Shooting For Justice, G. Tilman [best historical fiction books of all time .txt] 📗

on Boles when he was heading back into the hotel, I’m not sure even Pope could have whipped out a .44 any faster!”

Instead of taking it as a jab, he was filled with even more pride. She truly was one of the best detectives in America. Not best woman detective. Simply one of the best. Period.

For the first time, he shared his case about potential drugs coming in from offshore. He was stumped as to the frequency cycle of deliveries and how the contraband was being moved from the remote cliff to San Francisco. Until he was able to watch the operation unseen, there seemed little he could do to stem the flow.

Slightly bored without a ranch to run, Israel offered to ride out and “take a look see”, every other day. Pope accepted the offer and made sure his deputies knew who the new player in their surveillance game was.

By the time something broke, they were all wearing coats to combat the chill coming off the Pacific.

It was Israel who rode to the coast and saw a wagon and team sitting unattended near the spot they had ridden down with the Lanes several months before.

He made sure nobody saw him when he rode into nearby woods and dismounted.

Israel furtively moved to the edge of the woods and crawled to the cliff and peered down. He saw four men waiting. A wooden longboat was being rowed in by two men. It had packages piled in the stern.

He saw the four waiting men offload the packages. Israel counted twenty. The men carried them two at a time up the steep slope and piled them at the top.

It was clear to the elder Pope they did not want to put them in the unattended wagon a hundred yards away from the edge.

As the men passed, he saw they were Asians. He guessed Chinese but could not be sure. He had heard about Tongs running crime in San Francisco and thought this may be an example.

He watched as the boat rowed half a mile offshore to a waiting ship and was cranked aboard davits. The ship, which Israel thought must be about a hundred fifty feet, steamed off as the men on the beach completed their job.

Moving through the woods like the frontiersman he was, Israel watched the men throw a tarp over the bed of the wagon and ride off. They went south.

He followed close enough to not lose them and far enough to not be seen. He knew trailing like he was constituted a slippery slope of risk.

The wagon went into Sausalito in late afternoon. He saw it disappear behind a restaurant.

Israel tied his horse to a hitching rail and casually walked down the street. He noted the name of the restaurant and returned to his horse and rode to San Rafael.

“Got your smugglers, Sonny. Watched them unload from a ship and haul twenty packages to Sausalito. They went behind this restaurant,” handing Pope a scrap of paper with the name.

Pope and his grandfather went straight to the district attorney. He went with them to the judge on duty and they secured a search warrant.

Pope knew darkness was falling shortly. He took a deputy coming on night shift and they rode down to Sausalito. Horses tied down the street, Pope and deputy, Will Nickels, found a good place to watch and set up surveillance from a hundred feet away. Nothing happened during the night.

Knowing the contraband was still intact, they watched for the manager and a couple of employees to arrive.

Pope sent Nickels around back in case there was a runner.

Pope knocked on the locked door. The manager came and Pope showed him the search warrant.

He pushed through the three men and headed for the storeroom. Before he got to the door, he heard a revolver cock.

Pope ducked to the side and spun to face the noise. He saw one of the men his grandfather described aiming an old Colt converted to cartridges at where he had been.

Pope drew and fired before the man could re-aim.

Off balance, Pope’s shot hit the man in the shoulder. He dropped the gun and went down. The other two froze.

Nickels kicked in the back door and came in, revolver at the ready. They restrained the two men and let the wounded one lay for a minute.

The bundled contraband appeared to be hashish for the illicit hookah dens in San Francisco and a large amount of heroin.

Pope arrested the two and had them carry the wounded man out the front door. Pope guarded them while Nickels went for a doctor and the chief deputy. Later, he sent Howell an advisement telegram about the arrest and the contraband.

The next day, Detective Lieutenant Howell arrived from San Francisco. He had a US attorney and two deputy marshals in tow.

“Hey, Boss!” Pope greeted his old mentor. “What’s with the cavalry here?” he asked Howell.

“Looks like you broke up something big. The customs folks and US Attorney Bey here have been trying to catch these fellas for a while.”

Bey shook hands and introduced the two deputies.

“Sheriff, have you arrested these men?” Bey asked.

“Only for custodial purposes. I have not specified a particular crime pending searching the restaurant where we found them when serving a search warrant. One tried to get funny and he’s recovering at the doc’s office. We don’t have a hospital in the county yet.”

“We might have to re-arrest them on federal charges.”

“Go ahead, but I’m still sworn as a deputy US marshal,” Pope said.

“To whom? The Northern District of California US Marshal?” Bey asked.

“Nossir. To Attorney General Brewster.”

“What? How did he swear you?”

“I was a special investigator for him on an attempted assassination of the president. He asked me to keep the badge and stay sworn in case he needed me for another case.”

Pope reached into his wallet and showed Bey his badge and warrant as deputy marshal.

“Well, I guess we don’t have to re-arrest them. Just specify the charges of conspiracy to distribute narcotics and importing