Kitabı oku: «The Defender»

CHAPTER ONE

SUNLIGHT BATHED the golden eagle’s half-opened wings, making them appear to be liquid bronze. Katie Bergstrom steadied the sixteen-pound bird on her leather gauntlet, facing him into the cool mid-morning breeze. She stood on the grassy floor of a wide valley, the magnificent Teton Range nearby. The sky was a fierce cobalt blue, the sun glaring at the snowy slopes.

Katie felt Sam’s eagerness to fly, his round yellow eyes transfixed on the sky above. He loved getting out of his mew, or cage, and flying the familiar territory near the main highway leading out of Jackson Hole, Wyoming. Giving him a smile, Katie said in a conspiratorial whisper, “Just one more moment, Sam...” and spotted Donna, her foster mother, standing a quarter mile away. Her mother held up her hand, a signal for Katie to go ahead and release the raptor.

Every morning, except on days when it was raining or snowing, her educational raptor was flown. These were raptors with a medical condition that did not allow them to be set free in the wild. Golden eagles were large, and Katie could feel the weight of the bird. Her arm started to ache. His curved talons gripped the thick leather of her glove. Sam’s black pupils became pinpricks in the field of gold. He flapped his wings, opening them fully, ready to launch off her arm.

Katie didn’t know who looked forward to these flights more: her or Sam. “Okay,” she said in a quiet tone, “off you go....” and she heaved her arm and shoulder upward and forward in order to successfully launch the raptor.

Sam knew her body’s signal. He quickly unfurled his massive seven-foot wingspan. With a snap of his wings, he lifted away from her glove, piercing eyes focused on the sky above.

Katie felt instant relief from his weight. Gusts of wind created by Sam’s massive wings swirled around her head. Her shoulder-length black hair, tied into a ponytail, lifted momentarily away from her back. The wind buffeted her and her heart swelled with joy as Sam climbed into the sky. The five-year-old golden eagle made powerful sweeping motions with his wings. The sun glinted off his dark brown feathers. Remembering her love of Greek mythology, Katie saw Sam as a modern-day Icarus heading straight into the sun. Unlike the Greek youth, whose waxy wings were unable to withstand the heat of the sun, Sam’s feathers wouldn’t melt. And the eagle wouldn’t fall to earth and die, as Icarus had.

Looking across the grassy, rolling field, she saw Donna witnessing Sam’s power-climb into the near-freezing morning air. Like herself, Donna had an eagle license, a very rare certificate given to raptor rehabilitators across the U.S.A. Only falconers who had this valued license could actually fly any type of eagle found in the country. Katie waved joyfully to the forty-nine-year-old redhead who stood downrange. Donna waved back.

A thrill went through Katie. She felt the weight on her shoulders lift as Sam climbed higher and higher. Eagles were known to fly over ten thousand feet high in the wild. Sam wouldn’t do that because he knew Donna had a juicy meat morsel waiting for him on the top of her gauntlet.

A gentle sigh issued from Katie’s lips. This was her favorite morning routine: flying her raptors. Not all of them could fly, of course, because they’d been injured in one way or another. But those that could, she flew daily unless the weather hampered her efforts. Squinting against the sun, she saw Sam level off at about five thousand feet. He began to glide as he discovered invisible columns of heat rising from the green earth. Early June could bring sudden snow squalls to this part of Wyoming. The Grand Tetons made their own weather and raptors would not fly in rain or snow. They had no eyelid to close in order to protect their eyes from the harsh elements. Instead, until the weather cleared enough for them to hunt, they were earthbound.

The radio on her belt sputtered to life. It was a necessary form of communication between falconers who were often a mile or more apart when flying a raptor.

“Sam’s flying high today,” Donna said with a laugh.

Grinning, Katie pulled the radio from her belt. “Isn’t he, though? I think three days of rain and snow has left him feeling a little frustrated in his mew.”

Donna chuckled. “Oh, I agree. He might be hungry, but right now, he’s sailing and just enjoying being out in the embrace of his real mother—the sky.”

“He’s got excess testosterone to burn off, too. Grounded for three days because of rain has made him antsy to get back into the air.”

“Isn’t that the truth!” Donna said, humor in her tone. “Let me know when to put the food out on my glove.”

“I will. Out.” Katie fixed the radio back onto her belt. Sam now flew around in a huge circle at least a mile in circumference above her. His path took him across the main highway leading south into Jackson Hole and north toward Grand Teton National Park. Several cars were now parked along the major road between the town and the two national parks—Grand Teton and Yellowstone—to watch the eagle fly. A number of raptor-loving locals knew she and Donna flew the raptors inside the elk enclosure between June and August. The enclosure was fairly flat and safe. As people drove up the hill and spotted a magnificent eagle or hawk flying, they would pull over and watch them through binoculars. Right now, Katie saw three cars parked on the berm, the people standing near the ten-foot-high wire elk fence, simply watching and appreciating the raptor.

She understood their joy. Sam was the largest eagle in the United States. When he unfolded and stretched those bronze wings, all seven feet of them, it was an awe-inspiring sight. A good feeling moved through Katie. She was glad the people of Jackson Hole loved raptors, supported them through donations and came to watch them be flown.

Up above, Sam continued to fly in a one-mile circle. He wore a radio antenna placed on the quill shaft of one of his tail feathers. Should Sam get lost or not come in to be fed, Katie could use the radio to locate his whereabouts. At this distance, Katie couldn’t see the short kangaroo-leather jesses wrapped around his thick yellow legs. One never flew a raptor with long jesses trailing because they could get entangled in a tree branch and trap the raptor. Short jesses insured Sam could safely land and take off from a tree branch without breaking his leg or wing in the effort.

Glancing toward the highway, Katie noticed a dark green car pulling off and park behind the other three cars. Usually, she recognized the people who stopped because they had come to her educational seminars about raptors in town. Over time, she’d gotten to know her raptors’ supporters. But the man emerging from the green car, although half a mile away, didn’t look like someone she knew. He walked over to the fence near the other spectators. Like them, he had a pair of binoculars in hand. That wasn’t unusual at all. People who loved raptors always had a pair. It was the only way to appreciate the birds up close.

Katie looked up. Sam was wheeling above them, his circles growing a bit smaller.

“Looks like he’s got most of his steam burned off,” Donna called over the radio.

Pulling the radio to her lips, Katie said, “I think so, too. Now, he’s decided he’s hungry. When Sam starts making these smaller circles, he’s ready to come in and get fed.”

“Roger. Maybe another ten minutes?”

“Probably.” Katie watched the eagle slide upward on an updraft, his wings spread. Beneath each wing were two white patches known as stars. They looked like Xs to the observer on the ground. The Native Americans referred to the golden eagles as spotted eagles and said the white stars symbolized the Milky Way from whence they had originally come. Katie loved the myths and legends about the golden eagle. The Native Americans revered the eagle and it was often at the center of their sacred medicine ceremonies. A golden eagle was seen as the symbol of the east. In the old days, eagle feathers were believed to bring a person closer to the Great Spirit. Because it flew the highest of all birds, feathers from an eagle were closest to the Great Spirit. The feathers carried the messages back to the human who wore them.

“Okay, I’m going to get Sam’s food ready.”

“Roger that.” Katie tucked the radio into her belt, her gaze following the eagle. He was now flying lower and was purposely swinging over the highway where the people were watching him with rapt attention.

Something bothered Katie. It was a prickle of warning, the raising of hair on the back of her neck. What was she sensing? She turned toward the fence, feeling as if someone were watching her and not the eagle. All four people had binoculars. Three of them were lifted toward the sky. But the stranger who had arrived in the dark green car had his binoculars trained on her.

Katie knew people were curious about falconers, too. Perhaps it was their rather odd costume. Katie had a thick leather gauntlet fitted up to her elbow. When an eagle landed, he would dig his long, curved talons deeply into the material to halt his forward motion. The double-thick leather took the power of his grip without puncturing the falconer’s lower arm. A tan canvas satchel hung diagonally across her upper body, the pouch hanging near her right hip. In it was raw rabbit meat to reward Sam for flying back to her. Taking off her black baseball cap, Katie smoothed some strands of her hair away from her eyes. As she settled the cap back on her head, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. It made no sense, so she ignored it, focusing instead on Sam’s flight.

* * *

FBI AGENT JOE GANNON STUDIED Katie Bergstrom through his binoculars. He was glad there were three other people at the elk fence beside him. They were murmuring excitedly between themselves as the golden eagle swooped overhead. Joe was much more interested in the woman. Something odd happened to him as he continued to study Katie Bergstrom’s profile: his heart expanded in his chest. What an unexpected sensation.

Removing the binoculars, Joe wondered what the hell was going on. He touched his brown leather bomber jacket, feeling a strange emotion: happiness. How odd. Since Zoe had divorced him while he was on his second tour as a Marine Corps captain in Afghanistan, women had left a very bad taste in his mouth. Oh, he liked to look at them. And right now, Katie Bergstrom was certainly worth his attention, but that wasn’t why he’d been sent here by his boss in Washington, D.C. Rubbing his chest, Joe tried to will away the unfamiliar joy in his heart.

He hadn’t felt this lightness since well before he and Zoe had had their problems. Then his ex-wife’s lawyer had sent the divorce papers to him at his unit in Helmand Province in Afghanistan. Joe still remembered that traumatic morning mail call. Zoe hadn’t said a word about divorce in their Skype calls to one another. The topic had never been brought up for discussion. Her ending the marriage had been a total shock. He didn’t dare go through that again.

Scowling, Joe tried to shove away his divorce memories. He had a job to do here in Jackson Hole. He lifted the binoculars to his eyes and concentrated on Katie. She was definitely attractive. Standing five feet six inches tall, she was slender and all grace. Her black hair was drawn back in a ponytail, giving Joe a chance to see her clean profile. Her brow was broad, her nose reminded him of a statue of a Greek goddess. And those full lips would haunt him. Oh, he had photos of Katie, for sure, but seeing her in person made a different and far more powerful impression upon him.

Joe was stymied by his surprising emotional reaction to her. When his boss gave him her file, he’d stressed that Katie was likely part of a large drug-and-gun ring just starting to set up in this part of Wyoming. At the time, Joe had felt nothing. Seeing her in person, however, he discovered he was very much affected. Why now? Why her?

Mouth lifting, Joe figured it was because he’d sworn off women since the divorce. Zoe had married him just before he’d left for his first tour in Afghanistan, and he’d been gone a year. He’d missed her terribly. Zoe had had a tough time adjusting to becoming a military wife. There had been little Joe could do about it except listen during their conversations and tell Zoe he loved her. It hadn’t been enough.

A shout from the man standing next to him jolted Joe out of his reverie. He watched the golden eagle flying in smaller, ever-tightening circles. The two women falconers stood at least a quarter of a mile apart. Joe knew from his own ongoing falconry training in Washington, D.C., that the raptor was getting ready to come in and land. He didn’t care about the eagle landing as much as the opportunity to check out Katie. Training his gaze on her, Joe saw her smiling and talking into the radio to the woman who was likely her foster mother.

Then a warm sheet of heat moved through his heart. When Katie smiled, her whole face lit up with an incredible joy. For a moment, she turned toward him as the eagle flew low over her. His breath hitched. My God, how pretty she was! Her blue eyes, large and wide-set, shone with excitement. He understood to a degree her pure pleasure in watching the magnificent eagle fly. He’d felt the same way when Eddie, a falconer, had trained him back in D.C. There was a palpable bond between falconer and raptor. It was a living, vibrant connection and he saw it in Katie’s eyes.

His gaze dropped to her curved lips. Joe felt his heart expanding in his chest, just a quiet goodness rippling through him. Right now, he had to ignore its significance. But how to ignore Katie Bergstrom’s beautiful lips? Her face was oval and she wore no makeup. She didn’t have to, Joe thought. At twenty-six, she was clearly in athletic shape. The flash of her smile momentarily stole his breath. Joe had never witnessed such a glow of happiness on anyone’s face. “Raptor magic,” as it was called by falconers, could bring almost saint-like elation to a person’s face. Joe knew that firsthand from his own falconry training. And he was seeing it in spades on Katie’s upturned face.

Something niggled at Joe. He couldn’t forget the facts in this case. For years, the FBI had been following Janet Bergstrom, Katie’s estranged mother who had given her up at birth. Janet was working with a new Guatemalan drug-and-gun cartel trying to establish a base here in Jackson Hole. Shortly after she had abandoned her child at birth, Janet had fled to Guatemala to connect with Xavier Lobos, the cartel leader. For many years, the FBI had focused on her as a mule running drugs across the Mexican border into the U.S. Another FBI agent had finally nabbed Janet. She’d been caught with a hundred thousand dollars’ worth of cocaine in her car at a border crossing. She was convicted and spent seven years in a federal prison.

How was her daughter connected with all this? Joe wondered. He shifted his focus to the golden eagle now flying in even tighter and tighter circles above Donna Pierce’s head. Joe had done his homework before coming out here on the mission. He knew all about Katie, what she did for a living and that she’d recently moved her raptor facility onto the Elk Horn Ranch, a dude ranch owned by Iris Mason. Katie always had trouble finding people to help her at the expanded raptor-rehabilitation center. Taking care of raptors was a full-time job and Katie didn’t get paid by the state to do it. She did it out of her love for these birds of prey. While that was admirable, the FBI felt that, out of necessity, Katie was a part of Los Lobos. But they weren’t sure.

According to the latest reports, Janet Bergstrom had driven out twice to the gate leading to the Elk Horn Ranch. Satellite flyovers hadn’t found actual proof she’d met with her daughter. Now it was Joe’s job to prove Katie and her mother had met. His boss at the FBI felt Katie had gotten mixed up in her mother’s drug-running operation.

Joe found their suspicions difficult to believe. Katie had the face of an innocent. His boss had warned him many times that just because a woman had a pretty face didn’t mean she wasn’t capable of skullduggery. Still...Joe would follow his instincts and keep an open mind. His heart was another matter.

* * *

KATIE WATCHED SAM set up for a landing. Donna lifted her arm high. The golden eagle knew that when a falconer raised her glove, it was a signal for him to land and eat. Sam performed a swift ninety-degree turn, one wing pointed at the ground, the other above his head, his eyes on the prize of rabbit meat sitting on the glove. As he wheeled, he straightened out, flapping his huge wings in urgent backward motions to slow his descending speed. Legs outstretched, his talons open, he landed on Donna’s glove. Sam’s curved talons bit into the thick leather and he dipped his head. He scooped up his breakfast of rabbit with his scimitar-shaped beak. His wings continued to beat as he steadied and balanced himself on the falconer’s glove. Finally, Sam folded his wings, gobbling down more rabbit.

Katie grinned as she saw Sam land on Donna’s glove. Her foster mother had taught her everything she knew about falconry. Not only that, Donna had helped her get the rare and vaunted eagle license so she could care for wounded or injured eagles found in the Jackson Hole area. Some sheep-ranchers shot them because during lambing season, the golden eagles would steal newborn lambs. It was against the law to shoot raptors in Wyoming, but it didn’t stop a sheep-rancher from killing one of these magnificent and badly needed eagles. A sudden sadness moved through her as she remembered that Sam had been one of those eagles nearly killed by a shotgun-wielding sheepherder.

Katie walked toward Donna, recalling a year ago when Sam had been brought into her center. At the time, she’d had her mews behind her rented apartment. She’d just received her eagle license. Sam had managed to fly with fifteen shotgun pellets embedded in his left wing. A kind driver on the road had seen him wobble and land unceremoniously on the muddy berm next to the busy highway. He’d picked up the injured, bleeding eagle and taken it to a vet in town. Later, Katie had received a call from that vet. Could she take the eagle after surgery and nurse it back to health? Sam was her first eagle. And because of the cracks in the bones of his wing, he could never be released back to the wild. If he was released, the knitted bones would never stand the shocking force of striking prey. The bones would shatter and the eagle would eventually die of starvation. So Sam had become an educational bird, teaching children and adults the benefits of raptors in the environment. Katie would care for Sam for the rest of his life.

There was another reason to be sad. Her foster mother and falconry teacher would be moving away in another two weeks to take care of her own ailing mother in Idaho Falls, Idaho. Katie was losing a great friend, too. Soon, Katie would be all by herself again.

Donna had placed the long jesses around Sam’s thick yellow legs and wrapped the ends through the fingers of her glove. That way, if the eagle suddenly bolted, Donna could keep the eagle in hand.

“Hey, he made a great landing today, didn’t he?” Donna said, grazing Sam’s dark brown feathers across his wide chest.

“No kidding,” Katie said. “Better than the last time we flew him, huh?” Sometimes Sam would misjudge the speed of his descent to the falconer’s glove. Four days ago, Donna had released him and, after flying for a while, he was to land on Katie’s glove for his morning breakfast of rabbit. Sam, in his exuberance, had overshot her outstretched glove. He’d grabbed at the glove with his huge talons, lost his balance and flapped into Katie’s face. To be struck by a huge wing in forward motion could cause instant pain, not to mention injury. It was like being slapped in the face. Hard. Katie had closed her eyes, fortunately, and had turned her head away to protect her sight.

She’d stood firm and quiet, which allowed Sam to flap his wings around her face in order to regain his equilibrium. He was no worse for wear, but Katie still bore a shallow cut across her temple from the incident. She’d gone into the emergency room afterward and Dr. Jordana McPherson had put in three stitches. Jordana had assured her there would be no lasting scar. It wasn’t unusual to have scars on one’s face or upper arms from an eagle. It was just part of the business of caring for these magnificent animals. Katie was more than willing to take the risk because they gave her a sense of freedom she never felt otherwise. A cut every now and then was a price worth paying.

“You can’t even see where the doctor sewed you up,” Donna said, giving Sam a look of pride. “I think after being cooped up for three days, he had extra energy to burn off.”

Chuckling, Katie walked with Donna toward her black truck. “Yeah, he’s full of himself for sure.”

Donna held out her right arm covered with a bright red cotton sleeve. “I’ve shown you my battle scars.”

“And I hope I never get the kind you have.”

Donna had, at one time, worked with a golden eagle who was eventually returned to the wild. One day, another falconer had accidentally left the cage door unlocked and the eagle had escaped his mew after being startled by a nearby truck backfiring. He’d launched off his perch and flown out the door, frightened and disoriented. Seeing Donna, who had nursed him for three months and who represented safety to him, he’d immediately flown over to her. Only, she’d had no protective gauntlet on her lower arm to save her from the puncture wounds the eagle inflicted. To this day, when Donna rolled up her sleeves, Katie could see the puncture indentations left by the eagle’s talons.

Donna balanced Sam easily on her left glove. The eagle was sated, looking around with his piercing yellow gaze. She touched his breast. “Crop’s full. He’s a happy raptor.”

Katie could see the slight bulge where Sam’s crop lay beneath the shining bronze feathers of his wide upper breast. “Yep, if he could smile, he would.”

They both chuckled.

Once they reached the pickup, Katie unlocked the rear and opened up the cab. She had a special perch built on a swing arm for the eagle. The wood was thick and sturdy, covered with plastic outdoor carpeting. The material enabled the raptor to hold securely to the perch so he would not slip off. Katie locked the perch in place and moved to the side of the truck bed.