At The Edge

by David Dun

  "Some kind of a line running from the pool to these boards or whatever this is."

  "Something is going on here that doesn't look like Taxol."

  "OK."

  ''I've got to go in there. And we've got to see our chemist. Maybe some of this would make sense."

  "Seeing the chemist seems fine, but going back in is nuts."

  "We can talk about it. Let's just find out everything we can for now."

  "No, I mean it, Dan. If you don't control yourself, I'm going to the sheriff and fink on you. He knows how to be a real jerk. I speak from experience."

  His jaw dropped.

  "This can become an obsession. You aren't a cop. This has gone far enough. Sometimes breaking a bad law is justified. But this is just dangerous shit. You've got a boy."

  Dan sighed.

  "If we are going to do this together, promise me you won't sneak around without telling me. We're using our contacts at the university," she added. Dan frowned. ''Please promise me, no secrets on this."

  "All right. You know I'm growing to like you."

  She studied him, curious about his meaning.

  "In a friendship sort of way."

  "Thanks for the vote of confidence," Maria said.

  Part of Kenji's face was going numb. The doctor said it was stress. He was also having nightmares. Dan Young standing in the fog watching him on a rickety footbridge, the bridge starting to unravel under his feet. He woke before the bridge disintegrated but not before his heart rate elevated to more than one hundred beats per minute.

  The chemists were making some progress. They could now neutralize the effluent in small quantities, using a process suitable for mass-production efforts, but the cost was still too high. Ominously, a spring near the mine was coming up with trace amounts of the effluent-enough to kill wildlife that came to drink. That scared Kenji. If it ever got out that it was seeping into aquifers, he was finished. On the other hand, the only chemist who knew said if it traveled far enough-particularly far enough to get off Amada land-the earth would do the cleansing.

  Even more worrisome, Dan Young was not giving up. Tired of palpating his numb upper cheek, Kenji rose from his desk and took the elevator to Groiter's office one floor below. It was late but he figured Groiter would be there. Groiter was dedicated if nothing else. It was locked. He knocked.

  Groiter opened the door. "I've got a live feed to the recorder. When I'm listening, I keep the door closed."

  "Can this be traced to us?"

  "Not with all the relays. Not the way it's set up. If somebody tried to tamper with it, the network would self-destruct."

  "Well, don't feed it in here. I don't give a shit how foolproof you think it is. Nothing is going right."

  "They're intimidated. Or she is. She's stopped him from going back out to the compound."

  "What about the pictures?"

  "You've told us not to break into Young's house again. They won't learn anything critical."

  David Dun

  At The Edge

  "And Schneider?"

  "Even if they figured her out, she doesn't know who we are."

  "She saw a helicopter. We're not some petty criminals. She knows that."

  "She has alibis for everything. Good ones. So I don't think they can squeeze her."

  "You seem awfully sure of yourself for someone who hasn't succeeded at much in this mess. Why the fuck aren't those two lawyers dead?''

  "Fluke. But they're contained. Maria Fischer is nervous for the boy."

  "Make her more nervous."

  "It could backfire."

  "Don't use Schneider, just hire some thug who'd like to fuck her. I don't care how you do it. Just deliver a strong message. Got it? Don't you have someone just sitting on his ass up in Palmer?"

  Groiter nodded.

  "Call him. Now."

  "I want to talk about something more personal," Maria said.

  "Have at it."

  "You're not doing well, are you?"

  ''What do you mean?''

  "I think after your wife died you started drinking a lot."

  Dan shrugged. "I hoist a few."

  "A lot, they say."

  "Who says?"

  "Just people. It doesn't matter who says. Just tell me to mind my own business if you want to. Choice is yours."

  "Go on."

  ''You figure you're tough. People die. People get over it. You'll handle it." When she spoke again, her voice was much softer, much more understanding. "Well, am I right?"

  "I suppose."

  "You're in control of your life? You don't notice any depression, lack of energy, or mood swings-nothing like that? The drinking and the isolation are by your choice?"

  "I can deal with it."

  "As good a father as you are, can you see this is affecting Nathaniel?'' She locked eyes with him.

  "Yeah."

  "You can trust me and yourself on that."

  Dan knew she was right.

  "So," she said, staring at him. "How do your friends see you?"

  Dan smiled. "Oh, they probably say I'm not quite my old self, drink more."

  "What does Lynette think?"

  "We're really close. She helps me."

  She put a hand over his. "Am I intruding too much for someone from the enemy camp?"

  "Of course," he said. "But we've gone this far, we might as well get all your theories out on the table. Lynette arranged a counselor, nagged me into going. I went a couple of times, but I'm not the counseling type."

  "What we really need here is a temporary truce. This isn't the timber wars. This is just two colleagues talking. Tell me about how Nate has coped with his mother's death."

  Dan sat forward. "The other day, right out of the blue, Nate asked if his mother used to fold his socks. After explaining how she did it, I followed him back to his room and peeked in at him. On the floor there was a box full of old clothes. He'd taken out a pair of socks that were all turned in and rolled up with the toes sticking out, the way she used to do it. And he was just sitting there gently rolling those socks around on the bed. I wanted to talk to him. About her."

  For a moment she didn't say anything.

  "How about a change of scenery? Let's go down to Mazzotti's and have a tiramisu."

  Dan leaned back, dubious.

  "You have a couple bites," Maria said. "I'll eat the rest and work it off at aerobics in the morning."

  "What's wrong?" Maria asked, touching his forearm.

  "Nothing." Dan reached to pour her more wine.

  The Italian place was run by a short, pudgy fellow who made the best minestrone Dan had ever tasted. That, and Italian desserts.

  "We'll call the science guys tomorrow, OK?"

  "Great." He took a sip. "Do they know anything? I mean, why all the suspense? Why didn't they just tell you?"

  "I've dealt only with their department secretaries. I get the feeling that they figure they're doing us a favor and we should come and appreciate their help in person. I might be able to set up a conference call, but I'd like to go down there."

  "You're right. You can't smile over the phone."

  "What does that mean?"

  "Your warm-up-the-audience smile." He leaned back. "Best I've ever seen."

  The waiter brought the tab with some coffee. For the first time she noticed that one of his blue eyes had a spot of hazel in the cornea. He'd probably shaved early in the morning and his beard, with its late-night shadow, was now rough and blond with a hint of red. She liked it.

  "Now you're making me nervous. Are your friends doing more evil deeds that you haven't told me about?"

  "It's like your boyfriend. We don't talk about him. We don't discuss my friends' upcoming evil deeds."

  "You seem to have a thing about my boyfriend."

  ''One of us has to.''

  "I've got to excuse myself to the ladies' room."

  After getting directions from a waiter, Maria moved down a shadowy hall. She forced herself to shrug off what
seemed to be an irrational sense of alarm. She locked the bathroom door behind her.

  On her way back to the dining area, her uneasiness turned to fear. Silhouetted by a light at the end of the hall, a large figure stepped out of the men's room in front of her. A shiver ran up her spine. He was a big man. Don't be silly, she told herself as she approached him. What can happen in a restaurant? She tried to make out his face, but couldn't see much in the silhouette he formed. As she turned to edge past him, she felt herself lifted and thrown head first against the wall-so hard it knocked the wind out of her and made her see stars. There she was held, engulfed in a sea of flesh, pressed flat, unable to move. A large hand clamped over her mouth, and she began getting dizzy.

  "Don't move or I'll snap your neck right where you stand," he whispered. He smelled of stale sweat and whiskey. She tried to breath, but couldn't, and the voice continued. "Why don't you take your goddamn nosy attitude someplace else? Down to the Sierras, maybe." While he talked, she forced her right hand behind her, feeling for his crotch. ''Bad things could happen around here if you and Young don't lay off. Real bad things, like to that kid of his. What's his name? Nate?" He slammed her against the wall again to make his point. "I promise I'll be back for a real dance. Unless you two lay off."

  He ground his pelvis into her buttocks and consequently into her hand. She found his large testicles through his pants. Using her body weight, she squeezed, pulled, and twisted in one fluid motion. Every ounce of her energy went to her straining hands.

  A scream burst into her ear and a meaty fist slammed the side of her head, then went to her throat. She yanked up again and then down. The hand disappeared. Choking sounds escaped her lips; then she felt herself dropping, crumpling to the floor. Only then did she release his testicles. His scream had turned to grunting. He staggered back.

  "Oh fuck," he muttered, holding himself.

  She tried to crawl up the wall, but her legs wouldn't work. Stumbling toward her, he took a swipe at her neck with one hand while he held himself with the other. He missed. She began sliding backward on the floor and screamed, but on the second try his hand took her neck and clamped her throat shut. No blood, no air. She felt the coldness that is death. Bending down to her, he put his face next to hers. When he began to speak-words that her mind never heard-she used her last bit of strength to ram her thumbs into his eyes, causing him to fall back.

  From the floor she rammed her heel into his kneecap. Then she managed to get to her feet and half-ran, half-stumbled up the hall with him bellowing his pain as she reached the dining room, her head swirled and she fell headlong into Dan, who grabbed her.

  Some crazy logger, she tried to tell herself. But she knew it was the Highlands and the lab and the bats and the damn equations, whatever it meant. This didn't happen because she was an environmentalist or because she had befriended Dan. It happened because Dan Young was after the Amada people. And they had to have been spying on them, trying to make it look like a coincidental meeting with a redneck.

  "Are you all right?" Dan was saying.

  "I think so."

  "Can I help?" It was a young man.

  "Someone attacked you?" Dan said.

  "Bastard," she said.

  "Hold her," Dan said.

  "He's long gone and in a world of hurt," she said to Dan, who was moving rapidly toward the back hall.

  She teetered as the waiter held her arm. Barely able to stand, she leaned against the wall to take inventory. Nothing felt broken, but she knew she'd have massive bruises. She hobbled back around a corner toward where they had been seated.

  Dan ran into the back hallway, found the ladies' room, went to the back where the hallway ended in a T. To the left was a busy kitchen, to the right a storage area, and straight ahead the back door. Opening the door, he found an empty alley. Back inside he stepped into the kitchen. Only the kid washing dishes would have seen the hallway.

  "Did you hear a scream and see a guy leave?"

  "I seen a guy. Looked hurt bad. I couldn't tell where the scream came from. I thought it was in the alley."

  "Can you remember anything about this guy?"

  "Big, and wore a dark green shirtlike thing. He was doubled over."

  "What color was the man's hair?"

  "I don't know. I think he was wearing a stocking cap. He was in the shadows and didn't look my way."

  Returning to the restaurant, Dan found the waiter and Maria exactly where he had left them.

  He took her to his car, a 1990 Mercedes in virtually new condition. He and Tess had used it on special occasions.

  "We've got to report this to the police," Dan said. "And I've got to go back to that compound."

  "No. Absolutely not. They threatened Nate. You have got to stop fighting them. Let the police do it."

  "I think you said that already."

  "I'm afraid it's not sinking in. It was a warning, Dan. Somebody doesn't want us doing what we're doing. They may start with me, but it'll end with Nate." Her words made him silent.

  18

  ''If you won't go to the emergency room, then at least come and sleep on the couch in my house. If you feel worse during the night, we can take you in."

  They were parked in the Mercedes outside the Palmer Inn after filing a report with the police and then another session with the sheriff, who'd been angry when Dan told him they had checked out Corey Schneider and her alibi without talking to him.

  "My adrenaline is pumping," Maria said. "I don't think lean sleep."

  "Then you'll come," Dan said, starting the engine.

  "You're forgetting something. My suitcase is in my room."

  "Forget it. I still have the same toothbrush you used last time. The pj's you wore are cleaned. You're all set. I'll drop you off back here in the morning on my way to work."

  "I have a favor to ask."

  "What?"

  "Are you not sleepy, either?" she asked.

  "Not really. Not after all that. But it's eleven o'clock, and I have to try to get to sleep at least by midnight."

  "So we have an hour."

  "Yeah? What are you thinking?"

  "Show me Tess's grave."

  "What? Are you nuts?"

  "I want to see it. And I want you to take me there."

  "It's dark. And…"

  "Many cemeteries are lit at night. Isn't this one?"

  "Well, I think so. Some."

  "Then take me."

  "Not tonight. Some other time."

  "What, you think I'm going to be stopping regularly for this?"

  "Why do you want to go there? You never even knew her."

  "You did. You been there?"

  "You know I haven't."

  "Frankly, it's Nate I'm thinking about. If you can't go there yourself, you won't be taking him there."

  "What is it with you and visiting graves?"

  She didn't answer.

  "You think I have some emotional hang-up, that I’m not grieving, or something."

  She said nothing, just looked straight ahead.

  "You're all beat-up. It makes no sense to go right now, in the middle of the night."

  "Say no and stop with the arguing if you won't take me. You don't owe me an explanation."

  "Damn, you're stubborn."

  "I believe the cemetery is to the left up here. True?"

  Dan pulled the wheel around and the tires squeaked as the car went left toward the cemetery. He didn't know what this would prove. He was reluctant, but many healthy people didn't go to graves. He took a deep breath. This was no big deal and it would make her happy.

  There were soft low lights around the cemetery and along the paths, just enough so that visitors could find their way. A big sign said the gates would be locked at midnight and the lights turned off. He pulled in by the gate and stopped the car.

  "You should go by yourself," she said. It seemed that everybody but him thought he should go to the cemetery. Lynette, his mother, everybody who knew him, thought it, in one form o
r another. They thought he should make his peace with Tess's death. Or maybe it was that he should face it. Without saying anything, he got out of the car and began walking. He knew exactly where it was.

  Sitting down on the grass next to the stone marker, he stared at the engraving: tess young-beloved wife of dan young and mother of nathaniel. What did he want to say to her? He closed his eyes and imagined her as he had seen her last: Nathaniel clinging to her leg, his cheek against her thigh; her eyes laughing at him as she explained that she wanted to steal him away to a desert island, where they would live off coconuts. It was almost as if she were right there in front of him.,

  And before he knew what was happening, Dan began talking, the words pouring like water through a burst dam. "I loved to listen to your heartbeat. I remember how it felt when you put your hand on my face, what your eyes did when they looked into mine." On and on, he recounted his memories.

  If she were here, what would she say? She had a practical side to her. "Can you find something new, something different?" she'd ask.

  In his mind he searched the face of his dead wife, for some sorrow, some torment, some anguish of soul, but found none. "How do I accept this loss?"

  She was someplace far away, or no place. If she were here, what could she say?

  "I don't want to hope," he said aloud. He smacked his palm with his fist and rocked. "I don't want to hope for another you. I'm angry, and I don't want to hope."

  The car was parked near a streetlamp, and away from the deep shadows. Maria looked out at a large white Victorian structure that served as the funeral home. Down its sides ivy had been strung on trellises, and grown vigorously, forming luxuriant green carpets, making it seem more a place for the living than the dead. But for the frogs and the crickets, it was silent.

  She reasoned that having just been attacked, she would not be assaulted again-for the moment. The logic was only slightly reassuring. Under ordinary circumstances Maria would have preferred not sitting alone on a dark street after just being assaulted. Additionally, there was her throbbing jaw and accompanying headache, not to mention the anguish from her bruised ribs. She would tell none of this to Dan Young.