by C. J. Box
Coon waited a few seconds to speak, as if choosing his words carefully. “If the Stensons are going after that plant, it’s domestic terrorism. That’s what the FBI is supposed to be doing these days. It’s Job One. If Portenson can turn around the debacle this morning into stopping a massive act of domestic terrorism—”
Joe finished Coon’s thought: “He can write his ticket out of here to anyplace he wants to go.”
“Right.”
“What if Stenko and Robert just stopped to get gas?”
“Please don’t mention that possibility to my boss right now.”
Joe had been to Rangeland several times. It was a small agricultural town of not quite 4,000 people. It was low in elevation compared to most of the state, which was why there were farms instead of ranches. The terrain was flat and fertile all the way east to the Nebraska border.
As they roared south, Joe again looked down at what made Portenson so energized. The power plant was isolated but lit up like a Christmas display against the dark prairie. The three towers reached high into the sky and were illuminated in the darkness. He could see a train filled with coal heading toward it, and another train just behind the first. This is where it began, he thought. Coal was burned to superheat boilers, which turned river water into steam. The steam turned giant turbines that generated electricity and sent it screaming through transmission lines toward end users in eight states. Most of those users—like Joe—rarely thought about how the electricity got to his home or how it came about. All they—and he—knew was that when they flipped a switch, the light came on. The power came from somewhere, and he was looking at it.
Except when it didn’t.
Joe frowned to himself, said to Coon, “How in the hell could two guys from Chicago sabotage a power plant?”
Coon shrugged, said, “We don’t know. But we’re going to stop them before they do.”
And Joe realized what really made Portenson so happy. Thanks to Joe’s initial theory, the FBI had focused on Robert and the environmental angle. Things had fallen into place. The analysts were not only connecting the crimes, they were anticipating what the Stensons would do next. Coal-fired power plants with massive carbon dioxide emissions were a natural target. It all played out and fit the pattern. And Portenson was in the catbird seat. He’d be able to avert the plot before anything bad happened. He’d get the credit. Even if the Stensons were in Rangeland to buy gas.
The fly in the ointment, Joe thought, was if Stenko or Robert started talking after they were arrested and threw too much doubt on the FBI’s theories. If they denied ever targeting the power plant. Then Joe realized what else worked in Portenson’s favor. He was pretty sure that the Stensons wouldn’t be alive to talk. Not with Robert’s new propensity to try and shoot his way out of every situation and Stenko’s fatal cancer.
Which meant that Joe would need to get to Stenko before Portenson did.
AS THE PILOT negotiated with the Rangeland sheriff on where to land and Coon arranged for vehicles with the police department, Portenson turned in his seat and said to Joe, “You’ve got a call on channel C.”
His stomach knotted as he turned the dial two clicks. Joe thought: Marybeth. Janie Doe has taken a turn for the worse.
Governor Rulon said, “Finding you was not so easy. How is it going?”
“Not great.”
“You don’t have to tell me that. I got a briefing from DCI and between these bad guys you’re chasing and the FBI, there are bodies all over my state from Rawlins to Devils Tower.” He didn’t sound like he was in a good mood.
“It’s been rough,” Joe said. “But we may finally be closing in on them.”
Rulon acted like he didn’t hear Joe. He continued, “Tell Agent Portenson that Wyoming has the smallest population of all the states. He and his minions are doing serious damage on our census count. Those are citizens and voters. I mean they were citizens and voters. At this rate we’ll lose a seat in Congress and our federal funding if he keeps up with all the bodies.”
By the set of Portenson’s jaw, Joe could tell he was once again listening in.
“He just heard you,” Joe said.
“Good! I figured he might be eavesdropping on a private conversation without a warrant.”
This time, Portenson ripped his own headphones off.
“He’s gone,” Joe said.
“So tell me, did you find the girl you were looking for?”
Joe briefed him on the situation.
Rulon said, “Unbelievable. So you think these bad guys might know where the girl you’re looking for is located?”
“Maybe,” Joe said.
“So where are you now?”
“We just got cleared to land in Rangeland. The FBI thinks the Stensons may be going after the power plant.”
“Jesus Christ! They had better not be!”
“I don’t see it,” Joe said, making sure Coon wasn’t listening in, either. He wasn’t. “I just can’t imagine they can waltz their way in there and disrupt the electricity. These Stensons are not geniuses, and one of them may be terminally sick. But that doesn’t mean somebody might not get hurt.”
“But the feds are coordinating with local law enforcement?”
“They appear to be.”
“Will miracles never cease.”
Joe shot glances at Coon, who was obviously engaged in another conversation, and Portenson, who took a cue from Coon and was adjusting his headset back on. Joe saw Portenson switch channels to Coon’s frequency. They were getting information from someone that was making them both sit up straight.
“Something’s going on,” Joe said. “Coon and Portenson are getting new information.”
“What?”
“I think I know, but I can’t say.”
Rulon said, “My lights are still on. So the Stensons haven’t done anything to the power plant.”
The ground rose up and Joe felt one of the skids touch the field. They were landing on the north side of town in an empty cornfield. He could see several police department vehicles parked on a service road beyond a barbed-wire fence.
“Sir,” Joe said, “we’ve landed. I’ll call you back as soon as I have something to report.”
“Keep the lights on, Joe. When the power goes out, bad things happen. Streetlights go out; computers go down; home oxygen units fail. Innocent people die, Joe.”
“Got it.”
“Plus, I’m watching a football game.”
“I’ll do my best,” Joe said, rolling his eyes.
Rulon said, “I hope you find your girl.”
“Me too, sir. Thank you again for letting me pursue this.”
“Don’t mention it. Besides, it sounds like it’s turning into something much bigger than anticipated, something you seem to have a penchant for. I bet being a normal game warden sounds pretty good to you right now.”
“It does. But I nailed the Mad Archer yesterday.”
Rulon said, “Again? Good work!”
WHEN BOTH SKIDS were firmly on the ground, Portenson turned in his seat and gestured for Joe to get out first. He was happy to comply. He almost didn’t notice that Coon hadn’t unbuckled his safety belt or that the pilot wasn’t turning off the rotors.
His boots thumped the ground, and he clamped his hat on his head with his hand to save it from the rotor wash. He felt more than heard the hatch close behind him.
He turned as the motor roared and the helicopter lifted off. Behind the Plexiglas, Portenson waggled his eyebrows and waved good-bye with a sardonic smile on his face. Coon looked away, embarrassed.
Behind him on the edge of the field, the Rangeland police officers scrambled back into their cars and pulled out one by one and U-turned onto a gravel road that headed south. Joe sank to his haunches with one hand on his hat. He watched the taillights of the cars get smaller down the county road and the chopper move across the sky. He didn’t stand until it became quiet, as the thump-thump-thump of the rotors faded out.
Joe
rubbed dust from his eyes and sighed a heavy sigh. Then he heard a dirt bike motor cough and come to life. A single headlight blinked through a hedgerow and turned toward him once the rider found an opening in the brush. Joe started walking toward the headlight.
Nate was wearing a ridiculous helmet that looked like a German army helmet. His face shield was pushed up on top but spattered with starbursts of insects. He looped around Joe and stopped the bike just ahead of him. The motor popped and spat as Nate gestured to Joe to get on behind him.
Joe threw a leg over the saddle and tried to balance himself without having to hold on to Nate.
Joe said, “I was hoping you’d have a car or a truck.”
“Nope. I’m actually starting to like this thing.”
“Are Stenko and Robert still here?”
Nate nodded. “They were when I left them.”
“And my phone?”
Nate turned and grinned. “I found a bread truck at the truck stop gassing up. I opened the back and tossed it inside amongst the buns. The last I saw of it, the truck was headed south on I-Twenty-five toward Cheyenne.”
Joe nodded. He figured he and Nate would have no more than fifteen minutes before Portenson realized what had happened and turned back around.
30
Rangeland
STENKO WATCHED THROUGH PAIN-SLITTED EYES AS HIS SON emerged from the bar with a grin on his face. Robert twirled something on a string or chain. He’d been gone a long time, it seemed. Stenko had taken the rest of the morphine, and the spent plastic pill bottles lay open on the floor of the car near his feet.
Robert threw the door open and jumped in. He was ebullient. He said, “So are you ready for one great and glorious last act?” His smile was maniacal.
Stenko grunted. It hurt to talk.
“Hey,” Robert said, suddenly alarmed. “Where’s that rancher?”
“Got away.”
“You let him get away? You old fool. What’s wrong with you?”
“Sorry,” Stenko moaned. But he wasn’t. Ten minutes before, he’d turned to Walter and told him to get the hell out of there. The rancher had asked about his truck. Stenko had said, “Run, you idiot, before my son comes back and puts a bullet in your head.”
Reluctantly, Walter had gotten out and done a stiff-legged jog in the general direction of the interstate highway.
“He’s going to talk,” Robert said. “I was going to make sure he kept quiet.”
“He overpowered me,” Stenko lied. “He’s a strong old fart.”
“Christ, is there anything you can do right?”
Stenko thought: The role reversal is now complete.
He said, “Guess not.”
“SO THE TOUGH THING for me,” Robert said, starting the motor and backing out of the gravel parking lot, “has been to reconcile myself to the fact that once again you’re not going to come through for me. I have to wrap my mind around the fact that all the money is out of reach and we can’t use it to save the planet your generation trashed and left us with. You’d think after thirty years of living around you, I’d be used to crushing disappointment, right? But damn if I still don’t keep coming. This time, you really had me for a while. But in the end, well, in the end it’s like it always has been. A big fat zero.”
“You’ve got some cash,” Stenko said, his voice thin. “And we did some things.”
Robert swung out on the dark road. A passing streetlight reflected blue on his bare teeth. “Yeah, we did some things. But in the end, Dad, it was just jerking off. There were no bold strokes. No real blows were struck. Christ, you ended up with a bigger footprint than when we started.”
“That’s because you were keeping track. You saw it as a way to get all my money,” Stenko said, regretting the words as soon as they came out of his mouth.
“That’s right,” Robert said. “Blame me. Blame your son. Just like always. Blame your kids while you make the world a worse place to live.”
Stenko reached over and put his hand on Robert’s shoulder. He said, “I don’t want to argue anymore, son. I don’t. You can say whatever you want. I’ll take it. I don’t have the strength to fight.”
Robert shook his hand off and it dropped to the seat. He drove silently, pouting. Robert was always the angriest when Stenko said something true about him. But now was not the time to remind Robert of that.
Stenko said, “The fight went out of me when April died in that crash back there. That poor girl. I had my chance with her, to do something good. And look what happened.”
Robert snorted, said, “Her again. You’re just like you were about Carmen. Have you ever thought about maybe using some of those feelings toward the kid you have who’s still alive? The real son? Not the dead daughter or fake daughter?”
“Really, son. I don’t want to fight.”
More pouting.
Changing the subject, Stenko said, “What was that thing you were twirling when you came out of the bar?”
“Oh this?” Robert said, handing it over, his smile returning. “This little old thing?”
Stenko took it. It was a large laminated card strung from a lanyard. He pulled it close to his eyes. There was a photo on it, a magnetic strip on the back, and a name: LUCY ANNETTE TUREK.
“Who is Lucy Turek?” Stenko asked.
“She’s my new girlfriend,” Robert said.
“That was quick.”
“Dad, if you haven’t noticed, I’m a pretty good catch.”
Stenko bit his tongue. Then: “What does she have to do with this last act you mentioned?”
Robert cleared town and turned onto a service road that went north. Old cottonwoods laced their branches over the top of the road and formed a tunnel. At the end of the tunnel was a faint glow of light.
Robert said, “Here’s what I was thinking. That big coal-fired power plant must have a lot of local employees. It turns out they have three hundred workers, and it made sense to me that a few of them would be in the bar closest to the plant. Damned if I wasn’t right.
“So I sit at the bar and start talking to a pretty one next to me. That’s her keycard you hold in your hand: Lucy Turek. I start asking her about what it’s like to work at the power plant, what she does, blah-blah-blah. Like I’m interested in getting a job there myself or something. She answers every question. Finally, when she begins to trust me because she wants me to take her home, I ask her how much access she has to the plant. That really gets her going, because she tells me how she’s got a senior clearance that can get her into the control room and she can even take the security elevators to the top of the boilers, which apparently is some kind of big deal. I get her to explain to me how the power plant works, and she goes on and on and I keep buying her drinks. I don’t really care how it works. I know what it does: it consumes tons of fossil fuel and churns out tons of carbon into the atmosphere that will eventually heat up our planet and kill us all.”
Stenko looked from the key card to Robert and back. The glow at the end of the tree tunnel was getting brighter.
Robert said, “So I ask her, kind of playful, how she’d get back at the company if they fired her for no good reason. Lucy is kind of feisty and I’m sure she’d be a little tiger in the sack, so I knew if they fired her, she wouldn’t take it lying down. So she tells me about these gigantic boilers they have. Five-thousand-ton hanging boilers made up of miles of superheated tubing that rise over three stories tall. That’s where they heat the water to drive the turbines or some kind of shit like that. Anyway, Lucy said the boilers have to run on negative pressure. That didn’t make any sense to me either, but I kept pressing. Finally, she got to the point. If the doors to the hanging boilers are opened and the pressure escapes—the boilers fail. That shuts down the plant in a serious way. Millions of people would lose all their power, and the company would lose millions of dollars while all the repairs were made. It might take down the entire power grid. It could take them days or weeks to get the thing running again. That’s how she sai
d she’d get back at them—in the wallet.”
Stenko nodded.
Robert gestured toward the trees through the windshield. “And for however long it took, the planet would get a break. Carbon wouldn’t be pouring up through the stacks. The offset would be tons and tons of carbon not going into the atmosphere.”
Stenko said, “Lucy told you a lot.”
“As I said, she likes me. She’s my new girlfriend, even though I’ll probably never see her again.”
“And she gave you her key card?” Stenko asked.
“Well, not exactly,” Robert said, not looking over. “I followed her into the restroom and hit her head against the wall and took the lanyard from around her neck.”
“My God,” Stenko said. And as he said it, they cleared the tunnel of trees and the massive power plant filled the northern sky, lights blazing.
“So if you ever meet Lucy Turek,” Robert said, “be sure to thank her. She’s the sweetie who made it possible for you to go out in a great blaze of glory. Because of her, you may just be able to get to below zero after all.”
The headlights lit up a ten-foot chain-link fence that now bordered the road. Ahead, Stenko could see a dark guardhouse. There was a metal lockbox with a slit to slide the keycard in to open the steel-mesh gate.
“She said there wouldn’t be a guard this late,” Robert said. “Cool. Now all you have to do is go inside wearing that lanyard. You can get anywhere you want to by swiping that card through the readers. Find the security elevators and go to the top floor. That’s where the hatches to the hanging boilers are located. If someone tries to stop you, just shove them off the catwalk. The boiler hatch opens by turning a big wheel, according to my sweet Lucy. Open the hatch and jump in. The open door and the presence of your body will shut down the whole system and you’ll leave this planet as a hero.”
“Are you coming in with me?” Stenko asked.