The Forgotten Holocaust

Chapter Forty-Three

By the time they’d ridden the lift up from the subterranean car park to the mall above and reached the exit, the whole place had been invaded by a swarm of police who were trying to contain the crowds of terrified shoppers driven from the mall in a mass panic by the sound of gunfire and explosions from down below. A pall of black smoke was pouring from the mouth of the car park entrance and climbing into the late afternoon sky as a fleet of emergency vehicles screeched onto the scene. A chopper was hovering overhead, its thud mingling with the chaotic noise of sirens and hysteria. Pitched gun battles evidently didn’t happen every day in downtown Tulsa.

Gazing up and down the packed street, Ben could see no sign of the white van. It must have managed to get away unnoticed just in time. ‘I didn’t catch your name,’ he said.

‘Erin Hayes,’ she replied, frowning at him. ‘Aren’t you going to tell me who you are?’

‘Let’s get some coffee,’ he said.

The coffee shop they found quarter of a mile away was already alive with the breaking news of the incident. ‘I heard an eye witness said it was a buncha Muslims,’ one guy said. ‘Goddamn a-hole terrorists,’ someone else kept insisting loudly, over and over, until someone shushed him as a report came on the little TV above the counter and they all gathered around to stare. Ben bought two coffees and took them over to a booth by the window, far enough away from the focus of attention for him and Erin to talk privately. They could hear the helicopters and sirens even from this distance. Now and then a patrol car went screaming down the street outside, drawing stares from anxious passers-by.

‘So, Ben,’ she said after a long gulp of coffee. ‘It is Ben, right?’

‘Ben Hope. Nice to meet you, Erin.’

‘I suppose I should be thanking you for saving my life.’

‘That makes a difference from pointing a gun at me. My pleasure.’

‘Except I still don’t know who the hell you are, or where the hell you popped up from all of a sudden.’

‘Long story. What did they want with you?’

Her eyes moistened suddenly and her coffee cup began to shake in her hand. Now that she was safe, delayed shock was beginning to set in. ‘They were trying to kidnap me. They’ve been after me for days. My life … everything … just fell apart. They’re going to kill me. I know it.’

‘That’s not going to happen, Erin,’ Ben told her. ‘Why are they after you?’

‘Because of something I witnessed,’ she said, working hard to compose herself. ‘Something they did. Them and their boss.’

‘You mean McCrory?’

She looked at him. ‘So you know what this is about. You didn’t just appear out of nowhere.’

‘I have an interest in McCrory,’ he said. ‘Him, and his men. They kill people.’

She nodded. ‘That pretty much sums it up.’

‘What’s your connection with him? Do you work for the mayor’s office?’

‘His wife runs a charity here in Tulsa. I work for her. She and I are kind of friends. That’s why I was there at the McCrorys’ cabin that night when they …’ She paused, looking at him through narrowed eyes as a thought came to her. ‘This isn’t about Kirk Blaylock, is it? Some kind of revenge thing?’

‘I’ve never heard of Kirk Blaylock,’ he replied, with a look of sincerity that convinced her he was telling the truth. ‘Who is he?’

‘Was. The man I saw them shoot to pieces that night. He was about to betray McCrory to the Feds.’

‘I’m not here because of him. I’m here because of someone called Kristen, Kristen Hall. She was murdered.’

She scrutinised him carefully. ‘Then are you a cop? A detective?’

‘I’m just a concerned individual,’ he said. ‘I was there when they killed her. I’m responsible for putting things right. She suffered. McCrory has to be answerable for that.’

‘Was she—?’

Ben shook his head before she finished. ‘No relation. Just a friend.’

‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Me too.’

‘Why did they kill her?’

‘All I know for the moment is that she was a threat to them. I’d like to know more, and I get the feeling you have more information than I do. I think we can help each other. Who was the man you were with? The one they shot?’

Erin hesitated before replying. ‘He was a police detective. His name was Topher Morrell. He was helping the FBI. They’re investigating McCrory because they believe …’ She paused again, and glanced anxiously across the coffee shop.

‘Nobody’s listening,’ Ben said. ‘The FBI believe what?’

Erin leaned forward and said in a low voice, ‘Morrell said that McCrory deals arms to a Mexican drugs cartel called Los Locos. It means “the Crazy Ones”.’

‘I know what it means,’ Ben said. He wasn’t even that surprised at what he was hearing.

‘McCrory supplies them with all kinds of military hardware. It’s a big-time operation. If he becomes governor, it’s going to get even bigger.’

After all, Ben thought, the higher you rose in US politics, the more illegal arms you could trade into Mexico. The efforts of a small privateer could never compete with the government’s own Fast and Furious programme, which had deliberately and secretly introduced tens of thousands of firearms into the Mexican criminal underworld in order to create instability and justification for US paramilitary expansionism.

‘McCrory was a lawyer. He’s never been remotely connected to the military. Where’s he getting the stuff?’

‘The Feds think it comes through Ritter and Moon. They’re his henchmen, or lieutenants, or whatever the hell is the right word.’

Ben’s eyes narrowed. ‘Ritter and Moon?’

‘Billy Bob Moon, he’s the one with the ponytail. Chews gum all the time. Matt Ritter is the other one. Morrell said they were both ex-Special Forces.’

Ben was silent for a few moments as he pictured the two men in his mind. ‘It’s what I thought,’ he said quietly.

‘About the arms dealing?’

‘No, but I might have guessed about that too. Every time I meet up with those two, there are fireworks.’

‘You’ve met them before?’

‘The first time it was just sticks and blades. But the second time they were using automatic rifles and an awful lot of fancy munitions. Today they were using KRISS Vectors. Pretty newfangled hardware, and full military spec too. Not easy to get hold of.’

‘Morrell said that Ritter’s the one with the connections,’ Erin said. ‘They have a whole warehouse full of weapons, somewhere in Tulsa County. And crews of drivers trucking it down through Texas, over the border. This one cartel, Los Locos? They’re getting ready to fight a whole war against federal firearms and drugs agencies who’ve been trying to clamp down on them. Scum like McCrory are only too happy to supply all the military hardware they can get. Like those things — what did you call them?’

‘KRISS Vectors. Forty-five calibre submachine gun. Like a radical update on a Tommy gun. All polymer. Very advanced delayed recoil system, cyclic rate of over a thousand rounds a minute. I’d never even seen one before. I can imagine drug gangs would pay a pretty penny for a few crates of those.’

‘How come you know all this stuff?’ she asked, looking at him hard.

‘Because I was a soldier too,’ he said.

‘Well, it doesn’t matter who you were. You can’t go against these people. It’s not just Moon and Ritter. McCrory has about thirty men working for him. A small army.’

‘That should even the odds a little in their favour,’ Ben said with a grim smile.

‘They’ll kill anyone who stands in their way,’ she insisted. ‘Like Kirk Blaylock. He was ready to tip all the information over to the authorities. Your friend, Kristen, she must have known something too. That’s why they got to her.’

Ben was silent for a moment as he considered what he’d only just that afternoon discovered in Elizabeth Stamford’s journal. He thought about Kristen obtaining McCrory’s personal number from Chris Ingram. Remembered her telling him with excitement that if her plan worked, she could give up work forever. ‘I think Kristen was shaking McCrory down for money,’ he said. ‘A lot of money.’

‘There, see?’

He shook his head. ‘She didn’t know anything about this. It’s something else.’

‘There’s more you need to know,’ Erin said. ‘The police chief, O’Rourke — McCrory owns him.’

‘Naturally.’ No great surprises there either.

‘Morrell was spying on him for the Feds. So we can forget about going to the cops.’

‘That was never my intention,’ Ben said.

‘But we have to do something.’

‘We?’

‘I have evidence,’ she said. ‘Evidence that could put McCrory away forever. The murder at the cabin — I videoed the whole thing on my cellphone.’

‘Where’s the phone now?’

‘I gave it to O’Rourke, along with a copy I burned on disc. That was before I knew he was one of them, and it’s what made me a target the moment I told him what I knew. But there’s another disc they don’t know about. A second copy.’

‘Got it with you?’

‘You’re kidding. It’s hidden. Somewhere nobody would think to search for it.’

‘And what are you planning on doing with it?’ Ben asked her.

‘I figure there’s only one thing I can do, now I know what I know,’ she said. ‘Go to the Feds.’

‘Then what?’ he asked.

She frowned at him. ‘They won’t do nothing.’

‘Maybe not. Maybe they’ll come galloping into town on their white horses, arrest McCrory, put an end to his political career forever and then sling him in jail. Or else maybe they’ll just keep doing what they’ve been doing so far, sitting it out until they have enough to nail the whole operation. Why else didn’t they pounce the moment you handed Morrell the evidence?’

‘I need a new life,’ she said. ‘I can’t go back to the old one. I’m a single woman with no kids, no ties, no family worth hanging onto. I’ve already walked away from my job and my home. The FBI can easily make me disappear. Gone, forever, where I’ll be safe and I can start over.’

‘I’ve heard of people disappearing even more permanently when the witness protection programme didn’t quite live up to the hype. It’s a little too much faith to place in government agents. The authorities haven’t exactly done a great job of protecting you so far. You’ve put your neck on the block for them, and they allow you to remain at risk. Does that sound as if they really care about what happens to you?’

‘McCrory will be in jail. You said so yourself. He can’t get to me from there.’

Ben shook his head. ‘Think again, Erin. Think really hard. A man with McCrory’s wealth can get to you from anywhere. How many Mafia hits have been sanctioned from inside, over lobster and champagne dinners with the prison governor?’

‘Isn’t that a little bit cynical?’

‘Cynical, as in, not hopelessly naïve?’

‘So what are you saying?’

‘That you can run. You can run halfway around the world if you want to.’

‘But I can’t hide?’

‘Not forever. Even if it all goes the way you hope and the FBI are true to their word and whisk you away under a whole new identity, and McCrory and his henchmen get slammed up in jail until they’re very, very old men. Doesn’t matter. They’ll get you eventually, because nobody ever disappears. Not completely. It can’t be done.’

‘You sound pretty darn sure of that.’

‘I am, because I’m the guy folks used to call upon to find those disappeared people. It’s what I did for a living.’

‘And now you’re going to tell me you always found them.’

‘If a person’s still breathing, they can be found. Take it from me. What happens to them then depends on who found them. If it’s someone like me, it can be a happy ending. If it’s someone like McCrory’s people, it won’t be.’

‘That’s just wonderful,’ she said sourly. ‘So let me get this straight. Even if the Feds give a shit what happens to me — which they probably don’t — and even if I can trust them to put me in the protection program — which I probably can’t — I’m dead anyway?’

He nodded. ‘More or less.’

‘Thank you so much for the reassurance. You just made a fantastic day even better.’

‘I don’t want to have to think that the worst could happen to you,’ he told her. ‘Just like I don’t want to have to think that McCrory is living it up in a nice warm minimum-security jail somewhere, with more privileges than most people on the outside and more power than it’s safe for a man like that to have at his disposal. And he won’t serve out the full term, either. No chance.’

‘So what’s the alternative?’ she asked helplessly. ‘What the hell am I supposed to do?’

‘Drink your coffee.’

‘It’s cold.’

So was his, but he drained it anyway. ‘Then let’s go.’

‘Go where?’

‘The nearest used car place, for a start. There’s not much we can do without transport. After that, I have an errand to run. Then we’ll hole up and get some rest while we think about our next move.’

‘Hole up?’

‘My place.’

‘Uh-huh. Your place.’

‘You’ll love it. Very snazzy. All mod cons.’

She raised an eyebrow.

‘Don’t you trust me yet?’ he asked.

She looked at him. ‘Do I have a choice?’

‘Not if you want to live.’

‘Okay,’ she said after a beat. ‘But we don’t need to buy a car. I have another one we can use.’