Читать книгу The Face of Freedom - Benjamin Vance - Страница 21

After going over the immediate details of the explosion in the Press offices, both ladies needed major sleep. They developed a feasible story line for the evening edition and sent it to press. Joanna decided to call in another reporter to cover the continuing story of the explosion. She felt bad that the TV stations would get the scoop, but they didn’t have her tenacity. She smelled one hell of a story that only newspapers can uncover. She sent Martha home and decided to make some personal calls.

Joanna Pinks had plenty of contacts and old friends in her town and she had a lot of favors waiting to be called in. She started with Rod Springer, chief of police.

Chief Springer was not available, so she left him a message and called Arthur Simms, Fire district Chief and old boyfriend. Arthur Simms was definitely in and had been waiting for her call.

“I wondered when you’d be calling,” he said.

“Hi, lovie. If you were waiting, then you probably know why I’m calling. It’s about that explosion last night or early this morning. What do you know about it?”

“Officially, I don’t know squat. You and I could discuss it over dinner though, how about it?”

“Oh Arty, you know me … oh, the heck with it, what time did you have in mind, and where?”

“Well, I’d prefer a nice place consistent with your community stature and all. How about Ringo’s?”

“Okay, Ringo’s will be great. It’s a nice dive, and very quiet. When ... say seven tonight?”

“Okay, see you there. ‘Lookin’ forward to it kiddo.”

Although they were both very tired, sleep did not come easy to either news lady that night. Arthur Simms could not have slept even if he’d been off duty. He’d been in love with Joanna since high school.

***

The walker found his pace about the time he got south of the Spokane River via the Post Falls bridge. He turned west along the river. Idaho was easy, but when he hit the scrub country west of the state line he left the river and chose to stay on or close to country ranch roads. They afforded the greatest protection due to hedge rows and because of the kind of people who chose to live away from cities. He stopped several times to enjoy the views that Idaho and Washington granted. He was in no hurry.

He thought a lot about Jen and Ike. He knew they felt no pain, but the needlessness shook him still; even after all the carnage he’d seen in Vietnam and Iraq. He really didn’t think the government had gotten so adrift. Once they realized there were only two DNA types among what was left of Ike Larson’s home, they would be looking for him in all the transportation terminals in both states, and probably Montana.

Twice during the day, he had company from other hikers or just kids walking the roads to friend’s homes. He found them to be informative and pleasant. One had heard of a gas explosion in Coeur d’Alene that killed at least two people. The information heartened him ... the perpetrators must still be looking for the evidence. He walked on, planning as best he could, his crossing of I-90 and his approach to the airport. He had to get back to Salt Lake before they caught up with him. He needed to retrieve Linda’s letter.

Toward evening the walker was walking, the Press ladies were stirring and thinking, the FBI was attempting to determine what caused the explosion in Coeur d’Alene and the DHS was searching through the rubble and keeping the FBI out. It was a terrorist situation after all, and the DHS had control; complete control. The entire neighborhood within a one quarter mile radius from the rubble that used to be a beautiful home was evacuated in the interest of national security. A platoon of DHS personnel with metal detectors and plastic bags were supposedly combing the area.

A mortuary van was stationed outside the rubble, but no driver was waiting. A front loader and a dump truck were parked in the front yard. Two tents were pitched on the neighboring yard, and yellow tape was across every neighborhood road and path, warning encroachers of possible radioactive dangers. Local police and National Guard vehicles blocked every approach. Elevated portable flood lights were installed around the rubble and refrigerators were hauled in for preserving any remains. A mobile thirty kilowatt generator was parked in the street and was being tested for night duty. All was getting established for a long haul investigation. The bigger and more complicated it looked, the more could be perpetrated.

Despite all the rumors about the explosion, Arthur Simms could only think about Jo Pinks. He hadn’t even been on a real date since his messy divorce, and now he was going to meet the love of his life. All Joanna Pinks could think about was, “What the hell went down last night and why ... why?”