The Devils Punchbowl

“His what?”

“Tactical flight officer. You need two guys to run FLIR from a chopper. The pilot to fly the ship and hold position, and a TFO to control the pod and read the monitor. That'’s why they missed those dogs that hit us the other night. Carl doesn’'t have any hours on a FLIR screen. Just rifle scopes. But I’'ve done time in an AH-64 in Afghanistan. I’'ve spotted IEDs from six miles out in pitch-darkness. And we know how these guys roll. Wherever she is, there’ll be guard dogs, shit like that.” Kelly jams his elbow into my side. “If she’s on the river, we’ll find her.”

Excitement flashes through me…hope, even. “Let’s get over to my dad’s place. Quick.”

“Can you get us out of a speeding ticket?”

“That'’s

one

thing I still have the power to do.”

Kelly laughs and floors it.

James Ervin is standing outside the door of my father’s house. The familiar beagle eyes of the old cop always make me smile.

“How you doing, Penn?” he asks.

“Better than I was this morning. What about you?”

“I'm all right. Got a little surprise waiting in there.”

My pulse quickens. “Good or bad?”

“Same as last time.”

“What?”

“You’ll see.”

I move quickly through the door and into my parents’ den. Dad is sitting in the La-Z-Boy from which he dictates his medical charts, facing a stranger wearing a three-piece suit and heavy-rimmed glasses.

“Who’s this?” I ask sharply, wondering if it could be William Hull.

The stranger takes off his glasses, and the unfamiliar face coalesces into that of Walt Garrity, Texas Ranger. “I figured it was time to check in,” Walt says. “Hated to risk it, but I have some news, and I had a feeling things might be popping on your end.”

“In that getup, you’re a man transformed. What’s your news?”

Walt’s lips crack into a thin smile. “J. B. Gilchrist just got invited to a dogfight. I'm in, boys.”

“When’s the fight?” Kelly asks.

“I won'’t know till the last minute, but I'm guessing tonight.”

“How’d you wangle that?”

“Just played my part and stuck to it. Lost enough of Penn’s money to attract attention, then let Sands know I was interested in some real action.”

“You’re sure nobody followed you here?”

“Give me some credit, soldier. If somebody was following me, they think I'm still in the Natchez Mall, where my Roadtrek is parked. My clothes are hidden in a storage cabinet in a department store. I picked these up on my way out.”

Dad says, “What do you think, Penn?”

“We need to tell you guys something. Caitlin was kidnapped last night.”

While they listen with growing anxiety, I relate the morning’s events. Dad hasn’'t even heard the news about Paul Labry, probably because he left work early.

“Where’s Annie?” I ask. “Is she really here?”

“She and Peggy are in the back watching TV. She really did call with a stomachache, but she’s fine.”

Walt says, “This puts a new spin on everything. I'’ll keep my eyes and ears open tonight, especially if we’re on the river. Maybe I'’ll pick up a clue to where Caitlin could be.”

“I doubt it,” says Kelly. “More likely they'’re just testing you. We think the Po sting is set for tomorrow night. I don'’t think they’d let

somebody they don'’t know close to anything important with that cooking.”

“I’'ve been thinkin’ about that,” says Walt.

“What?” I ask.

“Po. You gotta figure this mandarin motherfucker can see just about anything he gets an itch to see over there in China. If not, then in Russia or Thailand. What the hell could Sands offer that would make the old man risk setting foot on U.S. soil?”

“God only knows,” I say. “It could be an orgy with fifty blond twelve-year-olds, or dinner and a show with Barbra Streisand.”

“I’d say the former’s more likely,” says Kelly.

“You never know with moneyed folk,” drawls Walt. “Especially your oriental types. They got all kinds of strange fixations about America. Course, it could be a simple business meeting. Straightening a few things out, or replacing some people.”

“It doesn’'t matter,” says Kelly. “All that matters to us is the time limit. The sting is our ticking clock. According to Labry, we had thirty-six hours to find Caitlin. By now, I say we figure on twenty-four.”

“Well,” says Walt, standing, “I guess it’s back to business. What are you boys gonna be doing today?”

“This and that,” says Kelly. “But we’re going to fly the river tonight with a FLIR chopper, hoping to pick up something.”

Walt looks suitably impressed. “Well, if you get in a bind trying to save the girl, or if you’re outgunned somewhere and you need backup, call the Louisiana Highway Patrol. Ask for the man in charge and give him my name. I was saving this for later in the game, but it sounds like it’s time to call in all the heat we’ve got.”

“You trust him?”

“Yessir. And there seems to be a shortage of cops we can trust around here.”

“What makes you trust him?” Kelly asks bluntly.

Walt smiles. “He started out as a Texas Ranger.”

“Good enough,” Kelly says, and shakes Garrity’s hand. “Thanks for the tip, and good luck.”

“Good luck to you boys. We don'’t want to lose that girl.”

“Penn,” Dad says, getting up much slower than Walt, his knees creaking. “I got a package today, FedEx. I think it’s for you.”

“Who’s it from?”

“It said Dwight Stone.”

This piques my interest. Dwight Stone is a retired FBI agent who helped me nail the former director of the Bureau.

“Here you go,” says Dad, having retrieved a thick envelope from the kitchen.

“While I'm thinking about it,” I tell him, “I’d like you to do me a favor this afternoon, if you can.”

“What is it?”

“Find Jewel Washington and speak to her face-to-face. I think Shad Johnson has the USB drive that matches the cap the pathologist in Jackson took out of Tim’s rectum. I want Jewel to use her contacts at the hospital to find out if anyone saw Shad there the night Tim died. Or if Shad has any particular connection with anybody who has access to the morgue. One more thing. If she can, have her find out the exact model of the drive that mates with that cap. No phone calls, though. This has to be face-to-face.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Thanks. I also think we should all stay in my house tonight. You, Mom, Annie, everybody.”

Dad’s face darkens. “Why’s that?”

“Things are moving fast now, and we don'’t know what might happen. We’re safer all together. And my house has the old shutters that really work. We can shut those things and lock the place down.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Kelly says.

“Sounds like a pain in the ass,” Dad grumbles. “But okay.”

Holding up the FedEx package, I glance at Kelly, and he nods. Inside it I find a thick sheaf of typed, single-spaced pages. Taped to the top sheet is a typed note that reads,

Sometimes help comes from the most unexpected places.

“It’s from Lutjens!” I say. “Peter Lutjens.”

“What is it?” asks Kelly.

I crumple the note and read the top of the first page. It begins, “Case Black. Distribution List Restricted. Subject: Edward Po, Macau.”

“It could be gold.”

My cell phone is buzzing again. I look down. “That'’s William Hull.”

Kelly motions me out of the room.

Walking into the kitchen, I hit SEND and say, “Penn Cage.”

“Are you feeling reassured about your lady friend?”

“Why would I?”

“I have no idea. I'm just calling to reiterate that I have no knowledge of what we discussed in your earlier call.”