Fear No Evil

Chapter 68

Northwest of Laramie, Wyoming

On the Circle M Ranch, near the mouth of a canyon that ran back into forest and wilderness, Matthew Butler sat on the porch railing of his log cabin drinking a cold beer. It was a warm evening with a bluebird sky.

The ranch grass was high and green, ready for a second cut. Horses were cantering about their pastures. Some of the ranch employees’ children were playing tag in the late-day sun while their parents drank beer and ate barbecue at picnic tables.

Down by the corral, several young teenage boys and girls were milling about, looking awkward. It was so perfect, Butler almost didn’t answer his phone when it rang.

He finally did. “Butler here. Scrambled line?”

“Scrambled,” M said. “Did you know Cross had a meeting with Emmanuella Alejandro the day after you left Mexico City?”

“How would I know that if I left the day before?”

“Well, he did. Vanished from our digital surveillance for the better part of four hours. Emmanuella’s evidently using signal jammers everywhere she goes now.”

Butler said, “Tricky lady. Who told you?”

“We still have people where it counts. Based on what I heard, we must consider Cross compromised now. Why else go to see the leader of a cartel alone? Why go to a woman like Emmanuella alone? To get his piece of the pie, that’s why.”

This was the most heated Butler had heard his employer in a long time. “What do you want us to do?”

M breathed long and slow and then said, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but take Cross next. Get him to confess. Take Sampson too. I used to admire them as men of integrity and principle. But I have no doubt they’ve been bought now. They’re in it up to their eyeballs. Justice shall be served.”

Butler wasn’t seeing the situation entirely that way, but he said, “Timetable?”

“Sooner than later. I do not wish to be distracted by them anymore.”

“We’ll let you know when we’re ready to move,” Butler said and hung up.

He got himself another beer, sipped it, felt the sweet chill on his tongue and down his throat. The sun was sinking. The laughter of the ranch folk got louder the more beer they consumed.

He and his inner circle had been together so long, it was almost as if they sensed something was afoot. Big DD Dawkins emerged from the shadows with the three others trailing him.

They came up onto the porch, all of them carrying beers. Vincente offered one to Butler, who showed him the one he already had.

“What are you thinking?” Butler asked.

“We need some downtime,” Dale Cortland said. “The past few assignments have been too close together. We’re going to make a mistake if we keep up this pace.”

He fell silent.

“That it?” Butler asked.

Alison Purdy cleared her throat and said, “I won’t be involved in killing kids.”

“We don’t do that, remember?” he shot back. “That’s the cartel’s specialty.”

“I’m saying if it comes to that, I won’t go there.”

“Heard loud and clear,” Butler said, his eyes roaming over his other men. They did seem drained. “Four days’ rest, all of you. Then we go east again. M has given us another assignment.”

Big DD groaned, as did Cortland and Purdy.

Vincente was shaking his head when the shooting started.