Chapter 38: Traditional Skills, Emptying the Magazine
Wind River Valley was already sparsely populated.
And the oil company's drilling rig was even more desolate.
The convoy drove through the barren wilderness, the night sky glimmering faintly against the snow. After over an hour, the lead vehicle slowed down, and with the first light of dawn, the convoy stopped near a residential area made from repurposed shipping containers.
"Good morning,"
a security officer on a snowmobile greeted them with a smile. "How can I help you folks?"
"Do you know about the case in town?"
Chuck gave Jane a cautious look and stepped forward.
"I heard about it."
The security officer glanced around, a look of regret crossing his face. "Damn shame."
"Boss, we got a problem?"
Just then, a group of security guards, each on snowmobiles, gathered around.
"Nothing serious, just a routine check,"
the security captain said with a smile. "Right, officers?"
"What are those injuries on your faces?"
Chuck gestured for everyone to look at the cuts on the captain's and others' faces.
"Oh, these?"
the security captain laughed. "When you're patrolling the backcountry all day on snowmobiles, getting scratched by branches is part of the job. We patrol at least twice daily—gotta maintain security perimeters, you know."
"You should be wearing face protection."
The sheriff caught the security captain's territorial implications, but she also noticed the inconsistency.
Riding snowmobiles for extended periods in these icy conditions without face protection was suicide.
And if they had proper protection, how could they have gotten scratched?
The other tribal officers became alert.
No one wanted to see federal jurisdiction being challenged on their territory.
"I wanted full helmets too,"
the security captain smiled. "But management said the budget was tight. Corporate cost-cutting, Texas-style. Y'all know how it is!"
Jane couldn't help but look at Chuck.
As far as she knew, Chuck was from Texas and should understand this corporate mentality best.
"That's definitely Texas corporate thinking."
Chuck nodded: "But those wounds on your faces aren't from branches—they're from a fight."
"Who the hell are you to say that?"
A security guard's expression darkened as he confronted Chuck.
"This is Dr. Chuck Wolfe!"
Jane stepped forward and displayed her FBI badge: "He's the consultant I've retained. He has the professional expertise to assess your injuries."
"Has Matt Olson been here?"
Chuck looked directly at the security captain.
"Matt?"
The security captain smiled: "He's the boss's son. Goes wherever he pleases. If you're looking for him, I'd suggest checking his cabin. Much more comfortable than this place."
Chuck nodded to Jane.
"We need to go inside and speak with everyone now."
Jane announced.
"What the hell?"
Suddenly a tribal police officer shouted.
"What's wrong?"
The sheriff was confused.
"They're flanking us on three sides!"
The tribal officer yelled nervously.
As soon as those words were spoken, everyone drew their weapons.
"Drop your weapons!"
"Put your guns down!"
Over a dozen armed men on both sides aimed at each other, shouting commands.
Naturally, no one was stupid enough to actually lower their weapons.
The tension was palpable.
"That body camera still recording?"
Chuck ignored the threats, calmly addressing the tribal officers wearing body cameras.
As long as the video was rolling, if he didn't fire first, then when he did shoot, it would be clear self-defense.
In fact, if it weren't for Jane being FBI and the tribal police being present, he wouldn't have needed such precautions.
"Roger!"
The tribal officer kept his weapon trained on a security guard, not daring to look away.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!"
Jane shouted, weapon drawn. "I'm FBI! This is federal land under Energy Department lease! I have investigative authority! Everyone lower your weapons! Stand down! Otherwise you're looking at federal assault charges!" She then slowly holstered her own weapon. "Everyone just take it easy."
"Dylan, stand down!"
The security captain considered for a moment, then shouted to his men.
Seeing this, the sheriff also ordered her officers to lower their weapons.
The tribal officers cautiously moved out of the encirclement, then glared at the security guards with barely contained anger.
They were certain the other side had hostile intentions and would likely have eliminated them in a coordinated ambush.
At the same time, they were convinced this case was definitely connected to these bastards.
"Show us the way!"
Jane breathed a sigh of relief, approaching the security captain with firm authority.
"Yes, ma'am,"
the captain's smile returned as he turned toward the living quarters.
Both groups followed, eyeing each other warily.
Arriving at a container house in the residential area, the captain smiled and said, "This is where Matt stayed when he brought his crew here for hunting. One of his bodyguards is still bunking here. You can ask him whatever you need."
"What's his name?"
Chuck frowned.
"Sean Raybolt,"
the captain said with a smile, then called into the house, "Hey, Sean! FBI wants to ask you about that girl from town!"
"Sean Raybolt!"
Chuck's eyes narrowed, and he called past Jane, who was approaching the door.
Jane, annoyed, stepped in front of Chuck, blocking him behind her. She knocked on the door, but when there was no response, she tried the handle only to find it locked from inside.
"You sure there's someone in there?"
Jane turned to look at the security captain, who wore a strange smile. The next moment, she felt herself being violently pulled backward.
BOOM!
The container door exploded outward from a high-caliber round, and an assault rifle barrel emerged through the hole, spraying automatic fire at the tribal officers outside.
This was the signal.
The security guards quickly drew their weapons, aimed at the tribal police, and began emptying their magazines.
The tribal officers were caught completely off-guard, and within seconds, two were down—dead or wounded.
Just as the sheriff, eyes blazing with fury, tried to mount a desperate counterattack but couldn't match their firepower and fell behind cover, the situation that had momentarily favored law enforcement suddenly reversed.
Then the security guards seemed to freeze mid-action, their weapons falling silent as their bodies toppled backward, hitting the snow with heavy thuds.
Jane, who had nearly been hit by the door explosion before Chuck yanked her to safety, had just recovered and stood to draw her weapon to support the sheriff when she witnessed this scene.
"Didn't you say most people don't go for headshots?"
Jane knew it wasn't appropriate to crack jokes at a time like this, but she couldn't help commenting to Chuck, who stood there calmly firing.
Chuck didn't answer directly, just gave her a knowing look and said: "Help Sheriff Bishop with the wounded—I'm going after the runner!"
In the firefight that had just occurred, thanks to Chuck's intervention, all the security guards except for the captain who had fled fastest—including the coward who'd ambushed them from the container—had been eliminated before Chuck even emptied his magazine.
(End of chapter)
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