rounds from the FAR-15. If the rifle was fully automatic, and there was no way to tell from this distance if it was, she could get off eight hundred rounds a minute.
The woman finally put down the walkie-talkie and walked back toward them—away from the rifle. She pulled open the gate and motioned Gil through with a wave of her hand. Gil didn’t put the car in drive. He didn’t want that FAR-15 behind him, where it could be used to shoot at them after she closed the gate and blocked their only exit. She looked back at them, but Gil still didn’t move the car forward, forcing her to come back to the car to see what the problem was.
“I just have a few questions for you,” Gil said, his hand staying on his gun. “For instance, why do you have that rifle?” He nodded his head toward the shack. Gil could feel Joe next to him, hard with tension, ready to move if things went badly.
“We get bears up here sometimes,” the woman said, smiling.
“That’s a lot of firepower for a bear,” Gil said.
“It’s not even loaded,” the woman said. “Let me show you.” Before Gil could stop her, she turned back toward the shack. Joe was out his door in an instant, standing up next to the car and using it as a shield. Gil saw Joe’s gun hand come up and rest on the roof. Gil followed suit, opening his car door, dropping to one knee behind it, and pointing his gun out the open window.
The woman, her back still to them, started to reach inside the shack.
“Ma’am,” Gil said firmly and almost quietly, “I need you to step away from the building.”
The woman turned. Gil saw her register the guns aimed at her, and she looked surprised. Then scared. She whispered a high-pitched “Oh my” before putting her hands up.
Gil kept his gun pointed at the woman while Joe went to the shack and found what the woman had been reaching for: a fully loaded magazine that could be slapped into the FAR-15.
The woman looked at them with big eyes. Gil reholstered his gun, and Joe took the FAR-15 off the wall, checking to see if it was loaded. It wasn’t. They had no right to seize it since they were on private property, but they could hold on to it until they left.
“Who are you?” Gil asked.
“I’m Jind Kaur. I do security here,” the woman said.
“How many more weapons like that can we expect up at the house?” Gil asked.
“Umm . . . I don’t . . . I’m not sure,” the woman said.
“Well, call up there and tell them that if we see even one weapon we are going to have to call the ATF,” Gil said. “We are going to take the rifle with us for now, but we’ll give it back to you before we leave.” Joe put the rifle across the backseat, and then they got back into the car, settling into their seats.
“Are we really going up there?” Joe asked. “Can we call for backup? I really don’t want to get killed by a security guard.”
“Then it’ll be all over the news how we raided the house of a famous actress,” Gil said, “and we can forget about getting any information on Brianna.”
Gil pulled the car through the gate and down the dirt road.
“What was the deal with the turban?” Joe asked. “What was she? Like Muslim?”
“No, she’s a Sikh,” Gil said. “You’ve probably seen them around town. Most of them wear white. I’m not sure why she was in blue. A few thousand live in Santa Fe and Española. Like Adam Granger. He and his parents are Sikh.”
“But he’s a white guy.”
“Yeah, they pretty much all are,” Gil said as he drove into a sprawling compound. The road changed from dirt to pavement and became a circular driveway. The main house was multistoried, with light brown vigas jutting out from its sides and a curved entranceway decorated in multicolored tiles. The forest had been cleared away around the mansion for several smaller buildings, all painted an ocher brown and surrounded by neat gardens of late-blooming summer flowers. In front of the main house was a carved wooden sign with GOLDEN MOUNTAIN ASHRAM written on it.
“Where the hell are we?” Joe muttered.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Saturday Afternoon
Rose Rodriguez sat in her chair, just trying to feel the solid metal frame that was holding her up. She had her feet planted on the