Читать книгу The Height of Secrecy - J. M. Mitchell - Страница 14

Jack got up and wandered down the hall.

How the hell do you forget something like Thomas and that ledge? Forget everything and move on! Easy for her to say. Cloe didn’t hang at the end of a rope, slamming against the canyon wall, wondering if it’d all come to an end with a big fall.

He ducked into the Dispatch Office for a cup of coffee. “Morning Molly,” he said, knowing she was aware of his presence, but tied up with morning routines.

“You have a meeting in town,” the uniformed dispatcher muttered as she poured over radio logs making notes.

“Actually, two this week, but how’d you know?”

“Gazette. I wondered if we’d need to find someone to cover for you,” she said. “Aren’t you supposed to be on the fire?”

“I’m done, unless Johnny needs me. If it stays a good fire, he won’t. Might creep around all summer, get snuffed out by the monsoons, but whatever happens is Johnny’s to worry about.”

He chuckled to himself as he picked the newspaper off the counter dividing the room. The Gazette—Molly was always the first to see it. Between the radio, phone and Gazette she had her finger on the pulse of everything. He gave the front page a scan and noticed the blurb about the meeting. “Next round of Coalition meetings starts today.” It gave the time and place, “. . . Inn of the Canyons, at 10:00 a.m.,” and a short list of probable attendees, “Kip Culberson, rancher and former New Mexico State Senator, . . .” and “. . . Karen Hatcher, Director of the Trust for the Southwest.” They were quoted as inviting any member of the public wanting to participate. The paper stated the purpose of the Coalition, “. . . to find common ground and make recommendations on managing the new National Monument,” and gave brief histories of its establishment outside the National Park—by proclamation by the outgoing President—and of the controversies that followed.

The earlier battles, to see them described, seemed rather pedestrian, but they were anything but that six months ago. Then came the Coalition, and the search for common ground, and with that, a period of peace. Now, cliques were becoming common, resulting in more and more battles.

Jack shook his head at the description. Overstated? Maybe. Maybe not. Some issues were tough, but so far none rose to the level of being unsolvable. But, it wasn’t out of the question.

He slipped into the hall sipping coffee, and sauntered its length, stopping at the end office. Margie, Joe Morgan’s secretary, was not yet in, so he stepped past her desk, and stopped at the Superintendent’s door, knocking three times. “Morning, Joe. Got a minute?”

Joe looked up from his reading. “Morning.” He gestured to a chair and sat back, the image of seasoned professionalism—uniform perfect, greying hair precisely clipped.

“Two things,” Jack said, plopping down. “The guy we rescued . . . he had a sister. Died in the same location years ago. I’ll share that with Luiz, in case he wants to follow up on it.”

“Tell him to let me know if he learns more.”

“Will do. Second, bad news and I’m sorry you’re just hearing this but today’s my first day back in the office. A wallflower, genus Erysimum, a candidate for endangered species status . . . it . . .”

“Tell me.”

“Burned. The whole known population.” Jack let out a sigh. “Gone. A guy named Foss was assigned to protect them. He did nothing. Let the fire burn right past him.”

“The overall responsibility was ours.”

“Of course, and I assure you the loss is weighing heavy on Johnny Reger, but it wasn’t his fault. He took precautions. He knows we need to conduct a review of some sort. Foss, it turns out, is brother to a ghost from my past.”

Joe slowly shook his head. “We sure this plant isn’t fire adapted?”

“Might be. We just don’t know.”

“Start the review. Keep me informed.” He gave his head another shake. “I see you have a meeting in town.”

“Actually, two this week. The hard stuff. Wanna join me?”

“No, I won’t intrude. Might mess things up.” He picked up a pen and gave it several clicks. “A year ago, half the Coalition was fighting to get rid of the national monument, the other half willing to fight to the death to keep it. Where they are today is remarkable. That they recognize the values they have in common, amazing. You need to feel good about that. I know that’s hard to say now, considering you came in here with bad news, but you should. When this wraps up you’ll be in demand. You can pretty much call your shot on where you want to go next.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m serious, your career’s back on track.”

“I’m where I want to be. That other stuff doesn’t concern me.”

“What does concern you?”

“All I need is to be relevant. To do work that’s relevant.”

“You sure?”

“I’m not looking for promotions or big titles, just meaningful work.”

Joe sighed. “I respect you for that, but there’ll come a day when I or someone else needs you to take on something bigger, for the good of the Service. People will remember how capable you are when the Coalition report is finished.”

“Too early to jump to conclusions. Too much work to do. We’ll see breakdowns, maybe big ones.”

“Is that the restored Jack talking? Or remnants of the one that showed up here a year and a half ago, damaged and defeated?”

He stopped himself and looked past Joe, through the window at soaring cliffs and blue skies opening up above them. What a question. “Not sure. I’m not sure I ever will be fully restored.”

“Need to talk?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Jack, when I was told you were reassigned to this park, I was also told I had no choice in the matter, not to ask questions. I did ask—vehemently—because I wanted nothing to do with someone else’s problem. I got no answers. Not real ones. Only cryptic mutterings from personnel in Washington, about you being the loser in some political battle in Montana. You arrived here no more willing to talk, hardly willing to come out of the office, unless to get quickly into the field, away from everyone.”

“I know,” Jack said, dropping his head.

“Things changed. Year and a half later, I’m glad you’re here, glad I didn’t let you hide in the office. I needed help. The controversy that fell in our laps, the creation of the national monument, all that. You were good. You delivered. The community thinks so, too.”

“They’re easy to work with.”

“I doubt you felt that way six months ago. You took a beating, but you came through. It’s time you opened up about your ghosts. What happened in Montana? Tell me about this Foss guy and his brother.”

“I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Remember, I’ve been through my own battles.”

“I understand that, Joe. I promised I’d let go of that episode in my life. Mostly I have. I see the old me. Dedication to mission. Everything. But other times I’m not so sure. Other times I wonder if something’s permanently changed. Sometimes I feel a little paranoid.”

Joe nodded and set down his pen. He tapped on a page. “I’m not trying to preach, but I see no reason for paranoia.”

Jack stood. “I need to get ready. I’ll let you know how the meeting goes.”

“Relevance, huh?” Joe said, watching him closely. “That’s not necessarily the easy path.”

“I don’t expect it to be,” Jack said, stopping at the door. “But what are you saying?”

“I’m saying, some people could care less. Hell with the humility of it. They’ll paint you in ways that serve their interests. They’ll see you as a pawn, your humility be damned. Your relevance be damned.”

“Speaking of paranoid . . .”

“I know, but I’m not.” He paused. “Takes a little courage, but be willing to stand for the truth. Be responsible. Remember who you work for.”

“Those are three very different things.”

“I know.”

“Are you questioning something I did?”

Joe laughed. “No, and I’m not really worried that you need that advice. Some people need to hear it because they’re more concerned with getting ahead than exercising any integrity. Someone like you? For you, it’s a reminder that when things get hard, when you need to draw on that courage, it’s okay to have a touchstone. It’s okay to be wrong at times, but it’s not okay to avoid blame or responsibility. You can’t forget who your bosses are. We have our mission, but even those who don’t understand or work against it deserve our attention. They deserve to be heard and considered. They deserve truth, even hard truth.”

“Sometimes truth is hard to come by. Sometimes truth is taken to be the last word, the one that ends the argument.”

“True enough. But if you want to stay relevant, you’ll seek it out, and believe everyone deserves to hear it, and deserves to be heard.”

Jack nodded. “I promise, I understand, but that last one may have gotten me burned in the past.” He rubbed his forehead. “Not sure. Either listening to everyone, or not listening enough to the people who thought I should be listening only to them.” He shook his head and gave it another rub. “That’s not quite right either. Might’ve been because others were willing to listen only to them.”

“Who did the listening?”

“May’ve gone all the way to the top. Maybe as high as the Director.”

“You sure of that?”

“I’m not sure of anything. But I had the Director scheduled for a meeting in Montana and he never made it. There I sat, two hundred members of the public, wanting to be heard, wanting to be included, and no Director. Two days later, I’m reassigned.”

“Sure it was the Director? Where was the RD in all of this?”

“The Regional Director called afterward, said he fought for us but lost. It was out of his hands. Said things were happening he didn’t understand. Thought I should play it safe. Thought there were people who might come after me if I didn’t. I was tired. I took his advice.”

“And you’re sure the Director was involved?”

“I have no evidence of anything.”

“Not surprised. That high in the food chain, they don’t leave fingerprints.”

“That’s not the end of the story. We had unexpected results in our wetlands research. Somehow word got out we’d picked up methane levels we couldn’t explain. We weren’t pointing fingers, but frackers felt implicated. I have no idea who finished the report, but when it hit the streets, conclusions were changed, data were altered.”

“That’s a serious charge, Jack.”

“You want serious. Months after that, a family with a sick daughter tested their well. Full of carcinogens. Anytime a finger got pointed at the oil and gas guys, they waved that research report with my name on it, saying, ‘It’s not us’.”

“What did you do?”

“By then I was here. No one talked to me. But the truth? Somewhere it got lost.”

“Dangerous games, politics,” Joe said, sitting back in his chair. “Fact of life, but the trick is not to let it be the way you play the game. If you live by that game, you die by it.” Expression left his face. “Unfortunately, the ones who play the game best don’t get hurt, other people do.”

“Tell me about it. And that’s why staying relevant is all I hope for.” Jack spun around and left.

He walked down the hall to his office and began preparations.