Cantina Valley (A Ben Adler Mystery Book 1) (23 page)

24

Tavis McGuffin woke at zero five hundred, a conditioned response from his years in the Army.
 
Then he went out for a run, making a five mile loop before coming back into his quarters for a shower.

Here’s where he deviated from his normal military routine.
 
At least on this morning.
 
He decided to take a long, hot shower.
 
Tavis guessed that the relative drought in Oregon had been over for months.
 
The ground was saturated to the point of being spongy.

He was into his hot shower about fifteen minutes when he heard the first shots.
 
A soldier does not contemplate a shot and justify it as a car backfire or fireworks.
 
No, he determines the caliber of the shot and the direction—incoming or outgoing.
 
This was incoming, he knew instinctively.

He rinsed off the remaining soap on his body as he heard more shots.
 
These were outgoing 5.56 mm.
 
Now he toweled off in a hurry and rushed out into his bedroom.

Tavis stopped dead in his tracks when he encountered two men in tactical gear yelling ‘Federal Agents’ and pointing their automatic weapons at him.

Naked and unsure what to do, Tavis raised his hands.
 
“What the hell is this?”

“Shut up and get on your knees,” one of the FBI agents yelled.
 
“Hands on the back of your head.”

“Can I get dressed first?” Tavis asked.
 
Looking closer, he could see that the second FBI agent was actually a woman.

“On your knees,” the male agent said.

Tavis reluctantly complied.
 
The female agent came up behind him and pushed him to the ground before putting thick white zip ties on his wrists.
 
Then she whispered into his ear.
 
“I’ll call your sister.”

He tried to twist his head for a better view of this woman, but by now she had gone back behind her male partner.
 
Luckily the shooting had stopped outside, and Tavis hoped that none of his friends had been shot.

•

Having sex with a man is one thing, but sleeping with him was an entirely different prospect.
 
Sleeping required much more intimacy, Maggi thought.
 
Yet, in the case of her encounter with Ben, she felt a comfort she had not experienced in her past.

After Ben hurried through his early morning chores, showing Maggi his daily ritual, he made a quick breakfast for them.
 
Then, as the sun tried desperately to penetrate the thick cloud cover, they piled into his old truck and drove to Marlon’s place down the road.

Marlon was excited to let them through the gate, knowing that Ben’s answer had to be yes.
 
The former professor met them again outside his front door, his long gray beard flowing in the breeze.
 
The Bigfoot guru was wearing his safari outfit again, looking like he might be ready for the Serengeti.

“Welcome, Earthlings,” Marlon said, his most recent phrase of greeting.
 
“I’ve just made a wonderful French roast.
 
Come in.
 
Come in.”

Ben and Maggi followed the professor into his house.
 
Looking back at the window that had been shot, Maggi noticed that Marlon had used thick, clear tape to cover the holes.

“I’ve got some window guys coming from Eugene in the afternoon,” Marlon said.

They settled around a wide kitchen island with quartz counters.
 
Marlon poured them each a tall cup of java.

“I take it you’ve made up your mind,” Marlon said, more than a little anxious.

Ben took a sip and gazed over the top of his mug at his host.
 
Then he said, “I have.
 
But I work under my own conditions.”

“Of course,” Marlon said.
 
Then, with obvious confusion, he added, “And what would those be?”

“First.
 
You don’t pay me.
 
We trade for something.”

Maggi jumped in.
 
“Just a minute.
 
To make it legal, you must give him something of intrinsic value.
 
It could be even a dollar.”

“What about a bag of truffles?” Marlon asked.

“That works for me,” Ben said.

“It would be better if there was an actual dollar value,” Maggi interjected.

“These truffles are worth at least a thousand dollars a pound,” Marlon said.
 
“That’s intrinsic.”

Maggi shook her head.
 
“I don’t know.”

Reaching into his pocket, Marlon pulled out a silver coin and handed it to Ben.
 
“That’s an ounce of pure silver.
 
Today’s rate is about eighteen dollars an ounce.”

“That works,” Maggi said.

Ben looked at the coin and immediately handed it to Maggi.

“What’s this for?” she asked.

“To keep the IRS off my ass,” Ben said.
 
“Since they don’t seem to like the barter system, you can tell them I paid you in silver for your services.”

Suddenly, Maggi’s phone buzzed and then her girly music played.
 
She found her phone and excused herself toward the living room.

“This is Maggi,” she said.

“Mags.
 
Listen carefully.
 
We raided the Compound with your brother.
 
He’s in custody with his friends.”
 
It was her friend in the FBI.

“What?
 
Why?
 
Was he hurt?”

“Nobody got hurt.
 
But I can’t get into anything else.
 
He’ll need a good lawyer.”

“So, then, not me?”

Pausing a second, the FBI agent finally said, “A criminal defense lawyer.
 
Sorry, Mags.
 
I have to run.”

Maggi was stunned.
 
What could have made the FBI raid the Compound?
 
She wandered back to the kitchen, a feeling of angst rushing through her body.

“Everything all right?” Ben asked.

“No,” she said.
 
“The FBI just raided the Compound and took Tavis and his friends into custody.”

“What?” Marlon said.
 
“What did they do?”

“I don’t know,” Maggi admitted.

“Do you see what I’m talking about, Maggi?” Ben asked.
 
“This government has gotten too powerful.”

She was starting to think that Ben was right.
 
“I need to go to Portland and try to help them.”

“This isn’t your area of expertise,” Ben said.

“I know.
 
But I have friends who can help.”

Just then Marlon’s tablet rang a little tune.
 
He swiped and gazed at the screen.
 
“Oh, oh.”

Ben and Maggi leaned in to look at the tablet.
 
Sitting at the front gate was a dark car.
 
The man in the driver’s window had his badge up for the camera to review.
 
Then the FBI agent explained who he was and why he was there.

“Also,” the FBI agent said, “our tactical team has moved in on foot and they have you surrounded.”

Maggi reached out her hand and said, “Do you have another silver coin?”

Marlon, in a state of shock, finally reached into his pocket and pulled out another silver coin, handing it to Maggi.

“All right,” Maggi said.
 
“I now represent you.
 
Do not say a word to the FBI unless I’m present.
 
Do you understand?”

Marlon nodded.
 
“Of course.
 
I understand.”
 
He tapped the tablet control and opened his front gate for the FBI.
 
Then he walked toward the front door.

Maggi and Ben followed slowly behind Marlon.
 
She whispered to Ben, “What the hell is going on?”

“I don’t know,” Ben said.

The next few minutes were confusing and troublesome.
 
Two FBI special agents in normal civilian attire presented a search warrant.
 
Maggi read along with Marlon as the tactical unit stood by without raising a weapon.

“Child pornography?” Maggi asked.

Marlon backed off and took a seat on the stairs leading to the second floor, his hands over his face.

An FBI forensics team hurried through the house going room to room.

“This is total bullshit,” Marlon said.
 
“I am not a pervert.
 
Where did you get this accusation?”

The senior special agent said, “We don’t have to divulge that information at this time.”

“Gestapo tactics,” Ben said.

“Who are you?” the FBI man asked.

“I’m the man who pays you,” Ben said.

FBI glanced at Ben from top to bottom.
 
“Do you have a permit to carry a concealed handgun?”

“Do you have a reason to ask me that question?”

“I can see your bulge.”

“Talk about perverts,” Ben said.
 
“Look in the mirror, pal.”

Maggi reached out and grasped Ben’s wrist.
 
“We are just here visiting a neighbor,” she said.