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By Root 1488 0

’s name was Sarah Montoya, his sister-in-law. The younger male was her son, no priors. The woman, name of Ariel Rankin, was being processed. Some things, however, had already been learned about her. Stepfather was an active antigovernment advocate with an FBI file long as your leg, a sheet of multiple protest arrests, and connections to leftist clients. Stepfather’s father, Phillip McCarthy, a chemical engineer and scientist, had worked without incident on the Manhattan Project at Los Alamos, but later repudiated said participation. This Calder character, father or not, was also from Los Alamos. His mother was a Cuban national, now deceased, but they were checking into how she got clearance during the war in the first place. Calder had made captain in an elite covert insurgency outfit in Laos, code name Ravens, serving with apparent distinction until he renounced his citizenship temporarily to work underground in Communist Laos on behalf of the Hmong. Now homeless, with IRS records showing no known job affiliation, Calder was legally married to a Vietnamese citizen residing in Hanoi, two stepsons American citizens. For somebody with no family he sure had a lot of relatives.

They then summarized the trespassers’ probable objectives and demands.

Great, thought Jim, filliping the gum. Just fucking great.

He was told to go ahead and try to make contact with the intruders, but must under no circumstances be provocative or make any attempt to arrest the individuals until information could be gathered as to whether others were involved. They were already running some background on the lady who telephoned from up north.

Wider awake than he had been since he was called in for this small operation not yet twelve hours old, Jim radioed his team members that he was going to have a little chat with their guests. They were to back him up. Keep their eyes wide open and firearms holstered but at the ready.

Ariel, Marcos, and Delfino watched Jim make his ascent. They could see the three others emerging from their positions on the left and right, and while none of the rangers displayed any aggression in the manner they approached Dripping Spring, Delfino thought it might be prudent to show them he meant business.

“You sure that’s necessary?” Marcos asked his uncle, who had retrieved the shotgun and leaned it against the low stone wall.

“So long as I’m not brandishing the thing. They need to know we’re not on some picnic.”

Troubled by the gun and what it could precipitate, Ariel voiced her agreement with Marcos.

“We don’t show we got any protection, they’ll just take us away in cuffs, and all we done to get here was for naught. What I think is, we find out what we can about Kip, then Ariel ought to go back with them. That’s her purpose.”

“We’ll see,” she said.

In no time, Jim stood facing them downslope from the stone fence. Delfino’d already warned him, when he was yet a few hundred feet away, not to come more than half that distance closer. They could hear each other just fine. Wasn’t no noise to disturb them.

“You Delfino Montoya?”

“I am.”

“Your friends here, what are your names?”

“Ariel Rankin.”

“Marcos Montoya.”

While jotting the names on his pocket pad, he said, “You folks realize you’re trespassing restricted government property?”

“Sure do.”

“You understand that’s against the law?”

“May I ask your name?”

“Sergeant James Carpenter,” he smiled at Ariel, most polite and friendly. “I’ve come here to escort you to the perimeter of the proving grounds. We’ll be met there by some people who will be happy to take down any statements you wish to make.”

“That’s kind of you. But we won’t need your help when we want to leave. I know this terrain like the back of my hand,” Delfino assured him.

“I assumed that’s what you were going to say.”

“Well, I guess you’re a smart fellow.”

Not missing a beat, Jim continued, “Not smart enough to know what brings you folks up here this morning, sir.”

Delfino asked Marcos if he wouldn’t mind walking the copy of his deed down there so the sergeant could see for himself. “Just go partway,