“Sir?” Carter swallowed. “Only a handful of people are involved in the sabotage. A lot of innocent farmers are going to lose their crops and their land.”
“They could have turned these terrorists in. They know who they are.” The general’s eyes had gone hard. “No innocent people live along this riverbed. I’ve asked for Rangers as backup, and my request has been granted. They’re unloading now.”
Rangers. Stunned, Carter sank back onto his pillow. Rangers were the elite and they hated this kind of call. Rangers had been brought in to back up the 82nd Airborne in Chicago. That had been when things got out of hand, although that particular fact had never made it into the media.
“Voltaire?” Hastings paused in the doorway. “Tell me what you know about Greely’s escape.”
“What?” Carter stared. “What escape? What are you talking about?”
“Someone sprung him while the Shunt was going down. Two men in uniforms. The guard saw that much before they hit him.”
“I don’t know, sir.” His head was full of buzzing.
“I finally heard how you ended up here.” Hastings’s gave him a contemptuous look. “Seems this senator did a little string pulling for a particular posting. As a favor for a friend. Targass is tight with Water Policy.” His lips twitched as if he wanted to spit. “Your buddy might be Water Policy but he can’t save your ass.”
Carter stared after him, barely registering the slam of the door. Someone had pulled strings to get him posted here. Through Senator Targass. The name rang a bell but the where and when wouldn’t come.
Nine Corps deaths this year, including Private Stakowski who had barely turned twenty. If Hastings shut down the local water, fields along the riverbed would dry up and blow away. How long would it take? Two days? A week?
“Sir?” A hesitant voice roused him. “Colonel Voltaire, sir?”
“In here.”
“I’m sorry, sir. I knocked.” Private Wasson appeared in the doorway to his bedroom, half hidden by the doorframe. “I’ll pull cleanup for a month if my sergeant hears about this.” She glanced nervously over her shoulder. “But I heard you got hurt bad, sir.”
“I’ll live.” Carter pushed himself painfully up onto the pillows again. “Thanks, Private.” She was waiting to ask him something. Not that he could do much. “What’s up?” he asked wearily.
“Sir, is it true that we’re going to shut the water down along the riverbed?”
Rumors got around way too fast in this place. He wondered if he’d heard that Hastings was out to bust him yet. “Yes. It’s true.”
“Sir.”
The anguish and anger in that single tight syllable finally penetrated. Carter narrowed his eyes, seeing finally what she was trying to hide. “Private, come into the room. All the way in.”
She marched stiffly to the foot of his bed and stood at attention. The bruises on her face were dark and new. Her mouth was swollen and Carter saw a raw, ugly scrape on her arm blow the sleeve of her coverall.
“I was ready to go, yesterday,” she said in a low, taut voice. “I got permission from Captain Westerly, and I was as ready to shoot as any of the others. Maybe my family does live along the riverbed, but I’m Corps, sir.”
The rumor about Roscoe getting set up surely had gone around by now, too. Carter sighed, rubbed his face. “You made a tough decision and I took it away from you. I didn’t do it very well, either. I apologize, Private. I hope they look worse than you do.”
“Thank you, sir. One of them does.” She lifted her chin. “This would have happened sooner or later anyway, sir.”
“I’m sorry about your family,” he said. “I’m sorry about all the people who are going to pay for this when it isn’t their debt. I did my best to keep the promise I made to you.”
The private was silent for a moment, her eyes fixed on the wall above Carter’s head. “Sir? Is it true that the guy we’ve been holding has escaped? The head honcho from The Dalles?”
“It’s true.”
“You weren’t . . . moving him, sir? Like down to Bonneville?”
Carter shook his head, his eyes on her face. “He wasn’t going anywhere until the U.S. Marshal showed up to claim him. Why?”
“I saw something, while everyone was . . . at the Shunt.” Wasson scowled at the floor. “An officer and an NCO were taking this man out to a car — graying hair, kind of tall, wearing jeans and he was kind of wobbly. I stopped to see if they needed any help. The guy was in cuffs, and the lieutenant said he was a prisoner, that they were moving him down to Bonneville, sir. I’m pretty sure it was the guy from town, the one who’s always in front of things.”
“Would you recognize the others again?” Carter sat forward gingerly.
“I . . . did recognize the corporal. He’s down at Bonneville. I was there before I got transferred up here.” Wasson looked at him finally. “He’s from Hood River.”
Back to Hastings again. A cold anger was forming in his belly. “Thanks.” He held out his hand to her. “You’re Corps, first. I won’t forget it.”
She gripped his hand hard, released it abruptly. “If someone from the Corps is behind this, I’ll find out.”
The smoldering heat in her eyes worried him. “We’ll do it my way,” he told her urgently. “I’ll pull a personnel record for you, and you see if you can recognize this corporal’s name. Don’t discuss this with anyone, is that understood?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll keep my mouth shut and my ears open.”
“I’ll call your CO and get you assigned to HQ platoon as my aide. We’ll go over the records together.”
“Yes, sir. Wasson saluted smartly, her eyes glittering. “I’ll recognize that guy’s name.” She spun on her heel and marched out of the room, nearly colliding with Johnny as he came through the front door.
“What was that all about?” Johnny pulled off dust goggles and tossed them onto the chest of drawers. “Man, it’s windy out there today. You look a lot better than the last time I saw you. They were wheeling you into surgery, as I recall.”
“What are you doing here?” Carter grimaced as he leaned forward. “How did you mange to show up in time to pull me out of the water?” He managed a grin for Johnny. “Talk about timing.”
“I tagged along with the media.” He sat down on the foot of Carter’s bed. “I’ve got an inside source on the payroll, and she tipped me off. I guess someone called them and told them about the fireworks. You didn’t see the newscasts, huh? It’s all over the net.”
“Yeah, so I hear.” Carter clenched a fist. “The country thinks we’re in a war and in a day or two, we will be.”
“Hey, the public’s pissed at the locals, not at you guys.” Johnny shrugged. “You’re heroes. Keeping the water flowing, all that stuff. Another food shortage is hitting the east coast hard. You’ll get applause for anything you do, believe me.”
“It’s not the publicity angle. It’s what’s going to happen here that worries me.”
“That’s the locals’ problem.” Johnny shrugged. “They started this mess. They get to deal with the results, not you.”
“You don’t get it.” Carter groaned and slumped back onto his pillows as pain gripped him.
“Hey, are you okay?” Johnny leaned forward, worried. “They wouldn’t let me on the base, yesterday. Hastings has this place nailed shut. I had to go through Washington to get past the old fart.”
“No wonder he was snarling about Water Policy today.” Carter breathed shallowly, waiting for the spasm to pass. “I broke four ribs, one nicked a lung. I’ve got a rubber drain in for a couple of days, but everything should grow back together. Johnny, I’m essentially under arrest,” he said bitterly. “Hastings accused me of setting this up.”
Johnny leaned back, arms crossed, face thoughtful. “Can’t say I’m surprised.”
“You did mean him. On the phone.”
“I couldn’t say so. Not on an unsecure cell. We have absolutely no concrete proof.” Johnny shook his head
, his expression sober. “I think I almost got you killed.”
“My own stupidity almost got me killed.” Carter closed his eyes as the fanged python squeezing his ribs finally relaxed. “I wish I’d known sooner, though.”
“I just found out. My buddy Paul in DC has been snooping around for me, digging whatever dirt he can on the general. I thought you might need it.”
Paul. The name clicked. Paul Targass. “You did it.” He stared at Johnny. “You had Targass get me posted out here. Goddamnit, Johnny.”
“Hey.” Johnny recoiled. “Take it easy. Yes, I did that,” he said harshly. “Why not? You’re a good officer and I needed you out here. Pacific Bio’s already on my back, I couldn’t trust Hastings. If I mess up here, the rest of the Committee will be after me like sharks. I’m not . . . very popular.” He met Carter’s eyes. “I had a chance to get you stationed out here and I took it. I needed you to watch my back. So I’m a selfish prick, okay?” He looked away. “Buy you know that.”
“I wish you hadn’t done it.” Carter sighed. That was Johnny. Do it first and apologize later. Or never. “Well, I’m here, and I think you’re right about Hastings. I’m almost sure Delgado is in on it, too. That flood happened because of a fried board. The flow should have shut down in seconds, but it was three minutes before Operations ran the override and shut the valves. That emergency system is checked weekly. The last recorded inspection was only two days before the break.”
“You think Delgado sabotaged it?”
“I think Andy Stakowski and five others died because of it,” Carter said. “Someone gets to pay for that.”
Tomorrow a truck would carry the six caskets to the dry plot of ground that was the base’s cemetery. A flag would cover each casket. They would flutter in the dusty wind as a firing party fired three volleys. The chaplain would read a moving service, a bugler would play ‘Taps,’ the flags would be folded and presented to the next of kin. The river had covered that piece of ground once. Jeremy would see water if he looked at the graves. That’s what those men and women had died to protect, Carter thought bitterly. Not freedom, not democracy. Just water.
Life.
“Wasson — the private you met on your way out — might hand us the key. She recognized the corporal who sprung Greely. He’s from Bonneville, but she can’t remember his name. I’m going to pull a personnel record for her.”
“That might give us the link we need to Hastings.” Johnny was nodding. “Good for Private Wasson.”
“Yeah.” Carter swung his legs over the side of the bed, hissing between his teeth. “Hand me the phone, will you? I’ve got to call Personnel.”
“While you’re doing that, I’m going to try searching Greely’s place. If he’s in with Hastings on this . . . and it sure seems likely . . . something will be there. Something that will point to Hastings.”
“It’s too dangerous,” Carter said.
“He wouldn’t dare go back there.” Johnny’s eyes were glittering with the old, school-days, go-for-it fire.
He was going to do it. “Get your car. I’m coming, too.”
“You can’t go running around in your condition.” Johnny frowned. “I’ll call you when I get there.”
“You’ll get yourself shot, is what’ll happen, Johnny.” Carter gave him a weak grin. “Not without me. I want that proof more than you do.” He stood, wavering a little, one hand on the wall for support. “Park right in front of the door. I don’t know if they’ve got orders to stop me at the gate or not.”
“Lie down on the floor and I’ll toss some stuff over you.”
Well, what difference did it make if he went AWOL? Carter limped over to his closet as Johnny left and rooted out a jacket and folded bedspread to add to the camouflage. That cold anger curdled in his gut. Whoever was behind this . . . Hastings? . . . owed for a lot of lives right now. Carter opened his dresser drawer, took out the Beretta, and made sure it was loaded.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Crouched on the floor of Johnny’s car, Carter held his breath as Johnny braked at the gate to surrender his pass.
“You better watch yourself out there.” The guard’s voice sounded as if she were in the back seat with Carter. “Something big is going on. The whole town’s on its way out to the Shunt. I hope you’re heading west — you’re not going to get anywhere going east.”
Another demonstration? Sweat stung Carter’s eyes. Hastings had his Rangers out there. He closed his eyes, urging Johnny silently to step on it, get them the hell out of here. The car lurched forward, gathering speed.
“It’s clear.” Johnny glanced in the rearview as Carter threw off the stifling camouflage.
“Did you hear that? About the Shunt?” Carter eased himself onto the seat, tried to brace himself against the cars motion. It hurt. “If anyone does anything, this is going to blow up.”
“I heard.” Johnny shook his head. “You can’t do squat there. You need proof that Hastings’s doing this.” He braked at the truck plaza, then swung left onto the state highway. “I’ll bet you a hundred bucks we find it at Greely’s.”
He was right. Carter drew a cautious breath. Nita might turn up with something . . . or she might not. She wasn’t willing to see Greely as anything but a hero.
The afternoon sun streaked the Gorge wall with stark black shadows, giving the rocky bones of the earth an austere beauty. Those rocks would still be here tomorrow, whether a hundred people died or none at all. They wouldn’t care, one way or the other. The events of this day, of this past month, were nothing more than a flicker of light and darkness to the planet, he thought. A millisecond in the planet’s lifetime. They topped the rim of the Gorge and Carter clung to the door, breathing in quick, shallow gasps as the car bounced across the rocky track that led to Greely’s house. He pressed his arm to his side, felt wetness at the surgery site. The doc was not going to be happy with him.
He needed some kind of solid proof. Something.
Greely’s beans were already wilting. Johnny pulled up in front of the weathered little house and Carter climbed stiffly out. Last time he had pulled up here things had looked so hopeful. Slowly, painfully, he climbed the warped steps while Johnny checked around the buildings. The main room looked as barren as he remembered it; table, chairs, woodstove, and sink. One bedroom door stood open. Greely’s, he remembered, and spied the bright paintings on the walls. Nita had walked through the other door, flushed with sleep. He tensed as the handle turned.
“Jeremy?” Carter blinked. “What are you doing here?”
“I was watering Dan’s beans for Nita. Only there’s no more water.” Jeremy yawned and gave Carter a quizzical look. “What’s up?”
“Have you seen Greely?”
“I thought you had him locked up?” Jeremy’s eyes narrowed.
“Who’s this?” Johnny burst through the door. “He was here before.”
“Carter, what’s going on?” Jeremy ignored Johnny. “You look bad.”
“He got a rib through his lung when the Pipe blew.” Johnny walked past him, began opening kitchen cupboards. “Wow. Whatever else this guy’s into, he’s got good black-market connections.” He waved a brown pill bottle. “I can’t even get this stuff.”
“You want to butt out?” Jeremy limped over and slammed the cupboard door. “What’s this all about, anyhow?”
“I need to search the house,” Carter said wearily. “Right now.”
“He’s on your side, Carter.”
“How do you know?” Carter clenched his fists. “How the hell do you know, Jeremy? You give me a solid reason, and we’ll both believe it.”
“Nita told me.”
The quiet words hit him like a blow. “She’s . . . biased.”
“I don’t think so.” Jeremy’s tone was mild. “Relax, Carter. I’m not going to take you on. If you want to search, do it. I don’t think Dan would mind. Where is he, if you don’t have him?” He was frowning now. “He didn’t come back up here.”
“He escaped.” Or he had been taken and then he was likely dead. Bad way to prove your innocence. Carter turned his back on Jeremy and yanked a drawer open, sorting quickly through a handful of kitchen utensils. Johnny was going through the cupboards, looking into pots, lifting stacked plates. Jeremy sat down on the corner of the table, watching them rummage. Carter left the main room to Johnny and went into Greely’s bedroom. Watercolors lined the walls. They had been painted on sheets of rough paper, and Carter wondered if Greely had done them. They all showed water in the river. Carter stared at a picture of gray-green water cascading over gray rocks. It looked . . . real. Like Jeremy’s visions. A flat photo stood on the small table beside the bed. Carter picked it up. A gray-haired woman with a strong face looked out at him, smiling quizzically, a little warily. Carter put the picture down carefully, wondering who she was.
Greely’s drawers yielded clothes, odds and ends, and a sheaf of hardcopy that turned out to be old bills, receipts, and meter records. Carter peeked behind the watercolors, but nothing had been hidden there, either. Hand on Nita’s door, he hesitated, afraid, angry at that twinge of fear. He shoved the door open. Her room smelled faintly of honey and piss — her daughter’s contribution, no doubt. The bed was neatly made and her pack stood against the wall. She had put her clothes into the top drawer of the dresser. She didn’t have much — an extra pair of jeans, a couple of pairs of underwear, and two shirts. Carter turned the soft folds of cloth over, catching a faint whiff of her scent. Had she ever owned more than this? He slammed the drawer and checked the next one down.
It was there, under the pile of stiff, dry diapers, tucked beneath the yellowed newspaper that lined the drawer. Stock certificates. Pacific BioSystems stock, made out to Dan Greely. And a handwritten note, stuck between two of the certificates. Here’s the next installment. We’ve got a new CO coming in and I’ve got to talk to you about strategy. Same place, tomorrow night.
Water Rites Page 34