AN: Now for the friends… and the gun explanation. I originally intended a minor, but important confrontation with a Canadian law officer, over Tony carrying a gun. A reviewer who, as a fire-arms expert, often comments when the rest of us write inaccuracies about weapons, reminded me that Canada, like my own country (where the private ownership of a hand gun is banned) is exceedingly strict about such things. Recalling exactly why the UK originally banned hand guns, and respecting Canada's views, I decided to not try to wangle something totally unrealistic (like SecDefs talking to each other specially for him) and the gun had to go!
Whilst I was sounding out this chapter to a friend, (who knows my liking for and almost total ignorance about First Nations people and traditions,) wondering if Tony to the rescue AGAIN sounded contrived, since that and credibility are my two worst fears in writing, she made the remark that Tony was on a 'spirit journey'. Which is why things happen to him, and he changes things for the better…
Absolutely monster chapter as I couldn't find anywhere to split it.
Tony and the Moose
chapter 3
It was more than 750 miles to Sioux Falls, where he'd earmarked a modest motel simply because it was in a place called Tea, and he wanted to tell Ducky, so he took two days to get there. Highway 2 led out along the north shore of Lake Michigan, with glimpses through the trees and then some good, long and broad views of the water, so Tony thought he could properly tick off his sixth lake. After a while he struck inland, not wanting to head any further south, not hurrying, once again just enjoying the ride.
He stopped at Rib Mountain that night, again simply because he liked the name, and found that the Wisconsin River widened out at that point, so it was a pleasant place to walk in the evening. He didn't feel any desire to throw pebbles.
In the morning, he headed down towards La Crosse, along roads where fertile farmland crammed all the flat plains between rolling hills. Looking at the satellite pictures in his motel room the previous evening, he'd thought it looked like driving through the branches of a Christmas tree. Destina rumbled happily, and Tony felt an odd frisson of excitement as he crossed the Mississippi by the many bridges over the meandering channels at French Island. Another first! Sioux falls tonight, and tomorrow, he'd head for his destination, Laramie, and the long anticipated meeting with good, but seldom seen friends.
He was maybe ten miles from Tea, with the sun just beginning to dip, when his phone buzzed against his hip-bone.
"Tony." No hi, old friend. Was there an edge to the far away voice?
"Bear! Thought it might be you. Hey, I'm on my way!"
"That's good… good… Tony, where are you?"
"Sioux Falls… be with you mid-afternoon tomorrow. Bear, what's up? What's wrong?"
"Well… Tony, can you come right now? We really need you here. Hart's gone. Kidnapped -"
Kidnapped?
"What?"
"Yes, I know, crazy…"
This was too important a conversation to have at 70mph, and Tony pulled off the highway as soon as he came to an off-ramp. 'I mean, come on, Destina, I know I wanted adventure, but I just had one...' He told himself not to be selfish, this was Hart, came to a halt, and sat clenching his jaw anxiously as he listened.
"They want me to lose a case, Tony! I can't convince them it doesn't work like that!"
"Whoa, whoa, Bear. I know that, been there."
Tony knew that in the years since they'd first met, during a re-enactment at Fort Landau, the Arapaho brothers, his friends, Hart and Bear Mackie, had taken different paths. Bear had been stung by injustices he'd seen as a boy and young man, and had taken to law. He'd become an attorney and researcher who specialised in historic cases, such as posthumous pardons for people who'd been wrongly convicted of, and sometimes killed for, crimes of which they were innocent.
He was an expert in ownership disputes, and had acquired such a reputation for accuracy in his research, and for his determination to see justice triumph even more than the law, that both First Nations people and those from the Old World came to him hoping he could prove the truth of their claims. Now the guy on the wrong side of one such claim was trying to turn the odds in his own favour.
"I can't make him understand that if I lose the case it'll be obvious I've thrown it… if I could do it to save Hart, even if it ruined my own career I would, but even if I could do it and get away with it, what'd happen when it was all over? He'd let Hart go? Sure, I mean, we know who he is, and what he did -"
Tony tried to be calming, although his own heart was racing as Bear's frantic story came tumbling out.
"He's probably depending on you both saying nothing because it would ruin your career…" yeah, not on killing you both, "OK… Look, don't worry about telling me the rest of the story, it'll keep until I get there. I'm on my way. But I was just about to find the place I'd booked for tonight. I've ridden all day - "
"I'm sorry, Tony, I wasn't thinking -"
"Hey! I'm just saying… I can't ride all night as well without a break. I'll get a meal, and an hour with my eyes shut – don't think I'll be able to sleep… Back on the road in three hours max, I'll be with you by dawn. Don't go dashing off anywhere, stay with Aleksa and the two of you keep each other calm. We'll get Hart back."
As he found the motel, checked in and then got a meal at the diner across the road, during which he made an important phone-call, Tony began by trying to calculate distance and time. He was going to have to break a speed limit or two; he was glad it was going to be dark, although that might make it difficult for the cops to see him, it wouldn't make it impossible! Looked like he was about to risk another moving traffic violation! He was right about not sleeping, and after an hour of trying to relax stretched out on the bed he'd rented for a whole night, he took to the road again.
He thought over the situation, and wondered what he'd find when he reached Laramie. Bear also taught Historical Research at the University of Wyoming there, deciding when he qualified at Ann Arbor not to return to Wind River, where he and his brother had grown up. He'd married Aleksa, the daughter of Polish immigrants. She was blonde, pretty, and smart, and now they had four month old Jasper, (conceived during a holiday in that town!) whom Tony had been looking forward to meeting.
Hart preferred the outdoor life. Unlike his brother, whose dark hair curled neatly to his collar, and who wore business suits (although he couldn't wait to shed them when he got home,) Hart's was long and straight, and he wore it scraped back in a pony tail tied with a leather thong. He'd long ago refused to consider going to university, heading out under the big sky as soon as he could escape the restrictions of high school. He'd been happy – until, quite simply, he married the wrong girl. She was Arapaho, like the brothers, but she wasn't an outdoor girl, and she wasn't content with life on the Wind River Reservation. She loved city life, and after failing to persuade Hart to move to Cheyenne, 'There's always something going on there, nothing ever happens round here...' she'd simply gone herself, leaving only a string of debts behind.
The elder brother hadn't been able to endure the sympathy of parents, friends and neighbours, so he moved down to the high plains to be closer to the brother he missed. Now he lived out at a tiny hamlet in the Medicine Bow Park, and worked for an outdoor centre, where he taught about the flora and fauna of the region, and how to camp or hike safely and live off the land. He lived alone and nursed a broken, betrayed and very bitter heart.
'He doesn't come over to see us very often,' Bear had confided in his friend a good few times, most recently when they were making arrangements for this visit. 'He seems fine when he's with us… I mean we'd never say told you so, but most of the time he makes excuses…'
"Ah… things are still the same, then?"
"I'm trying to find a way to ask him if he disapproves of what I do… or my wife… but what if he DOES? I don't really want to know..."
"Hey, I'm sure it's just that he's still hurting about Dee… I'll talk to him if I get the chance."
"Mmm...well… I don't know… Whatever – he IS looking forward to seeing you again. But he's just so different these days. I don't know how to help if I'm the problem."
Well, Tony thought as he gunned his bike down the dark highway, in order to talk to Hart, first they had to find him, and rescue him. He'd made a start; he was hoping he'd get a return call as he rode. He'd prayed that Tim wasn't still at NCIS when he'd called, it was mid-evening, but when did that ever mean they went home? They had a code – if Tim saw 'Des' in the caller ID, he'd answer with Tony's name if he was free to talk, and his own if not. The new SFA of Gibbs' team was only a few weeks into his duties, and while Tony was quite happy to be a vent or a sounding board, whichever Tim needed at the time, the mention of his name within earshot of the Boss would produce a variety of reactions, none of them nice.
"Tony! Wasn't expecting a call until the weekend. Something up?"
"You said it, McPerspicacious..."
He'd asked Tim to look up the case that Bear was about to plead in the morning, what time it would be called, the respondent's name, his cell-phone number, and location. He'd also asked for Hart's number and whereabouts, although he feared that if his kidnapper had anything about him, that phone would be switched off. If he were the guy, he thought grimly, he'd have someone else doing the dirty work, and stay well away from his victim himself. But then, he was thinking like a cop, with access (through a Tim-shaped back door) to certain resources, whilst he hoped that it wouldn't even occur to his target that such things existed, especially as Bear had – of course – been told not to go to the police, the only ones who'd have them.
He zigzagged across country, going flat out on country roads that were empty of anybody, including, he hoped, highway patrols, sticking to five miles over the limit when he used the interstate and slowing down if he saw anything remotely traffic-coppish. He clipped almost an hour off a nine-hour journey, joined the I80 that he already knew well from previous visits, and approached his destination from the east just before first light, feeling both weary and energised if that were possible.
It was designated a city, with its motels, car dealerships and ranch supply outlets, but Laramie, with its seared brown landscape, dry gulches, and not so distant hills, always gave Tony the strong impression that, at its heart, it was still a pioneer town of the High Plains. He almost looked for hitching-rails outside the inns as he passed, or now, two gunslingers facing each other at dawn in the middle of the street. He shook his head impatiently, and ran the vision down. He had reality to deal with.
Tim called, and brought reality into sharp focus.
"Hammer versus Crofton," he told Tony. "First case of the morning. Hammer is the Native American, disputing land ownership with Crofton, third generation of English origins. He's a young guy, inherited the land, and the carpentry business on it, from his grandfather. The old man bought the land fair and square from an Arapaho Elder, who wanted to return home. The land was too windy, and not enough acres to farm, and the two men came to a fair agreement. Grandpa Crofton made use of the wind to build a sawmill, and Grandpa Hammer was happy about it.
"Now Martin Hammer figures he can bully the young guy into accepting that his grandfather was cheated, and pay what he thinks is a proper price for the land. He hasn't a leg to stand on; there's plenty of proof in the research Bear's done."
"You've been busy -"
"Shush, Tony, there's more. Hammer owns a hunting shack, close to the disputed land. Not far from where Hart lives, too. Three people there right now, one with cell-phone switched on. Name of Robert Soke. Of no good character. Has a cousin likewise. He's received six calls from Hammer in the last twelve hours. What does that tell you?"
"That we know where Hart is, and that you've been up all night, and you're at NCIS. No way could you have got the three people in the shack except by satellite. Tim, does Gibbs know?"
"He grunted, said do what you have to do, and hung up in his usual way. Ten minutes later Abby arrived, she says she'll talk to you later, and five minutes after that, Fornell. We're down in the lab."
Tony heard Abby's voice in the background, calling hi, and found himself touched that she wasn't grabbing the phone from Tim. As he was trying to find the words to say thanks, another, gravelly, familiar voice came on the line.
"You've not called in the local police, DiNohtso."
"Well, hi, Tobias, no. Not saying I won't, although Bear's been told not to."
"Ack, don't they always say that."
Tony actually laughed.
"Sure… But I'm not quite at Bear's place, still riding, so we've not made a plan yet. I don't know what the local cops are like. I mean… that is, I don't mean I don't trust them – I just don't know if they'd ignore me and Bear and go in mob-handed -"
"So you're going to do this on your own? You're not even carryin'."
"Tobias, I don't know what I'm goin' to do until I get there."
"Figured so. You guys always did make it up as you went along. I reckon that's why Gibbs called me."
"Yeah…" Tony said wonderingly. "Who'd've thought it?"
"Look, DiNohtso… he's right. If you act outside the law, you're the ones in trouble. I can step in before you do that. You keep us updated, that's regularly, and I'll fix it with the local guys not to go in until we call them. And I'm trusting you to know when that is."
Tony shook his head, as he switched his engine off and coasted up the road towards Bear's pleasant single storey house on the north edge of town. "So, you guys are going to sit in the lab and do fix-it things until this is all over?"
It was Abby who answered. "Of course we are, Tony. You just tell us what you need. We miss you..."
"I miss you, Abs. You guys… Thanks don't begin to – ah, I'll owe you for this forever… Hey, I'm here… I'll call you back, very soon. I promise."
"Thank us when you've got Hart back. Bye!"
He huffed a long sigh. He couldn't believe – yeah, he could, that Gibbs had involved Tobias. A senior Fed would be listened to way more than a retired one, or a young one like McGee for that matter; Gibbs was right, and it was good of Fornell to turn out for him. He allowed himself a sad little thought that Gibbs staying himself would have been even better, then pushed it aside as he came to a halt. Bear and Aleksa were already running out to meet him.
There was more frantic urgency than the usual love of old friends in the group hug that greeted him; then it was a tumble of words. Amongst the 'thanks', 'made good time', 'coffee', 'Jasper's asleep', 'come on inside', one word stood out.
'Proof'.
"I never even considered you might need it," Tony told them as they went into the house.
"Martin said it'd only be our word against his and his friends," Bear said furiously. "But it won't be..."
He'd come up to Bear at the courthouse the previous afternoon, and smilingly told him to lose the case. When the lawyer had reacted with the expected outrage, Hammer had asked him when he last heard from his brother. Bear had tried to call Hart, without success – and then Hammer had pulled the older Mackie's leather hair thong from his pocket. 'Lose the case, or he'll be found floating in Lake Hattie," he said cheerfully, and walked away.
"My first instinct was to go after him and beat it out of him, where my brother was," Bear said harshly, as they sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee. "But there were lots of people around, and I thought it could be what he wanted. The case would sure have failed if the attorney for the respondent had gotten himself on an assault charge!"
Tony looked at his friends soberly. Both husband and wife sat in almost identical poses, hands curled round coffee mugs, shoulders hunched in tension. "So," he asked gently, "the proof?"
Bear smiled for the first time – a grim, triumphant snarl. "We were standing right under the security camera." His laptop was in front of him, and he turned it towards Tony.
Aleksa said, "Bear got a copy from the guard's office. He didn't tell me exactly what Hammer was saying, but I could make out quite a bit. See what you think."
Tony had the same reaction as he watched – the facial expression was clearly threatening, and both 'lose the case' and 'your brother' were pretty clear. Tony's phone was already in his hand.
"Tim. Sending you a video right away." The phone was jammed under his ear as he typed urgently. "Ask Abby to lip-read?"
"On it. Fill us in while we're waiting..."
A minute later, Bear was astonished to hear Martin Hammer's words, and his own, accurately repeated. "You're something else, Abby"
"We aim to please. Go get your brother back; we'll hold the fort here."
"Get your brother back," Aleksa said wildly. "We don't even know where to start!"
"Oh, I was coming to that," Tony said airily. "We know where he is." He was shrugging out of his leathers as he spoke, which saved him from a throttling by both Mackies. "Come on," he said reasonably, "when have I had the time to tell you? Have you guys still got the Ram?"
Bear nodded blankly, as Tony pulled regular boots out of his back-pack, and put them on. "We go now, while we've still got half light on our side, one truck with guys in is much the same as another if anyone's looking; we want this wrapped up before 9am, so I can come back and meet Jasper, and you can go and close that case. Not that it'll matter to the plaintiff, he'll be under arrest by then."
By the time he and Bear were dressed for a mountain hike, he'd explained, and both Bear and his wife were looking more hopeful. As the young Arapaho was backing the Dodge out of the garage, there was a plaintive cry from inside the house. Aleksa gave them both a short hug and a long look, and went back indoors, to attend to baby Jasper.
As Bear drove fast out towards Medicine bow, Tony fiddled with the ear jack and mike he'd removed from his helmet, and reconnected it to his phone. "Hey, McBackup, do we still have the satellite link?"
"We'll get it back in about ten minutes. Nothing had changed when we lost it – two men moving around, one sitting down, not moving. Hart's probably tied up. I'll tell you if there's anything different as soon as we know. You're about ten miles out. Tony… you're not armed, are you?"
"No… and I know they might be. Don't worry. Just let me know when we reach the bottom of the trail. How far do we have to hike?"
"Less than a mile – all uphill though. Hope you've been working out..." The attempt at levity didn't last long. "Be careful… I wish I could be with you."
"Like old times..." He was surprised at just how intense the wave of angst at missing his friend felt.
Bear said quietly, "Tough without the people you care about, isn't it?"
"Oh, yeah. And I did it deliberately, too… What about you and Hart? Is he still keeping his distance?"
"Yeah," Bear sighed. "It doesn't seem like he hates me or anything; I mean, he isn't angry or distant when we do get together… we just don't get together as long as he can avoid it."
Tony thought of Aleksa's fierce, speaking look at her husband before she went back into the house; for some reason he thought of another pretty blonde girl, and how Jimmy was, sure as eggs is boiled, heading for the happy state of matrimony…
"Maybe he envies you." He said it as soon as he thought it, and wondered if it was just the most stupid thing he'd ever come out with, fuelled as it was, deep down, by some strange envy of his own. And even if, in spite of that he felt he could be onto something, he had no business putting such ideas in Bear's head.
His friend sighed again, but didn't say anything for a few moments. Finally, he nodded. "Hell… I hope not… I mean, what can I do about it? I wouldn't trade my wife and child for anything in this world… does that mean I'm heading for losing my brother? I can't…" He passed his hand across his eyes, and then remembered he was driving.
"Let's get him back first, worry about it later." They went over their rudimentary plan one more time, somewhat despondently, and fell silent until Tony's earpiece sprang into life again.
"Five hundred yards ahead, on the right. Small patch of ground where you can park up. There's a post marking the beginning of the trail."
"How d'you know?"
"Google Earth, of course. Abby's got the satellite back, no change. The seated guy was allowed to stand up and go somewhere else – smallest room, we think! Now he's sat down again." Tony relayed the information to his friend, who pulled the truck over quietly.
"I'm tracking your cells, both of you. Fornell wants to know shall he send in the cavalry yet?"
"We are the cavalry. Give us ten minutes, huh?"
They walked uphill in absolute silence until the shape of the shack formed in the pale half light, standing in a clearing, at exactly the same moment that Tim told them they were there. They crept towards the building, and voices became audible as they got close.
"… keep telling you, this was so badly thought out. The only thing you can safely do is let me go, and disappear back to Wind River." That was Hart.
"And I keep telling you, your brother's going to throw that case, and you won't be able to say anything or he'll end up in jail. Perverting the course of justice, right?"
A third voice laughed scornfully. "Or maybe Hammer'll just tell us to chuck you in the lake."
"You'd commit murder? For the likes of Martin Hammer?"
There seemed to be a low voiced argument between the men the listeners outside assumed were the unlovely Soke cousins, one for getting the hell out, and the other for silencing their captive first. Hart's raised voice stopped them both.
"My brother won't lose the case."
"He'd better if he wants to save you!"
"We've had this conversation before. Several times tonight. You don't know my brother. He's a brave. He's one of the best guys you'll ever meet. He's too honest to do what Hammer wants, and he won't let anything happen to me. He'll find a way to fix both." The next thing Hart said was almost to himself, and Bear, standing outside in the pale light, had to clamp his hand over his mouth to stop himself from crying out. "And when he does, I ought to start treating him a bit better."
Bear looked at Tony, wide eyed, and the older man thought it was time to act before his friend lost it. He held up a stern warning hand, and then swept his arm round in a circle. Bear nodded, and took a deep breath. The former fed stood behind the shack door, as the attorney – what a team! - spotted a length of chain on the ground. He picked it up silently, and threw it hard against the wrecked pick-up truck that stood close by. The noise was as loud and satisfying as he'd hoped, and a moment later, a figure came barrelling through the door. Another moment, and the Soke cousin, Tony really didn't care which one, was neck-chopped down, and wouldn't be doing much for a while. One down.
A wary voice came from inside the scruffy shack. "Bobby? What ya doin'? Bobby?"
Tony peered into the room, saw another figure coming towards the door; no gun. Good. He stepped inside, and Hart's eyes widened. Then he grinned broadly. "Hey, Tony! Forest Brother!"
Tony grinned back at him, then at the other man. "Bobby's sleeping. Step away from my friend."
The Soke cousin drew a knife, and headed towards the bound man, but he never got there. A blur of brown jacket hurtled past Tony, growling, and pinned the man to the wall. Tony grabbed the hand with the knife as it flailed wildly, and twisted it hard until the blade fell and impaled itself in the floor. "Wow," he said admiringly, "you really are a bear!"
He twisted the arm he held, until it had the desired effect of spinning the man round; Tony propelled him towards the only other chair in the room and shoved him into it. "Sit there and shut up."
Bear had already pulled the knife from the floor and used it to cut the zip-ties that pinioned his brother's arms, and as Tony glanced back at them, they were hugging like a couple of grizzlies. "Hey, you two, first things first!"
Hart looked at his former captor. "Told you!"
They found a bundle of zip ties, and pinned the guy to his chair, hauled his groaning, mostly out of it cousin to the chair that had held Hart Mackie, and did the same for him, then looked around at each other and burst out laughing, until Tony's ear-jack came to life again.
"Hey! Everyone OK? We watched on the sat… you done?"
"Yeah, we're done, Tim. Thanks -"
Hart went all big brother. "You should call Aleksa," he said sternly. "She'll be worrying." There was no question in his mind of Bear not having told his wife what he was up to. Bear smiled, and pulled out his phone.
Tim spoke again in Tony's ear. "Vehicle stopped next to yours. Person with Martin Hammer's cell-phone ID heading up the trail. The cops are a couple of minutes behind."
"Thanks, Tim… I owe the three of you."
"Yeah, yeah, we'll sort it sometime. Abby says she's joining in next time we skype. Fornell says you owe him an Italian meal. Signing off now!" The line went dead.
"It's not quite over," Tony said. "Hey!" to the conscious Soke. "Does Hammer carry a gun?"
The man shook his head, but they weren't taking any chances. "Not a sound, you hear?"
They stood inside the doorway, silently waiting, until a smiling, whistling Martin Hammer came up the trail. No gun visible. Good.
He stepped into the room, and stood stock still, jaw dropping with shock. "Hi, Martin," the two Mackies chorused together. Hammer turned and fled – into the arms of two LEOs emerging from the trail into the clearing.
"Now it's over," Tony said. Hart draped an arm round his shoulders and hugged him, then turned to Bear.
"Hey…" he said awkwardly. "I've got things I need to say, Bro."
Phew… done. Next chapter will be a week or so, as I'm taking a wee holiday in Ducky country.
