Second Guess (The Girl in the Box Book 39)

by Robert J. Crane

  “There goes your bright future as a cheesemaker.” He didn't stay silent for long. “And I'm saying, nah, bullshit on that. I want to hear your opinion. Where's your head at on this eco-terrorism they tried to mastermind?”

  “You tell me your position and I'll tell you mine,” I said, smiling down at him. Doubted he could see it in the dark, but maybe he could hear it in the way I said it.

  “All right, I'll bite,” Augustus said. “I think the environmental movement of the sixties and seventies was righteous. I hear you couldn't open a window in New York City in those days without ash or pollution or whatever coming in. Rivers were catching on fire. That is some scary-ass shit. I think there was good reason for the law to be getting on that. I get the motive, too – we gotta breathe, we gotta drink, and who wants to live in a trash heap?”

  “But?”

  “But...the air's cleaner now, the water's cleaner now, there are more trees now than there were at the beginning of the twentieth century. I mean, get that – we planted more trees. The planet is greening. I ain't saying the fight's over, but we're making progress. We banned CFC's. Our carbon emission in the US are falling year over year. We care. We're making progress.” He shrugged lightly beneath my grasp. “For some people, that ain't enough, though. For some people...the fight's always gotta go on, always gotta escalate. Get more serious.”

  I laughed lightly. “And you don't like it when things get serious?”

  “When it's serious, I'm fine with being serious,” Augustus said. “Here's my issue: climate change. Everybody talks about it. But not everybody says the same thing. I hear from scientists, from the serious government panels, the IPCC, and they say a few degrees of warming by the end of the century. Not good. Needs to be fought. Could have some bad consequences. Then some asshat politician gets on the stage and says: 'In ten years, you're all going to die if we don't give up meat, personal cars, iPhones, sex, plastic, and all these trifling freedoms you think belong to you, peasants.'”

  I snorted cold air. “That's a reasonable impression of every politician I've ever heard speak.”

  “I am fully serious,” Augustus said. “And I've looked at the arguments. Did a research project on it for college, because my professor was banging the drum hard. I get it, too. All these things produce carbon in some form–”

  “...Sex produces carbon?”

  “You breathe harder, it probably produces CO2. And also leads to little people, who produce more carbon. And I don't want to live under water, though I doubt I'd have to because I just reallocate some earth to build myself an island while the rest of y'all drown. Except Scotty. And some hottie I decide to save so I don't have to give up sex.”

  “Priorities squarely in order, I see. Rough luck about your iPhone, meat, and personal car, though.”

  “Maybe I'll save Jamal, too. You know, because Momma would be mad if I didn't. And also...to charge my iPhone.”

  I laughed as I vectored us toward the fire. “Good call. Super merciful. Wifi will be tough to find with the rest of us drowned, though.”

  “Here's my bone of contention: every clown I've heard call for us to give up all that in the name of reducing our carbon footprint? They are flyin' on private planes. They ain't putting down their iPhone. And if they're going vegan plus organic...they're having a lot bigger carbon footprint than if they stuck with standard GMO vegetarianism, because organic requires a hell of a lot more land. And they're probably taking Uber everywhere instead of the bus, because I've never yet met a politician that wants to roll with the proles on the bus.”

  “'Roll with the proles...?'”

  “I wanted to be a rapper in my younger days,” he said. “You know, before somebody recruited me into the privatized version of the Justice League of America.”

  “That's really the world's loss, music-wise. I know a guy who's on the inside of the industry now, though, if you're having second thoughts about saving the world over spinning lyrics or dropping beats or whatever it is rappers do.”

  “I'm not having any doubts,” Augustus said. “I'm just wondering when you're going to follow the fair trade principle here and tell me what you think about these people and their putative 'cause.'”

  I shrugged as I maneuvered us toward the group of burning oil wells. We were only a few miles out now. “I think they're misguided. That their fundamental thinking about how to solve it is wrong.” I could sense him chafing under my reticence, seeking more. “I can accept the science, no problem, and look around, and I see...everywhere in the West, we're reducing carbon emissions. I think technology will speed that up over time, but voluntarism is producing some movement in the right direction. But...”

  “Oh, I'm waiting for this 'but',” Augustus said. “I sense it's going to be good.”

  “The thing nobody wants to talk about,” I said, “is that if Europe and the US and Canada and Australia – all the developed nations – gave up and went back to the stone age – zero carbon emissions overnight – it'd basically do...almost nothing to slow whatever warming is occurring. Because China and India are on the rise, and generally speaking, they don't give a flying crap about the environment, because as a nation, you just don't care enough to take action until you reach a certain level of prosperity. Anything we do without their buy-in seems...pointless. And maybe would end up geopolitically horribly for us if we did 'unilaterally disarm' in carbon tomorrow.” I shrugged. “Whatever. I'm not in charge of any of this. And I'd like to reduce my own personal emissions by flying everywhere, but that's apparently not an option on the table.”

  “Well said,” Augustus said. “But why do you think these people are wrong? I get your undergirding thinking now, and it's not that far off my own. But why is it you think that these terrorists are going about it wrong?”

  “Because you can't take people down to zero,” I said. “You can't make the US or the world emissions-free tomorrow, even if you had a magic button you could push that could do it. There are consequences from it that would be horrifying.” I shuddered, and it wasn't from the night air. “I mean...billions would die.”

  “I'm interested to hear more about that,” Augustus said, “but maybe not right this second.” He moved his head, cracked his neck, and focused in. “Because it looks like we've got fires to put out – thanks to these people trying to save the world.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  When Augustus and I walked into the hotel lobby some time after three in the morning, we found a glaring Reed propped up in a chair, waiting, along with Jamal (not glaring), and another guy (also thankfully not glaring). I sized him up as we came through the doors, waiting for them to open and spill a little heat out to warm us up after our long night of flying.

  “Where have you been?” Reed asked, agitated but clearly restraining himself.

  “Touring the local bars,” I quipped, and my brother's eye twitched because – presumably – he knew I was lying. “Didn't know we were having a party here or we would have headed back sooner. Who's our guest of honor?”

  Reed looked daggers at me. “Dexter Joyce, North Dakota BCI, this is Sienna Nealon.”

  “The famous Sienna Nealon,” he said, offering me a hand. I shook it, gently as I could. “I'm the one who hired you to come out here.”

  “Thanks for thinking of us,” I said. “Sorry if you've been waiting. Didn't know you came to see us.”

  “In the middle of the night and everything,” Augustus said. “There a break in the case or you just keep vampire hours?”

  “Augustus Coleman,” Reed said, flinging a hand toward Augustus. “One of our...associates.”

  Joyce nodded. “Everyone knows the Coleman brothers. No, this was not a polite visit. We got a tip that came in – two, actually.”

  “Is this a federal case yet?” I asked.

  Joyce shook his head. “No. Not yet. Still state level.”

  I nodded. “What's the tip? Tips?”

  “A farmer in Oklahoma saw the most peculiar outline moving a
cross the sky this morning,” Reed said, stealing Joyce's thunder. “What he described as a flying trapeze with no ropes – one person flying above a pipe, three people hanging on below. And it moved across the sky at an incredible clip.”

  “That same report was echoed by another caller east of Dallas,” Joyce said.

  “Okay, that's weird, right?” Augustus asked.

  “Not if you've got a flyer who wants to transport his gang of eco-terrorists without flying commercial,” I said. “It's logical if you think about it. The only thing that might make more sense is a rickshaw or something.”

  “Maybe a sleigh?” Augustus quipped.

  “Did anyone do a vector check on those reports?” I asked. “You know, put 'em together on a map and check the heading?”

  “Houston,” Reed said quietly. “It's Houston.”

  “Heart of America's petroleum industry,” I said, thinking it through very quickly. “We should catch a flight.”

  “About that,” Joyce said, and there was some real steel behind his words. “We're going to need you to stay here.”

  My gaze flew to Reed, who looked ridiculously sour but said nothing, his arms folded in front of him.

  “Uh,” I said, trying not to speak over my brother but also not wanting to let pass this stupidity, “I thought you got a tip on the whereabouts of the perps?”

  “We did.”

  “But you don't want us to pursue the perps?” Augustus asked. He looked to Jamal, but Jamal was studying his shoelaces with great interest. “That's different. Usually we get hired to solve the bad guy problems.”

  “Oh, we want it solved,” Joyce said. “But what we want more than anything is to avoid a repeat. The state of North Dakota relies on the Bakken fields for our entire economy to function. The hit we took yesterday is going to set us back years, and they only damaged...well, estimates are still coming in, but we have over half our wells left in operation.” He shifted, looked Reed right in the eye. “Bottom line: we still have a lot to lose.”

  I glanced at Reed. He was saying nothing, but he looked about as happy as if I'd stomped on his foot. With all my force and weight. While in dragon form.

  “I don't want to be indelicate,” I said, turning to Joyce, “but if these people have left, your risk is low. Keeping us around to protect whatever's left of your fields...it's the equivalent of shutting the barn door after the horse got away. They're moving on to their next target, and my guess is they're going to cause some epic chaos down in Texas and forget all about what they did here.”

  “Be that as it may,” he said, “we cannot afford to lose the rest of our capacity.” His voice got very firm. “We need you to stay here.”

  I looked at Reed again. “Uhm...boss? You wanna weigh in here?”

  Reed turned his acid gaze on me. “We agreed to come out here and help the State of North Dakota.”

  “And the State of North Dakota no longer needs our help,” I said. “Whether they realize it or not. The State of Texas is about to, though, and by being there, we could help North Dakota further by bringing to justice the absolute asshats that caused this mess in the first place.”

  “We are unwilling to accept the risk of having something like this happen again if you left,” Joyce said.

  “Well, we're going to leave at some point,” I said. “Because I don't know about these guys, but I'm not staying in North Dakota forever.”

  “Why not?” Joyce said, frowning. “It's a pleasant place. Temperatures not so different from what you're used to in Minneapolis. And there are plenty of men. More than women.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yes, and I'm sure that like the women say in Alaska, 'the odds are good, but the goods are odd.' Hard pass on becoming a resident of North Dakota. I'm sorry, but the best way I can help you make sure this never happens again is by bringing my particular set of skills to bear on the people responsible. I need to go to Texas.”

  “But we hired you to do a job here,” Joyce said firmly. He looked sideways at Reed.

  Reed, looking pained, turned to him. “The last thing I want to do is aggravate you, sir. I'm sure we can come to some sort of accord.”

  “We are paying you for protection,” Joyce said tightly. “We lost officers, and our state has been hit harder than any time in recent memory. We need you to remain on guard.”

  “We need every member of this team, at least, to go after these people,” I said. “It was entirely too fair a fight already when we brawled with them.”

  “This is going to get ugly, ain't it?” Jamal said, meta-low.

  “It ain't what I'd call pretty, that's for sure,” Augustus answered him.

  “I'm afraid I must insist,” Joyce said. “We are paying you for this.”

  Reed cringed, and suddenly it all made sense to me.

  We needed the money.

  “Can we pull Kat and Eilish up here?” I asked. “They'd probably be better disposed to handling this particular brand of trouble; Eilish can take out half their team with a few words, turn 'em against the others.”

  Reed waved a hand at me. “I don't know. Maybe.” He seemed dismissive. Or maybe just distracted. “Mr. Joyce, I want to help you–”

  “Then do so,” Joyce said. “It's not difficult. Stay here. Honor our agreement.”

  I could see Reed caught between knowing that I was right, and that we as an agency needed the money. And not to alienate one of fifty potential employers in the form of the State of North Dakota.

  To me, this looked like a perfect test case of whether Reed would bend his own judgment and scruples for a buck, however needed.

  In the end...my brother won out.

  “I'm sorry,” Reed said. “But my sister's right. We are not, unfortunately, exclusive to North Dakota, and if we let them run rampant and cause havoc in Texas, we're not doing anyone any favors. We have to stop these people.” Joyce started to react, but Reed shut him right down. “I'm sorry – there's nothing more to discuss. If you'd like, I'm happy to send more of my associates here to stand guard, and I'm willing to keep you in the loop about our progress, but...we're leaving.” He looked to each of us. “Pack up. There's a flight from Williston to Houston leaving at six a.m. and we'll need to hurry to catch it.” He gestured to the elevator, and we all started to head that way, leaving Joyce behind – and looking particularly irritable.

  “Proud of you, bro,” I said, meta-low, as we walked away.

  My brother, though, was having none of it. His face was suffused with tension. “Shut up,” he said, and that was it.

  So I did. After a long night putting out fires, I saw no reason to start another one with him.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  We boarded the six o'clock plane to Houston in near silence. It had been like that the whole Uber ride to the airport, too, an hour spent in quiet, the driver not daring or just unwilling to speak, and none of us wanting to break the silence, either.

  Plus side: Reed had sprung for seat upgrades, so we were all chilling in business class, where the flight attendants had already promised me sweet, sweet coffee to help stave off the first strains of a caffeine-depravation headache.

  Downside: I was sitting next to my sullen brother. In the window seat, which meant I was going to have climb over him to pee, an inevitability given my planned coffee intake and the length of this flight.

  I finally got the courage to break the silence around the time the attendants started announcing we were going to be departing shortly, so get our baggage secured and our tray tables up and belts fastened. I wasn't sure who she was talking to, since there were only about thirty of us on the plane. Probably that derelict-looking dude in the hoodie and shorts in row M. He looked like the trouble making sort. He'd probably grab two bags of peanuts when they came by with them.

  “Do you think we should have Scott meet us down in Houston?” I asked. “You know, for backup?”

  “I already texted him telling him to,” Reed said, fixated on his hands, which were squarely in his
lap. A sure sign he was avoiding talking to me. For reasons.

  “Shit.” I sat bolt upright in my seat and fumbled for my phone. “Shit!”

  Reed looked over in alarm, because my curses were not quiet, and there was a kid looking at us from across the aisle. Not Augustus. A real kid. “Language,” Reed said under his breath.

  “Sorry,” I said, hurriedly sending a text as the attendant announced that the boarding door was closed and to please put away all cell phones. “I forgot to tell Lethe where we're going.” I sent the message, saw it go through, noted the popping up of text bubble indicating she was typing a furious reply, and powered down my phone before I could receive it. “She's probably just about at our hotel in Tioga right now.”

  “You're going to have her come meet us in Houston?” Was he weary or wary? I couldn't tell through the veneer of sleeplessness.

  “Well, I told her where we are, at least,” I said. “If she wants to join us, great. If not...” I shrugged. “I don't know. I wouldn't blame her. She's already driven me to Minneapolis from DC, then followed me to North Dakota and driven through the night to join us. All that on top of what was a pretty taxing couple weeks before everything broke loose in DC, so...” I shrugged again. “Maybe she'll decide I'm too much of a pain in the ass to chase me all over the map and head back to Minneapolis to await our inevitable return.”

  Reed's look told me what he thought of my chain of logic. “She'll head to Texas.” Then he went back to studying his hands.

  “You really don't like her, do you?”

  “I really don't know her,” Reed said. “Other than to see the effects that she seems to have had on you. On your approach to solving your problems. And her history, of course. Valkyrie,” he added, in Germanic accent. “Not a name associated with peace and quiet.”

  “Neither is 'Sienna Nealon,'” I said, catching the stare of that kid across the aisle again. “So we've got that in common.”