Black Oil, Red Blood

by Diane Castle

  “Got it!” I floored the accelerator again and heard the echo of the black car’s engine straining to keep up.

  We zoomed along on the blacktop. I waited for Nash’s signal.

  “Go!” he said.

  I punched the brake with both feet and hung onto the steering wheel, trying to keep the car moving in a straight line.

  I heard the black car screeching behind us.

  Nash fired off three shots.

  “Did you get him?” I twisted around to look.

  “I don’t think so!” Nash said. “Go! Go!”

  I put the pedal to the metal again.

  “Dude!” I said. “You’re a cop! You’re supposed to be able to shoot better than this!”

  “It’s not as easy as it looks in the movies!” he said. “I’d like to see you try to hit the broad side of a barn at high speed, let alone a five inch wide span of rubber.”

  “Try again!” I said.

  “I only have one bullet left. We need to hang onto it until it’s our very last resort. Keep driving.”

  I leaned forward in my seat, scanning the land in front of me for any advantage over our pursuer.

  Smack.

  A giant bug hit me right in the center of the forehead. Bug guts dripped down into my eyes.

  Nash laughed and reached over and wiped it off.

  “You wouldn’t be laughing if that had just happened to you,” I said.

  Splat.

  Now Nash was wiping bug guts off his cheek. He stopped laughing.

  “See?” I said. “How unfair is it that the car behind us still has its windshield?”

  On the horizon, the road changed color. As we sped towards it, I saw that the pavement ended and the road turned to dirt. When I hit the end of the pavement, a cloud of dust kicked up around the car. Nash and I struggled to breathe, coughing uncontrollably.

  “Grass!” Nash choked out. “Get on the grass!”

  I jerked the wheel to the right and we were bumping along in the grass again.

  That gave us a distinct disadvantage, as the car behind us was able to keep up its speed on the dirt road. It gained on us.

  Nash readied his gun.

  The car drew closer.

  Nash fired just as I hit a bump. His bullet went wide, and he swore. “You could have told me you were about to hit that!”

  “I couldn’t see it! It was covered with grass!”

  Nash faced forward again. “Creek!”

  “I see it!” I said. “We have to jump it!” I turned the radio up.

  “Are you crazy? You’re driving a Toyota hybrid, not the General Lee!”

  “I can make it!” I said, pressing harder on the gas.

  “There’s no incline! Stop!”

  It was way too late to stop.

  The car careened over the edge of the creek bank.

  We were airborne for only a couple of yards.

  The car chassis crashed down on the rocky bank, bounced twice, and spun to a stop in the shallow water.

  My torso slammed into the steering wheel as the airbags deployed. Nash slammed forward into the dash and groaned. Lewis’s body thumped against our seatbacks and crumpled into a heap in the floor. His arm twisted through the seats and his dead hand came to rest between us on top of the cup holders. Eww.

  Behind us, a little man in a suit stepped out of the black car.

  “Taylor?” he called. “Is that you? Why haven’t you been answering your cell phone?”

  I turned to get a better look at the guy.

  It was Dick.

  He scrambled down the creek bank and popped his head in my window. “Are you okay?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  He patted me on the shoulder. “That’s good. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to catch you. So how do you like my new car? That window tint is something else, isn’t it? It’s supposed to keep the heat out in the summertime. Works real good, too!”

  ***

  “What are you doing here?” I demanded. “You could have killed us!”

  “Calm down, Taylor,” Dick said. “I’ve been trying to get you on your cell for two days.”

  “It burned in the fire,” I said.

  “Well, hellfire and tarnation.” Dick reached a hand into his suit jacket pocket and pulled out a little baggie containing eight or ten mini analog tapes. “It’s just that I thought you might want to get a hold of these.”

  I stared, aghast, at the tapes. “You?” I said. “You’re the inside guy?”

  Nash let out a low whistle.

  “But I hate you,” I said.

  “Which is the way I wanted it,” Dick replied. “Didn’t need you all up in my business at the office. You’da been likely to get yourself hurt. And me too. Wouldn’t of hired you in the first place if I could have handled all the business myself.”

  Dick helped us out of the car and onto the creek bank, where he inspected Nash’s wounded foot. “You need to get to the hospital,” Dick said.

  Nash waved him off. “No, no. It’s just a flesh wound. I’ll be okay. We have to get back.”

  “You working with Cameron Gilbert?” Dick asked.

  I massaged the muscles in my neck, which were rapidly stiffening up. “How did you know?”

  “Deductive reasonin,’” Dick said. “Lawyer’s toolkit. I was on my way into the office this morning when I noticed the hybrid. Not many of those around here, and you know how I like cars. So I took a closer look to see who was driving, and well, I’d recognize your red head anywhere. Then I saw Frederick Lewis sticking a gun to you in the back seat, so I started following you.

  “I knew you didn’t know anything worth killing for on your own, because PetroPlex had recovered Schaeffer’s paper files and burned the rest down with your house, and I had the tapes. The other big threat to PetroPlex is Gilbert, and I knew he’d released the virus.”

  “That was an accident,” Nash said.

  “Is that so?” Dick asked. “Can’t see as how that really matters. The damage was done. Anyway, since Lewis was forcing you to drive somewhere, I figured it was most likely to wherever Gilbert’s hiding out. The hybrid’s Gilbert’s, isn’t it?”

  I nodded.

  “I been trying to find Gilbert ever since Schaeffer got killed, but that sorry S.O.B. is a darn sight hard to find, and he’s the only person I know and trust who has a full press contact list and the technology to blast all the info out.”

  I frowned. “You mean, email?” I asked sourly.

  “Whatever,” Dick said. “You kids and all these newfangled computers. I don’t know how it all works.”

  “Why didn’t you come to me with the tapes before?” I asked.

  “I knew you didn’t know anything, and I didn’t want to involve you,” Dick said. “PetroPlex already had you on the radar, and if you got any more active, I was afraid you might come to harm. I didn’t know you were working with Gilbert.”

  “We weren’t, until two days ago,” Nash said. “How’d you get the tapes?”

  “Wait,” I said. “Let me guess. Poker games?”

  “Yep,” Dick said. “At first I just tried to get in real good with all these guys hoping to make settlements easier. It got a lot easier than I thought.”

  Dick told us about all the deals that happened over the poker table.

  “Then,” he said, “the Miller case cropped up and Schaeffer came to town and started nosing around. Next thing you know, he was hanging out with Cameron Gilbert, and then Gilbert quit his job and disappeared. Lewis and Fitz threatened to make my life real hard if I didn’t call off Schaeffer.”

  “Imagine that,” I said.

  “That’s when I decided I needed to take action. I’m my own man. Nobody tells Dick Richardson what to do. I knew PetroPlex was scared of Schaeffer and Gilbert, and I figured I had a good ‘in’ with Schaeffer on account of the fact that he was already working for me. I thought maybe if I played my cards right, I could use Schaeffer to get some leverage against PetroPlex and
beat them at their own game. Get ’em off my back. I knew PetroPlex was looking to find Gilbert on account of some computer virus he was threatening them with, so I convinced ’em that by keeping Schaeffer around and by keeping my eye on him, they’d be able to find Gilbert a lot easier. Then I called up Schaeffer and told him I was on his side. I was a double agent.”

  “You think he really believed you?” I asked.

  “He believed me after I played him my tapes.”

  “When did you start recording?” Nash asked.

  “A couple weeks ago, when I started hearing more about this virus. Fitz and Lewis weren’t talking about it directly at the poker table, but it’s amazing what people will say when they think nobody’s listenin’. I had taken to planting tape recorders in my bar on nights I hosted games because the PetroPlex executives were really starting to lean on me. Also carried one in my pocket and turned it on whenever I could. I was looking for leverage. Fitz and Lewis would go refill their drinks and have whispered conversations. When they went home for the night, I’d play the tapes back. I started hearing things about a plot to raise prices on the energy market. That was about the same time I starting thinking it might be a good idea to convince Schaeffer I was on his side.

  “I contacted him, and we talked on the phone briefly. He didn’t trust me right away—paranoid, you know—but after a while he started to settle down and open up. He told me about his contact with Cameron and their plan to do a large scale media release, and he asked me if he could use the tapes as evidence. This was the day before your summary judgment hearing. I told him I’d bring ’em to court in the morning and slip ’em into his briefcase while PetroPlex was making arguments.

  “I don’t know exactly what happened next, but somebody at PetroPlex got nervous and offed him. While I was trying to figure out what to do next, your house got torched and you disappeared. I’ve been looking for you and Gilbert ever since.”

  Wow. That was quite the story. If only I’d known earlier. I don’t know that I’d have been able to do anything to prevent Schaeffer’s death, but I sure as heck could have stayed out of Cameron’s old car garage and saved myself some run-ins with thugs. Plus, Nash wouldn’t have been shot. I was still mad at him, but I felt bad about his foot, nevertheless.

  “We have to get the tapes back to Cameron,” I said.

  “Where you guys holed up?” Dick asked.

  “Gracie’s root cellar,” I said. “What are we gonna do about the body?”

  “Leave him in the creek for now,” Dick said. “I’ll holler at Old Man Jonas up the road and ask him to call it in. I think I saw him looking out the window when you drove through his barn earlier, anyway.”

  I looked at Nash. “You okay with that?”

  Nash nodded. “As long as it gets called in right now.”

  Dick made the call while we listened in. Then we helped Nash up, and the two of them limped up the hill to Dick’s new car. Nash settled into the front seat, and I curled into the back.

  It was almost 8:00 A.M. I wondered if the crime scene techs had found Dorian yet.

  We drove the distance back to Gracie’s root cellar and went underground.

  ***

  When Lucy saw Dick, she growled. “Good dog,” I said, patting her on the head.

  When Miles saw Dick, he hopped out of his cot angrily. “Bloody hell!” he said. “What is he doing here?”

  “Nice to see you too,” Dick said.

  “He’s the inside guy,” I told Miles.

  Cameron let go of the mouse and looked up from his computer. “Who is he?”

  “My boss,” I said. “Dick Richardson.”

  “Don’tcha recognize me from my TV commercials?” Dick asked. He struck a pose and said, “I’m Dick Richardson, and I’ll fight for you.”

  “Get outta town,” Cameron said. “I never would have found you. You’re not on the network!”

  Dick pulled the tapes out of his pocket again and handed them to Cameron.

  “Unbelievable,” Cameron said. “Thanks.”

  We filled Cameron and Miles in on the latest developments. I apologized to Cameron for trashing his car in a creek bed, but he seemed unperturbed, as usual. He was more low key than any guy I’d met in my life.

  While we told the story, Cameron converted the tapes to digital format. He attached them to an email packet that also contained copies of internal PetroPlex records and emails between executives, along with a cover letter that explained what everything was. Then he imported all his press contacts into his email from a database file and hovered his mouse cursor over the “send” button.

  “Ready, guys?” he asked. “This is it!”

  I stared at the computer screen, mesmerized. Did I dare feel any kind of relief? Would this call off the PetroPlex dogs or just whip them up into an angrier frenzy? Would we be free to leave the root cellar in a few hours, or would we be trapped here indefinitely?

  “I can’t believe this is it,” I said. It had been an unbelievable three days. “We finally did it! How can it all be over with just the press of a button?”

  “Modern technology is a wondrous thing,” Cameron said.

  He pressed the button. I held my breath as I watched the progress bar showing the file upload. When the empty bar filled all the way up with blue, I let out a sigh.

  CHAPTER 30

  Delmont was in the middle of presiding over a slip and fall case when his clerk, a rosy-cheeked youth of twenty-two years, nervously sidled up to the bench and whispered into Delmont’s ear.

  “Chief Scott’s on the phone for you,” she said.

  “Well tell him I’m in the middle of a hearing, for crying out loud. He can wait.”

  “He says it’s urgent—a matter of life and death. He’s refusing to leave me alone until I put you through to him.”

  “Oh, all right,” Delmont grumbled. “I’ll take it in my chambers.”

  Delmont banged the gavel and called a twenty minute recess.

  Once in his chambers, he slammed the door behind him and picked up the phone.

  “You know I got better things to do than talk to you right now, don’tcha?” he said.

  Chief Scott was breathing hard on the other end of the line. He sounded like he’d been running. “You know where I am right now? Do ya?”

  “I don’t, and I don’t care.” Delmont pulled a cigar out of his jacket and eyed it, debating whether or not he had enough time for a quick puff before heading back to the bench.

  “I’m out in Chandler’s creek on the Jonas property. Old man Jonas called the station this morning and said a couple of crazy drivers came careening through his fields and took out half a barn and a length of barbed wire fence. One of ’em lost control and wound up in the creek. You are not gonna believe who was in the back seat.”

  Delmont decided that a cigar just might hit the spot. This sounded like it could be a long conversation. He bit the end off and spit the tip on the rug. The janitor would clean it up this evening.

  “So how come I care?” Delmont said.

  “Because it was Frederick Lewis, and he’s deader than a doornail! Shot right through the forehead, just like that Schaeffer guy.”

  Delmont swore.

  “And besides that, have you seen the news? First the explosion, and now they’re accusing PetroPlex of some kind of conspiracy, and there’s a whole lot of evidence to back it up!”

  Delmont frowned and flipped on the television. Sure enough, on every channel, some news reporter was playing audio with voices that sounded like Lewis and Fitz.

  “It’s bad,” Scott said. “Real bad. I got a call with intel that Nash and Taylor went to Lewis’s house this morning. And now he’s dead and the press is all over PetroPlex. Those two are out for blood! It’s just a matter of time before they’re on to me and you. We’re gonna get caught!”

  Delmont’s heart rate started to rise a little. He lit his cigar and took a long puff. The nicotine calmed him down some.

  “Listen
here,” he said. “You gotta keep calm. You gotta get out there and find Nash and Taylor and shut them down.”

  “How am I supposed to do that? They could be anywhere! And they apparently ain’t afraid to put a bullet through somebody’s head!”

  “You’re a cop,” Delmont said. “You have a gun, too. If you see them, just shoot first.”

  “I been behind a desk too long,” Scott moaned. “I’m out of practice. I’m not cut out for stuff like this.”

  “Hey!” Delmont barked. “Pull it together!”

  “What are we gonna do? What are we gonna do?”

  “It ain’t over ‘til it’s over,” Delmont said. “Get out there and do your job. Whatever happens next is up to you. If you can find ’em and shut ’em down before they do any more damage, then we win. Got it?”

  “Okay,” Scott said. “I’ll try.”

  “Don’t try. Do.”

  Delmont hung up the phone and took a long drag on his cigar. He felt nervous. Could he really trust the darn fool to find Taylor and Nash before they did any more damage? How much had they uncovered already? Would the trail lead back to Scott and him eventually, or would PetroPlex be the only one taking the hit?

  He was unsure of what to do. He glanced at the clock. There were still eighteen minutes before he was due back in the courtroom. He thought he’d take a walk to clear his head.

  CHAPTER 31

  Cameron pulled up multiple browsers on his web site as we waited for breaking news.

  It only took thirty minutes. CNN, MSNBC, FOX News—all of them were all over the story. The Twitter memes all started showing hits on PetroPlex and oil. Google news exploded with stories.

  Cameron pulled up some live video feeds. We listened in awed silence for a while as various reporters read the contents of Lewis’s and Fitz’s emails and played the whispered audio conversations with subtitles, so they’d be easy to understand.

  After awhile, Cameron opened his hacking terminal and connected to the PetroPlex network. He started running some searches on words like “media, press,” and “news.”