Garrod and Jones wasted no time after incapacitating Mike and Steve. They loaded their other prisoner in the back seat and then Georg opened the driver's side door. He collected Steve's gun and shoved the unconscious detective over to the center of the bench seat. Once getting behind the wheel, he turned over the car and waved to Jones, who followed him down into the valley. 10 slow minutes later, they arrived at the sloped pit that had been dug near the far end of the vineyard.
He drove the car right into the ramped hole. Jones followed down on foot. After they secured their victims and collected Mike's weapon, they scrambled out of the hole. Georg climbed up on a tractor and pushed the pile of dirt back into the hole, making sure the entire vehicle was covered. He then camouflaged the disturbed earth with a heap of dead wood.
Georg jumped down from the seat of the big red Massey Ferguson. It was a happy coincidence that his brother had thought to buy the back hoe attachment. It made the penultimate part of the cover-up a piece of cake. Brian Jones was leaning on the other vehicle watching with interest.
"Well, that ought to do it. Are you sure we are far enough away from the house?" Jones asked.
"I should think so. We have 2,000 acres." He glanced over the mound of dirt covered by vineyard detritus, up the hill towards the winery building he couldn't see. They were at least a mile away, at the outer edge of the property. "Even if they figure out that those cops came here, there's a lot of land to search. I think we're good."
"How long before they wake up?" We don't want them to have time to dig out of there. You didn't bury it very deep."
"Should be a couple of hours, but the way we hog tied them, they aren't getting out, trust me. And we'll be long gone before that could even happen."
"What about the tractor, won't that be a giveaway?"
"True. Give me a minute." Garrod climbed back up, fired up the tractor and drove it deep into a stand of cottonwood trees that surround the irrigation pond. Even though all Massey Ferguson had the same key, he tossed the one he had into the pound before jogging back to Jones.
"Better." Jones said.
They both got in the car and drove back up to the Winery. When they circled the house, they saw that Peter had already pulled his car around to the front door. He and his father were loading several flat crates into the back seat.
"I'm really going to miss this place." Peter sighed as he took a long last look at the house.
His father nodded and got into the passenger seat. Jones pulled the car up behind them and Georg got out.
"When is your flight?"
"Tomorrow at 4pm. I reserved 2 tickets for us and I got you and Brian on the 9 pm flight."
"Nothing earlier?"
"Nope. It was the best I could do. I will pay for your tickets when I pay for ours. Do you have your passports?"
"No, I'm going up to pack my bag as soon as you are out of here. Where are we staying?"
"The Fairmont."
"Fancy. Might as well though, it'll be our last night in San Francisco."
"That's what I thought. Plus, who is going to look for fleeing fugitives at the nicest hotel in town?"
"Good point. What are you going to do with all that junk? You're not going to drag it into the lobby." Jones had gotten out of the car and was pointing at the crates that had just been loaded.
"No. Give me a little credit. Once I drop Papa at the hotel, I'll take them down to China Basin and put them on a freighter. It will take a while, but it will be safe. I'll ditch the car at the docks and take a cab back to the hotel.
"Good. Good. We will find someplace to get rid of this one as well and we will meet you at the hotel."
Peter jumped in the car, pulled down and around the curve of the long drive and was well gone when Brian spoke again. "Let's finish this."
They both went into the house and grabbed a bag. When they opened the trunk, they removed a number of jerry cans before dropping in two small suitcases.
"You ready?" Georg asked as he opened the first can.
"You want the front or the back?"
"Back, I want to take one last look into the vineyard. Peter was right about this place. I am going to miss it."
"Who knew you were so sentimental," Jones said with a laugh as he grabbed a can of his own, walked up the steps and started soaking the floor boars of the porch with gasoline. He could already smell acrid smoke from the back of the house when he tossed a cigarette lighter onto the prepared wood.
As the drove off, the smoke was just reaching treetop level
00000
A throbbing pain behind his eyes woke Steve from a deep slumber. When he opened them, it made no difference. Wherever he was, it was a shade of black that had no name. Along with the black came a bone chilling damp and earthy odor. He heard a groan on his right.
"Mike?"
He heard another groan and assumed it meant that wherever he was, his partner was alive, and not far from him. It gave him little comfort. Steve took stock of the situation as best he could. Other than feeling hung-over, he seemed to be in one piece physically. He tried to move his hands but only got an inch or two of play before they stopped. The same was true with his legs.
"Mike? You with me?"
"I think so, but I can't see."
"Neither can I, I think it's just too dark. You know how we got here?"
"Where's here? Last thing I remember, we were getting in the car."
"I'm pretty sure we still are in the car. Can you move?"
Steve heard some rustling. "Nope, I'm trussed like a Thanksgiving turkey. You?"
"Handcuffed to the steering wheel. My legs are tied or taped, too."
"Now what?"
They both heard a groan from the backseat. "I don't think we are the only ones in here"
"Whose back there? Mike called.
"They heard another groan and then a rasping voice replied, "Talbot. Where am I?
"From what we can tell, in our LTD. Somewhere. Somewhere dark. Are you ok?"
"Other than being tied up and hung over, yeah I'm ok. Is that Stone up there?"
"Yes, Marshal and Keller's here, too. Do you have any idea what's going on?"
"Not much, only that Jones is involved. After we ditched you at the funeral, he knocked me out with something."
"Probably Ketamine, just like us. Why did you ditch us?" Steve asked.
"It was Brian's idea. Said he wanted to hold on to the evidence for a little while longer. Probably not one of my best decisions."
"You got that right. But it does answer how they made us. Jones recognized us from when we pulled him over." Steve said. "We had a feeling he was around here. He must have been in on it from the beginning."
"I don't think from the beginning, I called him in." There was regret in the Marshal's voice.
"It's not your fault." Mike replied. "He's known the younger brother for a long time. He knew Marian, too. They all went to college together in Vienna. Marian's ex told us. When you called Jones about Miriam, you tipped them off."
"Then I did get her killed." Talbot sounded even more sorry.
"Hang on, before we assign blame or you have a pity party back there, we have a more pressing problem." Mike interjected.
Steve chimed in, "Yeah, how the hell do we get out of here?"
He heard a rustle, a rattle, and thump. A pinpoint light cut through the darkness. Mike had managed to open the glovebox. "Maybe this will help."
Mike looked out the window and then over at Steve in the minimal light. His younger partner looked a little worse for wear, but not too bad under the circumstance. He looked over the back seat and checked out Talbot as well.
"I've got some good news and some bad news." Mike began. "The good news is that nobody seems to be in too bad a shape and we can see a little now. The bad news is that not only are we tied up; I think they buried us alive."
00000
Norm sat down at the bar at the Suds and Soda. He'd spoken briefly to Eddie about Natalie and then joined his fellow officers, but he was uneasy. When Dan and Bill came in, despite the celebratory mood of the crowd, he was still nursing his first beer.
"Why the long face? You're the man of the hour, my friend." Dan said after taking the first sip of his drink.
"I don't know, I just have a really bad feeling."
"About what?" Bill asked.
"I can't put my finger on it. I think it has something to do with Morgan."
"After what that guy put you through? You're a better man them I am." Dan responded.
"No, not about him. Well, yeah about him, about the way he died. Did Bernie give you any indications about whether he thought it was suicided or murder?"
"Nothing official. Unofficially he was leaning toward murder, said the wounds didn't seem right."
"That's what I'm talking about. Whoever is behind all of this, they seem to be cleaning house, everybody involved is winding up dead."
"True, but how does that affect you?"
"Not me. Tell me, were Mike and Steve back yet when you left Bryant Street?"
"I didn't see them. Weren't they going out to San Jose to check out a farm or something?" Bill asked.
"Yeah, that is what Sekulovich told me, but that was hours ago. I don't know if they ever came back."
"They probably stopped and got a bite and then went straight home."
"Yeah, I guess that's possible, but like I said I have this feeling..."
Dan slapped a handful of change on the bar. "Here," he said. "Do me a favor and call Steve at home. Tell him to get his keister down here and then we can get this party started."
Norm picked up the change and headed for the pay phone in back of the bar by the restrooms. He dropped the change in the slot and dialed Steve's home number. After 12 rings he hung up and retrieved his change. He repeated the process, calling Mike this time with identical results. He grabbed the coins from the return and went back to the bar.
Norm looked up at the clock. I was nearly eight pm. His bad feeling had metastasized into low grade panic. He took a few dollars, laid them on the bar and turned to Bill and Dan. "Neither of them is answering their phone. I'm heading back to Bryant Street."
"Are you sure, this is your party. They probably just got hung up."
"No, I'm not sure, but they both went the distance for me last week and kept me out of jail. I need to follow up and make sure they are okay."
Dan and Bill looked at each other, parroted Norm's actions and followed him out the door.