we can do. Elena will attend the services for Ricky and I because we don’t want to leave the ranch unprotected. Jose will bring some officers up to block the gates starting at nine-thirty, and we’ll move up to the cemetery then. Afterward, the women will come back here and set out the foods that have been prepared and the Rios brothers are bringing over some brisket and some pulled pork.”
