At The Edge

by David Dun

  "Now you're jerking my chain. Let's go."

  They tore Nathaniel away from Nintendo and chocolate chip cookies, then said good-bye to Amiel and Laura Fischer. Everybody looked a little overanxious except Amiel, who appeared unfazed.

  Once in the car, Maria turned her attention to Nate.

  "So you are a real Nintendo player."

  "She doesn't seem old enough to be your mother. She's good at Nintendo."

  "Yes, my mother is good at lots of things."

  "Your father's nice too."

  ''Yes, in his old-world way, I guess he can be charming.'' She looked at Dan as she said it.

  "He was a real card. And he loves you. That I can guarantee."

  "And what did you find to discuss?"

  "Not much. Amiel headed into forbidden territory pretty fast, and we ended up talking about the fact that we shouldn't be talking about what we were about to be talking about. It was obvious he thinks about you all the time."

  "And what exactly did you two discuss?"

  ''Well, we never really got there. It was more a discussion about what we weren't going to discuss?"

  "Which was?"

  "Well, how can I discuss that?"

  "She's getting mad, Dad," Nate said.

  "Thank you, Nate," Maria said. "That was well said."

  "Yeah. Well, Amiel was-" Dan began talking with one hand, but no words were coming.

  "He was talking about my boyfriend. He was asking you if you and I were romantic. And all I want to know is what you said."

  "I said we shouldn't discuss it. That you and I were a long way from anywhere. And I said you had issues."

  "You probably made it sound like we're on the threshold of the promised land but for my 'issues.' You were supposed to say that we're in Egypt and living with Pharaoh, with no travel plans, no travel arrangements, and no travel agent, for God's sake. And what was that crack about you being my boyfriend?"

  "You were supposed to act like an enviro."

  "Oh and what's that like?"

  "Barefoot, stupid, hair under your arms. And nothing about football."

  Nate laughed.

  Back in Palmer, Dan dropped Nate at home with Pepacita before taking Maria to her car. They talked easily, Dan driving a circuitous route. When they pulled up behind the Cherokee, they both went silent. After nervous smiles, Dan helped Maria put her luggage in her car, then came around to close her door. She was about to get in and then hesitated. For just an instant in time he knew that kissing her would be the most natural thing in the world. They were looking right at each other-not talking. With a slight smile she held out her hand. Then before he could react, she dropped it and hugged him. It was somewhere in between a brother hug and a boyfriend hug. She kissed him on the cheek.

  "Call me," she said. "Soon. Like when you get home."

  Dan got on his cell phone on the drive to his house. He called Otran's home. It felt a little unusual. Normally, he was relaxed around Otran, but this time he felt tight. Just the way he felt before they opened the gate on his last bull ride.

  "I've got another issue I need to discuss," he began after the customary pleasantries. "Maria Fischer and I have been checking each other out for a while now. Maybe I'm doing most of the checking. We still disagree on everything having to do with trees." He paused, nervously tapping the wheel of his car. "It's conceivable that all this chemistry could, you know, make a battery or something. I thought you ought to know in case you felt it would constitute a conflict of interest."

  "A what?"

  "A conflict of interest. That's when-"

  "I know what a conflict of interest is," Jeb interrupted. "So does Maria Fischer have to call up Patty McCafferty and tell her the same thing?"

  "Probably not. She's still in the denial phase."

  "You're sure?"

  "What about love is sure?"

  Otran chuckled. "You sound as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. But I don't care about the details of your as-yet-hypothetical love life. The real issues are: Are you emotionally attached to her, and if so, would it affect your judgment? Would it affect your ability to help me on the Highlands?"

  "What do you need me to do?"

  ''I'm buying out Metco's half of the old growth. And I'm going to need convincing timber-harvest plans and someone to litigate them if I'm ever going to persuade the government to buy it."

  "This is a shock," Dan said.

  "It was to me too," Otran said, "but the price was right. So will you help me?"

  Dan was silent, wondering how to respond.

  "It's that bad, huh?" Otran laughed.

  "I'm not sure. Maria's ideas don't change the way I think. Tell me this. You don't actually expect to harvest the lower Highlands, right?"

  ''We're figuring the government will buy it. Save us all a big right. Make a little money for our side."

  "But if the government doesn't act right away?"

  "We'd have to go ahead and start cutting if it came to it. How can you make the government move if you just sit there and let the trees rot for free?"

  ''Could we tell Maria it's a bluff? That we won't actually cut?"

  ''If you tell her that, we're liable to lose that shrill intensity of hers. We absolutely have to make the world believe we'll cut. Besides, if they don't buy it, we have to manage it for long-term timber production. And to do that, we have to cut it."

  Dan sighed.

  "I just hope we don't have to deal with it," Jeb said. "Cutting the Highlands or the romance. Hell, I don't care about a stolen kiss, but if she's going to be a fixture… We'll just have to talk. I mean, knowing her is great. It's always good to know your adversary. But for God's sake, how would it be to get in bed at night with the enviro who's been nipping at your heels all day?"

  "Maybe violins and flowers have taken over my brain," Dan said.

  "At least you're thinking with your brain," Otran said.

  The minute Dan got home he called Maria's room at the Palmer Inn.

  "Long time no see," he said. "Listen, let's get a drink in the pub."

  "Now?"

  "I know we've been together for two days, but I need to talk."

  "I'll have one beer," she said.

  Dan chuckled. "It's impossible to ignore the emphasis. You don't approve of my having two beers."

  "I guess that's none of my business. But as long you ask, when do you have just two?"

  "Touche."

  It was only a couple of miles from his house to the Palmer Inn, and before Dan could decide how to bring up the most difficult topic of the evening, he had rolled into the lot.

  "You look nice," he told Maria. She wore a khaki pants suit and yellow print blouse.

  "What's the matter?" she asked.

  "What do you mean? I just said you looked nice."

  "You have the knitted-brow look, last displayed when Judge Traxler asked you point-blank if there had been accelerated harvesting. So what's up?"

  They were through the main lobby and at the head of the stairs to the pub.

  "In a couple days a story will break about a sale of the lower Highlands."

  They were walking down a narrow staircase and a noisy drunk was coming up from below. She moved to Dan's side of the stairs to let the man pass. For an instant she leaned up against Dan. Her hair smelled of orchids, and the warmth of her body felt good. He knew he wanted more of her, and what he was about to say would give him less.

  "What? Tell me."

  "Come on," he said, pushing her by the elbow, just the way he used to nudge Tess. It was a little test and she let him. "Let's sit down and I'll tell you."

  They sat in a booth. Instead of sitting opposite her, he slid in beside her, putting her on the inside next to the wall.

  "Is there something wrong with the other side of the table?"

  "Just that it's the other side of the table."

  "Somebody is sure to see us."

  "Crowd's light. And so what?"

/>   "So it's my career, not to mention yours. Imagine what Amada could do with this."

  "For one night let's just forget it."

  "For one beer we'll forget it. Now tell me about the lower Highlands."

  "Otran's going to buy it."

  A look of utter amazement crossed her face.

  "How long have you known this?"

  "I just found out." Her eyes searched his. "I decided to tell you right away."

  "But it's not the telling me that's got you bothered. Is it?"

  "No. It's not."

  "Jeb Otran is tough. What does he want with it?"

  "He's going to manage it for timber unless the government buys it. Between you and me, I hope the government buys it and gives us all some relief. So does Otran. But that's purely personal. I just don't want to fight about it."

  "Are you going to help write harvest plans and defend them in court?"

  "It's my job."

  "Well, it's my job to save those trees. So let me out."

  "Not until you listen to me."

  She fixed her eyes straight ahead and sat stiff as a statue.

  "Come on," he urged her.

  She didn't move. A single tear coursed down her cheek until she brushed it aside.

  "This has got nothing to do with you and me. Or at least it doesn't have to."

  "Just for the record, my boyfriend and I decided to call it quits. But I guess that's a moot point now, isn't it?"

  "This isn't personal."

  "Do you believe in this?" she asked. "Laying waste to this forest?"

  "I believe we can have a fair debate and let someone else decide. One park more or less won't decide the future of mankind. Nobody's going to turn it into a wasteland."

  "That's a cop-out. This time I mean it. Let me out." She turned to him, her eyes bright-fired with determination.

  He slid out. "You're taking this all wrong."

  She muttered some obscenity as she left. He could guess what she said.

  20

  One beer led to another. Then a couple of boilermakers. The whiskey burn felt good. Filling the hole inside with liquid comfort seemed an acceptable idea until the pub started to move. Certain that Maria wasn't looking at this thing correctly, Dan decided to pay her a visit.

  When he rose to walk, he realized that sitting down had made the earth flat. Standing, he didn't feel right, either. He knew he'd had too much alcohol. He needed to make a trip to Maria's room to sober up.

  The stairs weren't too bad because there was a stout railing on both sides and no traffic. When he reached the lobby, he knew he had to concentrate. For a moment he sat in an overstuffed chair and considered his predicament. No way would the clerk give him Maria's room number. Although he knew it earlier in the day when he came to pick her up, he was now having a tough time. It was 328 or 338 or perhaps 318. Probably he could remember if he saw the door and its placement in the hallway.

  Making his way to the elevator, he entered with some young guy. Something about his jacket seemed familiar, but he didn't look him in the face until he was standing at the back wall.

  "You're drunk, asshole," the man said.

  Then he knew who it was.

  "Well, if it isn't the boyfriend."

  "She's too good for you. Why don't you go find some tight-ass Republican?"

  " 'Cause I found a tight-ass Democrat."

  "You prick." Ross shoved him against the wall. Anger flashed through Dan, and he shoved back, throwing Ross against the wall. Ross reacted instantly, slugging him in the gut. It hurt and it made him angrier still. Putting his hand in Ross's face, he shoved him back.

  "She ain't interested, and you can't face it." It was the wrong thing to say. Ross began swinging wildly and hit Dan in the face. But even drunk, Dan outmatched him. Although the punches were lethargic, one of them connected on the point of Ross's nose. He crumpled, and that was the end of the fight. Both men had blood down the front of their shirts.

  When the door opened at the third floor, Ross remained leaning on the wall of the elevator. When it closed, Dan was in the hall and Ross was on his way back down.

  Maria's eyes took in Dan, his bloodied shirt. He had found her door on the first try.

  "What happened?"

  "Did you know your biologist was going to be here?"

  "You got in a fight."

  "I didn't start it."

  "Did you hurt him? Where did he go?" she asked.

  "Back down in the elevator."

  She pulled Dan inside and closed the door gently. "I can't begin to tell you how little I think of you."

  "You're still mad?"

  "I'm calling Pepacita to come for you."

  "She's not home. Nate's at Lynette's."

  "You're disgusting." She pushed him toward the bathroom. He began to fall, and she caught him. "I hate you," she said.

  Corey stood in the light drizzle outside the Palmer Inn. With its white stucco sides crisscrossed by dark brown moldings and steep pitched roof, it was a combination of Tudor and Bavarian design and one of the most ornate and imposing structures in Palmer. She liked the feeling of the rain, liked the coastal sleet and fog of Palmer; she would never complain about the lack of sun.

  Never far from her consciousness these days stood a shadow. The German loomed over everything she did, every decision she made. He was even in her dreams. In her fantasies she pleased him one minute, then vanquished him in the next. But the thought of pleasing him was like an anesthetic. It quieted her fear of the Japanese man who had bested her in the equipment room.

  She knew that Maria Fischer stayed at the Palmer every time she was in town. Upon arriving, Maria would go from parking area to the open breezeway and on to the back door of the inn. She could be shot in the breezeway proper; or maybe a little sooner, as she crossed the parking lot, just after exiting her car. The more Corey thought about it, the better she liked the idea of lying in wait here at the inn; she could count on Maria approaching and leaving her car repeatedly; she would wait for just the right opportunity to strike. Problem was, she was here to kill Dan Young.

  The German had just advised that Dan Young had spent the night with Maria Fischer and his car was in the area. Because she had worked so hard on Kim Lee's bomb, that was the method of choice. The only difficulty was that it was rigged on a timer, meant for a situation where she could see him coming. She had fixed that. First she had to find the car, then worry about the detonation.

  Starting on foot, she walked away from the back of the inn, the rain pelting her face now, trickling under her wind-breaker, down her neck to the skin of her chest in chilly little ant trails. Traveling in a 180-degree arc behind the inn at a distance of a block, she carefully searched for the silver-gray Mercedes or the blue Chevy pickup that he normally drove. Evidently, the man was a little nervous about being tagged for an all-nighter with Maria Fischer. Otherwise, he could have put it in the parking lot.

  She had gone only a block when she found it. A twelve-year-old Mercedes with sheepskin on the seats. How many of those could there be? Fortunately, it was a bit outdated; otherwise, she would have had alarm problems.

  The bomb would go under the driver beneath the car. The wires would go one to the solenoid and one to ground. Determined to be careful, she had tested the detonation device on an actual solenoid for that make, model, and year Mercedes.

  To do the job, she pulled up behind the Mercedes, but she had not considered that it was a Saturday morning. There were kids playing baseball in the street right in front of the car. It would be dangerous enough without the kids; with them, impossible. She would wait. Whether this morning or later, sometime this weekend she needed to blow Dan Young away.

  Dan's headache loomed like a mountain. The pain started between his eyes and radiated to his temples. Trying to open his eyes, he rolled over, winking open one eye and expecting to see his grandmother's mahogany highboy. Instead, he saw a long room with a second double bed. Searching through his memory, he recalled the
drinks in the bar. He moaned audibly, then found the inevitable red-letter digital clock on the nightstand: 9:00 a.m.

  Looking around with both eyes now open, he saw the sign beside him on the bed, two words scrawled in red lipstick: get out!!!

  Of all the times not to have been wearing underwear. For some reason there hadn't been any clean, so he had just pulled on his pants. It wasn't embarrassment at nudity that galled him, it was simply being caught without underwear-there was something second-class about not wearing shorts.

  Perhaps because of his embarrassment the two words scrawled in lipstick took on extra force.' 'Fine, just give me my clothes," he muttered.

  They were nowhere to be found. Casting aside the blanket, he remembered the research he was going to do on local mines, the further work on Corey Schneider, the memo from the professor he had to study, and all the other things that would come to mind when he returned to his den and bulletin board with a cup of coffee.

  In the closet he found his clothes, hand-washed and half-dried. Given that he came in the middle of the night, that must have taken some doing. He pulled on his pants and T-shirt, socks, and shoes. He would go home to his den, regroup, and try to find her.

  Dan walked across the street. There was nobody about but a lone dog pawing at a garbage can. Palmer seemed particularly desolate this morning. Other than the Mercedes, there was only a single car parked on the street, a van. He looked at his wrist. He'd left his watch in the hotel room. That was what was wrong.

  He wondered if Maria had propped him up under the shower. Vaguely he remembered her robe getting wet. Fundamentally, he was humiliated but really didn't want to go there in his mind. Normally, he controlled his drinking to the extent that he never became falling-down drunk. Last night he was nearly that, and it unnerved him. On the way back to the room, he decided he had taken his last drink. The decision made him feel better. In three minutes he was back at the car. He put his cell phone in the carriage, looked in the rearview mirror, and saw Maria's Cherokee pull up behind him.

  In the hope of salvaging the situation, he climbed out of the Mercedes and walked back. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the van pull away.