The Last Stand Page 24
Somebody coughed and everybody turned to see who it was.
Maxie Angelo’s body was shaking visibly. It was all too much for him. He wasn’t thinking about any world crisis. All that was in his mind was how the hell he was going to make it through a long prison sentence.
For the first time, Pete said, “Where do we go from here, buddy?”
“First,” Joe said, “we sign some papers that guarantee ownership of certain properties.”
“You think they’ll stand up in court?”
“You’d better believe it, kid. This affair is going to involve an awful lot of Native Americans who can vote and own property and will have the sympathy of the good old U.S.A. behind them.”
“No offense, White-eyes, but we’ve heard it before.”
“It’ll be different this time.”
“Then what?”
“Then we take our government geologist up for a plane ride and let him watch the magnetic compass do its dance.”
“You suppose he’ll believe that?”
“Oh boy, he’d better believe it. He’ll know damn well what’s down there and any greater scientific evidence is only icing on the cake. Now, let me get hold of Walker.”
The FBI man was snapping the laptop shut when Joe reached him. He said, “The authorization went through—provided I get positive evidence.”
Joe nodded. “Good.” Then he asked, “You have any twin-engine-certified pilots with you?”
“I have three.”
“One will do. Now, while we get the cargo out of the Cessna, I want somebody to bring Running Fox out here. During that time, we’ll load the cargo into several of your cars after a careful written inventory and you’ll take it all back to Mama White Bird’s place and have it unloaded there. Make sure Miner Moe sees it all, and you guys keep a damn good watch on it until we get the tribal police to take over and arrange for a transfer to a bank vault off the rez.”
“Anything else?”
“Nope.”
“You enjoy being the big boss, don’t you?”
“Yup.”
“You’re a pisser, Gillian,” Walker said. “I hope some of my guys turn out like that.”
* * *
While they awaited the arrival of Running Fox, Joe took the FBI geologist up in the Cessna. He sat next to Joe; Pete was strapped into the rear seat. Without the load of cargo, the Cessna flew like a great bird, light, maneuverable, instantly responsive to any touch on the controls.
The anomaly that was Monster Teeth Hills was visible on the horizon, then as they headed into its mouth, a nervous tension filled the cabin.
Joe said, “Keep your attention on the magnetic compass and don’t be surprised at what you see. The effect isn’t minute. It’s damn near explosive. You don’t need any exotic equipment to see the power we’re going over.”
The geologist nodded curtly. He knew something was going to happen, but he didn’t know what. He had never believed in speculation or trusting other people’s opinions and had to see for himself. Frankly, he expected to see some nervous jumps from the magnetic compass, but these things happened when a plane flew over areas where there were great concentrations of iron ore. He had even seen deviations on ship compasses when they sailed over a sunken ship in the Great Lakes that was laden with an iron-rich cargo.
He had never seen a fluctuation like this though.
Joe pointed his finger as they went over the jagged innards of Monster Teeth. The magnetic compass jumped as if it had been touched by a two-twenty-volt electric cable; it began spinning, the markings on its face only a white blur. Quickly, he turned the Cessna in a one-eighty, got outside the range until the compass slowed down, then went back in and did it again.
“Want another run?” he asked.
The FBI geologist shook his head. Shakily, he said, “I’m convinced.”
“Of course, you’ll double check it, won’t you?”
“Of course,” he repeated. “Can we go back now?”
“That wasn’t much of an inspection tour,” Joe said.
“It was enough for me,” the agent replied.
* * *
He saw her when he was on the approach leg. She was standing apart from the cluster of men, her ebony hair swirling in the sunlight, ruffled by the breeze. A form-fitting skirt outlined her with curves and ripples and the multicolored silk blouse did things that even made a pilot react long before the wheels touched the earth.
She was waiting. She was waiting for him. Nobody dared get near him as he stepped off the plane. But it was not because of what they had for each other. It was because Big Arms, Many Thunders himself, was standing there, ready to protect his people. His face was fierce, but he was hiding a smile.
The FBI team worked with absolute efficiency. Mr. Walker handed Joe a folder of papers that had come off the computer and, after scrutinizing the signatures, Joe swallowed hard and said, “Where are the originals?”
“Delivered to your main office…” he checked his watch “…an hour ago. You may use one of our phones to confirm, if you wish.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Joe said. “Did the cargo get to Mama White Bird’s place?”
“The tribal police are covering it now.”
“Good.”
“You’ll be available for further interrogation by our people, I assume.”
Joe let his eye reach out to Running Fox. She just stood there and let the wind tell its silky-soft story as it played around her. “Don’t let it be too soon, though,” he said.
“Right. Now one question.”
“Shoot.”
“Why did you want another certified twin-engine pilot?”
Joe looked at Walker, smiled, and looked back at Running Fox again. “Because he’s going to fly that beautiful squaw over there and me back to old 819 out in the desert where we depart in a two-seater for parts unknown.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m going to propose to her. She’s going to say yes and I’m going to marry her. A big Indian on the rez will tie the knot and who do you think will be the best men?”
“Men?” Mr. Walker said.
From the side, Pete said, “I’m one, but…” Then a big grin spilled over his face as it dawned on him what Joe had meant. He watched as Joe walked toward the Cessna and took Running Fox’s arm under his and turned her around. Before they got into the plane, she raised her face and her tongue ran over her lips very lightly and Joe’s mouth found hers and, for many long drawn breaths, they stood there before they climbed aboard.
Beside them, Many Thunders walked up. He put one giant hand on Joe’s shoulder, one on Running Fox’s.
“I’m the other,” he said.
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