‘‘The jail,’’ I said, without having to consider it. ‘‘No civilians to worry about.’’
‘‘Good choice,’’ he said. ‘‘ Festung Houseman.’’
The way to arrange that, it turned out, was to have obvious, busy, and daunting security at the courthouse. Almost completely hidden security at the jail. An ambush, as it were. I was a little uncomfortable about that, but didn’t say anything. We were fast leaving my area of expertise now, and I wasn’t at all sure about what was the correct move. That happens to you when you suddenly deal with the real physical power of the federal system. I mean, you can sort of visualize what they can do. But when it comes time to not only see it but use it… well, overwhelming is a good word.
Volont put in a cautionary word. ‘‘Remember,’’ he said, ‘‘this man is not like your usual criminal. He’s not psychotic. He’s certainly not some sort of mad serial killer.’’ He looked out the window at the jail. ‘‘He’s a soldier. Maladjusted, perhaps, but a soldier. He does not kill for the pleasure of it, but only when necessary to further the mission.’’ He looked back at me. ‘‘So there is no familiar criminal motive that will set him off. Mission, and perhaps some ideology. But mission, always mission. Don’t forget that.’’
‘‘Okay,’’ I said. ‘‘So we have to predict his mission. But the soldier business. He’s not obeying orders, is he? I mean, not from some sort of political leader or anything?’’
Volont thought a second. ‘‘No.’’
‘‘So he sort of determines his own mission, his own assessment of what’s necessary?’’
‘‘True,’’ said Volont. ‘‘But very much in keeping with the doctrine he picked up in military service.’’
I thought that one over. ‘‘This is going to be even more interesting.’’
‘‘Why’s that?’’ asked Volont idly.
‘‘Well,’’ I said, ‘‘his troops will be following orders. Are they the same quality as Gabriel?’’
‘‘We’ll have to see, won’t we?’’ he said. ‘‘I can tell you this. .. the one time I know of where Gabriel was heavily involved, his soldiers weren’t quite as good as he could have wished.’’
At any rate, I was absolutely certain that the assets we had available in the Nation County Sheriff’s Department wouldn’t be able to come close to containing Gabriel and his little army. We needed resources, and we all knew where they’re kept.
The judge issued an order, saying that he had scheduled the habeas corpus hearing for Nola Stritch at 11:30 A.M. on Friday, August 2nd. Because of that, and because her attorney would ‘‘require time to discuss the subject of the hearing with his client prior to the hearing being held,’’ Nola was to be at the Nation County jail by 0800 on Friday. That meant that she would have to leave Cedar Rapids at about 0630. That also meant that the security people would have to be transporting her part of the way in the dark. The judge had also directed the Nation County Sheriff’s Department to do the transporting. We had to call his chambers and remind him that she was a federal prisoner and the U.S. Marshal’s office would be handling that part of it. He agreed, of course, but sounded a little put off. We weren’t supposed to know he ever made a mistake, I guess. Well, he was one of the older judges… I get the same way myself.
All in all, I was feeling pretty good about things. Not so good as to let Sue come home, though. Not until this was done. Just to be sure. She wasn’t too happy about it, but was convinced it had to be done. Staying with her mother meant that she’d likely be playing bridge with the ladies. Sue hates bridge.
‘‘You be careful,’’ she said. ‘‘Very, very careful.’’
She had no idea what was happening, none at all. But if you’re married to a Norwegian like me, you just tell him that every once in a while, to make sure he remembers. Can’t hurt.
I went home about 1930, just in time to have missed the first thirty minutes of a good movie on HBO. TV dinner. Pills. To bed at 2300. Dull, dull, dull. I couldn’t even go up to my mother-in-law’s for supper, because if I was being watched, I didn’t want to lead anybody there.
You have to do it that way.
For Wednesday and Thursday, I really didn’t have much to do. So I took Wednesday off, and spent most of it in the basement, working on my model of HMS Victory. Put horses and vangs on the driver boom and gaff. ‘‘Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum.’’ It rained most of the day, hard enough to make me wonder if I should be building a slightly larger boat. Ship.
As I sat there, threading lines through little pulleys, I wondered about the nature of the mission rehearsal that had set this all in motion. We knew that there had been a team in the woods and that they were training for a mission. But, as far as I knew, nobody had ever determined what that mission was. Or why they’d be training for it here, of all places.
Another thing was bothering me. What Volont had said about Gabriel being a soldier and not a criminal. I believed that. Being neither a soldier nor a criminal, I couldn’t speak from either position. But I had talked to a whole hell of a lot more criminals than I had professional soldiers. I did know that there were differences in approach there. I’d read some military history. But how these differences would be applied had me stumped. I was uncomfortable on unfamiliar territory, and that was exactly where I was headed.
Thursday was August 1st. Hotter than hell, and humid again, because of the rain. I spent most of the day in the office, working on our case files. And in air-conditioned comfort. Neither George, Hester, nor Volont were anywhere around, being at their respective offices making arrangements for the next few days. It was nice to have time to gather my thoughts. I did put in a call to Volont, wanting to bring up the question of mission.
About noon, Nichols showed up. He had his people placed where he wanted them, and didn’t think too many locals were the wiser. Two agents in a room at both the motels. Two camping in the park. One had just got a job at Will’s restaurant. One had been placed in the busiest gas station, on the edge of town, as a ‘‘favor.’’ I didn’t ask. One guy on the city street crew, just driving around and looking kind of busy. He also told me that Volont had placed three agents in the bank, posing as auditors. Not even the banker had been told any different.
He also told me that agents from a ‘‘special team’’ were being strategically placed near the jail.
‘‘Where?’’ I asked.
‘‘Not sure,’’ he said, grinning. ‘‘Just don’t piss in any bushes. ..’’
He also said that he had three agents in town just to hang out at the bars in the evenings. Not so much to learn anything as to just be around and about.
I was beginning to feel even better. I knew two of the DEA undercover people. If they were all as nuts as those two, Maitland would never be the same.
The rest of Thursday, I managed to talk with Hester for a few seconds, as she was assisting another DCI agent on a major burglary investigation. She was filling in for an agent on days off, so she’d be able to be back in our area on Friday. Tomorrow.
I was out covering a little fender bender, filling in where Bud normally would have been working, when Volont returned my call. Message said he’d be in touch tomorrow.
Other than myself, only Hester, George, Volont, and to some extent Art were aware of the special preparations and of the impending threat from Gabriel. To everyone else, the visible precautions were just routine measures taken to secure Nola Stritch. Anything that seemed a bit out of the ordinary was to be explained as being required by federal procedures. None of the undercover people, or the ‘‘special team,’’ were known to anyone but our select little group. That could be a problem, as we were well aware. Since it had to be that way, preparations were made to inform everybody as soon as they had a need to know. The last thing we wanted was a couple of men in camouflage BDUs going after Nola and our people spotting one of the members of the special team and getting them mixed up.