“Okay. In a tax deed state, if you’re late with your taxes, the county can sell the deed to your house, usually to an investor. There are a number of companies who buy the deeds, and quite a few individuals. The real victims are usually people who are too poor or too dumb to pay the taxes they owe, and don’t understand the process. So, somebody has a little farm acreage worth, say, a hundred thousand dollars, and owes five thousand dollars in taxes. If he doesn’t pay, or make payment arrangements, the county auctions off the farm. The minimum bid is the amount of the taxes plus processing fees. If the winning bidis twenty-five thousand, the county takes its cut, gives the rest of the money to the homeowner, and the deed to the investor.”
“Then they kick out the original owners?”
“That can happen,” Lang said. “When an investor buys your deed, there’s usually a redemption period, in which the original owner can pay off the amount the investor paid for the deed, plus a hefty interest and service charge. Bottom line, your five-thousand-dollar tax bill could cost you eight thousand dollars to pay off, if you can afford to pay it at all.
“Anyway,” Lang continued, “an individual investor in Michigan bought a tax deed in Westmoreland County. The sale was held by the sheriff and he signed the papers in the sheriff’s office at the courthouse, stepped out on the front steps, and was killed with a single rifle shot. They never identified the shooter or even where he shot from. The bullet was recovered, a .30-caliber slug, and because of the weight of the slug, the police believe it was probably fired from a .300 Winchester Magnum, which I am told is a favorite sniper rifle.”
“And people thought the ANM...”
“Then, three or four months later, the president of one of the investing companies was shot at his front door after his company won another Michigan auction. Another long-range sniper action, another .30-caliber. They did find the sniper nest the second time—and there was a note that said something like, ‘Buy a tax deed and die!’ That put at least a temporary chill on tax deed sales. There was a rumor that the ANM was involved in both shootings.”
“Huh.”
“Then there was a murder in Ohio,” Lang said. “A man wasaccused of rape, got three hung juries despite a lot of evidence—DNA evidence—because he’d been a local football star. Girl committed suicide after the last hung jury. A couple of days later, the alleged rapist was killed by a sniper. Once again, a heavy .30-caliber slug. There were more rumors.”
“But no substantial investigation?”
“The police didn’t have much to work with. And I don’t think anyone looked at it too closely, the rape thing. For several reasons, like, not many people really cared about the rapist, plus, there was no evidence about who did it and if you did find some evidence... the killer might come for you.”
“Can you put me in touch with the ANM contact man?”
“Actually, it’s a woman. She may or may not be willing to talk with you. Before I agree to reach out on your behalf, there’d be a condition,” Lang said.
“That would be?”
“If she reaches out to you, and you interview her, you consider sharing the substance of the interview with me,” Lang said. “You tell me what you find out about the group.”
“I’d consider it, but I might not be able to do that,” Lucas said. “This is a federal investigation, not scholarly research.”
“I’m not asking for a promise, only a consideration.” Lang’s tongue flicked out, wetting his lower lip. “I’ve been curious about the ANM for a while.”
“Is there any other group? Or contact?” Lucas asked.
“Actually, there is. I can give you that one right now, Richard Greene of the Greene Mountain Boys. Green with an ‘e’ at the end. There are only a few dozen members in the group, they’re alt-right, and I’ve sometimes thought that Richard is moreinterested in publicity than in actually doing anything. He’s... and I’ll apologize for the language, as you did earlier... a bullshitter. But. Because of the publicity, he knows a lot of people. Being media-aware, he collects rumors and tracks everything alt-right. He would be the most likely person to have heard something.”
“How would I reach him?” Lucas asked.
“He lives outside Annapolis... I have a phone number...” Lang reached for an old-style Rolodex.
—
LUCAS TOOK DOWNa phone number for Greene, but Lang wouldn’t tell him how he planned to reach the ANM contact, other than to say he’d call some people he knew and ask that somebody call him back. The word might or might not get to the right person. If it did, he’d pass along Lucas’s phone number.
“You can’t count on it, but it’s a possibility,” Lang said. “They have responded to occasional inquiries in the past. I’ve never met the woman myself. I would like to.”
Gibson returned with an iced lemonade for Lang, and then took a seat in a chair at the side of the room. Lucas sniffed; he didn’t normally have allergies, but the flowers were getting to him and when Lang went past with the lemonade, he thought he smelled alcohol. He asked about alt-right groups with a reputation for criminal activity, especially violence, but Lang shook his head.
“There’salwayssome of that. Most of these groups are populated by younger men who feel repressed, ignored, slighted, pushed aside for wealthy or politically connected groups. They’rea political version of a motorcycle gang. In fact, some of themaremotorcycle gangs.”
“Politically connected? Do you mean, like, teachers’ unions? Or Jews?”
Lang’s smile lost some wattage, but then he blinked and brightened and said, “They would both be considered problems... by these people.”
“But not by you?”
“I’m not a racist, Marshal, but I am a realist. Jews control the banks and the media; that’s a fact. And how far do you have to look to see the damage being done to this country by the media and the banks?” Lang asked. “The teachers’ unions... well, teachers live their privileged socialist lives and they look around, and ask why shouldn’t everyone live their privileged socialist lives? Good salaries, excellent pensions, long vacations. The average workingman in this country works 260 days a year; the average teacher, 170 to 180. What’s not to like about that life? They don’t seem to understand that somebody actually has to provide the money for their lives, for the pensions that are absolutely ruining the states, and bought in return for funding left-wing politicians like Obama...”
Lang went on for a while, his face going bright pink, and in a shaft of sunlight coming through the slats of half-drawn wooden shades, Lucas could see small drops of spit flying across the desk toward his lap. He shifted away, as much as he could without getting up. He’d touched a button and Lang apparently was having trouble reining in the rant.
