Monday late evening: Ft. Peck Indian Reservation

FBI Agent Jim Andrews pulled into the driveway of Neha Littlebird’s modest rambler, which looked to be in a state of disrepair.  He and Burk had made the drive from the airport in near silence. He noted a Toyota Sedan.  He knew Neha Littlebird owned a Jeep Cherokee, and it wasn’t there. The Toyota sedan was a rental undoubtedly being driven by Lindsay Vanderbilt, who he knew to be staying with her.

Andrews knew the FBI had raided the house earlier looking for Rainhorse. According to the report he read in route, Lindsay claimed to know nothing about Neha’s or Rainhorse’s whereabouts.  According to Lindsay's statement, Neha had left the home early in the day, leaving a note saying she was driving into work at the rehabilitation facility. When agents arrived there, however, they discovered she had never arrived. There was an APB out for her but as of this moment, they had not found her.

Andrews pecked on the door. Burk stood two steps behind him, her hand resting on the butt of her firearm.  Lindsay opened the door, instantly recognizing Andrews.  It was he who was on hand when the FBI took down Tony Apollo and Hank Rattling Thunder two years earlier.

“What do you want?” Lindsay said through the dirty screen door. Andrews could see her drawn face and swollen eyes. She had been crying—a lot. And he thought she looked angry.

“I’m here to ask you about Rainhorse,” he said.

“Jesus Christ, Andrews,” she snapped back, venomously. “It’s almost midnight.”

He was wrong, Andrews thought. She wasn’t angry—she was downright pissed.

“I realize that, but after the day you’ve had, I didn’t figure you’d be sleeping.”

“Well, I’ve already spent two hours telling your pals what I knew, which is jack shit.”

“We read the report, Ms. Vanderbilt,” Burk said. “We don’t believe you.”

“Who’s your girlfriend?” Lindsay asked, choosing to ignore Burk altogether.

“I am Special Agent Angela Burk,” she piped up.

“Well, Special Agent Burk, don’t they teach you anything about manners in FBI school?” Lindsay shot back.

“You’re the one who went to that spoiled little rich bitch school in England,” Burk fired back. “You tell me.”

“I go to Stanford now,” Lindsay replied. “but I guess the rich bitch comment still applies, right?”

“You pompous little...”

 “That’s enough, Burk,” Andrews said. “Lindsay look, I was the one who fought to get Rainhorse released so he could help us catch Barnabas. I got him the deal for his freedom if he brings down Barnabas.”

“What do you want—a medal?” Lindsay spat back. “He will probably get killed. Don’t forget, I’ve seen firsthand what Barnabas can do. He has the power and resources to get what he wants and he wants Rainhorse’s ass on a silver platter.”

“Which is why we have to catch him,” Andrews argued. “Look, can we come inside for a few minutes?”

Lindsay looked at them suspiciously, “Can we leave your girlfriend on the porch?”

Andrews fought the urge to smile.

“No, I’m afraid she has to come, too.”

She glared at Burk momentarily.

“You’re right. I can’t sleep. Come on in. I put on coffee. I’ll get you a cup and see if I can find a mouse for your rattlesnake.” 

Andrews saw Burk’s eyes flare with anger but he gave her a single shake of the head and a cautionary stare to stop her in her tracks.

“Have a seat at the table,” Lindsay said when they made their way into the kitchen.

Lindsay grabbed three cups from the cabinet and poured coffee.

“When was the last time you spoke to Rainhorse?” Andrews asked.

“You should know,” she replied. “You were there.”

“You mean the day we arrested Tony Apollo and Hank Rattling Thunder?”

“That’s the day.”

Burk and Andrews had already reviewed the Montana State Prison visitation records. They were already well aware that Lindsay’s visits were refused by Rainhorse and that phone logs showed there were no completed calls to or from her cell.

“It sounds like you two had a falling out,” said Burk.

Lindsay rolled her eyes, let out a breath and slid a cup filled with coffee across the table to Burk, “Jeez-Louise, why do I have to keep answering the same questions over again? Jackson got it into his pea-sized brain he caused all my problems and that I would be better off without him.”

“And you disagreed with that?” Burk asked.

She sighed in exasperation.

“Yes, I disagreed.”

“And that’s why you’re helping him run now?” Burk added.

Lindsay sighed heavily and looked at Andrews, “Do you have actual questions for me?  Questions that might make sense?”

“Do you think Rainhorse is on the run?” Andrews asked.

“I think he is on his way to find Barnabas Quince,” Lindsay said.

“What makes you believe it?”

“Because Rainhorse served his country in the military faithfully for twelve years,” Lindsay said. “He would die for his country. He has his own personal code and a strength of character unlike anyone you will ever meet. I know him better than anyone. He hates Barnabas more than all of you combined.”

“He's not Captain America. Rainhorse is an assassin,” Burk countered.

“A reformed assassin,” Lindsay corrected, “who turned himself in and voluntarily went to prison to pay for his crimes. You would have never caught him if he didn’t turn himself over to Clark Kent here. He was tired of running. He wanted to serve his time in peace.”

“Where is he now?” Andrews asked.

“Didn't you guys read anything I said to the other goons? We haven’t spoken... I don’t know,” Lindsay said.

“What the hell do you know?” Burk taunted.

Lindsay sat back and folded her arms, “I have one bit of information I’ve been thinking about regarding Barnabas. It might help.”

“Tell us,” Burk demanded.

“I will, but I need you to do something for me, first.”

“What is that?” Andrews asked.

“Your men arrested Jackson’s nephew, Red Feather and his friend Matty Yellow Wolf for no legitimate reason and took them downtown for 'questioning.' They know even less than I do and I know little. I want them released... now.”

Andrews had already read the report on the interviews with the two men and knew Lindsay was right. They knew nothing pertinent. They intended to detain the two men for forty-eight hours in the event they tried to assist Rainhorse in an escape.

“That’s a high price to pay,” Andrews said. “How do I know the information is worth it?”

Lindsay paused, flashing Burk a disapproving stare before turning her attention back to Andrews, “I think I know something about where Barnabas may be storing something… something very large. Do we have a deal?”

“Agreed,” Andrews said. “Now tell us.”

“First, make the call,” she said.

Andrews looked at her. A wry smile formed on his face. He pulled his phone and made a call, authorizing the release of both Cheyenne men. He hung up and looked at Lindsay, “Satisfied?”

“Not quite,” Lindsay said. She pulled her own phone and made a call.

“Who are you calling?” Burk asked.

“Rose Red Feather,” she replied. “She’s Red’s wife. She’s also an attorney. I think you met her. She’s down at the courthouse now.  She’s been there ever since the FBI arrested them.”

The phone rang. Rose answered on the first ring, “Rose? It’s Lindsay. Andrews processed an order to release the boys. Go check on it.”

The three of them sipped their coffee in silence for over six minutes as Lindsay waited on Rose. Finally, Lindsay’s eyes lit up, and she nodded, “Ok good... yes, you’re welcome.”

Lindsay hung up and looked at Andrews, “Ok, now I’m satisfied.”

“Ok, what is this information you have?” Burk asked.

“When Jackson saved me, he did so by driving me home, from Chicago to Montana,” Lindsay said. “It was a long drive. We talked a lot.”

Burk made a circular motion with her right hand, “And then suddenly...”

Lindsay shot her a nasty look before continuing, “He told me Barnabas had a place where he sometimes stored weapons, you know, machine guns, grenades and that kind of thing...”

“We get it,” Burk said. “Go on.”

“Jackson said Barnabas bought an old airplane hangar under a false name,” Lindsay said. “He’s been using it for years. Everyone thinks it’s empty and unused.”

“An airplane hangar?” Andrews repeated. “Where?”

“Someplace south of Seattle.”

“Seattle, Washington?”

Lindsay nodded, “That’s right.”

“That’s it?” Burk asked. “An airplane hangar. That’s what you have?”

“From what I understand, it’s more than you have,” Lindsay shot back. “Look, I don’t know what Barnabas is up to, but I figured if it was a big operation, he’d need to break out the big guns, right? This airplane hangar may be where he stores them.”

“Thank you for the information,” Andrews said, standing. “I have just one more question for you.”

“Ok.”

“Shortly after Rainhorse broke free from our custody, there was a call made from a burner phone to Neha Littlebird’s cell. Shortly after that call, Neha went missing, leaving her phone here.”

“I have no idea about...” Lindsay began.

“About an hour after the FBI left, you took a call from the same burner phone number,” Andrews said. “The call lasted nine minutes. Who called you?”

“That is an outpatient who's being treated by our drug rehabilitation center,” she replied. “He called Neha earlier and then tried her again later after she left her phone here. When he couldn’t reach her, he called me.”

“That was a quick answer,” Andrews noted. “It’s almost as if that answer was… prepared.”

Lindsay shrugged, “It’s the truth.”

“An outpatient?” Burk parroted. “Bullshit.”

“That’s what happened,” Lindsay affirmed.

“Why was he using a burner phone?” Burk asked.

“You’re asking me why a drug user is using a burner phone? Really, Burk? Maybe there’s some beginner FBI course you should be taking. I think there are several online colleges that offer them.”

Burk was seething. She opened her mouth to respond but Andrews stepped in quickly.

“Who is the person who called you?” he asked.

“I can’t reveal the names of my clients. I help them when they come. They have a reasonable expectation of privacy. You understand, right?”

“I could get a court order.”

“You could, I suppose.  Why don't you work on that and come back? Maybe you can wake me up in the middle of the night tomorrow.”

Andrews smiled, “No—no need. Well, that will be all. Call us if you can think of anything else. I’m sorry to disturb you so late. Thank you, Lindsay. We have a long drive back, so we’d better get moving.”

“It was nice meeting you, Ms. Vanderbilt,” Burk said with a disingenuous tone.

“I would tell you it was my pleasure but that would be a lie,” Lindsay said.

Burk smiled through gritted teeth.