by David Dun
"Sort of. I live in the mountains."
"So how does a guy have a beer with a woman who lives in the mountains?"
"He calls her and talks to her until he convinces her he's not some kind of nutcase."
"And how does a guy get her number?"
"Like this." Corey took out a simple white card with her name and phone on it. Nothing else.
"Spartan card," the man said.
"I like things simple and neat," she said. "Call me." She turned to Macy as if to dismiss him for the moment. He proceeded to check out the video and leave.
"He's a regular. And you obviously made a hit with him. I haven't seen you dressed like that before."
''Yeah.'' Corey smiled. ''But you know I can't stay single forever."
"What brings you here?"
"Oh, I'm going to go to the library, but I forgot the damn thing doesn't open until eleven, so I thought I'd get a movie, kill time. Too far to go home."
Corey checked out Malcolm X and went to the viewing room in the far corner. Inside, she turned on the movie, stripped off her clothes, and took boots and overalls from a sizeable bag over her shoulder. Then she took out her cell phone, called Old Town Video, and slipped out the door of the viewing room. Macy stepped halfway behind a wall to answer the phone. Her habit was to lean against the wall, well back from the counter. Corey could walk all the way to the front door without being seen when Macy leaned against the wall.
"You got Ancient of Days there?" Corey said in her deepest, almost unintelligible drawl, already out the door.
"I've never heard of it."
"Well, could you look it up and see?"
"Well, I suppose."
Leaving the shiny Mustang right in front of the store, she walked around the block to a parked van.
"You know," she told Macy, "never mind. On second thought I don't have time to watch a movie."
16
"Look, you have your tail tied in a knot without knowing the facts." In the hallway outside the courtroom, it took Dan a second to notice Ross, who came forward to stand next to Maria.
"Save it for the judge. He may be sympathetic to your particular line of bullshit."
She wore a stylish business suit, deep blue with gold buttons, dark blue shoes, and an embroidered white blouse- a change from the usual. Her crossed arms and intense bearing said as much as her words.
''You don't seem all outraged about the ears your buddies lifted from the loggers." Ross grabbed her elbow.
"If you'd close your fist, you'd get a little more sizzle in that right," Dan said, smiling wanly.
"Don't tempt me."
"Come on." Ross urged Maria toward the courtroom.
"I see you're out serving the morally challenged as usual," she snapped as she backed away in response to Ross's tugs.
"I think if we could talk about this, you might-"
"Save your breath," she said, disappearing through the doors.
The people jamming the old-fashioned courtroom sat on polished-teak seats for the gallery. Matching the dark tones of the benches were a teak jury box and witness stand, and a pair of mahogany counsel tables, all sitting atop a worn marble floor. It was said that the teak was salvaged from sailing ships of the 1890s that used to stop for cargoes of milled redwood. Present in the historic room were members of the press, activists, and mill workers.
Maria stood behind the counsel table nearest the jury box. Dan sat behind the other, trying to make eye contact while she stared everywhere but at him. Soon the bailiff called the case and the judge took the bench. He was a salt-and-pepper gray-haired man who tended to dangle his glasses in his right hand.
"Are both counsels ready?"
"Your Honor, perhaps we could talk in chambers?" Dan said as he rose.
The look on the judge's face told everyone in the packed courthouse that he was favorably disposed to the suggestion. Translated into lawyerspeak, Dan was asking to go in the back room and make a deal. A quick settlement would be just what the doctor ordered. Like all state judges, Traxler was an elected official, and any decision he might make in this case would be extremely unpopular with many people.
Maria displayed no reaction to what was happening, even though she would likely prefer a much different order of events. Excoriating the industry for accelerated weekend cutting and girdling trees would best be done in open court. She could obtain a temporary court order halting the logging, grab headlines, declare victory, and then negotiate from a position of strength prior to the next hearing. None of that would be possible in a back-room deal.
"Your Honor, if I could be heard. I think the public deserves an open and fair hearing," Maria began before Dan or the judge could speak further. "I know Mr. Young wants to go in chambers, out of the hearing of all these good people, and try to cut a deal. Well, I'm happy to do that. But at the right time."
"What are you saying about settlement, Ms. Fischer? Exactly."
"The matters before this court are important to the public. As evidence of that, I would point out that there are hundreds of people both inside and outside this building. I appreciate the court's concern for achieving a settlement, and such a thing may be possible after the public's right of participation is taken care of, but right now I think settlement would be premature."
"Am I to understand that before you'll talk settlement, you want to address the court?"
''Your Honor, if Ms. Fischer makes a highly inflammatory argument and then we go off to discuss settlement, it may make it more difficult."
"Mr. Young, it will only look like your clients are losing if she makes a more compelling case.'' Then he eyed Maria. "I wouldn't let you grandstand if I didn't think your side had something to commend. But if I let you go on like Daniel Webster, I want some assurance that we're going to have some settlement talks before I rule."
''We are certainly willing to listen and the court can more effectively guide the settlement talks if it is apprised of all the facts."
''OK." Traxler sighed. ''There will be order in this courtroom." He banged his gavel, quieting the sizeable crowd. "No clapping or speaking will be allowed at any time. Ms. Fischer, this is your motion. You may proceed."
Corey had a medium-sized hand truck with a lashing strap that would wrap around the cargo and pull tight with a small hand crank. On it were two five-gallon drums, one atop the other. Her blue denim coveralls said johnson heating and electric. Through careful investigation she had learned that they did much of the electrical work in the courthouse. She had duplicated a Johnson van down to the fine print lettering on the outside. As if she belonged, as if she owned the place, she drove right up to the back service entrance. Her hair was under a cap and she had bound her breasts so that she looked like a man.
Her black boot hit the grainy asphalt with a businesslike scrape and she moved with the determined nonchalance of a busy workman. Without rushing but with precision, she removed the dolly and placed the two five-gallon drums on it. They were taped together, one on top of the other, at the joint. Labels indicated thirty-gauge electrical wire. Behind the drums and against the dolly, she put a heavy three-foot crowbar.
Unlike federal courthouses, there was no metal detector or security other than a few laid-back deputies who didn't expect to see any action; there hadn't been an incident of courthouse violence for as long as anyone could remember. She wheeled her load into the service entrance and entered the elevator alone. A couple of sheriff' s deputies were entering the building as the elevator door was closing, but she made no move to push the button that would have held the elevator and reopened the doors. No sense inviting trouble.
The elevator groaned to the second floor and the doors opened. A black lady with a cleaning cart stopped whistling when the doors parted and rolled her collection of janitorial materials in beside Maria.
"What you doing with all that wire?"
"Project on the roof. You know the first-floor rest room is awful. Why don't you start there?"
"It i
s?"
"Sure is."
"Well, I guess I'll ride it back down."
When Corey got off at the fifth floor, the woman went back down. The chances were that everybody on the first floor would be able to get out before lethal exposure. No sense killing an innocent worker when it wasn't necessary. Corey knew there wasn't enough cyanide to get everybody; the vents she was using fed only three second-floor courtrooms and one hallway. She hoped to get Maria Fischer and Dan Young.
There would be none of her kind-real radical activists- in the courtroom. She had spread a rumor that in retaliation for the ears, the sheriff was out to arrest monkey-wrenchers who showed up at the hearing. Corey had told everyone that the sheriff had a list of names, so she was confident they wouldn't show up.
There were three clerks in the hall. When she wheeled the drums past them, she nodded at no one for fear they might ask her a question. When she got to the door leading to the stairs, she looked through the small rectangular window. Much to her shock, there were two workmen at the door to the crawl space. Immediately she turned, said, "Oh damn" as if she had forgotten something, and headed back down the hall to a storage room she had seen earlier. Trouble was, it was locked and she had no key. Fortunately, it was to the left and out of sight of the three clerks.
When she turned the corner, she noted with relief that no one was in this section of the hall. Maintenance people would be trouble. Leaning the dolly next to the storage-room door, she put one foot against the wall and leaned back as if she had all the time in the world. It was precisely what she did not have. She would wait fifteen minutes and try one more time. It was 9:30 a.m. exactly. The hearing would be starting now.
"Your Honor, I represent the Friends of the Wilderness, the Wildlife Society, the Wildflower Coalition, and other environmental organizations," Maria said. "Trees on this harvest plan at the Highlands are known to be over one thousand years old. In fact, it's possible some of the trees in the three hundred acres of old growth at White Horse Creek were growing when Christ walked the earth. These ancient trees are up to fifteen feet in diameter and over three hundred feet tall. We had no idea that this ill-conceived logging plan was under review. We made a mistake by not anticipating this. It's just that simple. Trees that are a national treasure-and can never be replaced-are going to be destroyed without serious thought, just because we made a mistake. Now, please note that we are not saying they can never be cut. We don't have to decide that now. What we are deciding here is whether this extraordinary decision, one that will affect priceless living things, should be made without a few moments of reflection. Can't our need to consume everything in sight be put on hold for even a few days, until the next hearing on this matter?
"Your Honor, it's not just the trees, although that would certainly be enough to give us pause. White Horse Creek runs right through the heart of this plan. For years it has been vital to local Coho salmon populations. The proposed plan will devastate it. Already half full of muck from logging, it will become even worse. For the salmon, for the trees, for our children and their children after them, we want those few moments of contemplation by this court to be informed moments. We want the court to have all the information reasonably available when the fate of these living things hangs in the balance.
"This forest has grown in silence since long before our country was founded. Give us just a few days to speak for it and to act on its behalf."
"Yes!" Hushed exclamations went up from the environmentalists around the room; while around them, the industry supporters were obvious in their angry silence.
Maria paused a moment. ''Consider, Your Honor, another critical circumstance in this case. Anderson Logging, working together with their counsel, Dan Young"-she paused to enunciate his name-"deliberately attempted to steal our entitlement to those few moments of consideration by this court. We believe Anderson Logging and their counsel knew a suit would be filed, because they knew this old growth was part of the Highlands complex, lying as it does right against the border of the larger pieces. We know that over the weekend they sent in a greatly oversize crew and began cutting at a frenzied rate, laughing at members of our organization who suggested they wait until the court could consider the matter. Then they began killing trees by girdling, cutting the vital cambium layer because it was faster than harvesting the tree normally. A cynical way to make sure the forest died.
"Your Honor, they were holding in contempt our system of justice, which provides for the resolution of disputes through orderly processes. They were belittling those few moments of consideration that the law gives us to protect the public welfare. The court must not unwittingly become an accomplice to the attempt of a few greedy men to deprive society of a few moments of sober reflection concerning what we are about to do, which once done can never be repaired."
Maria sat down, and true pandemonium broke out. "Yes!" came the voices again from the gallery.
Traxler banged his gavel. "Order in the court! Order in the court!'' But his words were drowned in the cheers.' "This will not be tolerated!" the judge boomed. "One more sound and this court will be cleared!"
Standing, Maria Fischer turned and held up her hands like a teacher before a classroom full of children. Instantly there was silence, but the people continued with their passionate stares, barely able to restrain themselves. Around them, the mill workers and loggers were stone-faced, waiting for their champion.
Traxler was visibly moved. "Is this true? They were girdling trees they didn't have time to cut over the weekend so they could be sure of harvest later? Did they actually send in extra cutters over the weekend to beat a court order?''
Dan felt the stress in the tightened muscles of his chest and back. Even he had not realized how powerful a presentation could be made from these facts. He was staring at a tidal wave with no place to run.
Shohei waited behind the wheel of his Altima, puzzled. From what little he knew about Corey Schneider, she didn't seem like someone who would spend forty-five minutes shopping for a rental video. For a Monday-morning activity it didn't feel right. Yet the Mustang was still there, in front of the video shop.
Perhaps she had gone out the back door and this was a ploy to ditch any tails. Not wanting to attract attention, he walked across the street at a normal pace, hoping he wouldn't run into her on the way out. If she saw his face, the difficulties of his assignment would be significantly increased.
Inside, a few women browsed the stacks. None was Corey Schneider.
"Can I help you with something?"
"Is this everything?" He indicated the room.
"Well, yes." She smiled. "What were you expecting?"
"People come in here and stay for hours?"
"Oh, they're probably back there, watching movies in the private rooms."
"I see. Well, my friend came in here. She is blond."
"Corey?"
"Yes."
"She's right back there, waiting for the library to open."
"Ah." Shohei nodded. But it still didn't seem right. Walking back in the corner where the woman had pointed, he opened the door. A movie was running, but no one was inside.
"Did you find her?"
"Yes. Thank you." He stepped outside quickly. Like everyone else who listened to the radio, Shohei knew about today's duel at the courthouse. With all the demonstrators expected to attend, maybe she went there. But why so secretly? Unless…
Whipping his car around, he headed for the courthouse, the largest building in Palmer. He drove around the backside of the building, where he saw a dark van like the one Corey had recently parked in her garage. The lettering could easily have been added. Beside him sat his laptop. Quickly he scrolled through to Corey Schneider. The license plates on this van were not hers, so it was probably unrelated. But he had nothing else to go on.
Parking the car, he decided to inquire after the Johnson Electric man-or woman.
When Corey returned to the door to the roof, she put on an air of unconcern in case anyone w
as looking. Trying to control the tension, she peered through the window. Shit. They were there, coiling an electrical extension cord and putting away tools and a portable light. She looked up and down the hall, realizing that now a second turnaround would raise a question in the mind of anyone who had seen the first. But there didn't seem to be anyone. A woman came walking from the cafeteria with a cup of something, probably her midmorning coffee. Corey kept the bill of her hat low and went back down the hall toward storage, hoping the workmen would not also go there.
She was running out of time. They needed to be packed into the courtroom for the best chance at a kill. It had been thirty-four minutes since she entered the building and twenty-three minutes since the hearing started, assuming it started on time. As she stood against the wall, each minute carved its worry mark in her mind. Failure was not acceptable.
Two women walked by and both looked longer and harder than any of the others. Then one of them made some comment. A minute later, a deputy sheriff came by, a burly man with thin sandy hair and badly receding hairline. On his face was a large mole and he had a funny habit of running his tongue across his teeth. He was the officious type, manifestly concerned about everything.
"What are you waiting on?" From his tone Corey figured the women must have said something.
"My crew chief is coming to tell me. We're laying wire on the roof for something."
"Roof's down there."
"I know, but I was told to wait here by storage. I guess some of the wire is going in here until we need it."
"Hell, that's just a little janitorial supply room."
"I just follow orders. I ain't got a contractor's license."
"It just seems strange, them sending you here."
"Well, Your Honor," Dan explained, "I've asked the state officials to go into the harvest area today because I knew the court might want a full report."
"So you thought about this in advance."
"No, Your Honor. I was dealing with a situation."