Poured the warmed syrup concoction into a gravy boat. Brought it over with a plate of fresh fruit.
Waited for the Keuhl’s to take their seats before settling down into his own.
“Ajax, you with us?” he asked.
Was promptly waved off, a flash of long fingers without so much as a glance in their direction.
“How long has he been at it?” Kade asked. Started to reach for pancakes. Thought better of it and used his fork.
“Most of the night,” Drake said. “We both broke for about four hours to sleep around two. Got back up and at it by six. Wasn’t until I texted you guys that either one of us thought to stop.”
Drake waited until Sage had filled her plate before going in for some of his own. Stacked them three high. Put a few strawberry and banana slices across the top.
Tore off a chunk of one and tossed it to Q. Doused the remainder of the pile in syrup.
“So where we at today?” Kade asked. Shoveled a heaping load into his mouth. Chewed loudly.
“Depends on what Ajax finds,” Drake said. Cut off a much smaller portion. “That call from Millie Hubble changed things last night. Time we recalibrated ourselves a bit.”
Kade nodded. Said nothing.
The night before Drake had called and filled him in. Everything from the press conference to the conversation with Hubble.
Like Drake, his anger had lingered a few moments before morphing into something more productive.
“You going to the prosecutor first thing?” Sage asked. Began with a single pancake. Put her syrup on the side and drug the flapjack through it.
“No,” Drake said. “Won’t do any good. Tyce is staying locked up until Monday, that’s why they had that damn conference when they did.”
“So then where are we going today?” Kade asked.
“Dillon,” Ajax said from his workstation set up across the room from them. Drew the attention of all three in his direction.
“Dillon?” Drake asked. Stared at Ajax’s profile illuminated by the computer screen.
“Yup,” Ajax replied. Didn’t take his eyes off the screen.
Sage looked at Drake and Kade. Turned back to Ajax.
“What’s in Dillon?”
The question hung in the air a long moment, nobody responding. Just as fast Ajax snapped himself out of his trance. Pushed his chair back a few inches.
Stood and headed for the table.
“Not Dillon Dillon,” he explained. Pulled his chair out and slid down into it. Ran his hands over his face. “Bout five miles north of there. Turns out Wes Koenig owning a place in Butte wasn’t quite as random as it seemed.”
Ignoring the food, all three stared at him in rapt silence.
Dropping his hands into his lap, Ajax disregarded the gawking. Reached out and grabbed a pair of pancakes. Dumped syrup on them and went straight to work.
“As I’m sure surprises nobody, Wes Koenig was a businessman with a lot of varied interests. He made his first millions investing in the Pacific Northwest. Made untold more in various ventures all over the country.”
As Ajax spoke he continued to eat, pushing out information and swallowing while barely chewing.
“Owns some oil rigs in Louisiana. Shipping vessels in Florida. Even some timber interests over in Oregon.”
Already a vague idea was starting to form in the back of Drake’s mind. He pushed it aside, letting his friend get to it in his own time.
“For Butte, his interests were natural gas.”
He dropped the last words out there as a summation. There was no need for him to explain further, everybody at the table knowing almost instantly what he was referring to.
It was a debate that had held Montana captive for years. Showed no signs of slowing down any time soon.
“Fracking,” Drake whispered.
“Mhmm,” Ajax said. Nodded. Continued to chew. “Got a good sized well over there too from what I can tell.”
“Enough to be drawing some serious coal bed methane out,” Sage said.
“Enough to piss a lot of people off,” Kade added.
Leaning forward, Drake rested his elbows on the table. Digested the information.
“How has this not come up yet? How in the world with that going on fifty miles from Butte did nobody think that might be means for motive?”
He paused, continuing to ponder out loud.
Felt anger rise within him.
“Seriously? The man was running a fracking operation right down the road and the best they could come up with was a rumor mill land deal eleven years ago?”
Ajax finished off the pancakes on his plates. Immediately went for two more.
Tore one down the middle and tossed it over the table to Q, who caught it mid-air. Took it down in one bite, oversized tongue and jowls flapping loudly.
“Probably didn’t know about it,” Ajax said. “I’ll give props to whoever handles his business operations. They covered their tracks well.”
For a moment Drake considered going and getting his notepad. Decided against it. Knew Ajax would have already notated everything he needed on the computer.
“Meaning?” Drake asked.
“Meaning that it took me a couple of hours to find even a trace of it. Several more to sniff the thing out completely,” Ajax said. “And even then I think I stumbled backwards into it. Happened to hit on his holdings in Louisiana, which led me back to these.”
Drake nodded. Glanced to Kade and Sage, both who were slowly eating, their attention focused on the conversation.
“Shell corporations.”
“And more shell corporations,” Ajax said. Looked to Drake. Cocked one side of his mouth in a smile. “It’s a good thing you’ve got an online wizard on the payroll or you may never have found it.”
A handful of responses sprung to Drake’s mind. Ran the gamut from funny one-liners to genuine appreciation. All were pushed aside.
There was no need to voice any of them.
“Explains why Taggert and Poe haven’t fingered anybody else yet,” Kade said.
“True,” Drake conceded. “Coupled with they aren’t really looking at anybody else.”
“A horse race,” Sage said. Voice low, almost a whisper.
Drake nodded in agreement.
Said nothing.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
No office.
No website.
Not even an active telephone number.
No matter how much digging Ajax did, there were but two pieces of hard data he could find for the drilling operation owned by Wes Koenig.
The first was a P.O. Box in Butte. The second was a set of coordinates for the mine itself.
That was all.
Once breakfast was completed and Drake showered and changed, he and Kade set off. Drove most of the way in silence. Made it to Butte in an hour and a half even.
Turned off of U.S. 15 forty minutes later. Followed the directions on Drake’s phone to a seemingly misplaced exit. Drove past a boarded up restaurant. A gas station with a single car outside.
Two miles off the interstate made a left onto a dirt road. Watched all sunlight disappear as they drove through dense forest, tall pine trees rising on either side of them, their trunks barren.
“You don’t happen to have a weapon in here do you?” Kade asked. Leaned forward and glanced up at the trees blotting the sky from view.
The question drew a half smile from Drake. Matched the same thought he’d been having a moment before.
“I’ve got some tools in the back,” Drake said. “That count?”
“Not really,” Kade said. Leaned back in his seat. Shook his head a few inches to either side. “I guarantee where we’re headed, the tools they’ve got are bigger.”
Drake nodded. The thought hadn’t occurred to him, but it wasn’t wrong.
The dirt road cut straight back through the forest for nearly a quarter mile. Two parallel tracks pockmarked with the occasional pothole. Ground packed hard from heavy
equipment with wide tires rolling over it.
The truck bounced over the frozen ground as it made its way forward. Rolled to a stop in front of a gate made of steel pipe and chain link fence. Swinging inward from either side, the gate was parted in the middle. A long chain with a heavy lock hung from one side. An opening just wide enough to accommodate the tire tracks spread before them.
The brakes squealed just a bit as Drake eased to a stop. Peered out through the front windshield.
Most of the tree cover had been cleared for a quarter mile square. A few stumps still stuck up at random intervals, though most had been removed.
From where they sat they could see a pair of grey modular units acting as field offices. A bevy of drilling equipment clumped up in a loose pattern beyond it.
A rig rising from the ground a hundred yards ahead.
Beside one of the buildings was a single automobile, a dented half-ton pickup a little smaller than the one they now sat in.
“What do you think?” Drake asked. Cast a glance over to Kade.
A long moment passed as Kade pushed out a breath.
Neither one of them had been certain what they might find when they set off that morning. Drake felt reasonably sure neither had expected this.
“Well, we’re here,” Kade finally said.
Nodding once in agreement, Drake eased his foot up off the brake. Allowed the truck to idle forward. Come to a stop behind the truck.
Put it in park and turned off the ignition.
A single light burned in the modular beside them. No shadows moved behind the blinds.
No other signs of life at all.
“Well, we’re here,” Drake echoed. Pushed his door open, stepped outside.
Deep in the forest, the air felt ten degrees cooler than when they’d left. The smell of pine needles immediately filled his nostrils. Mixed with the unmistakable scents of axle grease and gas.
Drake’s footfalls landed silent on the ground as he circled around the truck. Walked up the three steps to the front door. Knocked twice, stepped down beside Kade and waited.
After two minutes with no response he stepped forward and knocked again. Heard the weak structure moan a bit as someone moved around inside.
A moment later watched the door fly open in a flurry. Had he been standing on the top step, he very well might have been sent tumbling backward.
Looking at the snarl on the man’s face before him, Drake guessed that was the idea.
“You won, dammit!” the man bellowed. Sent a stream of spittle out of his mouth. Off the end of his beard. “Now can’t you just get the hell out of here and leave me alone?”
The words caught Drake unawares, his mouth dropping open a half inch. He turned and glanced to Kade, felt his stomach tighten.
The man began to retreat, the door swinging closed, as Drake extended a hand.
“Whoa!” he yelled. Cautioned a move onto the bottom step. “I don’t know who you think we are, but I assure you we aren’t them.”
The men stopped the door’s closing. Made no effort to reemerge. Took a look at Drake’s truck sitting behind his own.
“Then who are you?”
“My name is Drake Bell, this is Kade Keuhl. We’re here about the death of Wes Koenig.”
The anger on the man’s face receded a bit. Was replaced by confusion.
“Who the hell is Wes Koenig?”
This time the confusion transferred to Drake’s features. “The man who owns this mine.”
The man stood rooted in place a long time. Looked from Drake to Kade. On past them to the trail leading up to the mine.
Sighed. Allowed his shoulders to slump from the effort.
Swung the door open a little further.
“Well I guess you better come inside. Sounds like we’ve both got some questions need answered.”
Chapter Forty
Lee Bertram.
Site foreman for the operation.
Thick and bullish, he sat behind his desk. Wore a glower that seemed to be his natural expression. Kept his fingers laced over an ample midsection.
Auburn hair stuck out from beneath a grey ski cap. Extended down into a two inch beard. Matched the rust colored zip up hooded sweatshirt he wore over a grey Henley.
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” Bertram said, “but we’re owned by NoPac.”
Across from him Drake and Kade sat in black leather chairs that were beginning to crack and peel.
Drake nodded. “That’s one of the shell subsidiaries Koenig owned.”
Bertram made a disbelieving face. Said nothing.
“He had them all over the country,” Drake explained. “He had many different business ventures, was known as a bit of a prick. He set up different fronts for his various businesses to throw people off his scent. To give himself protection so one misstep wouldn’t submarine everything else he had going.”
Reaching up, Bertram jammed three fingers into his beard. Scratched with vigor.
“And you seem to think this place was a part of that?”
“Let me ask you this,” Drake countered. “I see you guys aren’t running today.”
“Obviously.”
“How long have you been down?” Drake asked. “Since, say, Tuesday?”
Bertram opened his mouth to respond. Narrowed his eyes. Paused.
“Wednesday.”
“Wes Koenig was killed Monday night,” Drake said. “Probably took a day for the information to pass through the network. For production to cease.”
Leaning back, Bertram swept the ski cap off his head. Revealed a thinning scalp, only a few wisps of hair still present.
“Christ.”
“Who did you think we were?” Kade asked. Voice still distorted by the congestion in his head.
Smashing the garment back into place, a nasty expression crossed over Bertram’s face. “More of those damn protestors. Only good thing about work stopping this week was I finally got some peace out here.”
The same feeling Drake had had eighteen hours before while speaking to Millie reared itself in the back of his mind. Took hold. Refused to be ignored.
“Protestors?” Drake asked.
“Yeah,” Bertram replied. Let it be known the word tasted sour on his tongue. “Damn enviro-hippies out here all the time with their signs and their chanting and stuff. Enough to drive a man crazy.”
Drake had once read an account from a former detective. The guy had said in most solved cases there was one particular moment that sent everything hurtling forward.
Something he referred to as the Big Bang Clue.
Sitting inside the modular, Drake couldn’t help but think he had just been handed his second such finding in as many days.
Drawing out his notepad, Drake flipped to a new page. Clicked on the end of his ink pen.
“Please explain. Leave nothing out.”
Seeing the notepad out seemed to bring a sense of unease over Bertram. He stared at it a long moment. Glanced between Drake and Kade.
“Not a whole lot to explain. About a week after we began drilling here they started showing up.”
“When was that?” Drake asked.
Raising his face to the ceiling, Bertram said, “Must have been, oh, early September. We had to be sure to get our hole bored out before the top layer started freezing.”
“Right,” Drake said. Took down every word he heard. “How did they find out about the place?”
“No clue,” Bertram said. “Just, one day I showed up and they were here, swarming the damn place like ants. After that we put up the fence to keep them from messing with anything. Didn’t do much to stop them from annoying the piss out of us though.”
“They destroyed equipment?” Kade asked.
Bertram shook his head. “I wouldn’t say destroy. That would have been too obvious, made them liable.
“Over the next week though, a lot of things turned up faulty. Cost us a lot of time and money.”
Head down, Drake contin
ued to take notes.
It was not the first time he had heard such stories. Environmentalists were just as attached to places like Montana as outdoorsmen. Neither side thought what the other did was right. Neither was about to back down on their beliefs.
Still, if what Bertram was telling him was true, it went a long way to clearing Tyce Riggins.
If a group of people were willing to sabotage equipment, it wasn’t too much of a stretch to imagine them setting a fire to somebody’s home.
“These all individuals?” Drake asked. “Just clumps of concerned citizens?”
“That I don’t know,” Bertram said. “Seemed far too organized to be random, but it’s not like I stopped and had conversations with them.”
Drake nodded. Continued writing. When he was done he looked up, considered how to phrase his next question.
The answer to it could very well provide the information Taggert and Poe would no doubt demand before considering relenting on his client.
“What is it about your dealings here that seems to have these people in such an uproar?”
A long moment passed as Bertram stared at them. Slowly his mouth began to curl upward. His stomach started to quiver. A deep booming laugh erupted from somewhere deep inside, shaking his entire person. Threatened to rattle the very structure they sat in.
Drake and Kade remained silent as he bandied on. Came to a stop almost a full minute later. When he was done he stared across at them. Rubbed his thumb and forefinger over his eyes.
“You’re not from around here, are you?”
“No,” Drake admitted. Felt a bit of heat rush to his face.
“Then you’ve missed out on all the fuss for the last twenty years,” Bertram said. Paused. Looked over at some posters hanging on the wall.
“For years the environmentalists had the politician’s ears. Convinced them hydraulic drilling, or as you called it, fracking, was the bane of existence.”
He turned back to face forward.
“And I give them credit. They painted a doom and gloom story. Made it sound compelling. Got the powers to be to keep it out.”
“So what happened?” Drake asked.
“The economy tanked,” Bertram said. Delivered the information without the slightest inflection. “The pro-drilling side got hold of those same politicians. Started promising jobs. Revenue. Kickbacks. Wasn’t long and rigs like the one right outside here starting springing up.”
The Glue Guy: The Zoo Crew Series Book 4 Page 16