by Larry LaVoie
“He probably left it here and whoever swiped his hard drive packed it off. Either that or he left it in Washington.”
“He wouldn’t leave it.” She thought out loud, “He had it with him when he left the mountain for Sander’s office ... wait! He had it on the airplane.”
“May I ask how you know that?”
“He sent me an e-mail from the airplane.”
“Then it can’t be here,” Jason said.
Chapter 11
Jason made one last pass around Milton Bainbridge’s office with his eyes. “For a neat man this place is sure a mess,” he said to Carlene. “You said he thought Yellowstone was going to erupt. Are you sure?”
“We were taking a lot of measurements in the upper geyser basin.”
“Measurements? Like temperature and—”
“Gas analysis, pH levels, routine stuff, but more frequent.” Carlene finished his sentence.
“What did you find?”
“I asked Milton why the sudden interest and he passed it off as nothing to be worried about. But he was working on a report justifying a Level 2 Alert for the park. He showed me a bunch of graphs on his laptop just before he left.”
“And before that you called him back from his vacation. Why?”
“A lot of earthquakes. He told me not to worry, but I knew he was concerned when he caught the next plane back. He e-mailed me saying he was going to Washington D.C. Then I got the call from the hospital.”
Jason grinned. “The old buzzard was on to something.”
“The timing of the geysers, gas levels and water samples are taken on site,” Carlene said. “Bainbridge was adamant about taking samples on a regular basis. Had a team of volunteers timing Old Faithful and a few other geysers.”
“The information is gone unless we find that computer. You were going to check the downstairs? Let me know if you find anything.” He headed for the next room.
“I found it,” Carlene yelled up the stairs.
Jason poked his head out of a bedroom and looked down the stairs. Several pieces of mail dropped from Carlene’s hands as she tried to juggle the unruly bundle. In one hand she held a yellow slip of paper. Jason ran down the stairs and reached out for it. She jerked back and the rest of the mail splattered across the floor. She didn’t make an effort to pick it up. She had a grin on her face.
“What is it?” he asked.
“An attempted package delivery. It’s dated the day after Bainbridge died.”
“Probably mail order Viagra,” Jason said keeping a straight face.
“Far as I know he didn’t have much of a sex life,” Carlene said. “Too late to pick it up today. You feel like staying another day?”
“You think that’s his laptop?”
“Only one way to find out.”
Jason checked his cell phone and shrugged. “Sanders hasn’t missed me yet, I’m game.” He squatted down and gathered up the letters at her feet. “Thanks for coming after me,” he said placing the envelopes on an entry table.
Carlene was caught off guard. Was it an apology? Had the big man actually thanked her? She almost responded with a sarcastic remark, but the sincerity in his voice stopped her. “How about I buy you dinner,” she said.
“Wait here,” Jason said. He ran upstairs and came back dangling a set of car keys. “I’ll buy. I’m still on Sanders’ budget.” He examined a key. “It says BMW. Let’s see if it’s in the garage.”
“Zee Three roadster,” Carlene said. “He drives it around Yellowstone in the summer with the top down.”
“Really? That old codger,” Jason said. “Let’s give it a spin.”
Jason put the top down and turned the heater on high. It was early in the season and the weather was cool, but it was a Beemer. He wheeled it into a parking space at a restaurant he remembered from his time as a graduate student at U of U.
“Mama Marie’s what you might call a hole in the wall,” Jason explained to Carlene.
Every table had a small dish of olive oil, vinegar bottles and dripping candles stuffed in the spout of fat wine bottles. Red-and-white checkered oil cloth covered the tables.
“My kind of place,” Jason said. “The wine comes in red or white.” He ordered a carafe of house wine. Dinner was served family style.
“I think you’re wrong about his computer,” Carlene said. “It probably broke and he didn’t need it.”
“So he installs a brand new hard drive and forgets to connect the cable. That’s not the Milton Bainbridge I know,” Jason said.
“Wouldn’t someone who wanted the information just take the whole thing?”
“Unless they didn’t want someone to know they stole it.”
“But even I know how to replace a hard drive,” Carlene said.
“That’s what has me worried,” Jason said. “We may have interrupted something.”
Carlene looked concerned. “You mean they might have been there when we arrived?”
“No. You’re probably right.”
Jason studied her features. In the flickering candlelight, her face surrounded with the bandanna gave her the appearance of an angel.
“What are you thinking?” Carlene asked showing a small dimple in her cheek. The flame from the candle sparkled in her eyes.
Jason snapped out of it. “Nothing.” He poured her a second glass of wine. “What got you into volcanoes?”
She lifted the glass of red wine to her lips and stopped. “I’d received a B.S. in mechanical engineering with a minor in geology I was a graduate student working on my masters in geology. I liked geology better, but wasn’t sure I could make a living at it. I’d always been fascinated with rock formations and how the earth works. Daddy was a rock hound constantly roaming the western states for a new find. Bainbridge convinced me volcanoes were the future.”
“He may have been right,” Jason said. “It seems like there is more activity every year.”
Carlene nodded. “Unlike Daddy, I wasn’t interested in rocks for their beauty. He was always showing off new belt buckles studded with turquoise or carnelian polished to a mirror finish. His favorites were tiger eye and star sapphire.” She shook her head. “That wasn’t what interested me. I wanted to know what made the stones different in the first place. Why was one rock different from the next? Why rocks of certain types were found in certain areas, why some were harder than others, where they all came from, how they were created.
“I took a short course in volcanoes from Bainbridge and ended up begging for admission into his graduate class. Now I’m sitting on a geologic hot spot as close to the center of the earth as man ever gets. Mother Nature in action, I like to think of it. It’s the most exciting thing I’ve ever done.” She paused and sipped her wine. “Listen to me. I’ve been bellowing like a hogtied steer.”
Jason laughed. He hadn’t enjoyed being with anyone this much in years. “I’m enjoying listening to you. My motivation for being a volcanologist is a little different.”
“You don’t enjoy the excitement, seeing the earth change right before your eyes? When the earth rumbles and Old Faithful comes to life my heart beats as fast as if I were running a marathon. It doesn’t do that for you?” Her excitement showed in her face.
“Hardly,” Jason said shaking his head.
“Then what?” she leaned forward and stared at him over her glass. She smiled and her eyes toyed with him. “You didn’t become the infamous Dr. Jason Trask for the high pay and short hours.”
“Anger,” Jason said.
“You’re a volcanologist because you’re angry? Give me a break.”
“You asked.”
“Why can’t you give anyone a straight answer?”
The waitress set a salad bowl on the table and dished up the tossed greens. He waited for her to leave and offered a basket of bread to Carlene. “The truth is I hate volcanoes,” Jason said. “Almost as much as Bainbridge did.”
“You’re wrong,” Carlene said. “Bainbridge respected volcanoes.
To him they were like a patient with an incurable disease. He studied them wanting to know what made them tick, hoping that one day he could cure them.”
“To me they’re more like an unruly chimpanzee with a loaded gun,” Jason said. “You never know what it’s going to do next, but you expect someone will be killed. You know his wife was killed by a volcano.”
“You’re wrong. She died from a fall.” Carlene had a fork filled with salad and she held it out about to take a bite. “For someone who didn’t like him you sure think you know a lot.”
“She died the same day as my dad. You’re right, it was a fall. They were camped at Lake Merwin about thirty miles from the summit on the south side of St. Helens. When it erupted, she panicked, ran and slipped hitting her head.”
“I wouldn’t call that being killed by a volcano,” Carlene said.
“You know you can get on a person’s nerves at times,” Jason said. “Her death wasn’t included in the official count of those who died on St. Helens either.”
“My God, you do sound angry.”
“That mountain took my father. Why shouldn’t I be angry?”
“That was thirty years ago. I wasn’t even born.” She set her fork down. “I don’t think I’m hungry anymore.”
“Now you know why I don’t like to talk about it.” Jason shoved a forkful of salad in his mouth and started chewing. He dipped a breadstick in olive oil and ripped off a mouthful. He needed to do something to keep from choking up.
“I understand losing your father, but—”
Jason cut her off. “Right now a volcano is a mystery to you, something to study, an opportunity to camp out in a National Park at government expense, something to make your heart race when it acts up. Wait until someone you love is killed because one of these monsters decides it’s time to relieve itself. You think the people of Pompeii thought a volcano was exciting? Was it exciting when Toba exploded seventy-four thousand years ago reducing the entire human population to less than five thousand? Damn right I’m angry!”
“That’s not fair!” Carlene sat upright in her chair. “I care as just as much as you do. You’re an insensitive bastard.”
Jason leaned toward her and lowered his voice. “I’m sorry if I upset you. Let’s drop the subject and we’ll both be more comfortable, deal?” He gave her a pitiful look.
“Deal,” she said.
They agreed to make it an early evening. Jason stopped the car in front of the lobby of the Ramada Inn where Carlene was staying. “I’ll get a room for the night and we can get an early start.”
His room was on the sixth floor. Carlene watched from in front of the stairs as Jason parked the car. Why am I waiting, she wondered. I should go to my room and let him wallow in his anger. But she waited and as he walked across the lot he smiled.
“I’m sorry,” Jason said. “Was I supposed to walk you to your room?”
“I thought I’d better say goodnight. Momma says never go to bed with anger in your heart. I didn’t want you to be angry at me all night.”
Jason held a small suitcase in one hand and took her arm in the other. “Which one is yours? If I have nightmares I want to make sure I bang on the right door.”
“I don’t answer to banging on my door. See you at seven a.m. okay?”
“Seven it is. I’ll give you a ring when I’m ready.”
“Ready for what?”
“Breakfast, what did you think?”
“Breakfast at Seven. See you then.” Carlene swiped her card through the lock, entered the room, flipped the light on and closed the door. She saw her reflection in the mirror above a dressing table. “What were you thinking,” she muttered at her image.
She turned on the TV, more for the background noise than for the news. She was in bed when a voice said, “Yellowstone.” She put down the book she was reading and stared at the TV “... earthquakes magnitude six or better, the strongest centered under the park in many years. There were numerous aftershocks, some felt as far away as Cody, Wyoming east of Yellowstone.”
Carlene called her parents and made sure they were all right. They had been worried about her. Why hadn’t she called? They had no idea she had gone to Sumatra.
“I’m a grown woman, Momma. Let me talk to Billy,” she finally said, not wanting to discuss her pathetic behavior as a child any longer. Her mother had always been over protective; her father just the opposite. If it hadn’t been for her father she would have led a boring, but sheltered life. He was the one who taught her fly.
“Billy’s not here. He and a bunch of kids went for a hike in Yellowstone. I thought you knew. You don’t think there’s anything to these earthquakes, do you?”
Carlene thought about what to say. If she told her the truth, her mother would panic. She decided to keep it to herself.
“What is it dear?” her mother asked.
“Nothing, Momma. Did Billy tell you I called apologizing for having to miss his graduation?”
“He told me. That rascal. Did you tell him you were going to Sumatra and not to tell me?”
“No, Momma. I couldn’t get away from work.”
“Tell Billy to call home when you see him.”
“Sure, Momma. Tell Daddy I love him.”
“He’s asleep.”
“You already told me that. Good night, I’ve got to get to sleep myself.”
She still had the phone in her hand and thought about calling Jason and telling him about the earthquake. She hesitated then set it down. It can wait until morning.
Chapter 12
“Is it the laptop?” Carlene called out watching Jason come from the post office with a cardboard box.
Jason handed her the package. “Open it while I drive. We need to go back to Bainbridge’s house.”
“What for?”
“To return the car for one thing, to go through his papers for another. Something you said made me think he was on to something.
“What did I say?”
“The earthquakes. You said Bainbridge came back from Hawaii when you called concerned about a large quake. I’m wondering why he didn’t get support for putting the park under an alert.”
“You know Sanders.” Carlene said ripping at the brown paper wrapping.
Jason turned to her. “She’s overdue you know.”
Carlene tore at the flaps on the box. “By about three-hundred-thousand years, but I don’t think Bainbridge thought an eruption was imminent.”
“Maybe not.” He smiled and started the car. “Makes you feel important, doesn’t it?”
“What do you mean?”
“Come on. You were born at the right time to see a mountain that has been dormant for six-hundred-forty thousand years go active. Doesn’t that give you a thrill?”
“To tell you the truth, it scares the hell out of me. While Bainbridge was there I felt safe, but as soon as I was on my own ...”
“There may be hope for you yet.” Jason pulled onto the boulevard. “If Yellowstone is waking up, a lot of people could die unless they evacuate.”
Carlene tugged at the flaps of the box and sent a small blizzard of Styrofoam peanuts out the back of the roadster. “Oops.” She dug down in the box and pulled out the computer. More Styrofoam whipped into the air. “Ta-dum, I was right.”
Jason glanced at her and smiled. Slowly things were coming together. Bainbridge sensed the mountain was becoming active, but Sanders wouldn’t back him on a park shut down without some definitive proof. Peter Frank as park manager could close the park, but that would require more courage than he had the backbone to handle. Now Bainbridge was dead and no one was watching Yellowstone. As dedicated as Carlene was, he could see she was in over her head. If they wouldn’t listen to Bainbridge they sure as hell wouldn’t listen to her. Maybe that was what Peter Frank wanted. An easy way out.
“Wonder who that is?” Jason said as they cruised up the street toward Bainbridge’s house. A light-gray sedan was pulling out of the driveway.
Carl
ene glanced at the car as it passed. “Government vehicle,” Carlene guessed out loud.
“Not USGS,” Jason said.
Carlene shook her head. “FBI, maybe. They were dressed in suits.”
“Maybe they were just turning around.”
Jason pulled up to the garage and activated the garage door.
Suddenly the house exploded in a bright flash and a deafening blast. Windows burst outwards spraying glass fragments and debris against Carlene’s side of the car. Jason jerked the car in reverse and backed out of the drive. “Call the fire department!”
Carlene used her cell phone while they raced down the street in pursuit of the gray sedan. Jason picked up speed barely slowing to check the side streets. When he reached North Temple Street there was heavy traffic in both directions and he had to stop. Jason pounded his fists on the steering wheel in frustration.
“We lost them?” Carlene asked. “I’ll bet Greg Bainbridge thinks twice before loaning anyone his keys again.” She handed the phone to Jason. “You get to call Greg.”
He pushed the phone away. “Not now.” He reached over and picked a shard of glass from her hair and held up the fragment. It glistened in the sunlight. “That was close,” he said letting out a long breath. Then he touched her cheek. “Are you okay?”
Carlene felt her cheek and checked her fingers. They were red. “Just a little cut. I’ll survive.”
Jason could see she was shaken. He leaned toward her. “Let me take a look at that.” She turned toward him. Their faces were inches apart. He dabbed at the cut with his handkerchief. “Just a scratch.” He half smiled and said, “Come to think of it, we did save the car.”
There were sirens in the distance. Jason turned back toward the house. As they approached black smoke was billowing high into the clear sky. A neighbor was trying to keep the fire back by spraying the side of the garage with a garden hose. Jason pulled the car up across the street and waited for fire trucks and emergency vehicles arrive.
All that remained of Bainbridge’s house were the brick façade and fireplace standing like lonely sentinels in a sea of smoldering embers. Jason and Carlene watched for several hours and, as the fire crew soaked down the remains, Jason put his arm around Carlene. “See that man taking pictures of the crowd?”