Cold Betrayal

“I’m expecting that, one way or another, arrests will be made,” Governor Dunham went on. “At least one person—the head honcho, a guy named Richard Lowell, will be going to the slammer. Interpol made it clear to the various banking institutions involved that cooperation would be in their best interest. All the financial transactions lead directly back to Lowell’s name and no one else’s. He’s the one listed on all the accounts. He’s the one who disperses the money and writes the checks. That means that once he’s taken down, The Family’s financial underpi

Just then the cop left the shelter and returned to the patrol car he’d left parked in front of the building. A glance inside told Ali that the distressed woman and her equally upset children had been ushered through the waiting room and into the area beyond the security door. Shivering from the cold and trying to keep her teeth from chattering, Ali buzzed to be let back inside. Once inside she found the receptionist was on the phone discussing what sounded like a complicated personal issue. Ali hoped that the conversation was engrossing enough that she’d be able to continue her own without every word being overheard.

Governor Dunham was on a roll. “Human trafficking issues aside, let’s address the displaced persons part of the problem. My understanding is that this group has chosen to remain almost completely isolated from the modern world. That’s going to change in a heartbeat. How do we help these people make that difficult transition? For instance, the two women you mentioned before—Agnes and Patricia. What’s happening with them right now?”

“I’m friends with Andrea Rogers, the executive director of Irene’s Place, a domestic violence shelter here in Flagstaff. Agnes and Patricia have been fed. They’ve also taken showers and been given a change of clothing. Most likely, they’ll end up in one of the no- or low-cost housing units Irene’s has at its disposal. They’re fish out of water. They’re nervous and scared, but what scares them more than anything is that someone will force them to go back to The Family.”

“That’s not going to happen,” the governor insisted. “Do either of them have any marketable skills?”

“I doubt it,” Ali answered. “They’ve spent the last fifteen years of their lives looking after a herd of pigs. My expectation is that most of the others won’t be any better prepared for life on the outside.”

“According to the number of warrants on my desk,” Governor Dunham said, “we’re dealing with thirty-one residences in all—twenty-nine on the property and two in town. If each household consists of a husband and three or four wives, that comes to one hundred and fifty, give or take.”

“From what Patricia said, each family probably has its own contingent of Brought Back girls, too.”

“That would add sixty more,” the governor said. “How many kids?”

“Lots,” Ali said. “That’s my impression, anyway. Women are there to do the housework and bear children, the more of those the better.”

“So let’s estimate eight to ten children per household. That’s another two hundred fifty to three hundred. The drone footage reveals something that functions as a dormitory of some sort. It apparently houses young males in their teens. We got an unofficial playground count on them of forty-five to fifty. That brings us up to more than five hundred destitute individuals with no place to stay, nothing to eat, and no marketable skills, right?”

“That’s how I see it,” Ali agreed. “Some of the family units may want to stay together. Others may not. The Brought Back girls who’ve been treated as untouchables will most likely need to be handled as a whole separate category.”

“All right,” the governor agreed. “What’s the name of your friend again, the one who runs the shelter?”

Ali gave Governor Dunham Andrea’s contact information. “Do you have any idea about the number of units Andrea has available?”

“Not really,” Ali answered.

“I’ll speak to her, then,” Governor Dunham said, “but trust me. Her organization won’t be left to shoulder this load alone. My office will be assisting them and, if you agree, so will you.”

“Me? How?”

“I’d like to appoint you to serve as a special deputy in this matter,” Governor Dunham said. “By the time tonight’s raid is over, people in The Family will feel like they’ve been subjected to a military attack. They won’t be far from wrong. They’ll be traumatized and terrified.

“This is a joint task-force operation put together in a hurry to prevent another possible load of girls from being shipped out of the country. To make sure of that, an FBI SWAT team will move in from the north after dark. They’ll be bivouacked on the BLM land that lies north of The Encampment and tasked with guarding the landing strip. If an aircraft flies in, the team has been directed to allow it to land but under no circumstances are SWAT members to let it take off. That team will be coming down from Salt Lake rather than up from Phoenix. Once I’m off the phone, my deputy will be contacting the emergency response teams in nearby jurisdictions and assigning them specific targets.”

“What do you need from me?” Ali asked.

“You and I and whoever else we can round up will be there to win hearts and minds,” Virginia Dunham said. “We’ll be the rear guard, going in after the raid itself and after the cops have finished doing their jobs. Our task will be to convince the folks left behind that we mean them no harm. If you can persuade Patricia and Agnes to come along, they might be able to demonstrate to some of the women and most especially to the other Brought Back girls that we’re there to help. They’re going to need what we have to offer, but I expect we’ll have to convince them to accept it.”

Ali didn’t have to think long or hard. “If you want me as your deputy, I’m in,” she said. “Tell me where and when.”

“We’ll assemble at the Department of Public Safety headquarters in Flag at six P.M.,” Governor Dunham said. “I’m told it’s a four-hour drive from there to The Encampment. People will leave in convoys of two or three vehicles, starting at seven. If too many head up the road all at once, it’ll be far too obvious. We should all be in position before midnight; that’s when the fireworks start.”

“I’ll be there,” Ali said. “With any kind of luck, Patricia and Agnes will be there, too.”

32

Ali went back into the office. Andrea looked up at her with a tentative smile, which quickly faded. “Is something wrong?”

Ali nodded. “Yes. I just got off the phone with the governor of Arizona.” She looked at David Upton. He nodded slightly, a gesture that indicated to Ali that he already had some idea of what was coming. Ali’s problem was figuring out a way to start the conversation.

“Patricia and Agnes,” Ali said. “Have you ever heard of DNA?”

Their blank stares were answer enough. Somehow she doubted that their educations had included much in terms of biology.

“You know that your bodies are made up of cells—skin cells, blood cells, bone cells, right?”

They nodded in unison, but Ali was afraid the nods came out of their being agreeable rather than any kind of real understanding of what was being said. She continued anyway.

“Inside each of those cells are tiny bits of material that lead back through the generations to your furthest ancestors. DNA tracks back to your mothers and fathers. You share DNA traits with your brothers and sisters, cousins, aunts, and uncles. In other words, people who do what’s called DNA profiling are able to examine the family tree that is planted inside each of your cells.”