Shadows Reel (Joe Pickett #22)(79)

He attempted to flex his right hand, but it was unresponsive.

Geronimo was driving, but there was someone else in the passenger seat. A twenty-something male with spiked hair and pale white skin.

“Who’s this guy?” Nate asked. His voice was a croak.

“Well, hello,” Geronimo said cheerfully. “I’m glad you’re back with us.”

“Where are we?”

“Forty minutes out of Portland on I-5.”

“I can’t feel my arm or shoulder.”

“They pumped you up with painkillers pretty good,” Geronimo said. “You’ll definitely start feeling it when the drugs wear off.”

Nate asked, “How were you able to get me medical attention? Aren’t gunshot wounds supposed to be reported to the police?”

“In normal circumstances, yes,” Geronimo said. “But these aren’t normal circumstances, I guess. The EMTs just wanted to get you patched up and out of there. They said the rifle rounds didn’t hit anything vital, although you probably would have bled out if we hadn’t gotten you there within minutes, which we did. It was like they were working in a war zone. They even gave me morphine for when the drugs wear off.”

The man in the passenger seat said, “I could use some of those.”

“No, Randy,” Geronimo said with a dismissive laugh.

Nate turned his head toward the windshield. It had stopped raining, but fine mist hung in the air. Rivulets of water snaked up the glass. The odd high-pitched sound he heard inside the van was from wind whistling through open bullet holes in the skin of the vehicle and from the back doors.

The windshield, Nate thought.

“When did you get new glass? I thought it got blown to bits.”

“While they were patching you up, I called one of those outfits that will show up on the spot and put in a new windshield. Ain’t America great?”

Nate grunted.

“Ain’t it great, Randy?” Geronimo said to the passenger.

The man called Randy looked away.



* * *



—

    Geronimo said, “Randy and I have had quite an interesting conversation while you were back there dozing. Haven’t we, Randy?”

“Yeah.”

To Nate, Randy sounded dejected.

“Nate, meet Randy Daniels from Denver. He’s been assisting Axel all the way to the shootout in Seattle. He was with Axel in Wingville just before us and he helped him load up the arsenal.

“But Randy witnessed Axel’s true colors last night and now he’s quite disillusioned with the man. Right, Randy?”

“Fuck, yeah,” Randy spat.

“He’s on our side now,” Geronimo said. “Not all antifas are incorrigible. Right, Randy?”

“I guess.”

“Go ahead,” Geronimo said to Randy. “Tell him what you told me.”

Randy sighed. He said, “I’m just rethinking everything right now. My mind is fucked up.

“I think we’re all being turned into subjects by the big banks, big tech, and big government and their cops. They want to control us. We have no future. Day by day, they’re taking our souls and turning us into drones. I thought this was a way to get our voices heard. We’re not fucking drones. I thought maybe we had to tear everything down before we could start again.”

“I get it,” Nate said.

Geronimo’s eyes filled the rearview mirror and Nate looked up at him. “So do I,” Geronimo said. “But Axel is playing a whole different game, just like I suspected. He’s using guys like Randy. You remember my conspiracy theory?”

“Yes.”

“Well, Randy confirmed it. He overheard Axel telling his Special Forces buddy all kinds of things.

“As we speak,” Geronimo said, “the word’s out on social media that a cop in Seattle shot two Black men. Nobody knows much more than that, but folks are plenty upset. Cities are going to burn before the facts get out on what happened.”

“What did happen?” Nate asked.

“I think Axel shot the cop and then the two poor homeless guys. He planted weapons so it would look like a bad shooting to whoever first showed up at the scene. I don’t know if the cop had a body camera to show what really happened, or it was too dark, or what. But by the time they get it sorted out—if they ever do—it’ll be too late.

“This is what I was afraid of all along,” Geronimo said. “This is what I thought Axel might be up to. He was supplying more and more dangerous weapons in the caches he was leaving, knowing that young men with their blood up would likely use what they found. Axel is using his antifa ties to start a war where nobody wins and everybody loses. He stole your birds to raise money to help ingratiate himself with the antifa types like Randy here. He did it so he could whip up my more emotional brothers and sisters into a rage. He’s been working this con for a while now, and it’s all coming to a head. Go ahead, Randy, show Nate what you just found on Tristan’s phone.”

Randy turned in his seat and thrust out the phone. The screen was opened to a communications app where someone had posted a call to arms that read:


NORTH PARK

Bloc Up!

There’s Been Murder in Seattle

Gather: Midnight