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THEY RODE THE HORSES all the way back to the police station. No reason to return them to the ranch. They decided to lock them up in a large, heated shed behind the community center. The situation required immediacy, and Amita figured she could apologize to the rancher later.
They reached the station just in the nick of time because not five minutes later, the winds picked up, and the snow started to hammer down again. It was slow at first, but it accelerated steadily and would be blinding within an hour.
Widow decided to call Shepard. He stayed outside the station house while Amita went in. He pulled out the sat phone Shepard had given him and opened it up, clicked it on. The light at the top blinked a blue color, and the screen lit up. He looked at the contacts. There was only one—Shepard. He dialed it.
There was a hum and a whine as the phone was relayed through satellites miles above the earth. Then there was a dial tone and a ring. Widow waited. A voice came on.
“Widow?”
“It’s me.”
Shepard said, “What’s the status? Did you find him?”
Widow said, “No. Not sure he’s alive. But something is going on here.”
“What do you mean?”
Widow thought for a second. He wasn’t sure he could trust Shepard. Certainly, the man was hiding things from him. That was what he did for a living—he lied to people and kept secrets.
“There was an attack on the reservation. House explosion. Looks like a siege. Dead bodies. Evidence of a helicopter.”
The line was silent.
Widow said, “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“I told you everything that pertains to the situation.”
“You’re sticking to the story of Ebola?”
“That part is real. It’s imperative that you locate Jacobs.”
Widow stayed quiet.
Shepard asked, “Is he dead? If he is, did you get a visual confirmation?”
Widow said, “No. No body.”
“The clock is ticking. The CIA will not allow the weapon to be removed from the reservation.”
“What does that mean?” Widow asked.
“You know what it means. You’ve got the same time limit as before. Unless you have good news for me by the time the storm subsides, I’ll be forced to notify the Air Force of a new domestic target for them to bomb.”
Widow stayed quiet.
The whole story and threat seemed unbelievable to him, almost. But he knew from his own experience that governmental cover-up was a real thing. A guy like Shepard didn’t strike him as the type of guy who bluffed when it came to national security. And most certainly, things were far beyond believability already. The bad guys had a helicopter with guns on it. The nearest government with military helicopters that would loan them out to terrorists against America was probably an ocean away. Canada wouldn’t do it in a thousand years, and Mexico’s military probably couldn’t afford a helicopter like that. Therefore, the craft was either stolen and belonged to a group with access to foreign military arms, or it was a civilian helicopter, heavily modified after market.
None of these options made Widow feel any better.
He said, “Shepard, you need to do some research to find out who might have access to a military helicopter. It must be stationed nearby. Probably parked on a rooftop or a clearing within a hundred miles. No way would they get far in this weather.”
Shepard said, “I’ll do that. If it isn’t a local band of ragtag terrorists, then we’ve got bigger problems, which means we’ll have no option other than erasing the reservation. We can’t let the Ebola canister get outside of that area.”
Widow gripped the phone tightly but said nothing.
“Get on it. Call me ASAP,” Shepard said and hung up the phone.