Jarrett sat reading back issues of the Bluefield Daily Telegraph on his laptop. Older issues of the local newspaper, which the library kept on file, dating back several decades, were available only on microfiche. He couldn’t get over the fact that the library kept microfiche and were still in the process of converting everything into computer Internet files. He’d accessed the microfiche and read an article from 2001 when the Saginaw Collective had announced the opening of what was now known as Red Hills Mine. There was nothing noteworthy about the article so he’d opened his laptop. He combed through the last ten years of newspapers online, searching for any stories related to the mines. Mining had been the primary source of employment in Pocahontas County for decades, though that demographic was rapidly changing as the coal industry shrank. He glanced at Thayne when his partner whispered his name.
“Come here. You gotta look at this.” Thayne spun the laptop around and pointed to an open web page which had an article detailing the coal mining industry over the last ten years before spinning it back to face him. Jarrett stood up and walked around the table, sitting down in the chair beside Thayne, and looking at the laptop that his partner angled his way.
“What am I lookin’ at?” he whispered.
Thayne pointed to a graph and a map. “This says that there are several major coal-producing regions in the US and here on the East Coast, three primarily. The Appalachian Basin where we are, is the second largest coal producing region in the States, only behind the Powder River Basin of Wyoming and Montana. That’s the one Doug Haney had worked prior to being hired by Saginaw and moved to West Virginia. The other is the Illinois Basin. This article states that the Appalachian Basin-produced-coal, declined 32 percent between 2008 and 2014, but it wasn’t quite as hard hit as the Illinois Basin which decreased 39 percent.”
“That’s because of clean energy technologies?” Jarrett asked.
Thayne nodded. “That’s what I’ve been reading, but I didn’t realize how much we exported. Do you realize that our coal exports increased nearly ninefold between 2006 and 2012, peaking at 117 million short tons in 2012, only then to decline to 63 percent in 2015?”
Jarrett looked at him in surprise. “Shit. The coal industry exports were cut by half in only six years?”
Thayne nodded. “That’s what it says here.” He pointed to the paragraph where he’d read it and Jarrett sat back in his chair.
“Well, that don’t explain why the Red Hills Mining Collective bought the mine from Saginaw in 2014. They must have known that the industry was well past its peak at the time and on the downswing,” Jarrett said. “What makes that sale appealing?”
“No it doesn’t explain the decision at all. They knew the industry was hit hard and they must have known what happened with the collapse in the mine from rotted timbers in 2011 so why the fuck would they buy that mine during a downturn in the coal industry?”
“Hang on a second.” Jarrett reached across the table and grabbed his laptop from where he’d left it, swinging it around to face him. If he was right, he might have just figured that out. He shrank the window where he’d been reading the newspaper and went to Google, punching in a specific search. When he found what he was looking for, he almost stood up and shouted, doing a fist pump right there in the library. “Look at this!” he hissed.
He pointed at the Saginaw Collective’s website showing the board of directors. Listed prominently under the title “Director Sale & Acquisitions” was the name Jeffrey Boggs.
Thayne stared at it and then looked at Jarrett. “Wait a minute, Jeffrey Boggs is on the board of directors for the Saginaw Collective?”
“Look at the date,” Jarrett pointed him to the date at the bottom of the page that clearly read December 2013. “He did work for Saginaw. I’ll bet he orchestrated the sale of the problematic Red Hills Mine, which Saginaw owned in West Virginia, to the newly formed Red Hills Mining Collective, which he started specifically for the purpose of buying the mine, making himself the CEO.”
“So, let me get this straight,” Thayne said. “Boggs worked for Saginaw and while he did, he looked for an opportunity for himself. He decided that he should open a collective, find a failing mine…”
“One with unused safety money…” Jarrett said.
“Okay,” Thayne grinned as realization slowly spread across his features. “Fuck! That’s brilliant.”
Jarrett smiled as his partner figured out Boggs’s whole plan.
“He formed the collective without telling his employer he was the buyer and convinced Saginaw to sell their battered old mine to him. In the guise of the Red Hills Mining Collective he got the mine at a steal along with a half million dollars in mine safety money. He looked like a hero to Saginaw, who didn’t know they just sold their old deathtrap of a mine to him, probably at a bargain basement price.” Thayne’s mouth dropped open. “Fuck.”
“Exactly. What do you want to bet, he reminded Saginaw that by law they had to pass the safety money to the new buyer and that it would sweeten the deal enough to get the Red Hills Mining Collective to buy the broken down mine, even in a failing economy? Saginaw then enthusiastically did it because they were able to unload an albatross that was draining their more profitable Powder River Basin ventures. They transferred the mine safety money since it was the law, and in turn, they got out of the cost of overseeing work that they would have had to do replacing substandard ventilation, ceiling supports, and rotted timbers. It looked like a win-win for Saginaw. My guess is that they were shocked when Boggs turned in his resignation after the sale. I bet you a million bucks the reason why the safety funds have never been used to upgrade the mine is because they were diverted somewhere else by Boggs once the Red Hills Mining Collective owned it.”
Thayne stared at him shaking his head. “He’s got to know that he’ll have to account for the money at some point, so where is it? He wouldn’t be stupid enough to pocket half a million dollars.”
“That’s what we need to find out. Maybe he was able to invest it in other projects and make it work for him, hoping to pay it back before the feds realized the safety upgrades hadn’t been completed.”
“That’s fucking risky as hell.”
Jarrett nodded. “Hopefully, Lincoln Snow can help with those answers. I’d really love to know that myself. If he stole it or can’t account for it and now we have dead miners, he could face involuntary manslaughter or murder charges. Maybe that explains why he tried to kiss our asses at first and then got pissed when he found out we weren’t giving up so easily. It may also explain why he has the congressman attached to his ass like a fucking limpet.”
Thayne grinned and then shook his head. “Fuck, Jarrett, this could explain everything. You think Haney’s involved somehow?”
“Honestly, I tend to believe he didn’t know about the mine being built with substandard timbers. Obviously it was, along with substandard ventilation. Maybe he really had no idea what grade of lumber Saginaw ordered the miners to build the mine with back in 2001 when they opened the mine. I have a hard time believing that Haney would be as worried about gettin’ his miners paid if he didn’t care about ‘em,” Jarrett added.
“Good point. That doesn’t make sense,” Thayne said. “I agree with you. He exhibited honest emotions when we were talking to him. I don’t think he was faking those tears of frustration when he talked about losing his miners and his house.”
Jarrett glanced up as he saw an elderly man walking toward them. He wore glasses that were positioned halfway down his nose, and he looked none too happy at the moment as he glared over the top of the specs. When he got beside Thayne, he leaned down and whispered.
“You need to leave. You’re disturbing the other patrons with your loud whispers. Talk outside.”
Thayne gave the man a nod and then turned to Jarrett as he shut his laptop. “Time to go talk to some more of the locals. Wha
t do you say?”
Jarrett glared at the man who glared back. He shut his laptop and stood up. “Yeah, we’ve worn out our welcome,” he drawled loudly on purpose. The librarian glared at them and sniffed so they headed for the front door. Once they were outside, they walked side by side to the truck.
“I think we need to grab some dinner and then head out to one of the local bars. We’ll see if we can find one that isn’t so fancy and upscale this time. Maybe one where the miners wouldn’t mind going after a long hard day underground.”
“Yeah. I agree. Talking to the locals and dropping some hints about our theories might get some response. I know we can’t be the only ones who have figured this out,” Jarrett said. He started the truck’s engine.
“I think we may have underestimated the miners. They are pretty smart and savvy about the coal mining industry. That’s for sure.”
Jarrett looked over him and grinned. “You came into this assignment thinking all hillbillies are dumbasses, didn’t ya?”
Thayne plastered a highly offended expression on his face before smiling guiltily. “Maybe… just a little… okay, yeah.” He waved his hand. “Just drive. I’m starving. We skipped lunch again.”
Jarrett chuckled and then drove them to the Denny’s where Thayne could get himself one of those fucking salads he liked. After an early dinner, they headed for the main drag through town, searching for a dive bar that might fit the criteria of what they were looking for. He remembered passing a one on his way out to the mine a couple of miles out of town and headed there.
Ten minutes later, he drove into a parking lot filled with battered old pickups. A bar called “The Pick Axe”, with a blinking pink neon sign with a bulb that was going out, seemed to fill the bill. He parked the truck and got out, meeting Thayne at the back of the truck bed. The gravel crunched under their feet as they walked toward the entrance. Fortunately, they’d dressed down that morning for their trip out to meet with Sales and Lafford, wearing faded blue jeans and T-shirts along with the boots they’d worn in the mine. Jarrett glanced down at himself. He didn’t exactly look like a local, but he’d done his best and he hoped they’d fit in.
The inside of the bar was exactly what they’d hoped for. The bar itself stretched the length of the left side of the place and tables were lined up on the other side. There was no chalkboard noting the fancy drink of the evening, the place was filled with cigarette smoke, and the floors were sprinkled with dirty sawdust. The place reeked of sweat and beer. It was perfect. All eyes turned to them as they entered but then, just as quickly, turned back to their business. The place was packed with men and Jarrett couldn’t spot a woman around except the waitress who was plainly dressed and bending over a table to set down the two beers on the tray she carried. When she looked up, Jarrett nodded, and she walked over.
“Evenin’. Table or just the bar?” she drawled. Her lackluster hair was pulled back in a tie behind her neck and though young, her thin face was lined and tired without a stitch of makeup other than some lipgloss.
“Bar’s fine. Thanks,” Thayne replied.
They headed over to the bar and sat on two available stools, glancing at the bartender who walked over. He nodded at them and smiled.
“Got Miller, Budweiser, Schlitz, and Pabst Blue Ribbon on tap. Well drinks are three dollars ‘till seven-thirty. What’s yer pleasure?”
“Any imports?” Thayne asked.
The man gave Thayne a patient stare and shook his head. “Beer? Nope. Jack Daniels is imported, though.”
“All the way from Lynchburg, Tennessee, huh?” Jarrett laughed and the bartender smiled.
“Yup.”
“Gimmie a Genuine Draft,” Jarrett drawled, “And my friend here will have the same.”
“In a dirty glass,” Thayne said.
The bartender cocked his head and smirked.
“Too many John Wayne movies. Sorry,” Jarrett said apologetically.
“City fellers,” the bartender said with a smile.
Jarrett pointed at Thayne and shrugged. “Don’t look at me. I drink my beer out of the bottle.”
Thayne chuckled and Jarrett watched the bartender turn and reach for a refrigerator on the back bar. He pulled out two brown bottles and popped the caps off with a bottle opener before setting them down on plain white paper napkins in front of them.
“Thank you,” Thayne said, raising his bottle to the man before taking a long sip.
“Let me know when ya want another,” the bartender said, before walking over to the next patron.
“So,” Thayne began. “It looks like we have quite a mystery on our hands. I don’t know why I was expecting a cut-and-dried case when we got this assignment.” Jarrett watched as he took a sip of his beer and he couldn’t help but smile.
“After what we learned today, I think we stepped right into Boggs’s worst nightmare.” He took a sip of his beer. The cold was nice on his parched throat. As he thought about that, he suddenly had an image of other more fun things in his mouth. He had no idea why thoughts of sex popped into his head whenever he was in close proximity to his partner but he couldn’t help but smile as the thought came to him. Thayne was staring at him and he lifted an eyebrow.
“Your expression tells me you’re not thinking about the CEO at all, Jarrett.” He winked and then took another long drag on the beer bottle.
Jarrett watched Thayne’s lips at the opening of the beer bottle and then the throat muscles in his neck as he swallowed, feeling the sudden sting of electricity in his groin instantly. Damn him.
“You fellas ATF?” The drawl came from behind Jarrett and he instinctively tensed. He’d been so focused on watching Thayne’s show he hadn’t heard the man come up behind him; that unnerved him more than anything. He spun on the barstool and faced a huge bearded bear of a man. He was about thirty and dressed casually, was holding a beer bottle, and Jarrett instantly checked him out for other signs of danger, weapons, etc. He hated being snuck up on and his expression must have put the man on guard because he took a step back as his eyes widened. “Sorry. Didn’t mean ta scare ya. Military?”
“Marine Corps,” Jarrett said, finding his voice.
“Army. 3664th Maintenance Company outta Point Pleasant.” He stuck out his hand. “I’m Earl O’Connor.”
Jarrett shook it. “ATF Special Agent Jarrett Evans. This is my partner, Special Agent Thayne Wolfe.”
He watched as the man shook Thayne’s hand as well, forcing himself to ignore the rush of adrenaline that was flooding through his bloodstream. The guy turned back to Jarrett and then hooked his thumb at a table where three men sat. They were big like this guy and all had beers in their hands. All of them were watching them closely. Jarrett thought he recognized one of them as the driver of the mantrip from their mining excursion the other day. “That there’s my friends. We thought you must be the ATF agents from California so we thought we’d just be neighborly and say howdy.”
“That’s nice of you. Thank you,” Thayne replied.
Jarrett watched the man eyeball his partner with a friendly smile.
“Ya wanna join us for a beer? They got bigger tables in the back,” the man offered.
Jarrett exchanged a quick glance with Thayne who nodded slightly and then slid off the barstool. “Sure, why not?”
Talking to the locals was why they’d come in here so this was perfect. He couldn’t have been more satisfied that their plan had worked out. Thayne slid off his barstool and took his beer with him as they walked over to the table.
“These fellas are ATF agents, Evans and Wolfe,” the man said. “This here’s Kyle Anderson, Jasper Keene, and Tuff Nickels.” They shook the miner’s hands as the men stood with their beers greeting them with grunted hellos. “These boys’re gonna join us fer a beer.”
He waved at the bartender, making
a circle with his fingers to indicate another round and then led the way to the back of the bar where there was indeed, a picnic table with benches. Thayne slid in beside him on one of the benches, followed by the man named Kyle. Thayne was in the middle and they faced the front of the bar which made Jarrett sigh a little with relief, especially because he could also feel the weight of his Glock in the ankle holster he wore. He had his back to the wall which suited him perfectly.
“So y’all are workin’ with Lafford and Sales?” Kyle asked. “How many ATF agents the government gonna send down here?” He laughed at his own question and took a sip of his beer.
“We’re here to help out. My partner has experience in mining,” Thayne replied. The bartender walked up and laid down six beers, taking their empties before walking away. Jarrett felt the weight of the men’s gazes turn on him.
“That right? Where? Here in Bluefield?” the man named Jasper Keene asked. He had been their driver.
Jarrett nodded. “Yeah. Grew up here. Worked out at the Wallaby 2 when I was in high school.”
The other men smiled. “Long time ago. Wallaby’s been shut down for a while,” Tuff Nickels drawled.
Jarrett grinned before lifting his beer to his lips. “Like I said. It was in high school. It was a while ago.”
“You saw the mine. Y’all agree with management that it were the exploded seals that caused the fire?” Keene asked.
“From what we saw, yes,” Thayne answered. “We are more interested in what caused it. I take it you all work at the Red Hills Mine?”
When they nodded, Thayne continued as Jarrett sat and drank his beer. “Has substandard ventilation been a problem in the mine for a while?”
“Ever since Saginaw built the mine,” Earl O’Connor said. “I been workin’ there since I was a kid and it’s been a problem since the mine weren’t two or three years old. It’s been a damn accident waitin’ ta happen fer years.”
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