Dark Summer

CHAPTER 8

"I CAN'T GET IN TOUCH with Sherwood," Caswell said.

Danner swore beneath his breath. "Marrok took him down. Dammit, you should have hired someone better."

"Sherwood was very good. He could still be alive. I may still be able to reach him."

"Good? You don't send merely good against an expert like Marrok."

"Sherwood came highly-"

"Forget it," Danner said. "Sherwood bought it. Now we have to find another way to get Marrok."

"The decoding should-"

"I'm not counting on the decoding. It may take too long. Now that Marrok knows we have the computer, he'll set to work making it useless for me. No, Marrok is the key. He's always been the key. Try another way. You always have to have more than one arrow to your bow." He shook his head with frustration. "Why am I telling you that? You've never learned to think outside the box." He gazed broodingly down at the computer for a few moments. "The woman was with him tonight?"

Caswell nodded.

"Then she's definitely working for him."

"So it would seem. But you saw the CNN story with her ex-husband. It seemed to be a little… odd."

Danner thought about it, going over that CNN interview in his mind. "Did Enright impress you as being intense, Caswell?"

"I didn't pay much attention."

"I did. Enright is very, very intense." And Danner had sensed something else in the detective that had struck an answering chord in him. "Was it the situation or is he a little unstable?"

Caswell waited.

"Either way we may be able to use him. If handled right, he may lead us to the Brady woman." Danner smiled. "And she may lead us to Marrok. I think we need to know a good deal more about Lester Enright."

"HERE WE ARE." WALT WAS rapidly descending. "When do you want to be picked up?"

"Four hours. No longer."

"Good God, it's barren here," Devon said. The small jet plane was landing in the middle of a stretch of flat plateau of red earth. The area was dotted with cactus and skimpy patches of grass and surrounded by low foothills leading to huge, sun-baked bluffs bordering a deep canyon. "And I don't see any houses."

"There aren't any." Marrok jumped out of the plane, turned, and helped her down. "We had a shack on the reservation down below, but I was never there. I always came up here and stayed with Paco when I wasn't at the local bar. Sometimes I'd bring up one of the girls I picked up in town, and we'd screw our brains out."

"Where?"

"There's a cave." He started down the path. "Paco lived there. Though he never approved of my using his cave for carnal purposes."

"Wait." She was looking back at the Lab, who was still in the cockpit. "Aren't we taking Ned?"

"No. He never wants to come with me to the cave. He starts grieving when he's around anything that reminds him of Paco." He frowned. "I've got to do something about that."

"And who is Paco?"

"He was the Diyi, the shaman of the tribe. I told you, I was his apprentice. He took me on when I was twelve. It was considered a great honor by the elders of the tribe." He grimaced. "Not that Paco let me do much. He told me that the great spells were for the great shaman, and I was not going to be a great shaman for a long, long time. Perhaps never, unless I learned to curb my temper. I was allowed only to putter with his minor magic and brews. That was enough for me. It was better than staying in that filthy shack with a father who was shooting up every chance he got. Of course, the bureaucrats who managed the reservation called Paco a bizarre old faker."

"Was he?"

"Probably. I always told him they were right about him, but he only laughed. He knew I was a cynical little bastard and didn't believe in his 'magic.' I do know he was great with herbs and healing potions. Every now and then I saw him do something that made me wonder." He shrugged. "But most of the time I was either drunk or breathing smoke. He kept shaking his head and telling me I could be a great and wise leader if only I'd tame my soul. I didn't want to be great or wise if it meant staying down in the dirt and bowing my head. That was what the council was doing, that was what my father did until he finally killed himself with heroin. Instead, I liked playing with Paco's potions and spells and making up a few of my own. It pleased my sense of the dramatic."

"Slow down." She was having to hurry to match his stride. "Two hours ago I was afraid you were going into shock, and now I can barely keep up with you. How far is it? Do you need any help?"

"No, I told you I healed well." He raised his face to the sky. "Particularly in the sun. It sinks in and makes me strong."

"Vitamin D doesn't heal wounds."

"Then maybe it's my imagination." He smiled. "Or maybe I'm remembering all the times Paco told me that nature was the only real healer."

"No magic potions for that?"

"A couple, but he preferred to try sun and water first." He stopped and pointed up the bluff. "The cave's up there. Let me go up first and make sure that it's not been taken over by scorpions and rattlesnakes."

"Be my guest."

She watched him as he climbed the slope. Every step was imbued with sensuality, strength, and grace, and his dark hair shone in the strong sunlight. He was truly a magnificent specimen, and it was no wonder he'd had no problem getting those town girls to come up here. When he had spoken before about his wild youth, she had not been able to imagine it. But now she had experienced the boldness and impatience beneath that quiet control. She had caught a glimpse of that reckless boy.

Boy? No, she would bet that even during his youth he was totally male, totally adult. If he was wild, it would be with the full knowledge of his actions and ac cep tance of the consequences.

"Come ahead." Marrok was waving to her. "Not a rattler in sight." He disappeared into the cave.

But were there ghosts? she wondered as she started up the incline. Perhaps the ghost of Paco and the life that Marrok had lived before.

If there were spirits, there was nothing threatening about them, she thought as she entered the cave. It was a small area, no more than ten by twelve. There was a mattress covered by a dusty blanket in the corner. A red plastic ice chest was shoved against the wall, and three camping lanterns were scattered about the cave. "I expected to see-I don't know. Didn't you say your shaman friend once lived up here?"

"And you don't see any signs of him." He opened the chest and pulled out a sealed bottle of water and handed it to her. "This is all stuff I brought up after he died. But there wasn't much more than this when he was alive. He believed in living simply. He had a chest for his clothes and one for his potions. I gave him a hand-operated generator to charge the cell phone I bought him, and he tucked it in the corner over there. Most of the time he'd let it go dead, and I still couldn't get in touch with him. Every now and then he'd charge it up to call me and tell me that I was wasting my time, and I needed to come back so that he could continue teaching me. I never paid any attention to him, but it was good to hear his voice." His gaze wandered around the cave. "When he died, I burned everything belonging to him. Including his body."

"What?"

"It was Paco's wish." He opened a bottle for himself. "I did it all by myself. He didn't want anyone else attending. I scattered his ashes to the four winds."

"Wasn't that illegal?"

"Ask me if I care. I certainly didn't at the time." He was searching through a compartment in the ice chest and brought out a small vial. "And I probably wouldn't now." He uncapped the vial. "Come here. I need your help."

"Why?" She crossed the cave to stand in front of him. "And what is that stuff?"

"A medicine created by Paco and refined by me." He handed her the vial. "Take a few drops and rub it into the wound. It helps accelerate the production of blood cells."

She frowned. "I will not. I'm not about to administer a medicine that hasn't been approved by the FDA."

"Then I'll have to do it myself. It will just be awkward."

"Don't do it. I gave you penicillin on the helicopter. That should be fine."

"But slow. Too slow. I have to get over this fast." He took a few drops on his forefinger and rubbed it into the wound. He flinched. "I'd rather you'd done it. It stings, and having you touch me would have been a distraction. Oh, yes, definitely a distraction." He unbuttoned his shirt and took it off. "Come with me. If you refused me medication, you can at least give me company."

She stiffened. "I don't know what-"

"And you're jumping to conclusions." He added softly, "Seductive, interesting, erotic conclusions, but I know it's not the time. It may never be the time." He was heading for the cave entrance. "Certainly not on that dirty pallet. I just want sun on this wound. It seems to help the medicine to sink in. Or so Paco always told me."

"In spite of what you told me about not listening to him, you seem to be willing to follow his advice." She followed him out into the sunlight. "I can understand wanting to follow a dying man's wishes about the disposal of his remains. But you could have gotten into trouble."

He shrugged. "I was in trouble all the time anyway." He dropped down on a flat, smooth rock outside the cave entrance. "Sit down. The heat radiates and comes up out of this rock and eases every muscle in your body."

"Not scientific." But he was right, the heat was wonderfully soothing. "But good."

"Paco used to sit here in the afternoons." He took a drink of water and closed his eyes. He looked lazy and totally sensual, half-naked, with the sun stroking the bronze smoothness of his bare skin. "Sometimes I'd sit with him. He wouldn't let me talk. He said those were the moments to repair the soul. Usually I was too restless to worry about my soul and took off after a few minutes. Later, I wished I'd spent more time with him."

"We always want to get those moments back after we lose someone." She lifted the bottle to her lips. "Marrok doesn't sound Apache. Did you take your mother's name?"

"Why would I do that?" He opened his lids and took another drink. "She cared nothing about me."

"You don't know that. Sometimes circumstances get in the way."

"And sometimes a baby gets in the way if a woman wants to be free. My father used to talk about her sometimes when he was stoned. Pale ivory skin, fine Castilian features and eyes dark as night. He wanted her back. Not me. I didn't need her. I didn't want her either."

"Your name?" she prompted.

"Now what would be a good name for a half-breed? Joseph Running Deer?"

"It's a beautiful name."

"But not mine." He took another drink. "Though I was once called Joseph. I changed it when I came to live with Paco."

"A new start to a new life?"

"Maybe. Something like that. Paco didn't care what I called myself."

"How did Paco die?"

He looked out at the horizon. "Danner killed him."

Her gaze flew to his face.

"Not personally. He hires people for that kind of job. He had him beaten to death."

Shock jagged through her. "Good God."

"I didn't think there was much good about God that night. I found Paco down on the plateau, where they'd dumped him like a heap of garbage."

"How did you know it was Danner?"

"Paco wrote about it in his book of spells. He was expecting it to happen. He'd made preparations."

"Against Danner? Dammit, I want to know about this Danner. Details, not vague bullshit."

"From the beginning?" He took another drink of water. "Danner grew up poor and never got enough power or money. He was the son of a missionary who dragged him all over the world into jungles and third-world villages to preach the gospel. He hated the life, but he was exposed to all varieties of primitive herbal medicines and cures. From voodoo priests to jungle witch doctors. Some of the cures and potions seemed to work, and he thought he'd found a way to get away from a life he hated and onto the gravy train. He became a chemist and went back into the wilds and began to 'appropriate' the secrets of those primitive tribes. Two years later he sold an arthritis painkiller to a pharmaceutical company for a staggering amount of money. After that he was on his way. In the next twenty years several homeopathic cures and little-known herbal breakthroughs paved his way to billions."

"If he's so rich, why would he be doing this?"

"I told you, for Danner there's never enough." He paused. "And all his life he's been searching for the big bonanza. The drug that would make him king of all he surveyed."

"And what is that?"

"The panacea."

She frowned. "What?"

"In every culture there are tales of a mythical drug or potion that can cure any illness."

"Mythical is right."

"But what power would a man possess if he could be the one in control of a drug like that? He could control life or death. Danner has always had a God complex. He wants to be worshipped and feared. The panacea would give him what he's been searching for all his life. To what lengths do you think he'd go to gain that power?"

"You're saying that's what's at the bottom of all this? Danner thinks he's found this panacea? Why?"

"Paco."

"That's crazy. You mean because he was a shaman, Danner thought he'd discovered a way to create this cure-all?"

"Not at first. I think word of Paco's supposed magic was probably like the rustle of the wind in a cornfield in the beginning. But Danner and his people were keeping their ears to the ground and asking questions. He believed in the potential for native healing. Why not? It had made him rich. He had feelers out all over the world for any sign of an authentic breakthrough of any sort. Our reservation was no exception. Danner began to hear stories about Paco and started to pay attention."

"What kind of stories?"

"There were occasions when Paco would visit someone terminally ill, give him an elixir, and he would get well."

"Then they obviously weren't as ill as everyone thought."

Marrok shook his head. "Oh, they were that sick. I used to go with him and sit there on the floor with Ned and watch Paco do his thing. He always insisted that I had to trail along and learn."

"You said occasions. It didn't happen all the time?"

"No. But enough times that he began to get a reputation. And that made him important enough to attract the big man to the reservation. Danner rented a house in town and began to come up here himself to talk to Paco. It was all done with great respect and courtesy." His lips twisted. "I even grew to like Danner. He treated me with the same respect as he did Paco. I was obviously not important to him, but he still spent a long time getting to know me. I didn't realize he was trying to pave the way to getting information about Paco's panacea if Paco couldn't be persuaded. Even after he found out how little Paco confided in me, he was still friendly, even fatherly toward me. Hell, he was a rich, important man who thought two no-account Indians were worth his time. I wasn't used to that."

"Did he find out anything from Paco?"

"Not then. But he was a patient man. He was willing to watch and wait and make sure all the talk about Paco wasn't bogus. He invested six years doing that."

She shook her head. "That's a long time. You must have seen through him by then."

"I wasn't there. I couldn't take the reservation life any longer and took off. I kicked around the world for a while and joined the SEALs. I came back occasionally to visit the old man, but he seemed the same and as contented as ever. I'd run into Danner now and then, and he'd greet me like a long-lost son." His lips tightened. "Now it's easy for me to read strangers. But Danner had worked himself into my good graces at a time when I was wild and needy and reaching out for any kind of understanding. He was very clever. He fooled Paco, too, until right before he died. But he must have gotten impatient and tipped his hand. One night I got a call from Paco, and he told me to come home. He said he thought Danner was going to kill him." He drew a deep breath. "He told me that even if he died, I wasn't to try to fight Danner. It would be useless. He said that I had to leave right away and protect the dogs. He said I had to promise. I thought he was out of his head."

She frowned. "What dogs? Ned?"

"Ned and three other dogs that Paco owned." He grimaced. "He didn't actually believe that he owned them. They were his friends. He didn't like people much. Dogs were a part of his life ever since I can remember. He said Danner would be after the dogs, and I had to make sure they were safe."

"Why would Danner be a threat to them?"

He ignored the question. "Paco was talking fast and hard by that time. I couldn't get a word in to find out anything. He said Danner was coming, and he couldn't talk much longer. He told me to look in his book of spells. He kept saying over and over that he'd had to do it, and there wasn't any other way to keep the truth safe. He'd already told Danner that he'd destroyed the formula when he'd realized the danger it would bring him. But he couldn't destroy the dogs, and he didn't know if he'd be able to hold out and keep from telling him. He might have to tell Danner about the dogs, that it was always the dogs…" His lips tightened. "He hung up, and he didn't answer when I tried to call him back. I took off and arrived here within six hours. It was too late. He was already dead. When I came up here to the cave, I found that it had been ransacked, his medicine chest stolen, and everything else in shambles."

"If you suspected he'd been murdered, why would you dispose of the body? You might have been able to tell from the autopsy what had-"

"Paco wouldn't have wanted his body chopped up and probed. He told me what to do with his remains. I did it."

"At the cost of letting Danner get off scot-free?"

"That was never in question. Danner would probably have been able to buy his way out of any court in the country. I knew that. He couldn't be allowed the chance." He added softly, "I wanted to be the one. I had to be the one to kill him. I loved that old man. When he died, it broke me into a million pieces."

She could see that he did. The passion vibrating in his voice was unmistakable. "But Danner's still alive."

"I had to obey Paco. God knows I never did much of that when I was growing up. But I'd made him a promise. Danner had to wait." His lips twisted. "Though I didn't think it would be this long."

"The dogs," she prompted.

"Ah, yes. There are four. Paco had acquired them through the years. He always seemed to have a dog running around him. Nika was a stray, Addie and Wiley he picked up from rescue shelters. Ned was a pup given to him by Hakan, the leader of the council, for casting a spell to cure his own dog. Addie is a golden retriever, Wiley, a German shepherd, Nika's a mixed breed, half-Weimaraner, half-boxer, and Ned. The last few times I visited him, they were constantly with him. He said they were helping him with a new spell and were much better apprentices than I'd ever been to him."

"What did he mean?"

"I didn't know at the time. I thought it was just another one of Paco's usual scathing sarcasms. He was always telling me I should stop wandering and come home where I belonged." He paused. "One night he had me sit by the fire while he chanted and made his smoke dreams. I didn't mind. It reminded me of the old days. The flames jumping, forming shadows on the walls of the cave, the acrid smell of the smoke, Paco staring into nowhere and making me believe that the world was full of possibilities…"

He was living that night again, Devon thought, gazing at his expression. Or maybe he was reliving the entire life he'd rejected.

He shook his head as if to clear it. "But the dogs didn't seem to be any better apprentices than me. They just lay around and slept and licked their balls." He smiled. "At least I didn't do that."

"Where is this going?"

"Toward the end of the ceremony, he had me feed the dogs their dinner, and he put something from his pot into the dishes." He lifted his hand. "Nothing harmful. Paco wouldn't have done that."

"Then what was it?"

"That's what I asked Paco. He answered, shií. It didn't make sense to me but he-" His cell phone rang, and he glanced at the ID. "Walt." He pressed the button. "Trouble?" He listened for a moment. "Shit. No, tell him to meet us at the ranch. I'm on my way." He pressed the disconnect, stood up, shrugging into his shirt. "Come on." He pulled her to her feet. "Walt will be picking us up in fifteen minutes. I have to get back to the ranch."

"Why?"

"I have to smooth troubled waters." He was striding down the slope. "Dammit, trust Lincoln to show up now. Why the hell couldn't he have stayed on the other side of the water?"

She had to hurry to catch up with him. "Who is Lincoln?"

"Chad Lincoln, British Intelligence. I've had to use him from time to time when I needed help, but he wants control, and I have-"

"British Intelligence. Why not the FBI or some other U.S. agency?" She shook her head. "For that matter, why bring the government in anyway? If Danner is a criminal, it should be a civil-"

"Devon." Marrok wasn't looking at her. "I can't deal with explanations right now. You've found out as much as I have time to give you. I've got to think of a way to keep Lincoln from trying to take over. I'll answer questions as soon as I can."

"You bet you will." He had left her hanging, and she was frustrated and annoyed. She wanted to know more, dammit. "Okay, tell me one more thing. What did Paco give the dogs? This shií… Dammit, I can't even pronounce it."

"Apache is a difficult language. Try shi'i'go. It's how Paco usually referred to it when he was talking about his potion."

"That's not much better." But at least she could get her tongue around it. "So what is it?"

"What does Paco's shi'i'go mean?" His gaze was searching the sky for the plane. "Summer."