Chapter 5

 

 

Ben woke with that disturbing feeling of being disoriented. The sheets smelled slightly of disinfectant and the room was stuffy—hot, without moving air. It crossed his mind to jump in the shower before he remembered that there wasn’t any running water. Oscar Begay, who seemed to be in charge of maintenance and delivery of supplies, had brought two five-gallon containers of drinking water last night before they went to bed and left them on the porch. Ben hoped they wouldn’t have to rely on bottled water for too long. He checked his watch, seven straight up. They’d gone to bed at ten and slept soundly; at least, he had. The quiet of the desert had a lulling effect, soothing actually, but he had a feeling it wouldn’t last once the camp filled with people. This might have been his last full night of sleep.

“Hey, Dad, you want some Cheerios?” Zac’s voice carried easily through the thin, hollow-core bedroom door.

“Sure, pour me a bowl, I’ll be out in a minute.”

Zac was sitting at the counter working on what might have been his second bowl of the breakfast food when Ben pulled up a stool in front of his own bowl of Cheerios.

“Can we get some eggs and bacon? Maybe orange juice? And bread, can we get white? I don’t like whole wheat.”

“Glad you reminded me. I’ll grab pencil and paper and we can make a grocery list right now.”

Coffee was high on the list, as well as paper towels, toilet paper, and dish soap. Ben nixed ice cream, reminding Zac that coming from Gallup or Shiprock, it would arrive in a puddle and he wasn’t sure they’d have a freezer—at least not by the end of the day. The generator would keep things cool for a short time, but ice cream would be a challenge. Finally, the list was finished. Additions of popcorn, sliced luncheon meats, and cheese, bread, mayo, mustard and a large bag of chips took care of lunches along with a few cans of soup. It would be hard to go wrong with toasted cheese sandwiches and Campbell’s tomato soup. The kitchen wasn’t exactly his place to shine, but Ben thought he could keep them from starving.

“I’m going to run this over to Trini. I’ll be right back. If they don’t need me here, let’s do some exploring, get acquainted with the reservation—sound like a plan?”

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

 

* * *

 

It was not quite eight but Trini’s truck was parked beside trailer one. Already two ambulances were parked behind the first hospital tent next to a good-sized truck hauling a flatbed trailer. Several National Guardsmen were unloading what looked to be hospital equipment—crates that might contain compressors, or ventilators, and IV paraphernalia alongside beds. Several others in scrubs—doctors, techs or nurses—seemed to be giving directions as to which tent needed which equipment. Trini had been right, there was a lot of activity. The promising sight was the New Mexico Power and Light truck that pulled in with a trailer holding a huge spool of cable. Now that looked positive. Maybe there would be electricity by the end of the day.

He pushed open the door to the office and was surprised to see Chief Billie sitting across from Trini.

Chief Billie looked up. “Dr. Pecos, just the man I want to see. Got a minute?”

“Sure.”

“Let’s step outside.”

Ben handed his grocery list to Trini and followed the chief back out the door.

“First, I’ve got some information I think you might be interested in. Secondly, I’m going to ask a favor.”

“Okay.”

“Let’s sit in the Bronco. We won’t be bothered there.”

Ben had to admit he was curious. He sensed that the chief was a no-nonsense type and he had no idea what kind of favor he would ask. The Bronco had seen better days, but riding around the reservation would age any vehicle. Ben climbed in and closed the passenger-side door.

“We got the report on that skinhead who grabbed your son. Seems he wasn’t just the trucker he pretended to be. His eighteen-wheeler was loaded with supplies that were meant for this camp. We found the driver—or the driver’s body, I should say—in a dumpster in Gallup. Apparently, our guy had killed the man, highjacked the truck, and was headed for Colorado. He had a rap sheet a mile long. Coroner put his prints in the system and what a surprise.” Chief Billie paused. “What I’m going to share with you needs to stay between us. Do I have your word on that?”

Ben nodded. “Of course.”

“If the run-in with the trucker had been an isolated incident, I wouldn’t be having this conversation, but it wasn’t. In the three weeks that we’ve been putting together this camp, we’ve lost three shipments of supplies—the one we just confiscated would have been number four. Somehow the shipping schedule is leaked and Personal Protection Equipment bound for this area is diverted either coming out of Gallup or Albuquerque. We’ve lost twenty-five crates of ventilators. We were lucky to be able to have access to several donated by hospitals in Colorado. They should have arrived this morning. PPE, made up of masks, gowns, foot coverings, gloves—even sanitizer and disinfectant—are also in high demand and disappearing in bulk.”

“Where does the PPE go?”

“To the highest bidder, for starters. It’s repackaged and shipped across the US—maybe even to other countries as far as I know. It’s big money. Millions usually. There’s a center, a warehouse actually, that accepts the contraband. The FBI has it under surveillance, but those behind the crime ring have managed to elude capture.”

“And the favor you were going to ask of me?”

“I need a plant—someone who can freely travel this area. IHS is a perfect cover. Your time won’t be one hundred percent dedicated to the hospital here; I suspect you’ll be free to move around and you’d have a reason to be involved with ordering supplies. I need an ear to the ground. Someone who knows his way around the medical world and can speak ‘doctor’.”

“Remember, I have my son with me.”

“All the better. A child just broadens the scope of your interests and ability to join groups. We’re going to need a spokesperson to act as liaison with the government over the stimulus payments. Someone who can bargain from a position of knowledge of what’s needed. That same person would need to interact with the local tribal chief; actually, we call him President—a Native, someone who wouldn’t be suspect. Do I need to say that you would be perfect?”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Is that a yes? You’ll do it?”

Ben nodded. He might not be so willing had Zac not had his life threatened. Finding out that incident was just part of a dangerous crime ring preying on the reservation swayed his decision. The murder of the real transport driver was shocking. Theft was one thing, but killing put a sinister and ruthless spin to it. And it didn’t sound like the theft would stop—not without intervention. He wasn’t sure what he could do, but he’d be the chief’s inside contact.

“If I need to get a message to you, I’ll send Oscar Begay. I think you’ve met the kid who makes deliveries around here. Your code name is ‘shrinkwrap’—I’m sure you see the connection? Seems perfect for a psychologist. If Oscar brings in a grocery list requesting shrinkwrap, I’ll know you need to talk and I’ll be making a trip out here pronto.”

Ben fought an impulse to laugh; the chief was deadly serious. Codename Shrinkwrap? Had he just auditioned and won a part in a bad CSI episode? “Clever,” was all he thought of to say.

“Don’t write anything down unless you have to—unless it’s something you might forget or screw up. A license plate, a phone number, for example. I’d like you to check the deliveries—what’s been ordered and what arrives. I’d like you to get me a list of staff—volunteers and IHS transplants. Who comes out here, who goes. Maybe the thefts are completely inside jobs. Maybe it’s delivery people, even government or state workers getting us all wired up for the future and are in a position to know what’s being ordered. Can’t put a stop to what you don’t know. So, if something seems odd, out-of-place maybe—and I don’t care how trivial—let me know about it. People gossip. Over the years that I’ve been in police work, I’ve found much of it is worth following up on. So, as I said, keep an ear to the ground. Questions?”

“I’m sure there will be; I just can’t think of any now.”

“I can’t tell you how pleased I am. This takes a big weight off my shoulders. I’ve been at a disadvantage in that I can’t be here all the time—I have a pretty large territory to cover and this is just one part of it. So, I have to say this makes me believe in prayer—I’ve been searching for a remedy and here it is. I need to stop talking and get on out of here now. Funny how there’s always an urgency to police work. It doesn’t wait until you can get around to doing something. Most situations need answers yesterday. Good luck, Dr. Pecos. I’m counting on you.”

No pressure, Ben thought as he opened the Bronco’s passenger-side door and stepped to the ground. Just help keep the operation safe and productive and catch the bad guys. He had to admit he was flattered; he felt useful. He watched as Chief Billie turned toward the road, gunned the Bronco, and disappeared into a cloud of dust.