Relic: The Morelville Mysteries - Book 1

  I nodded for him to continue.

  “If they’re after me, I don’t want to be there. If they’re after something there, I don’t want no part of it.”

  “I see. So, you think they know about the job tonight?”

  “Think so. Dunno for sure.”

  “What do you want from me?”

  “I go… to not look suspicious, I want protection from prosecution.”

  “You do realize that if you turn evidence to avoid prosecution, you’re going to be out the job anyway and probably railroaded out of this county? Do you honestly think they won’t figure it out when they’re all sitting in jail and you aren’t?”

  He sat back in his chair abruptly and stared at me. Apparently, he hadn’t put that much thought into his request. “You just put me between a rock and a hard place!” he spat.

  “No. You put yourself there. If you’re there tonight, I’ll see what I can do.” I stood. “It was nice seeing you again but I really do need to get back on the road.”

  He stood up. “Yeah, I better get going too. Take care.” He picked up his food tray and walked the opposite direction from the way I’d come in.

  I found the restroom and availed myself of the facilities and then I headed out to my car. As I was getting in, two casually dressed men approached me. Even dressed as they were, it was obvious that they were agents. They stood out so bad compared to others in this area that I could spot them a mile away.

  The taller of the two men, addressed me; “The man you were talking with in there, how do you know him?”

  “We’re old friends. Is there something I can help you gentlemen with?”

  “Who are you?”

  “Who wants to know?” I attempted to get into my car. Slim, the taller guy, grasped the door frame.

  “Look, we know who you are. We don’t know what you’re out and about doing but we think you’re probably interfering with a federal investigation.”

  “Ah, I see. You can tell Webb that I’m sorry I never called him back. Shit happens. I’m not mixed up in his counterfeiting operation so you can tell him he doesn’t need to have his goons follow me around.”

  Shorty spoke up for the first time, “Webb? Counterfeiting?” Slim shot him a look.

  Oh ho! So, not the Secret Service! They’re ATF! I steeled my expression. “Are we done here?

  Slim looked me up and down and then let go of my door frame. “This isn’t over. We’ve got our eyes on you.”

  I smiled brightly. “Have a nice day!” I drove away slowly but inside I was seething. ATF IS NOT going to get another one of my cases!

  ###

  Tim had the subpoenas executed for Chappell farm and Delores Chappell’s personal financials at 4:59 PM, just before banks closed for business for the day. The shipment was coming a day early and we had to beat ATF to whatever punch was coming. It was go time.

  We wouldn’t be switching out observation teams. Team 2 would stay put. We didn’t want to put anyone in jeopardy during a change over and we needed eyes constantly on operations at the farm. A four man team would serve the warrant on Delores’ residence as soon as word came via radio that another larger team was descending on the unloading operation at the farm.

  I was again on pins and needles. I went into Mel’s office.

  “I guess this is it?”

  “Yeah.” I sat down in her one visitor chair.

  “You’re nervous?”

  “Yes but not for the reason that you probably think.” I’d told the team about my conversation with Buhler. Now I quickly sketched for Mel my encounter with the ATF agents. I hadn’t told the team because the only dots I could connect led me back to Buhler’s own illegal activities.

  She took a deep breath and eyed me. Finally, she spoke, “Dana, I want to be involved in the take down at the farm.”

  I thought about that for a minute. “Is this some sort of vendetta thing? Evening the score, perhaps?”

  She gave me a harder stare than just moments before. “I can’t believe you would think that. Yes, I admit, Delores, Relic – whatever you want to call her – and crew deserve their day in court and I hope they never again see the outside of a jail cell, but I’m a professional. I’m not going to be gunning for anyone.”

  “So why do you feel you need to be there?”

  “Lots of reasons: First, as a representative of local law enforcement. Second, to follow up on the counterfeiting angle. If those guys that you tangled with were ATF, then we still owe the Service at least a look and a call if things pop up in their line of interest. I’m betting you’re going to be a little busy with customs stuff…” She trailed off.

  “Go on.”

  I’d caught her out. “Um, that’s it really… except, well, I could watch your back…”

  “We’ve been over this Mel. I’m a big girl too and a federal agent. I can take care of myself and I’ll have a team of agents to watch my back, so to speak.” I made air quotes to emphasize my point.

  She bristled at that. I looked at her face and I knew I was about to give in and be powerless to stop myself. “Have you ever been on a big bust before?”

  I could tell she came to a decision. “Look, Dana, I can hold my own but, if it makes you feel any better, I can hang back and only come in once your team is in full control. I don’t need to be on the bust team, per se. I can just be an observer.”

  I leaned back. She’s giving me an out; a way to pair her need to be there with my desire to keep her safe and sound, out of harm’s way…I’m guilty of the same line of thinking that she is! “Okay, okay. You can observe but you can’t interfere until and unless we find evidence of the counterfeiting operation there.”

  “Okay”.

  She didn’t look satisfied with our compromise but it was all I was willing to give on the matter.

  Chapter 30 – Rodeo

  Dana

  Mel’s second and third shift patrol units had been briefed to watch for outside the norm activity along Route 44. I had hesitated to do the brief but the department really did seem to have no involvement in shady dealings after the murder of Sheriff Carter.

  Beginning at nightfall, Tim and I, a team leader from the Columbus office and Mel as an observer, were in a tactical van about a mile up Route 44, past the farm. We’d move in, along with other team members staged nearby, when our surveillance reported we should move. Mel would roll with the other three of us but she had agreed to stay behind in the van until the all clear sounded.

  Mel had a radio to communicate with her patrol deputies. They were under radio silence in the area unless they saw something unusual. They would report to her and then she would report directly to me.

  Sometime after 10:00 PM, a milk tanker truck rumbled up the street past our van. The driver never even glanced about. He just went on about his business. A county cruiser passed minutes later. I turned to Mel. “How often do they patrol this road?”

  “There’s no set schedule but on 2nd and 3rd shift, two deputies work a lot of the area around here. They’re both likely to pass through once in a while. It wouldn’t be unusual.”

  “I’m going to hold you to that. I don’t want this op blown because your guys go cowboy.”

  “Roger, Special Agent.”

  Her tone was harsh. My stomach was already in a knot and now I had a cranky lover come County Sheriff on my hands. Not much I can do to placate her with the two other agents here… she’s just going to have to get over herself!

  My thoughts were interrupted by a hail from the radio. Ron was calling as he did aerial surveillance. He would be up and down throughout the night.

  “Unit four, unit one. Go.”

  “Unit one, be advised vehicle that last entered compound parked near target area. Also
be advised; black, ¾ ton van moving east toward your location. Over.”

  “Roger.” I grinned inwardly. We were also in a black ¾ ton van… a well hidden one. I turned the already low radio down another notch even though I knew the van was virtually soundproof.

  “Unit four out.”

  “Were we made?” Tim asked.

  “I doubt it.”

  “Who then?”

  “Maybe their own guys looking out for the shipment or maybe a rival?” I shrugged. I really didn’t have an answer. We sat quietly for another few minutes. Ron hailed again jolting me from my “what if” swirl of thoughts.

  “Unit one, black van is taking up a covert position on the Amish farm. Over.”

  “Roger.” Interesting!

  “Unit four out.”

  I eyed Tim and the Columbus team leader, John. “Looks like we have company.” Tim pulled up a map and showed John the farm in question. Both men began radioing the field teams about the added danger.

  Mel looked at each of us. “I can move a deputy into position to block their exit if they start moving.”

  “That’s pretty risky Sheriff. We don’t know what they’d be getting into,” I told her.

  “They’re positioned closer than we are Rossi,” Tim addressed me more formally during an op. “If all hell breaks loose and they aren’t blocked, they may get up there first. We’d be walking into an ambush.”

  He’s right… what to do?

  “Well?” Mel asked.

  “Can you put a couple of patrol cruisers on standby in the nearby area? They may have to roll fast.”

  “I can put the whole force out there if you need them.”

  “Two will do. But, can you do it covertly? We don’t know what they’re monitoring now but I’d be willing to bet police radio traffic is a given.”

  Mel took out her personal cell and turned it on. After a series of calls and pass offs, the arrangements were made. When she was finished she turned the phone back off and nodded in my direction, a look of confidence on her face.

  “Thank you. When it’s time to move, you can, of course, use your radio or ours.”

  “Yeah. All bets will be off then!” was John’s response. A nervous grin was all I could muster.

  Another hour passed and then two. I checked the time… 12:41. This could go down any time… if it goes down.

  Several minutes later, a ground team began reporting separate pickup trucks and a car, all with single occupants, moving down 44 toward the farm. There was such low traffic on the road this late, I figured I could assume with near certainty that these were the hands reporting back to do the unload. Confirmation came from the two men staged with a view of the big barn with the loading dock. This will go down tonight!

  We got a quick observation report that several vehicles had entered the farm, parked in the target area and that individuals had entered the target barn. After that, the radios went silent. I was wound as tight as a spring now. Something was definitely brewing but the waiting game was grating on my nerves. I checked the time for probably the one hundredth time – 1:22 AM.

  The four of us sat staring at each other in the low light. Occasionally, I would stare at the radio, trying to will it to squawk to life. I watched as John dipped his head from side to side to stretch his neck. I rolled my own shoulders in an effort to release some of the building tension and the pain from sitting, waiting for so long.

 

  At 1:48 a field unit stationed near the turnoff for Route 44 reported a semi with the Demons owned company name on the door headed in our direction. We sprang to life.

  I turned first to Mel. “Instruct your units to roll, no lights, about a mile behind him and to block the entrance/exit out of the Amish farm.” She got on her radio and relayed the commands.

  Tim got on the tactical radio system and relayed that information to the search team, instructing them to roll forward following behind the dark Muskingum County Sheriff’s cruisers. Then, he turned radio control over to me, jumped in the driver’s seat and brought the van to life.

  I tried to hail the surveillance team. There was no response. A knot formed in the pit of my stomach. I looked at Tim. “They should be far enough out, shouldn’t they, that they can take a radio call with no one hearing them?”

  He wrinkled his brow as he thought about my question while picking his way with the van slowly out of our hiding spot. “I would think, yeah. They have been all along… Phil and Ron scouted all of that…”

  I tried again. Nothing. We looked at each other. “I’m not liking this!” I blurted out.

  Tim blew out a breath. “Maybe their radio is out. We’ll figure it out. Regardless, here we go!”

  We exited the forested area we’d been staged in and drove out onto the berm of the paved road. From our direction, there was no one around. Tim shut off the van and we waited. It would be a couple of more minutes before the semi approached the farm from the opposite direction and turned onto the compound. We didn’t want to beat it there and we didn’t want the driver of it or the unknowns watching from the Amish farm to spot us.

  I hailed Ron and asked for a report.

  “Unit one, target ETA is 2 minutes. Waving off. Over.”

  “Roger Unit 4.”

  “Out.”

  The truck was less than 2 miles from the farm and Ron was leaving the area. He didn’t want to arouse suspicion from down below him on the farm before we moved in. I worried about the two Columbus area agents already there pulling surveillance duty. Why aren’t they answering?!

  Seconds ticked by, then Mel’s deputies reported they had stopped a mile from the farm with the two search and seizure team vehicles still behind them. We needed to give the truck time to get turned and them through the property and into the loading bay. I was relying on my ground team to give me the go ahead but they appeared to be MIA.

  I tried to hail the ground team one more time. Still no response. I looked at Mel. Tell your men to roll, no lights, no sirens. I relayed the move order to my team.

  Tim fired the vans engine again and we crept forward. We crested a small hill in time to see two cruisers block the entry/exit to the Amish farm as a black van rolled down the farms dirt driveway toward them.

  I turned my attention away as two tactical vehicle loads of Customs Agents entered the Chappell Dairy Farm across the roadway from the cruisers. Tim gave the van some gas and we were soon falling in behind them.

  Most of the farm buildings were set back off the road but it would only be seconds until we were in sight of the main dairy operation. The building we needed to get to was set a little further back. I’m not normally a praying woman, but I sent up a silent prayer this night for the safety of us all.

  Mel’s radio screamed to life. “Sheriff, we have a situation.”

  No shit!

  “Identify,” was her immediate response.

  “Unit 16, Sheriff. This vehicle we’re blocking is full of ATF Agents that are in a big hurry to get on the Chappell farm, over.”

  “Mother fucking son of a bitch!” I vented. Tim and I looked at each other.

  “What the hell?” he asked.

  I raised my hands in an ‘I don’t know’ gesture.

  “What should I tell my deputy Rossi?”

  “Tell them to stand down. Fuckin’ ‘A’. Hopefully they move real slow out of the way. This is MY bust!”

  Unit 16 reported again, “Sheriff, they’re demanding that the units that entered the farm stand down.”

  “Like hell!” I yelled. “Tim keep driving!”

  “Yes ma’am!”

  “And again, what should I tell my deputy?”

  “Tell him to let them know that they’re presence here is imp
eding a federal investigation!”

  “Roger boss!” I could hear the smile in Mel’s voice when she replied to me and again when she relayed the message to her team.

  Vehicles one and two in our little line pulled in at the large barnlike structure and blocked the semi from being able to leave the loading bay. Tim pulled the van up alongside the man door. The team quickly formed up and began to storm the building when shots rang out from the field beyond. I felt an intense, searing heat in my left leg and then nothing but pain.

  “I’m hit!” I screamed as I collapsed onto the ground. I tried to crawl to a position of cover. Tim and John quickly diverted some of the team still outside the building into position to lay down suppressive fire.

  “Sheriff!” Tim yelled. “Get Rossi back in the van. She’s hurt!”

  The ATF van rolled up. Over a megaphone or some sort of PA system, I could hear someone shouting, “Cease fire, cease fire!”

  Mel appeared at my side. “Help me up and get me in that building now!” I demanded.

  “Dana, you’re bleeding,” she said to me and then called out, “someone call for an ambulance!”

  The ATF agents had dismounted and they were approaching the building.

  I gritted my teeth. “NOW MEL!”

  She looked at me for a fraction of a second and then she hauled me up and practically carried me to the door.

  My head spun as we stepped out of the darkness of the night and into a brightly lit world of controlled bedlam. The six Customs Agents that had made it inside were holding about eight men who had been preparing to unload the truck at bay with their rifles. The hands and the truck driver had been caught completely off guard.

  Some of the ATF agents from the van pushed in behind us, rifles at the ready. One stepped forward and looked at those of us closest to him. “Who thinks they’re in charge here?” he demanded.

  I looked him in the eye. “I am in charge here. Special Agent Rossi, U.S. Customs and Border Protection. And you are?”

  “ATF, Special Agent. We’ve been tracking this shipment for a long time. This is my bust.”

  I felt woozy in more ways than one. “We’ll just see about that ‘ATF!”

  The door burst open again. The two Columbus agents that had been assigned to surveillance were shoved in first by two men dressed in camouflage that I didn’t know. Several guns turned their direction. They were followed by Tim and John and then a few other men wearing all black jackets. One approached, identified himself as from the Secret Service and asked who was in charge.