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  “Ah, Clark, you finally arrived,” the man sitting behind the desk said. “Come in, come in, there’s a lot to discuss.”

  “Agent Gibson,” Clark wanted to show that she had authority in the situation. “I was assigned the case and was told that you would be a great help to me.”

  “Correct. We need to solve this case urgently, and working together we are going to get that done.” He gave her a brief smile that transformed the worried look on his face and made him look approachable and friendly. “Smith and Holliday were onto something and we need to find out what that was which will lead us to them.” She nodded and agreed.

  “I’ll be needing the reports you have from the case they were working on,” Asa told him. “I’ve gone through everything my boss had, but you’ll have more detail here.” Gibson nodded.

  “We have the reports waiting for you and a desk to use as your own. Once you’ve had a chance to look at them, we can talk about how to make a start.”

  “Thanks,” Clark answered, and Gibson stood up and opened the door to show her to her new workspace.

  A desk had been assigned to her for her time in Montana, and the secretary brought in the reports. She then showed her around the small office and pointed out the coffee machine.

  The sooner she could get down to solving this case, the better, Asa thought. It was clear that the two missing agents were in trouble, and she hoped they would be found alive. Privately, she thought it unlikely, and the look on Gibson’s face told her that he probably felt the same way. There was no time to lose as she gratefully got some coffee and set out to scan through the reports.

  Chapter 4

  Asa spent the rest of the day reviewing the paperwork generated by the two missing agents. As she worked, details began to immerge. Slowly, she began to understand their case. Smith and Holliday had been investigating the possible existence of a criminal drug organization working in western Montana with ties to the Mexican drug cartels.

  They had conducted many interviews around the region, just old fashioned footwork, but they had used technology and scoured the internet for clues as well. They had recorded it all and she soon enough she started to see a pattern.

  “Shit,” Agent Clark said, quietly to herself.

  She went through the files until the words were ingrained in her mind. It wasn’t obvious at first. The accidents seemed random, a series of unfortunate events in rural Montana, which had more cattle than people. Each of the events were noted by the agents and categorized by date and geographical position.

  Smith and Holliday had red flagged a few small towns and ranches in the area after finding some minor connections. Clark surmised that it had probably been more gut feeling on the part of the agents than actual evidence. They had made several trips around western Montana, doing research and asking questions. However, after months of work they still had nothing solid.

  The lack of hard evidence and no obvious pattern to the incidents, effectively threw the local police off the scent. There was just enough suspicion that the FBI took over the investigation. They acted carefully, never letting people know that they were interested in the case. Whoever was behind the terrorist acts wouldn’t expect anyone to be looking into the case after the police had given up. Asa Clark intended to keep it that way.

  The secretary, Ann Shrump, had tried to help Asa with the files and was happy to let her know what she had picked up from the missing agents.

  “Here we have a list of small fires started near local buildings,” Shrump told her. “All the fires have passed as accidents, except for the fact that there is a distinct pattern.” She went on.

  “Tom, erm, I mean Agent Smith, thought that each criminal involved had their own job, like their own area of expertise. He suspected the same person had started all the fires, and likewise, another who dealt with the cars. He even thought it was a different person who was doing the shooting at those in the area.”

  “Yeah, that sounds logical,” Asa agreed. “But, how do we find these people? They seem to be all over the county.”

  “Someone around here has to have an idea of what is going on,” Ann added, pointing at the notes on the table.

  “I bet Agent Smith thought so too,” Asa agreed.

  Ann left shortly after that, leaving Asa alone to deal with the reports. She stretched her arms slowly upwards and sighed in relief as her body seemed to relax. Her legs were hurting from sitting in the same position for so long, but Asa was ready to stay the whole night if needed. She had already found a hotel nearby and made a reservation. Her luggage was waiting for her by the front desk and Ann had assured her that the hotel was only a short walk from the office. Kalispell was a small and compact town.

  Around four in the afternoon, Asa decided to take a break and went to her hotel to check in, grab a shower and get something to eat. The day had been filled with too many surprises and unanswered questions for her taste. Even away from the FBI office, she couldn’t stop thinking about the case, looking for somewhere to start her investigation and unravel the clues.

  With her luggage in her room and now changed into something more comfortable, Asa couldn't face wearing her usual suit after she had spent the whole day on the plane and in the office. The office building was only a few blocks away, so she decided to walk back. It felt good to stretch her legs and get some fresh air.

  She was greeted by the same lady behind the front desk, who was surprised to see her back so soon and recommended she get some rest. Asa smiled at her genuine concern, but assured her that she was okay and that there was work to get started on.

  Nearly everyone in the office had left by that point, except Gibson and herself. Within ten minutes of reading through the files again, Asa realized that there was nothing more to be learned from them. Someone cleared their throat behind her and Asa jerked her head up. Gibson was walking in her direction, pulling on his jacket and looking ready to go home.

  “Isn’t it time to wrap it up for the day?” Gibson asked her.

  “Yes, you're probably right,” Asa agreed. “Did you know that most of the information in these files was collected without sourcing? There are no names attached to each quote. It’s confusing and hard to follow up.”

  “That’s how small towns work,” Gibson replied. “People are always in each other’s pockets. You run the risk of everyone ganging up on you if you say the wrong thing to the wrong person. Smith and Holliday knew that.”

  “Ah yes. It means that we will have to start the investigation all over again,” Asa said, but she thought it was still sloppy work and it niggled at her.

  After retracing all the data, Clark was convinced that the case wasn’t going to be as simple as it had seemed to her at the beginning.

  “Come on, let’s go get something to eat. We can talk things over and get a good start in the morning,” Gibson offered, as a way to introduce her to the town. “I know the perfect place.”

  Chapter 5

  The country bar and grill was nearly filled with customers, all locals from the looks of it. Gibson seemed to be known to everyone and the two of them had to stop at more than one table to answer questions and greet people. Asa saw one of the perks of the small town, and smiled at the way people welcomed her. They simply allowed folks to assume they were just friends. It seemed the logical thing to do, and it was surprising what people talked about when they were relaxed.

  The bar seemed like a fun place for the local people, and the two FBI agents chose a table at the back, away from the big crowd. The bar was divided into two sections – one child-friendly, and another for adults, where they could drink and have some fun. Everything was innocent enough and Asa examined the menu with interest, choosing a steak and baked potato. The two of them ate in comfortable silence, until their hunger was subdued.

  “You're probably wondering about the town and the people, huh?” Gibson started. “This is rural country with ranchers and farmers who keep our feet on the ground.
Most of the people here work on the ranches in the outer area and keep to themselves. Ironically.” He laughed, and explained, “This is the kind of town where everybody knows everybody, but they all mind their own business.”

  “I noticed,” Asa commented. “You seem to have a lot of friends in here.”

  “Yeah, I wouldn’t call them friends, mostly acquaintances. But, you're right, it is difficult to stay hidden.”

  “I can’t say that I know the people here, but I am somewhat familiar with the area,” Asa commented. “My mother, she's from the Salish Flathead Reservation,” she added.

  “Really, then you’re practically family. In that case, you should definitely call me Todd.” Laughing, he went on, “I used to spend a lot of time in the Salish reserve, and I have a lot of friends there.”

  “My mother was Salish, and taught me a lot about the Native American way of life. I suppose the Deputy Director sent me here because of my connection to the area.”

  “I’m sure that it will help you, especially once you start interrogating people and driving around the country.” Todd smiled. “Look at him, for example,” he said, and nodded towards a man who sat two tables away from them eating a plate full of ribs. “He is typical Montana, and you are very safe around people like him.”

  “You can’t tell by looking at people, though. A normal front can hide a lot of trouble,” she retorted. “I’ve learned long ago not to take folks at face value,” she looked around the room, thinking.

  “Tell me, Todd,” Asa suddenly changed the subject. “Do you think Smith and Holliday are already dead?”

  Her serious tone brought the situation into sharp focus, and he looked up at her, taking his time and drinking from his glass before answering.

  “Yes… I do. I wish I didn’t, but I do,” he said in the same serious tone of voice. “I already searched the area for them twice, and although there is still a chance we’ll find them alive, I doubt it. There have been similar cases in the area, not with agents, but with a cop, a bank manager and even a local ranch hand. The three of them disappeared and were never found.”

  “All three of them together?” Asa asked him, very interested in the information.

  “No. But now I’m not so sure that their cases are unrelated after all,” Todd said, looking grim.

  Asa nodded her head in agreement. For a long minute, she thought about his words, and she also thought about how she was feeling after reading the files. She looked back at the man he had pointed out and watched him eating in silence, completely ignoring the other people in the bar.

  Asa wondered if she was going to become like him after a few years… alone. She just might if she continued to say no to all the men who expressed interest in her, then she wondered why that particular thought had suddenly entered her mind.

  “Okay, enough with the gloomy thoughts. What do you do for fun in the big city, Agent Clark?” Todd suddenly asked.

  Asa laughed at his comment. “Call me Asa, please. Well, what can I say? I like live music, dancing, going on hikes, the usual stuff.”

  “Okay then, what do you say we move over to the bar.” Todd stood up after leaving a few banknotes on the table and finishing his beer. “There’s a pretty good local band starting up on the stage pretty soon.”

  Asa laughed and agreed. The man wasn’t as bad as she had originally thought. Todd Gibson was acting like an old friend right now, which helped her relax and enjoy herself a bit. They walked together to the bar and sat at the only two seats available. Sitting back and enjoying the music as it played, she discovered they had similar taste in music and a few other things. Asa decided to take the evening for what it was, relax a bit, and start work seriously the next morning. Although, she was getting a feel for the local people anyway, and having a pleasant time to boot.

  They were about to call it a day when an argument broke out across the bar. A big man was objecting to being told to settle down and go home, and he was starting to break up the glassware. Some customers ran for cover and others tried to help the bar workers escort the man outside. It turned very rapidly into a bar brawl and Todd Gibson reluctantly stood up to go help. Asa realized she would have to back him up, and between them they managed to subdue the very large and drunken customer. But on the way to the door, he suddenly wrenched himself free, grabbed a bottle and smashed it over Todd’s head who sank to the floor.

  Asa slammed the man’s arm up his back and booted him out the door where he crashed onto the sidewalk.

  “Get the local police to pick him up,” she told the barman, and rushed back to help Gibson to his feet. He was a bit groggy but in one piece, and after sitting on a chair for a few minutes he insisted he was fine to go home and wouldn’t need an ambulance.

  Asa tried not to offer to help him walk and just made sure he was steady on his feet. He made for his car and she took over.

  “I’ll drive you home,” she declared, and insisted in such a way that he didn’t object. He gave in gracefully and handed over the keys. He complained about feeling like such a fool, but she drove where he directed and told him that anyone would go down with a crash on the head like that one.

  His house was not large but turned out to be clean and tidy. She took in the general feel of the place, noted there were no womanly touches, refused a late-night coffee and suggested he take something for the headache he was bound to have.

  “Your head will hurt after that blow, but at least it’s not bleeding,” She knew it was a very short walk to the hotel, so she told him they would start work on the case in the morning and left him on the sofa with a glass of water and the tablets in his hand. She was beginning to like Todd Gibson and thought that maybe they would be able to work as a team to solve the case after all.

  Chapter 6

  The next morning, Todd woke up on the sofa feeling sore. His first movements felt like knives going through his head, but after he managed to drag himself to the bathroom, take a piss, and drink some water, he started feeling like a human being again.

  “Shit, shit, shit…” he continued to repeat throughout the whole procedure, and was thinking of Asa and the case. He felt that he had not looked so good the night before.

  A hot shower cleared his mind and he realized he needed to be at work in less than an hour. He hurried to get dressed and finally stepped outside the house. His car was parked in front of the house instead of in the garage, where he usually kept it. His walk to the office was a short one.

  Before heading to the office, Todd stopped at his favorite cafe and bought a coffee and a dozen pastries for the office, something he would not even dream about any other day of the week, but today was special. You can learn a lot from a local cafe, Todd thought to himself, as he left carrying the pastries and coffee. He had even gone to the trouble of passing the time of day with the girl behind the counter as he waited for his order.

  Agent Todd Gibson was fifty-four years old, five foot and eight inches tall and a bit larger in the waist than he would have liked. He liked his profession and tried hard to look the part, dressing in good quality suits and caring for his appearance. After graduating from the FBI Academy, he had been transferred from one office to the other for a number of years. Five years ago, he was assigned to the Kalispell Office and with that, had finally found his place in the world.

  Gibson really liked the quiet, rural way of life in Montana and didn’t miss the faster pace of the big cities at all. But lately, he was feeling tired and that made him look forward to retirement.

  For him it had been always important to have a good job, to be respected and preferably to be in a position of some authority. With the arrival of Asa Clark in his office, Todd’s job was to ensure she had the tools she needed to work the case.

  As Todd Gibson entered the office, he took a file from his secretary, raised his hand at another agent and went into his office.

  Agent Asa Clark was knocking on his office door before he had time to sit down behin
d his desk.

  “How’s the head?” she asked, and when he looked fine she went right on, saying, “The police just informed us that they found a vehicle nearby, in the Kootenai National Forest. It's Smith and Holliday’s car, and they have it at the impound lot.”

  “Shit,” Gibson cursed soundly. “That is bad news.”

  “Yeah, it’s looking pretty bad for them,” Clark agreed. “I’m headed out to go examine the car, are you coming?”

  “Yes, let’s go,” Todd said, quickly getting up from his chair and reaching for his jacket.

  He grabbed a car from the FBI pool and drove Clark to the impound lot. The police had found the dumped car the previous day, but it hadn’t been identified until that morning. There was no sign of the two FBI agents, but Asa hoped to find some leads in the car.

  The car showed no signs of an accident or of something violent happening inside. That was both good and bad news for them, but the agents didn’t make any assumptions and just started to work. Asa put on a pair of gloves and started her examination of the car. She worked methodically, taking prints of the tire treads, lifting fingerprints from various locations inside the car, and taking fabric samples and hairs from the seats.

  She had experience with forensics and knew which key details to examine. There was no saying what a car could tell you if you knew where to look for it. Unfortunately, there was no paper trail, identification or any other documents that could connect the car to the agents. It was theirs, no doubt about that, but it seemed that they didn’t leave anything behind,

  Once the material collected was sent to the lab, Clark and Gibson took a break, standing in front of the lot and drinking cups of strong black coffee.

  “Things don’t look good,” Agent Clark stated. “The car was dumped, but not burned or hidden. Someone has taken their documents, but left behind the car documentation and numbers, so it was really simple to identify it. They either didn’t care or simply… I don’t know what. Maybe whoever did it is so confident of their situation that they felt no need to destroy it completely. ”