Fault Line In The Sand

by Linda Mackay

  Mac took hold of my arm, and we followed Ed into his cabin. Mac closed the door and in the shadow of the kitchen my eyes focused on a smiling Ed sipping a beer. He tossed a can to Mac and then one to me. “Sometimes, you have to let people know who’s the boss,” Ed said.

  I popped the top on the beer and took a long drink. “They teach you that in ranger school?”

  “I learned that late one night from the Chief Ranger in Glacier. I was lucky four drunks didn’t kill me before he arrived as backup. He turned the situation around in a snap. Said I had to learn to take ‘em off guard with kindness, but if that doesn’t work then quickly show no mercy.

  Mac finished his can of beer and shrugged, “I was thirsty.”

  Ed tossed him another can, also opening another for himself.

  “You know she’d have pile-driven your head into the ground if she wanted to,” Mac said.

  “Why do you think I’m in here drinking?” Ed took another swallow and turned from smiling to serious. “If we can’t come to an agreement on the trustworthiness of the newcomers, then both Liz and I need to leave so the rest of you can finish this.”

  “No one’s leaving,” Mac said. “I’ll talk to her.” He held out his hand, and Ed handed Liz’s gun to Mac.

  “Don’t take this as capitulation, Mac. I am the fed in charge, and she’s a pain in my ass.”

  Mac walked out the door.

  Ed looked at me. “Nice bunch you’ve hooked up with.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “What do you need from me?”

  “Right now, I need a phone to order tires.”

  “I’ll do you one better.” Ed picked up the phone and dialed. “Stu, I need a favor. And I need you to keep this under your hat.”

  Something woke me from a dream about clowns on a roller coaster eating cotton candy. The light on the clock showed 2:16 a.m. I was now fully awake since clowns freak me out and they were mixing with my county fair beloved cotton candy. Looking out the window I saw a truck towing a large trailer pull in at Ed’s place. Ed stepped out onto the porch and shook hands with the biggest, hairiest man I’d ever seen. The two disappeared inside. I lay back in bed and closed my eyes. The favor had arrived.

  Chapter 18

  I’d lost another battle in the war to return home. Standing in the shower, hot water running through my hair washing out the smell of too many campfires, made it hard to complain. Mac, Ed and Stu left after breakfast to start the process of putting each vehicle on blocks, removing the wheels, then taking the rims to the garage at Fishing Bridge and mounting the new tires. Ed had keys to every building in the district and had no problem using them to access the needed equipment. Todd was downloading and checking the data retrieved from the ROV, while Amanda used Ed’s computer to attempt to hack the password on Bull’s thumb drive. I had no idea where Liz had disappeared, but was pretty sure Mac left her behind to keep an eye on us.

  Soaping up I contemplated Stu’s breakfast conversation about how excited the regular Lake District ranger was about his temporary winter leave with full pay and all expenses, to attend special FBI training. While that training made way for Ed to take over for the season, it made no sense that anyone as smart as the district ranger would believe the park service would pay for that training. The idea a government agency was so easily manipulating people, made truth more horrible than fiction. Movie fight scenes and car chases were awesomely unrealistic; yet their malevolent plots of government overreach were actually truth conducted with obscene ease.

  I stepped out of the shower and dried off with the small towel in my backpack. Dressed in a tee shirt and underwear I walked from the hall bathroom to the bedroom. Engrossed in their work neither Todd nor Amanda took notice of my movements through the cabin.

  “Feel better?” Liz asked sitting on her bed.

  I jumped. “You scared the crap out of me.”

  “Sorry, wasn’t trying too.”

  I put on my dirty jeans and last clean pair of socks. “It’s odd how a shower makes you feel like all’s right with the world.”

  “Cleanliness is a deceitful mother,” Liz said. “I know you want to end this and go home; but I need you to understand for Todd and Amanda’s sake, if no one else’s, that we’re safer here finishing this than attempting to return to the ranch.”

  “I’ll accept that hypothesis.”

  “Good.” Liz took hold of her stomach. “With that out of the way, do you have any suggestions for a bad case of constipation?”

  “How bad?”

  “Four and a half days bad. I took a laxative on day three. No results. This never happens to me.”

  “How much coffee did you drink this morning?”

  “I’m a one-cupper.”

  “Drink two more, and don’t doddle over them, just drink up. Then we’ll go for a run.”

  “I hate running.”

  “I have a suppository in the medical kit.”

  “I’ll put on my running shoes.”

  I started to walk out the bedroom door. “Don’t forget to bring toilet paper.”

  Thirty minutes later we were jogging along the shore of Lake Yellowstone. Liz didn’t look happy. “Don’t sweat this. Constipation and diarrhea are commonplace in the backcountry,” I said.

  “I travel more than half my time, and this has never happened before.” Liz easily kept pace with me, but had the look of someone struggling with a thirty-pound backpack instead of a small water bottle.

  “Frank had a cowboy on the payroll who was constipated every pack trip. As the days went by and he couldn’t conduct his business, he went from cranky to mean. He finally quit riding herd to go back to farming with his family so he could poop at home every day.”

  Liz laughed, “Is that really true?”

  “Absolutely. The cowpoke would get so blocked up he couldn’t ride his horse and walked bent over moaning all day.”

  We were laughing so hard we had to stop running.

  “Uh, oh,” Liz said.

  “Head for the trees, and keep your bear spray ready.”

  Several minutes later Liz walked out of the trees smiling. “I think it was the laughter that did the trick.”

  “You should try it more often.” I was afraid my sarcasm might have ruined our momentary camaraderie.

  “Too much laughter might cause diarrhea.” Liz crossed her legs and smiled. “I’m willing to risk it if you promise we can walk back instead of run.”

  “Deal.” Maybe her problem had been constipation instead of cranky spy. I wasn’t holding my breath.

  Nearing Lake Hotel I turned left across the brown wild grasses now spotted with snow left by the storm. “Want to sit on the ledge and cool down?”

  “Sure.”

  Readjusting my cross-body bear spray pouch I looked across the unusually calm lake. It was easy for me to tell winter was closing in. The stunning fall colors of the east coast and the Colorado Rockies are not the signal of fall at Lake, since few deciduous trees live at altitude in Yellowstone. The backcountry grasses turn a golden yellow, but the prolific pine and fir trees hold their green color until it is hidden behind the wind-driven snows of winter.

  To a local, the most reliable signs of changing seasons at high altitudes are the animals and dropping snow levels. The ungulates are in some stage of the rut. Migrating geese and ducks make temporary stops on their journey south. Mountain bluebirds and osprey have departed. Mountain whitefish school in deep water and pools. Bald eagles and rough-legged hawks are migrating into the area for the winter. While elk migrate down from their higher summer ranges, bears begin to move toward winter dens in anticipation of hibernation.

  “This is so beautiful.” Liz interrupted my thoughts. “But, I do miss the fall reds of Virginia.”

  “We have our own charm with the season’s change.”

  “You mean snow?”

  “Some years fall is nothing more than a Saturday picnic.” I moved to my left and pointed across the lake. “Look a
t where the snow line horizontally crosses the mountains.”

  “It’s almost a straight line.”

  “The line is where the temperature changed the snow to rain. Locals watch that line move downward to know when winter arrives at each elevation,” I said.

  “We each use color to mark the seasons, just not the same color,” she said.

  I observed Liz’s hunched shoulders, her hands resting in her lap, kicking her hooked ankles slowly in and out. She was relaxed; something I hadn’t seen since we met several weeks ago. “Early mountain men and today’s ranchers also use some suspect signals to predict heavy winters.”

  “Like what?” Liz asked.

  “Frank swears if the squirrels stash nuts under the flower pot next to the front deck we’re in for a wallop of snow.”

  “Does he have a measurement for a wallop?”

  “Never asked.”

  “You should really be more inquisitive.” Liz shook out the last drops of the water in her bottle.

  “By the time I was five, I learned if you asked too many questions Frank put you to work.”

  “That could be where I went wrong on the round-up.” Liz stood and held out a hand to me. “How about we get back and see if the dynamic duo has come to blows or learned something fascinating.”

  “Get away from me!”

  “Don’t touch my computer.”

  “Touch this.”

  “Get that out of my face.”

  Liz took her hand off the door handle. “Should we go in?”

  “The day started off so well.” I took a deep breath and shrugged.

  Liz opened the door. Two steps in our eyes lowered to the sight on the floor. Amanda was sitting on Todd’s stomach, attempting to rub a sandwich in his face. Todd kicked his feet in an attempt to overturn Amanda.

  “You bollock-brained gurgle hat.” Amanda shoved the sandwich in his face, which gave him the opening to grab her hair. They both flipped. The sandwich flew across the room landing at Liz’s feet.

  Tata were oblivious to our presence and momentarily quiet as they caught their breath before the next round. “Should we interfere?” I asked Liz.

  Before Liz could respond Amanda was on the move. Liz stepped in front of her, tripping them both up, and with a thud that sounded like a herd of bison running they went down in a pile on top of Todd.

  Three sets of arms and legs flailed like a drunken octopus. “Get off me!” Todd yelled between breaths. “I. Can’t. Breathe.”

  Liz and Amanda rolled opposite directions freeing Todd.

  He took an exaggerated deep breath, holding his chest in a mock attempt to garner sympathy for being smashed to the floor. “What the heck do you two weigh? It hurt less when my horse dumped me and then rolled over me.”

  I stuck my hand out to help him up. “I think inertia got the best of you.”

  “I don’t care if it was Bertha or inertia, those two need to go on diets.”

  Amanda scrambled up, knocked me on my ass, pushed Todd back to the floor and sat on his chest. “I’m not fat. Take that back.”

  In Todd’s defense he tried to speak, but the pressure on his chest kept him mute. Liz wrapped her arms around Amanda’s waist, rolled her away, strategically placed one foot on Amanda’s crotch, and turned her head back toward Todd. “Unless you want to suffer the same fate, I’d take back the fat comment.”

  Todd stood up holding his privates. “Neither of you are fat.”

  “You okay?” Liz asked me.

  I was sitting like a statue, stunned I’d been spun to the floor like a top. “I’m fine.”

  Liz helped Amanda up. “Okay, anyone want to tell us what the argument was about?”

  “What argument?” Amanda asked.

  “I give up.” Liz sat down on the couch shaking her head.

  “We weren’t arguing,” Todd said. “We were discussing different professional perspectives on Bull’s information.”

  I jumped up. “You hacked the drive?”

  “Easy peasy,” Amanda said.

  “Braggart.” Todd looked at me. “Each file is also encrypted and I was trying to point out she was going to corrupt them if she didn’t proceed with more caution.”

  “Was not.”

  “Bull wanted them opened by a professional, not a second-rate hacker.”

  “I’m not second-rate, you…”

  “Quiet!” Liz yelled with enough volume to be heard by the men changing tires at Fishing Bridge. “Show me the files.”

  I motioned for Liz to follow me to the computer Amanda had been using. We looked at the encrypted file names on the screen.

  “Mind if I take a shot at this?” Liz asked me.

  “Hey! That’s my job,” Amanda scowled.

  I gave her my best piranha stare. “Take a walk.”

  Amanda stomped out the door, pulling it slammed behind her. Todd sat quietly and stared at his computer screen. I suspected he wasn’t interested in work, but wanted to keep eyes on in case Liz opened the files.

  “You need to practice that look.” Liz whispered in my good ear. “You looked more constipated moose than hungry piranha.”

  She winked at me before sitting down at the computer. Her fingers practically flew over the keys and I deduced her DIA skill set included hacking. I backed away and met Todd’s gaze. He raised his eyebrows and tipped his head motioning me to his computer.

  I leaned over Todd’s shoulder and looked at the image on the screen. “Did we collect any viable data?”

  “In two days? Not. Hardly.”

  “We’ll try again tomorrow.”

  “Hang on to your panties, boss. We may not have evidence federal prosecutors are smart enough to use. But the bay was talking.”

  “Don’t keep me in suspense.”

  “We know since July there’s been a pattern of earthquake swarms. In late September, I had a conversation with Jack, one of Bull’s team members.” Todd looked up at me and smiled. “Don’t ask.”

  “Trust me, I won’t.”

  “He indicated the caldera is deflating, and there has been a migration of hydrothermal fluids outward from the caldera. Their conclusion is it was caused by a rupture in a sealed portion of the system within the caldera,” Todd said.

  “Explain more please,” Liz said.

  “There was a rupture in a zone of confined high-pressure fluids into the preexisting crustal fault system, which released its stress.” I said watching Liz roll her eyes at me.

  “Kaboom!” Todd threw his open hands in the air, and made exploding noises.

  “That I get.” Liz glared at me.

  “Suck-up.” I flicked my index finger on Todd’s shoulder. “We know that release wasn’t a natural expulsion, so what else did you learn?”

  “They collected readings of increased CO2.”

  “How much of an increase?” I asked.

  “A six-fold increase from our readings.”

  “That’s a lot of carbon dioxide moving through the system.” Too much gas for that build up to be caused by manmade plugging of the vents.

  “I think the crystal mush is helping.” Todd made exploding motions again.

  I looked at Liz. “His hypothesis is crystallized melt of silicic composition in the magma reservoir is making noise?” I was worried Todd was reaching. But as our resident volcanologist, he never made rash conclusions, so I had no reason to doubt him now.

  “With Jack’s info, their readings and pictures of the bay floor, we know we have an inversion of ground displacement, elevated heat, and stress transfer.”

  “You sound like you’re attempting to prove the defense’s side that the July explosion was hydrothermal, and the resulting deaths accidental,” I said.

  “Not at all. But, I am stating these changes are what the government scientists would use to say it wasn’t a bomb.”

  “How do we proceed?”

  “Proceed by looking at this,” Liz said.

  Chapter 19

  That is the clea
rest image I’ve ever seen from an ROV,” Todd whistled.

  “Spend a million dollars and that’s the result.” I tried to sound nonchalant, but I too was impressed with the clarity of the video.

  “Don’t need a smoking gun when you have this kind of evidence,” Liz said. “Bye, bye, alibi.”

  I continued to stare at the video of the floor of Mary Bay. The camera moved around an inactive hydrothermal vent. Inactive because the once open vent had been sealed haphazardly with concrete. “Even seeing this with my own eyes, I don’t understand how they managed it.”

  “It was clearly a bigger operation than we envisioned in July,” Todd said.

  “How is that?” Liz questioned us.

  “Dad and my team concluded only the south side of the bay had been compromised, since that was where he saw the concrete trucks and divers working.”

  “And that was where the bomb went off,” Todd added.

  “How did this massive project operate in the park for months and months without discovery?” I was mostly talking to myself, but if anyone had an answer I was willing to listen.

  “Discovery is less interesting to me than who sanctioned all these people to be in the park working,” Todd said.

  Liz bailed us out. “Secret government projects are a fact of life. It’s not just possible, it’s amazingly easy for dozens of people to have been openly working on this, completely ignorant of its true purpose.”

  “That’s flipping insane.” Todd walked to the refrigerator and pulled out three beers from the two cases Stu brought from West Yellowstone.

  “Put on your winter reading list books about Atomic City and The Manhattan Project. That makes this project look like a kid’s lemonade stand.” Liz popped the top on her beer. “What’s insane to me is thinking blocking a bunch of underwater vents was smart.”

  Todd chuckled, “Sweetie, sometimes spies don’t know everything.”

  “Then enlighten me.”

  “Throughout history it’s been proven over and over again that if a vent in a volcano gets blocked, it can cause a massive eruption. Extrapolate from that, we are sitting in the middle of an active volcano with hundreds of vents controlled by a large magma chamber. If those active vents become sealed, the pressure builds and eventually has to go somewhere.”