Winterkill - C. J. Box [117]
“Portenson.”
“Joe Pickett. Can you tell me what’s going on?”
Portenson’s voice sounded tired. “All law-enforcement personnel in Twelve Sleep County are under orders to maintain radio silence.”
Joe had never heard of this happening before. “Why?”
Portenson hesitated. “The assault team left this morning in the Sno-Cats. Agent Munker was afraid the Sovereigns had scanners up there and that they would overhear the chatter and know they were coming.”
Joe felt his skin crawl. “They’ve already left?”
“They assembled at four this morning and rolled at five.”
Joe did a quick calculation. The Sno-Cats, he determined, would be at the Sovereign compound within the hour.
“Portenson, can you reach them?”
“I told you, their radios are off.”
Joe held the telephone away from his ear for a moment and looked at it. Then he jerked it back. “I’VE GOT SPUD CARGILL!” Joe shouted. “I arrested him at a church fifteen minutes ago. He’s NOT at that compound.”
“Oh, shit.”
“Oh, shit is right,” Joe said. “How can we reach them to call off the raid? Think!”
“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” Portenson repeated, his sense of alarm coming through the receiver.
“Hold it,” Joe said suddenly. “Why aren’t you with them?”
“I couldn’t go.”
“What do you mean.”
“I mean I fucking couldn’t make myself go!” Portenson cried. “I quit! I think this whole operation is a cluster-fuck in the making, just like Ruby Ridge and Waco. I insisted that we wait for approval from the director before moving on the compound, but the director’s overseas and won’t be back till Monday. Munker and Melinda Strickland refused to wait even three days because they’re afraid the press will be here by then!”
Joe listened silently. Rage and desperation began to fill him again.
“Melinda Strickland, that nut, wouldn’t even compromise with me and go on Saturday, you know why?”
Joe said nothing.
“Because she said she doesn’t want to work on the weekend! Can you fucking believe it? She only kills people when she’s on the clock! You should have seen her this morning, it was unbelievable. She was sitting in the backseat of the Sno-Cat all bundled in blankets like she was going on a fucking sleigh ride. And she had that damned dog with her. She’s crazy, and so is Munker. I hate this operation. I hate this town. I HATE THIS GODDAMNED SNOW!”
Joe hung up on Portenson in mid-rant.
While he had raced down Timberline Road just a few hours before, the small convoy of Sno-Cats and snowmobiles had been rumbling up the mountain on Bighorn Road toward the compound. He had not only missed Cargill coming down, he had missed the assault team going up. He slammed the counter with the heel of his hand and made the coffeemaker dance.
Joe opened the front door and stood on the porch. Nate saw him through the windshield and lowered his window.
“They’ve already left for the compound,” Joe said flatly.
If Nate registered any alarm, Joe couldn’t see it in his face.
“Nate, will you please check to see if Spud has his wallet? I’m going to need his identification to prove to Munker and Strickland that we’ve actually got him in custody.”
Nate nodded. “Are we going to try to head them off?”
“I’m going to try,” Joe said. “You have even less credibility with those folks than I do. I need you to take Cargill to the county building and make sure he gets booked into jail. Just ask for Tony Portenson. I just talked with him; he’s at the building.”
Suddenly, there was a flurry inside the cab of the truck as Spud Cargill tried to cold-cock Nate while he was talking to Joe. Joe saw Nate’s head jerk from a blow. But instead of panicking, Nate signaled to Joe that everything was okay and closed the window. Nate turned his attention to Spud Cargill.
Joe was amazed.
“Warden?” It was B. J. Cobb from inside the trailer.
Joe turned, assuming Cobb was going to ask him to close the door.
“You need to come see this.” Cobb’s voice was deadly cold.
Joe stepped back