A new sound. A helo, coming from the east. It was low on the horizon, approaching on an attack vector. The noise intensified, and Kilel recognized a second helicopter of a different type. It switched on a floodlight, and the rotor wash turned the calm night into a storm. The glare blinded Kilel for a few seconds. Anne covered her head with her arms. A black security robot stood over Anne. A second robot guarded Bill. The rotor wash blew dust into her eyes and mouth, but not before a helmeted man with a red cross on a white field on his shoulder stooped over her. On his lapel was a gold pin in the shape of a tulip.
CHAPTER 36
♦ ♦ ♦
WHEN IT BECAME CLEAR THAT the helicopter was landing at the BES detention facility’s helipad in Eugene, Anne resigned herself to spending years in custody. She was too tired to fight and argue, though she regretted the fact that she might never see Mike again, never know the fate of the magpies. She prayed her father would be jailed near her. She also said a prayer for her uncle. Inspector Kilel said his last act was sending a call for help to the BES.
It was his last act, but it was not his last request, Anne knew.
Her release came without warning. Inspector Kilel instructed Anne and Bill to stay close as they exited the helicopter. They approached a drab building with narrow windows next to a fence topped with barbed wire. A short hall connected the building to the outside world. Kilel opened the door and stood aside.
“Technically, you’re still under arrest, both of you,” Kilel said. “You’re my prime suspects for numerous environmental crimes, but... I don’t see a reason to hold you further. Stay close to your ranch.”
Anne nearly hugged Kilel, but the inspector’s manner was chilly, as if she were doing something against her better judgment. Anne remembered her words on the gravel road: “Take care of the birds.”
Anne’s new freedom brought with it unrestricted access to the com networks. She checked in with her c-tribe first, and she was disappointed that Mike’s status was unavailable. Same damned rural service. However, Kilel’s public profile was available, and Anne made her decision. “Inspector, when we were in Run, and the colonel was dying, he asked me to give you something.”
Kilel raised her eyebrows in surprise. “A gift?”
“I don’t know what it is. He said to give it to you when I thought the time was right.” Via her minds-eye, Anne sent a ping to Kilel’s public profile, and Anne transferred the video file the colonel had given her after her interrogation. Unlike the time she tried to give it to Mike, no errors occurred. “Are you able to open it?”
Kilel concentrated for a moment before her eyes widened. “Do you understand what this is?”
“Like I said, I don’t know. I couldn’t open it, and I couldn’t transfer it to anyone else.”
Kilel stepped away from Anne and her father, absorbed in the gift. She halted and took a breath. “Anne, Bill, it will take me several days to go through everything in this archive, but trust me when I say your uncle, your brother, is a man whom you should admire.”
Anne and Bill parted from Kilel, who struck Anne as a woman transformed by a new discovery, or a new understanding of something she thought she had grasped before. Bill summoned a cab, and they soon arrived in downtown Eugene. They ate at one of the neo-carnivore restaurants, but they said little to each other. Bill pushed around the remaining neo-beef on his plate.
“What’s wrong, Dad?”
“I was thinking about your mother.”
The simmering anger Anne reserved for her mother surfaced. “She abandoned us again. She’s despicable. I wish I could’ve told her so.”
“I don’t think it’s that simple, Anne.”
“I saw her run away with that monster.”
“I think she saw her future with him, and not with us.”
“All the more reason to put her out of my mind.”
Her father gave her one of his measured looks. “You’re more like her than you realize. I see it, even if you don’t.”
Could that be possible? Anne turned over the idea, appalled by its potential truth.
Her father grinned, and he placed her hand over hers. “You’re obstinate, independent, and resourceful.”
“I could not choose her life.” Anne sipped her coffee. “Dad, I think your brother was the same way.”
“Kilel said I should admire Raleigh, but I don’t think I can forgive him for what he did to our parents.” Bill reconsidered his statement. “Maybe I just need some time. He was certainly intelligent and ambitious. Does forgiving the dead count for anything?”
Bill called a public trans-car, which would take them to Thomasburg. Anne’s thoughts turned to Mike. She imagined him staying up late to tend the magpie chicks, and sleeping in his tent next to hers. It was something she’d have to explain to her father, but she knew he wouldn’t mind.
When she and her father arrived at the ranch, her heart thrilled when she saw Mike’s pickup near one of the outbuildings, the rear hatch open. Tools and shingles lay in the bed. The tents and outbuildings were still in place, as was the chicken coop, including the glow from the heat lamp. The returning vegetation in the refuge offered a promise of health by the burning heat of summer.
Deputy Gary Schmidt, out of uniform, emerged from a shed, and Anne halted, unsure of the reason for his visit. Maxie followed Gary and barked his recognition of his mistress and master. Behind the dog walked Mike, dust in his hair. Anne ran to him, stopping short of a full-speed collision. She saw her excitement reflected in his eyes.
“Anne,” Mike said, “thank God you’re back. When...”
“This morning.” Anne related the events of the last days. “We came home as soon as we could.”
“Anne, I...”
Anne kissed him. You waited for me.
Mike blinked.
“Well, then.” Gary scratched his scalp. “You’re not going to kiss me, are you, Bill?”
Anne’s father lifted the corner of his mouth in a knowing way and shook the deputy’s hand. “What in blazes is going on here, little girl?”
Anne didn’t answer, because she wasn’t certain, except that she knew her heart, when it came to the things she cared about. Mike is as much a part of my home now as this place and Dad. She had to check one thing: She found the English woodcut in her tent, clutching it to make sure it was real.
Mike pulled Anne in the direction of the coop. Her heart leapt when she saw seven tiny pin-feathered bodies bob their heads and peep when she opened the access door. “I’ve been busy with a project while you’ve been gone.” Mike lifted the flap of his tent and brought out an object made of cloth. He put it on his hand.
“What is it?” Anne said.
“I read about this on the nets. We can’t let the chicks bond to us, so I made this magpie puppet.” He opened and closed the puppet’s beak, and made a weak chirping sound. “I need to work on the parent call.”
All four of them laughed.
“Let’s try it,” Anne said.
Mike found a plastic bag of dead crickets. Reaching in with the puppet’s bill, he grabbed some of the food. He put the puppet inside the nesting box, and the chicks peeped energetically. Mike fed an insect to each of the chicks.
“I also discovered the nest with the missing second pair of magpies,” Mike said. “We’ve got a second healthy brood.”
Anne let herself think about the future. She and Mike had given the Klamath magpie a chance to survive. She and her father were back home. It would be hard, but they could start again. She took Mike’s free hand in hers, and drew close to him.
♦ ♦ ♦
Martin Scribb sat cross-legged in the middle of the dusty town’s plaza. The sun’s heat hammered his head and shoulders, intensified by his wool habit. In his time away in the north, he had lost his deep tan. It showed signs of returning as his sunburns healed. Martin had accomplished his mission, to find Molly Bain and bring her and Colonel Penn together, but the colonel’s unexpected death occurred before the of
ficer fulfilled his promise to restore the monk’s social identity. Martin’s failure was as painful as his disidentification was permanent.
After his customary four hours in the plaza, Martin’s begging bowl sat empty. Father Gonzales, upset that Martin had not kept his vow to continue supplying the monastery with income while he traveled, increased his daily income target to make up for lost time. Martin rose, knees and ankles stiff, and he trudged down the main street toward home and his cell. Shopkeepers tolerated him less than before, and the local police kept him away from public water fountains. Taking a shortcut down a narrow alley, he enjoyed the relief of the shadows cast by the buildings.
“Brother Martin.”
Martin cowered. A figure stepped out from a doorway.
“I’m glad that I found you.”
Martin peered into the semi-darkness. “Do I know you?”
A serious, handsome woman in the uniform of the Bureau of Environmental Security approached Martin. “We’ve met, though I remember very little. It was in Run, in Krasnoyarsk Krai.”
Martin recalled the face, pale and drawn when he last saw it. “You’re the BES officer who tried to arrest Bill Penn. You were shot.”
“I’m Janine Kilel.”
Unwelcome memories from Run flooded back to Martin. “Ah, Inspector Kilel.”
“It’s Colonel Kilel now.”
Another colonel to torture me? “Congratulations.” Martin lowered his eyes. “If you’ll excuse me, the abbot gets angry if I’m late.”
“You look thirsty, Brother Martin. Here.” Kilel held out a bottle of water, a gesture that amazed Martin. Kilel was breaking the law by acknowledging his existence. Giving him a gift was a felony, but bessies were immune to a charge under the social death statutes. On the other hand, accepting a gift was not illegal for the disidentified. Dead men cannot break the law. Martin sipped the water rapturously. “Thank you, Colonel.”
“Not at all.”
Martin bowed and edged past Kilel.
“Don’t you want to hear what happened after we met?”
The suggestion revived his sense of loss. “I suppose you will tell me.”
“You ought to know. Please walk with me.” Kilel related the story of the ambush and rescue. “I have a question, Martin. Why do you think Bill Penn saved my life?”
“Why don’t you ask him yourself?”
“I want your opinion.”
“Perhaps he’s just a good person who sees you as a fellow human being, not just a bess—an environmental security officer.”
Kilel smiled. “No need to protect my feelings, Brother Martin. My mission is more important than my ego.”
“Your mission?”
“To protect the earth.”
“What happened to Molly Bain? There was a young woman as well.”
“Anne Penn.” Kilel’s brow creased. “Molly Bain has disappeared. None of her business associates have seen her since she was in Run. I was wondering if you might have heard from her.”
Martin shook his head.
“ Hmm.” Kilel mused. “I’m impressed that you managed to cross two continents and an ocean to get back here.”
“The doctors who put on this brand,” Martin pointed to his forehead, “didn’t remove my wits.”
“How—”
Martin interrupted. “I suppose you handed Bill Penn and his daughter over to BES Corrections as soon as you could.”
“If I had wanted them remanded into custody of the Environmental Crimes Tribunal, I would’ve done so in Dudinka,” Kilel said.
“I don’t understand, Colonel.”
“I brought them back to Pacific West and I let them go.”
Kilel’s statement shocked Martin. “You let them go? I never would’ve guessed that you would do something like that.”
“Why is that?”
“I haven’t known you long, but you are one of the most single-minded people I’ve ever met. Bill and Anne Penn, and Molly Bain for that matter, are environmental criminals, as I understand the law,” Martin said. “I have some experience in these things.”
“Make no mistake, Brother Martin. Bill Penn is still under investigation for his crimes against an endangered species. Anne Penn is an accessory to those crimes. Molly Bain should be charged with aiding and abetting carbon smugglers. They are all felons, as far as I’m concerned.”
“They saved your life.”
The pair stopped in front of a marked BES car. Kilel was distant. “As a professional, I have to stay objective, but I can’t ignore that fact.”
“Mercy is one of humanity’s greatest qualities,” Martin said.
Kilel clasped her hands behind her back. “Mercy has nothing to do with it. The law says I can take into account mitigating circumstances. A citizen provided life-saving help to a police officer. That kind of thing should be recognized, encouraged.”
“Of course.” Martin shuffled in place.
“You, however, did not help me.”
Martin straightened and choked back his fear. “What will you do now?”
“I’m continuing to look into the carbon-smuggling ring, though it’s far more extensive than I imagined. I’m treading lightly, you might say.”
“Your life is in danger.”
“It goes with the territory,” Kilel said. “Justice will be served on everyone in due time.” The door on the BES cruiser clicked and opened. “Won’t you please step into the car?”
Terror washed over Martin, but the words of protest stuck in his throat. What have I done now? What did she discover?
“Please, Brother Martin. Let’s not make a scene.”
Martin complied. He was a dissed man, a nothing, with no defenders, no allies. Father Gonzales might say something on his behalf, out of duty, but no one else would.
The door closed, but the ritual of arrest didn’t go as Martin expected. Kilel did not restrain him with cuffs or drugs. She relaxed at the cruiser’s controls, and the ready light on the security bot glowed red. The bot was off. Light jazz came from the sound system.
The car made its way through the baking streets. Martin stayed silent, fearful more words might make his situation worse. He knew the town well from his daily begging, and they weren’t headed toward a police station or the small BES office on the outskirts of town. After a few minutes, the car stopped in the visitors parking lot of the town’s medical clinic. Kilel stepped out of the car and bade Martin to follow to the clinic’s entrance.
“This is yours, Brother Martin.” The inspector handed him an electronic document.
Martin unfolded the document, which connected to a com channel and loaded. He read it, and his knees buckled.
“Brother Martin,” Kilel said, “I went through Colonel Penn’s papers and notes on the smuggling ring. I learned that he promised you re-identification if you helped him. You did so.” Kilel kept her eyes on the clinic’s facade.
“I would never offer such a trade. You committed genocide against nature.” Kilel paused. “I also know about the deal Molly Bain struck with Colonel Penn to pin the full blame of the Spike on you.” Her voice lightened, as if she was capitulating in an argument she had lost. “People are afraid of the Bureau, and that fear is useful. Yet we also believe in justice, and that means keeping promises, even those made by dead men. This document reinstates your identity as Martin Scribb.”
A thrill flowed through Martin like a lightning bolt. His dream had come true. “I never imagined the day would come. I don’t know what to say. Thank you? Why are we at the clinic?”
“Page six,” Kilel said.
When Martin found the order, he sat down on a bench in the shade of a tree. Tears filled his eyes, and the world blurred around him, as if he were dying. In fact, he was reborn.
“Don’t be late, Martin.” Kilel directed him toward the clinic entrance. “The surgeon is waiting to remove your brand.”
EPILOGUE
♦ ♦ ♦
THE CONCUSSION FROM THE DEPTH charge
added insult to injury. The damaged Extinction lay still, three hundred meters down in the underwater trench where Kapitan Gore hid her. The pressure hull groaned, protesting the strain of pushing it beyond its design limits. Gore knew his boat; the groaning was more like a sailor’s gripe than a signal of danger. He sat at his desk in the captain’s cabin, the condensation dripping like sweat down the carbon fiber walls behind the tropical plants. The entire submarine was as silent as a tomb, appropriate, given that the sub-chasers on the surface had a good chance of finding her if a crewman so much as coughed. He had survived an attack once before, and he would kill the bosses and the damned on his boat to survive again, if necessary.
Molly Bain was beyond their possible fate. Her gray skin did nothing to mar her beauty as she lay prone in his bunk. The first depth charge had thrown her down a companionway. The bruise on her temple confirmed the injury. She breathed for an hour or so before dying. Under normal circumstances, Gore disposed of bodies, but the option didn’t cross his mind for Molly Bain. He loved her once, many years ago. She watched over him while the injury to his wrist healed. He was cruel but not heartless, so he brought her aboard as his personal steward.
Gore saved his cruelty for those who betrayed him. He finished the final entry in what he called his “vengeance log.” It was an informal document, not required by any regulation (not that he cared) or any maritime tradition, except perhaps among thieves and extortionists. It contained details of every transaction: the who, what, where, and how much of his criminal life. As a military man, he was prepared to die. As a criminal, he was prepared to take everyone with him, even those whom he had never seen. He didn’t know their names, but anyone with basic problem-solving skills—perhaps that BES inspector—could unravel the entire petroleum operation with a few details from his log.
Carbon Run Page 33