Missing Ch. 11-20

"Time to get to work, I guess." I took my coffee to my office and started making phone calls.

Council Fixer Clyde Lassiter's POV

Granite City Hotel off Route 1

St. George, New Brunswick, Canada

I'd flown it early this morning after a member of the Halifax pack caught a whiff of multiple were-coyotes at a hotel off Route 1. I was parked a block away in a Ford Expedition with Alpha Ken Powell, my binoculars checking out the two-story hotel. A dozen Pack warriors were parked farther back and downwind, and more were on the way from Baxter and Downeast. "Why do you think they came here," Alpha Ken asked?

"It's a smart way to avoid the manhunt," I replied. "They had to know Interstate 95 was going to be full of State Police, and everyone would expect them to go south. Instead, they head northeast, crossing into Canada at Saint Stephen. They made it across before we can get the Packs out to stop them."

"But why here? We're only twenty kilometers or so from the border!"

Coyotes had a well-deserved reputation for being sneaky and intelligent, and these guys were both. "Exactly. The group risks having Halifax or Jacquet wolves find them if they keep going north, and they have to know we're watching the border crossings now. They hunker down far enough from the border to avoid that group and wait it out for a week or two. They know we can't keep up the search forever, and by then, they know who the Americans are looking for."

He thought about that for a while. "At least they aren't armed. The Customs guys would have stopped that."

"I'm not so sure," I replied. "The cook's picture might have been out already, so he would have to shift and swim across the river. They could put the weapons in a bag for him to push across and pick him up on the other side."

It was eight before the rest of the Halifax warriors showed up, and it would be hours before any of the Jacquet or Maine packs arrived. We didn't need that many people for suspects holed up in a hotel room.

One of the new arrivals was Warrior Michael Collins, an officer in the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. He did a drive-by in the parking lot to identify the vehicle the were-coyotes used before talking to the desk manager. He linked the update to his Pack as he exited.

"They're in room 120, second from the end," the Alpha relayed to me. "He's got a name and a provincial driver's license. He's running it now."

The check came back clean; the room was registered to Pierre La'Pew, age 45, married and an address in Quebec. We were going over ideas when the driver spoke up. "The door's opening," he said.

"Have your men surround the hotel quickly," I told the Alpha. "We can't let them get away!"

A short man with dark hair came out first, pulling a suitcase on a roller behind him. His wife was next, carrying a purse and a small bag. The last one out was a teenage boy with his Air Pods in, paying zero attention to anything as he slung his bag over his shoulder.

The male froze, his nose in the air. Suddenly the group was jumping into the minivan and pulling out. "They made us," the Alpha said.

"Not unexpected with all of us here," I replied. "Send people east and west to get ahead of them, and have your Mountie follow them at a distance. If we can get them away from town, it's better for us. The chemist isn't with them."

The Alpha linked his people with the instructions. We hung back, watching them exit the parking lot and head back to the highway. A few kilometers out of town, Officer Michael pulled the minivan over.

Ten of us surrounded the car with weapons drawn.

Ch. 20

Adrienne McInnis' POV

Council Mediator Office, Baxter Pack House

I made my last-minute calls to Sheriff Ty and Council Fixer Lassiter before longing onto the North American Pack videoconference scheduled for noon Eastern time. Both would have speaking parts, and I didn't want any surprises.

I had one guest with me; I couldn't in good conscience keep her away from what was going on, as it was her mate's killers we were discussing. She wasn't senior enough to be invited and was not on the agenda. I had Anthony place her under Alpha command to keep her from causing problems. Bonnie was to sit behind me and not make a sound unless I directed her to answer a question. I had two of her guards just off-camera just in case.

I had my coffee filled and ready as I turned the camera on. My son and his mate would call in from his Alpha office. I represent the Council, not Baxter Pack, so I would appear in a different window. The software we used allowed the entire Council to speak at will, but Alphas and others had to be recognized and be un-muted. It was the only way to ride herd on the dozens of Type-A personalities that formed the Alpha ranks. I was pleased that many of the Pack Lunas were on the call. That would help keep things calm.

Chairman Sanders started things off. "This is the daily update on the Maine shootings. Please hold your questions until the person's report is complete. Mediator McInnis?"

"Thank you, Mr. Chairman," I said to the group. "The killers of Sean Woods and Vince Argenta remain at large. I'll turn it over to Sheriff Ty Rabb of Penobscot County to discuss the response of law enforcement."

"We have a lot of help, but not a lot of answers. At this point, we have a photo of the meth cook but not a name. Nothing shows up in fingerprints or biometrics. The FBI has enough to program alerts on surveillance cameras in major cities using facial recognition. They are also monitoring social media and staffing a tip line. Our John Doe is on the FBI's Top Ten list. If he sticks his head out of whatever hole he's hiding in, we'll get him."

The Chairman didn't look convinced. "When?"

"I don't know, sir. Right now, the picture is the only thing to go on, so if his accomplices keep him out of sight and we don't get lucky, it could take a while."

It sucked. I knew the answer, but I asked for everyone else. "What do we know about the shooters?"

"We don't know for sure what the vehicle was, much less have an identification on the shooters. We've encouraged the FBI to pursue Cartel sicarios as the main suspects. Jalisco New Generation Cartel is active in New York City and the Northeast, and they're violent as hell. The two guards killed in the raid were Cartel, so it isn't a stretch. The operating theory is that the assassins followed the DEA car into town and ambushed it near State Police headquarters to make a point. They don't fear cops."

"So we wait?"

"Yes, ma'am. Baxter and Downeast have scoured this area. I'm confident they left the state, and you can bet they are avoiding any Pack areas. The FBI will figure out the vehicle, get a description, and find them. That's all law enforcement can do."

One of the Montana alphas raised his electronic hand and was allowed to speak. "You said yesterday that one attacker was female. Is that going to be a problem?"

"I said we scented a female among them. We don't know if there were two or three in the car; it could have been male shooters and a female driver. By the time our people got there, the scents were faint. Still, if it's a female driver, it will make it more difficult for the FBI to find them. Without witnesses or definitive video, their assumptions will rule out any vehicles with one or two women visible. That is good news for us."

"Why," the Alpha asked?

Sheriff Ty leaned into his camera. "Because if the FBI catches them, they might take them alive. There is less risk of exposure if they stay out of the prison system. It would be near-impossible to take them all out, especially if they are in different prisons. The prison system isn't like 'Breaking Bad,' this is real life."

He wasn't kidding. Werewolves needed to shift, run, and be around other werewolves. We were social animals, and were-coyotes would be the same. Their animal portions would slowly go crazy in prison, perhaps even pushing forward and causing a shift. Imagine what would happen if a prisoner suddenly turned into a giant coyote in a locked cell? It was a chance we weren't willing to take. "Is there any way to ensure they aren't captured alive?"

"Adrienne, there are too many variables. They might shift, using the shock or deception to escape. A gun battle is possible. I think they know they can't handle prison and will fight to the death."

The Chairman nodded. "Keep us posted. Any other questions for the Sheriff?" There were none. "Fixer Lassiter?"

Clyde's image filled my screen. "Thank you, Mr. Chairman. I'm at the Halifax Pack now. This morning, we captured a family of three were-coyotes, two adults, and a teenage son. They were staying at a hotel just across the Canadian border from Maine. Alpha Powell's men performed flawlessly, allowing us to return them and their vehicle to the Pack jail without any human interference or alarm. Unfortunately, they aren't the ones we are looking for."

"How do you know," the Chairman asked?

"One of the responding Police Officers to the shooting was from the Downeast Pack. She didn't recognize their scents," Clyde answered.

"What happens with the family now," I asked.

"That's up to Alpha Powell," Clyde said. "It's his territory."

The Chairman asked the Alpha for his intentions. "I have no evidence the family we captured was involved in the attack, but I'm suspicious of their presence so near the border. Add in that we kidnapped them using an RCMP stop? We can't trust them to stay quiet if they are released, so we'll take care of our problem, quick and quiet-like."

"No, they can't do that," Bonnie sent to me. "Please."

"Bonnie Woods would like to speak on that subject with your permission, Mr. Chairman," I said.

He granted permission, and I waved Bonnie closer to the camera. "Thank you for hearing me, Council members and Alphas. I want my mate's killers dead, preferably with their blood staining my teeth. I do not want the innocent to die in pursuit of justice. I prefer to search for them myself if you would use me as an excuse to wipe out people who have done nothing to us."

"Killing them preserves our secret," Alpha Powell replied.

"Killing them makes us no better than my mate's killers," Bonnie replied. "They have to know about the shooting. Let them know why we took them into custody. We know they aren't the killers, and no were-coyotes want open war with us. Send them back and let them be our allies."

"Allies?" The Chairman recoiled in disgust. "You can't trust them!"

"Why not?" Bonnie's anger was coming forward. "They have the same risk of exposure we do. From what I have learned, they are family-focused and independent. The were-coyotes who killed my husband were working with the Cartel. That threatens them too."

I motioned for Bonnie to sit back. "Perhaps it would be best if I exercised a little diplomacy here. Let me mediate a solution with your captives. If I fail, we've lost nothing."

Ten minutes later, the Council agreed with me.

I was heading for Canada this afternoon.

The rest of the meeting went quickly. The Packs were still actively searching areas surrounding their territories for were-coyotes, but few found anything. The long-standing antipathy between our kinds was a built-in conflict limiter. They settled in places the Packs didn't want, like farmland and small rural towns, leaving the mountains and forests to us. Finding them would take time and patience.

The search was not cheap in terms of costs or resources. Every wolf pulled into the coyote search was not performing Pack duties or supporting Pack operation. Once they had cleared areas around their territory, there was little incentive to continue. After all, no dens threatened THEIR pack.

No one would admit it, but they wanted the humans or the Council to shoulder the burdens so they could get back to normal. Even the Council didn't have the resources to keep this going indefinitely.

I gave it another week before Clyde was the only one working the case.