by C. J. Box
Joe pulled it open quickly and stepped back, keeping the Glock loose at his side, ready to raise it.
It was Simon, off-duty in jeans and a hooded sweatshirt, and the desk clerk looked into the muzzle of Nate’s.454 with absoluteterror.
“Sorry,” Joe said to Simon. “You can put the gun away, Nate.”
“Are you sure?” Nate asked.
“I’m sure.”
Joe apologized to Simon as they crunched through the gravel on the way to the hotel. Several times, Joe had to reach out to steady the desk clerk, who was shaking so badly he had trouble walking.
“That’s a first,” Simon said. “Like something out of a Westernmovie.”
“You get used to it out here,” Joe said, distracted, his mind racing with what he’d learned about EnerDyne and Clay McCann.
The old-fashioned black telephone sat ominously on the front desk, and as Joe approached it he tried not to think the worst. Maybe Judy had taken a bad turn, maybe she died. Maybe someone had gotten to her in Billings. .
“Joe Pickett,” he said as he picked it up.
“Joe!” Lars sounded unexpectedly buoyed. “I’m damned glad they found you.”
“Me too. How’s she doing?”
“Much, much better. The doctor said a full recovery is pretty likely. I’m just so. . happy.”
“Thank God,” Joe said, feeling weight he didn’t know was there lift off his shoulders.
The line was silent for a moment, and Joe thought perhaps the connection had been lost. Then Lars spoke softly. “I’ve reallygot to apologize to you. I said some bad things to you, and I’m sorry. Judy has been filling me in on what happened, how you stayed with her and made sure she got sent here so no more harm could come to her. I didn’t understand before. I’m just real damned sorry I said what I said.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Joe said, knowing how hard it was for a man like Lars to say those words. “Apology accepted. I’m just glad she’s doing all right.”
Lars said, “Better than all right. She’s sitting up, talking, eatingeven. Except for those damned tubes, she looks pretty good. Beautiful, even. Yes, she looks beautiful.”
Joe smiled. He could hear Judy’s voice in the background saying, “Oh, stop it, Lars.”
“She wants to talk with you,” Lars said. “That’s why I called and woke you up. Well, that and to apologize.”
“I was awake,” Joe said. “No problem.”
“Oh, one more thing. Judy says she gave you my truck to use.”
“Yes,” Joe said, not expecting what would come next.
“Keep it as long as you need it,” Lars said. “I don’t mind. We’ll be here another couple of days. I got one of my road crew guys to pick up Jake and Erin to bring them here.”
“Thank you. I’ll take good care of it.”
“Watch the transmission,” Lars said. “Sometimes it slips. I need to replace that pressure plate in the clutch-”
“Lars,” Judy said in the background.
“Okay, okay,” Lars said to Joe. “Here she is.”
Joe waited.
“Hey there.” Her voice sounded tired but strong.
“Welcome back,” Joe said. “I was worried.”
“I’m tough,” she said, which made Joe smile again. He was surrounded by tough, good women.
“When we were in the clinic,” Demming said, “you came into the room and asked me who the shooter was. I could hear you but I couldn’t talk.”
"Yes.”
“I can now. It was James Langston.”
“The chief ranger?” Joe was stunned, but it made sense now why Langston had been so interested in where Joe was staying while at the same time making a point not to meet with him.
“I saw him clearly. I thought he was there for backup, obviously.The dispatcher didn’t say who was coming, so I assumed. .”
“Wow,” Joe said. “And you’ll testify to it?”
“Of course. But I still can’t believe it.”
“Neither can I,” Joe said, “but this thing is big. And it just got bigger.”
“What should we do?”
Joe looked around the empty lobby, trying to sort it out. Should she contact someone else with the information? If so, whom? Should he?
“I’m thinking,” he said. “Sometimes, it takes me a while.”
“I know it does,” she said, chiding him.
“First,” Joe said, “make sure you’re safe there. As long as you’re alive, you’re a threat to him and everyone he’s involved with, even though he thinks you’re dying. We’ve learned a lot in the last hour, Judy. None of it is good. Your life is still in danger, so call the Billings PD. If you have to, make up a story, but make sure they send some men to the hospital to stay outside your door. Make sure no one comes to visit you except your kids.”
“Okay. .” she said, almost in a whisper. The giddiness she’d started the conversation with was gone.
“Make a deposition,” Joe continued. “Get your statement down on tape and on paper. If nothing else, it will make it less likely they’ll try to get to you if they know you’ve got a statementwith the police.”
“And if they do get to me,” she said, “Langston will still go to jail.”
Joe didn’t want to say it that way, but Demming was sharp. And when he said the name Langston aloud, it triggered a question.“What’s James Langston’s wife’s name?”
“Hmmm. . I met her a couple of times. Tall, skinny, cold. Katherine, I think.”
“Katherine. Are you sure?”
“I think so.”
“Katherine Langston is listed as VP of development for EnerDyne.Either she’s involved or James is protecting himself by using his wife’s name. Probably both.
“Oh,” Joe continued, “I nearly forgot to ask you. Did you recognize the men in the black SUV?”
“I didn’t recognize the driver,” she said.
“Could you pick him out in a photo? Like from the entrance gate video?”
“Absolutely.”
Joe nodded. “Good. I’m pretty sure I’ve got a couple of picturesof him.” Joe described the driver.
Demming said, “That’s him.”
“What about the passenger?”
“He looked familiar.”
“In what way?”
“I’ve been trying to figure that one out,” she said. “I know I’ve seen him before, but I don’t know his name. It seems to me he was up here a year or so ago with your governor.”
Joe felt a chill shoot through his spine.
“He stuck to your governor like glue,” she said. “He seemed like a nice guy but real intense.”
The profile from the video, Joe thought. He knew now why it was familiar to him too.
The name should have struck a nerve when Nate said it. Vice president of operations for EnerDyne, but under his formal name. James Langston wasn’t the only officer at EnerDyne playing name games.
“Joe?”
“I’m here,” he said weakly.
“What’s wrong?”
“His name is Chuck Ward,” Joe said, “aka Charles Ward, aka C. T. Ward the Third. He’s Governor Rulon’s chief of staff. Now I know why he didn’t want the governor to send me up here, and why he had to take some personal leave.”
“He’s the guy you’re working for?” Demming asked, disbelieving.
“He was,” Joe said.
“Does the governor know?”
Joe started to say, I’m sure he doesn’t but his world was turninginside out. Given the implications of free fire, he was sure of nothing.
Instead, he said, “I have no idea what the governor knows.”
“Get out of there,” Demming said. “Get out now.”
Joe mumbled that he understood her, told her to call the Billings PD right away, said he’d come see her as soon as he could.
“Meaning what?” she asked.
“Meaning I’ve got to go.”
Joe did four long circuits around
the outside of Mammoth Hotel in the dark, rubbing his face, running scenarios through his head, stopping once to throw up. He had a headache from lack of sleep and too much thinking and his mouth tasted of stale smoke and regurgitated dinner. As he walked, it got darker and colder. Storm clouds rolled across the black sky, extinguishingthe moon and stars, covering Yellowstone Park like a lid on a boiling cauldron.
Winter had arrived.
On his fifth circuit, hard little pellets of snow strafed the ground, hitting so hard on the pavement they bounced. In the darkness, it looked like the road was awash with waves. He thought he felt tremors through his boot soles, and concluded that he probably did.
He stopped in front of the Pagoda. A single light was on from within a cell on the second floor. Clay McCann was awake.
“McCann!” Joe shouted.
After a few moments with no reaction, he shouted again.
The shadow of a face appeared at the window. Joe recognizedthe lawyer’s profile. The thick window was frosted so McCann couldn’t see who had called his name outside.
“I’ve got you now,” Joe called, “you son of a bitch!”
Back in the Mammoth Hotel lobby, Joe dug a worn and faded business card out of his wallet that he’d kept with him for three years. On the back, handwritten, was a number. He dialed, let it ring eight times before it was answered.
“What?” Tony Portenson said, groggy.
“It’s Joe Pickett.”
Joe heard a clunk as the receiver was dropped on the floor, then picked up. “It’s fucking three-thirty in the morning,” the FBI agent growled. “How’d you get my home number?”
“You gave it to me,” Joe said. “Remember?”
“I remember nothing. It’s too early. Can’t this wait?”
“No, it can’t.”
“Jesus Christ. What?”
Joe could hear a woman’s voice ask, “Who is it, honey?”
Portenson said, “A fucking lunatic.”
“Quit cursing,” his wife said.
“Yes, quit cursing and listen,” Joe said. “I’ve got a conspiracyfor you that’s so big you’ll be famous for blowing it open. It’s so big, you’ll be able to name anywhere in the country you want to be transferred to.”
“Okay,” Portenson said. “I’m awake now.”
“Before I tell you anything more, you’ve got to agree to a deal.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Then hang up and I’ll call someone else,” Joe said. He had no idea who else he would call.
“What?” Portenson said sarcastically. “I can’t agree with anything if I don’t know the terms.”
“Fair enough. Here’s the deal. I can deliver the biggest arrest you’ve ever made in your career by far. We’re talking national, international headlines. It’ll shake the foundation of both federaland state government, but don’t worry; it’s no one you like. It’ll affect national energy policy, and you’ll probably receive a medal from the president. Oh, and it will completely break the Clay McCann case.”
After a few beats, Portenson said, “Jesus. What do you want from me?”
“You’ve got to get a team together and get up here by tonight.It needs to be in complete secrecy. You can’t notify anyoneor you’ll blow the collar. And when the arrest is made, you have to look the other way when it comes to one individual involvedon our side.”
“One individual?” Portenson said.
“Yes.”
“Oh fuck, you mean Nate Romanowski, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“I knew he was there.”
“He helped figure this thing out. He saved our lives in the Zone of Death. Besides,” Joe said, “he’s a friend of the family.”
“He killed two men!” Portenson yelled. “A sheriff and a federalagent!”
“Allegedly,” Joe said.
“Allegedly my ass.”
“Do we have a deal or don’t we?”
Portenson moaned and cursed.
“Well?”
“We have a deal.”
As joe walked back to his cabin in the snow at four in the morning, he thought, Another night without sleep.
In his stupor of sleeplessness and putting together the fledglingplan for the coming night, he didn’t pay any attention to the work crew and pickup parked next to the first cabin in the complex.But he smelled the strong rotten-egg smell of gas and could hear a powerful hissing sound from inside.
The front door flew open and a man staggered outside, ran a few feet, and crouched with his hands on his knees, breathing deeply. Another man in a hard hat appeared from around the side of the cabin, yelling, “Get me a wrench!”
Joe stopped, trying to figure out what was going on.
The first man finally stood after filling himself with several lungfuls of fresh air.
“Are you okay?” Joe asked.
“I’ll be fine in a minute,” the man said, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. “There’s a gas leak inside there, and I got a big breath of it.”
The second man snatched a toolbox from their pickup and carried it to the back of the cabin.
“I don’t know if I can fix this,” the second man shouted. “It’s like somebody broke the fucking valve off. We’ll need to turn the whole system off before somebody lights a match and blows us all to hell.”
The first man shook his head. “Good thing the park is nearly closed. There was enough gas in there to kill a herd of buffalo.”
Joe listened as the second man cranked on a shut-off valve. The hissing stopped.
It took a moment to realize the cabin they were fixing was the one he had moved his family from earlier in the day. Whoeverhad broken off the valve didn’t know that.
“Everybody up!” Joe shouted as he entered the cabin. Marybeth sat up in bed. Nate had curled up in some blankets on the floor.
“What’s going on?” Lucy asked.
“It’s snowing,” Joe said. “You’ve got to get out of the park before the roads close.”
“Snowing?” Marybeth said. “Since when are we scared of a little snow?”
“As of now,” Joe said, knowing he sounded like a maniac.
28
Clay McCann could not stop pacing. The only time he paused was at the window, and only for a few seconds. There was something different outside. The dawn light through his mottled window was white and muted, and the sounds of cars on the road outside the jail were more hushed than usual. He could tell it was snowing, although he couldn’t see it.
He had not been able to get back to sleep, ever since that man outside had stood beneath his cell at four in the morning and yelled, “I’ve got you now, you son of a bitch!”
Who was he? What was he doing out at that hour? The incidentdisturbed McCann immensely. He knew the voices of his partners, and it wasn’t any of them. Had they brought in someoneelse, or was the owner of the voice an independent threat? Or a local crank?
McCann wanted out. This had been going on too long, he thought. Layborn should have delivered the threat the night before,and action should be taking place. Would they be stupid enough, once again, to try to outflank him? Would they convene another of their meetings? What the hell was going on?
And now it was snowing. Great.
When he heard the sounds downstairs, McCann’s first assumptionwas they had come to meet with him. There was a muffled conversation, a long pause, and the sound of the front door being shut. He stopped pacing and stood still, listening. He could feel his heart beat faster, and he clenched and unclenched his hands.
Footfalls on the stairs, the sound of a key in the lock, the door swinging open.
“Good morning, asshole.”
The tall man on the other side of the bars had long blond hair in a ponytail, sharp, cruel blue eyes, and the biggest gun McCann had ever seen. Snowflakes melted on the man’s shoulders.
“You’re coming with me,” the man said, opening the cell door.
“No,” McCann said, his voice we
ak. “I’m staying right here.”
This caused the man to pause. His mouth twisted into a grin that made McCann’s blood run cold.
“All right, then,” the man said, and shot his hand out, graspingMcCann’s left ear and twisting so hard the pain made his legs wobble. Then he pulled the lawyer out of the cell, still twisting on his ear, and guided him down the stairs into the lobby of the building.
Although he was cringing with pain, McCann saw the lobby was empty. “Where’s my guard?”
“He decided to take a walk and get some air.”
“And just leave me here?” McCann said, blinking through tears.
“You’re not exactly Mr. Popular in this neck of the woods. Sit,” the blond man said, shoving McCann into a chair by an empty desk. McCann sat, rubbing his ear. When he pulled his hand away there was a smear of blood on the tips of his fingers.
“That’s right,” the man said, “I’ll rip it right off next time if you don’t do everything I tell you. Believe me, I’ve done this before.”
“You can’t do this,” McCann said.
“I just did.”
“What do you want with me?” McCann tried to place the man and couldn’t. His voice was not the same one that had called to him from under his window.
The blond man raised the gun, the muzzle not more than three inches from McCann’s face, and cocked it. McCann watched the cylinder rotate, saw the huge balls of lead turn.
“You’re going to make a call to James Langston. Tell him you’re going to the FBI, and you’re bringing Bob Olig along with you.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“Bob Olig?”
“They’ll figure it out.”
As McCann punched the numbers on the phone with a tremblinghand, the blond man said, “Somehow, I thought you’d look more impressive, considering you gunned down six people.But you’re just a fat little weasel with pink hair, aren’t you?”
29
"So,” joe asked mccann, “who figured out that the microbes at Sunburst react with coal to produce gas?”
“Mmmf.”
“Nate, would you mind taking the duct tape off of Mr. Mc-Cann’s mouth?”