Because he knew Arnie would never let him hear the end of it, Joe had called him, and the man had been only too eager to leave the overly solicitous care of his wife. When everyone was finally seated, Joe said, “I think the easiest way to bring everyone up to date is to let individuals discuss their part of the case. Then we’ll talk about the newest developments.” He turned to Honani. “John, do you want to begin?”

“We’ve had an informant in the Contreres cartel feeding us information on their expansions of super-labs,” the man began. “They took advantage of the States’ new controls on ingredients for homemade meth by cranking up the production of the purer, more lethal crystal ice we’ve seen flooding the country. Joe and Arnie were investigating an influx of the drug here, and because we had reason to believe some of the Contreres supply was ending up in these parts, we decided to coordinate our efforts.”

Joe’s mind drifted as each task member briefly relayed their role in the investigation and information on the case. Surveillance on Graywolf hadn’t yielded a thing so far, and Joe was beginning to question whether he was attributing the kid with too large a part in this deal. They could ill-afford to waste resources. It took a lot of manpower to watch him round the clock, with officers on foot and in cars. So far they’d established his routine of going to work in the headquarters of his father’s construction firm somewhere close to noon, and leaving again around five. Nice hours if one could get them. From there he visited with friends, all of whom were being checked out, or went back to the family home, located on one of the largest privately owned pieces of property on Navajo Nation lands.

The Graywolfs enjoyed a standard of living unrivaled on the reservation, which probably accounted for the kid’s spoiled manner. Riches in their culture weren’t traditionally attributed to money or material goods but measured in family and connection to their past. That had been one of Charley’s teachings that Joe had taken to heart, much to Heather’s dismay. Toward the end of their marriage all she’d talked about was the promise of better opportunities off the reservation.

His attention snapped back to the conversation at hand, as Dawson was winding down. Joe gave a succinct description of his efforts and the events in the last several days, ending with the notebook pages he’d perused in Niyol Lee’s bedroom.

There was a moment of silence as the members digested the information. “And the last date in his book…when was that again?”

“Two days from now,” Joe answered. “The other dates seemed to be correlated within a day or two of a deposit in his savings account. It’s not a stretch to believe that Lee is getting paid well for providing a service, and he has dual citizenship, allowing him to move freely between here and Mexico.”

Rising, he passed out copies of the composite sketch of the man.

“If your witness can make a positive ID of Lee as the guy who shot at her, we’ve got enough to go in and search Lee’s parents’ home. Seize the bankbook, notebook and anything you might have missed.” Tarken rubbed his jaw, dark with five o’clock shadow.

“Maria Lee would probably give it to us without one,” Joe said, ignoring the obvious slur on his abilities. “But why tip off Niyol more than we already have? Right now he doesn’t realize we know something is going down, so there’s no reason for them to change their plans. It seems more productive for us to figure out where it’s going to happen, or at least where they’ll be bringing the illegals so we can nail them then.”

“There are thousands of places on the reservation that would hide a vanload of aliens and several hundred kilos of meth.” This from Manny. “With the slot canyons, cliff dwellings and caves in the area, we could search for months trying to find where they moved their operation.”

“I think we can rule out any public area,” Arnie put in. “Too risky. The area has to be remote, yet vehicles have to be able to get in and out. Somewhat close to a road, because a van, even four-wheel drive, isn’t going to do cross-country for long stretches.”

Joe glanced at the man approvingly. Even with his absence in the last few days, they remained on the same wavelength. “Exactly. Last time they had it all planned out. Accessed an isolated spot where they could have some privacy. A perfect system, actually, because they made sure they weren’t going to get sheepherders wandering through there with their flocks, either. It’s too soon for them to have arranged another place like that, so they had to move quickly, maybe to an area not so perfect.”

“Or they may just cancel this run until they find someplace perfect.”

Joe looked at Tarken curiously. He seemed more truculent than helpful, and Mitchell, in his presence, didn’t speak up much. “You’re forgetting the guy we saw leaving on the ATV. He had it piled with parcels, which makes sense if the van was full of people. They were moving shop not cutting and running.”

Delmer Mitchell finally spoke up. “I thought I read about lots of abandoned mines on these lands. What about one of them?”

“Most are on public lands,” Joe said slowly, considering the idea. “And a lot were sealed off in recent years, when government funding was used for the reclamation act.”

“But not all of them,” Arnie mused. “And I think they focused on the abandoned uranium mines, because they presented the biggest risk. It’s worth checking into.”

“I still say it’s a needle in a haystack,” Tarken said flatly. “We can’t waste federal resources putting together a sting on a possible coyote run unless we have better intelligence than this.” There was agreement in the expressions of the other federal agents, with the exception of Honani, who remained impassive. “Get us something more concrete. All of us should go back to pulling on the threads we’ve been working. Maybe something will shake loose.”

As if his remark had signaled an end to the meeting, the men began to push away from the table and stand. Dawson came over as the agents were filing out of the room. “Lopez and I can at least put out bulletins for officers to watch for that van on the date you mentioned. It’s a long shot, but someone might spot it. And we can show copies of that composite around, too.”

Joe thanked him politely and the Border Patrol agent followed the others out the door. But the man had been right. It was a long shot, and from all accounts, Lee, if he was the driver of the van, had a long and successful career outwitting the officers dotting the States’ southern border.

“So what now?” Arnie asked when the room was once again empty. “I still think that mine idea has merit. Maybe we should focus on that.”

“With only two days to work with, we need to narrow the search. A place close to here,” Joe murmured, his mind racing. “A place that might not be a permanent site, but where they have reason to believe they’d be safe.”

“A mine that hasn’t been reclaimed in a really remote part of the reservation,” Arnie said doggedly. “Say, within a seventy-mile radius of the last spot.”

“Or a place where few people could travel freely,” Joe mused. “Like private property.”

The other man got up and went to the coffeemaker, picked up the carafe and shook the miniscule remaining amount in disgust. “They wouldn’t have time to arrange another lease so quickly.” He replaced the container on the coffeemaker and came back to the table.

“But what if one of them had property they could use? Just until something else gets obtained.” A glimmer of an idea was taking hold. “Who has access to more property than a third of the tribe combined?”

“Graywolf?” Arnie sank into a chair. “Well, his family has property. And the construction company would have a lot of sites that could be possible areas, too.”

Joe shook his head. “Too much traffic in and out of a construction site. No, if it were me, I’d pick a place I knew. One I could be pretty sure would be left alone. And even better if I knew no one could get to it without trespassing.”