Читать книгу The Height of Secrecy - J. M. Mitchell - Страница 16

Late spring in Piedras Coloradas National Park. Days growing longer, warmth and seasonal rains bringing green to the meadows. Buds, then leaves to the trees and shrubs, and now, flowers making their appearance.

Jack Chastain knelt at the wildflowers at his feet—desert marigold, and a few feet away, paintbrush. The scene would only get better in days to come. Soon the canyon would fill with yellows common in spring and early summer, and as the desert days grow hotter, these would retreat and yield to a new scene of scattered whites—of asters, sacred datura, and others.

He noticed visitors ahead on the trail, looking at something on the river. He paused, not wanting to intrude on their solitude, and for a moment regretted choosing this way into headquarters. People deserve their moments, but they do not typically mind a minute with a ranger. He made no assumptions. Quietly, he approached a man and woman, binoculars to their eyes, looking elatedly at something stirring in a backwater margin of emergent marsh. Jack started to glance over, but they had neither heard nor seen him. He slipped quietly past.

At headquarters he stopped at his office, dropped off his canvas briefcase, and headed down the hall to dispatch. He pulled his cup off the shelf and poured himself some coffee.

“Morning, Molly.”

“Someone must’ve been talking last night at Elena’s. Our local conspiracy theorist heard about that plant getting torched. He’s letting everyone know.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No. And check the newspaper. There’s some new player getting involved with the Coalition. Says you need to be kicked out of the process.”

“That’s odd.” Jack took a sip of his coffee and picked up the paper. “What’s their name?”

“Can’t remember.”

Reading, he slipped out and went to his office.

“. . . Coalition will meet later in the week, but a new player says he plans to force a change, or bring an end to the effort . . .”

He plopped into his chair and held the Gazette closer.

“Knock, knock.” Marge, the superintendent’s secretary stood at the door. “Joe wants to see you, in his office” She headed back up the hall.

Jack dropped the paper and followed after her.

He fell behind, but slipped around the corner, through her office, into Joe’s, stopping at the door.

“Have a seat,” Joe said. He spun around from the computer and stared across the desk. “I’ve only got a couple of minutes before my nine o’clock shows up. This Foss character we sent home. Was there more you didn’t tell me?”

“It was a discipline and performance problem. On the verge of becoming a sexual harassment case.”

“And this same fellow helped on the rescue?”

“Yes, he did. I didn’t mention that, did I?”

“No. He’s being characterized as one of the heroes of that action. And yet we fired him and sent him home?”

“Hero? I wouldn’t exactly say he was. . .” Jack shook his head in disbelief. “Awkward, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“You sent him home?”

“Johnny did. No, I guess I did.”

“Which is it?”

“I did. He was giving Johnny trouble. I asserted myself to protect him.”

Joe sighed. “I may end up doing the same for you. I’ve been called to Washington to meet the Director. This and other business. Not sure why this would rise to the importance of a trip to D.C., but apparently it does.”

“No!”

“Yes.”

Jack felt his heart pound. “Can’t believe it. Foss’ brother is pulling strings with the Director.” He wrung his hands.

Joe set his glasses on his forehead and rubbed his eyes. “Document what happened. Email me something by day’s end. I leave this afternoon.”

“I will.” Jack shook his head. “Email’s been jammed with rumors about the Director pulling research funding from Sand Dunes. Looks political. Now this! We’re gonna get hammered.”

“Calm down. You’ve got enough to worry about. Read this morning’s paper. You’ve got a guy showing up at your meeting to-morrow, plans to give you some trouble.”

“That’s what Molly said. I’ll read it. I’m sorry you’re getting pulled into this.”

“Comes with the job.”

“Knock, knock.” Marge stood in the door. “Your nine o’clock.”

Jack stood to leave.

Marge slipped away from the door and another woman stepped in. Tall, slender, and blonde. Impeccably dressed, navy blue suit, a profile that looked strangely familiar. She extended a hand. “Hi Joe, I’m Erika.”

Joe shook her hand. “This is Jack Chastain, one of my staff. Chief of Resource Management.”

She slowly turned. “Nice title, Jack.”

“Jack, this is Erika Jones, regional office.”

She looked different. Hair shorter. “I know who she is.”

Joe glanced between them. “You do? How do you know each other?”

“Past lives.”

Erika cocked her head. “Yes, we were on a team that . . .”

He cut her off. “Montana.”

“I see,” Joe said. He gestured Jones toward a seat.

“What a coincidence,” Jack said. “We were just talking about your boyfriend’s little brother. Did you know he has a brother?”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about. I don’t have a boyfriend. No clue what you mean by a boyfriend’s brother.”

“I need to get back to my office.” Jack moved to the door.

“Jack, I need you to stay. There’s obvious tension between you two, but I ask that you be adults. Erika, when you set up this appointment, I expected to be here all day. That’s no longer the case. I’m leaving for the airport. Jack will have to be the one to answer your questions.”

“I’m fine with that.” She flashed a look his way. “We can work together. We have before. Many days of good work. There seems to be a little misunderstanding, but we can work that out.”

Joe turned to Jack. “Can you give her some time today? Maybe the next few days.”

“I have the meeting to prepare for, and things I need to do in the field, but I can give her whatever time I have left.”

“Find the time,” Joe said. “Jack, take a seat and I’ll give you both a few minutes.”

He settled back into a chair.

Jones transformed into cool confidence, her chiseled but attractive features focused on the superintendent. A dark suit like hers rarely made an appearance in Piedras Coloradas, and when it did, the skirt was typically longer. Jack glanced again at the blond hair, clipped almost short. Such a different look than the Erika Jones he remembered. What was confidence before now seemed catlike.

Morgan pointed at Jack. “Before we turn to Erika’s business, I meant to ask about the fire.”

“She’s fine, a good fire. Johnny’s plan is good, and he’s got good people monitoring spread north and west.”

“She?” Erika asked. She smiled.

“It—I mean it.”

“Must be a dainty little thing.”

“No, she’s not. I mean, it’s not. Has the potential to get large and complicated.”

She dangled a shoe. “Complicated. What’s her name, Jack?”

“Why?”

“Just wondering. Do you name your fires after women you know? Complicated ones. Hot, wild ones. Tame and controllable ones.”

Joe threw his head back and laughed. “Careful.”

Jack looked over, expected a familiar teasing smile. There was none. “I misspoke.”

“I’ll behave,” she said, exchanging smiles with Joe. “Wouldn’t want a fire named after me. Might be awful, or worse, a puny little thing.”

Jack scowled. “I’m not ready for your sense of humor.”

“So, Erika, why are you here?” Joe asked.

“I’m on a project for the Regional Director. Fact finding mostly. Visiting parks to understand their management issues. Giving him my take on how solid their planning is. Whether we should be approaching things differently.”

“What kind of things?” Joe asked, suspiciously.

“Public engagement. Political pitfalls.”

“Why would he be sticking his fingers into that from Denver?”

Her smile slipped away. “Oh, no, don’t get me wrong. I won’t be suggesting that we get involved in what you’re doing at park-level, where the rubber meets the road.”

“Then what?”

“We want a better handle on what’s happening around the region so we can complement your efforts. Engage the right people, buy you space to operate.”

“What does that mean?” Joe shook his head. “And how does it justify a trip here? For several days?”

“I’m making a sweep of several parks. Believe me, this park isn’t one we’re worried about. Things run well here, but you have to see the contrasts to know what help and intangibles a poorly-run park might need.”

“Well, I can’t give you the time I promised, but Jack’s the right person. Talk to him. He’ll have any information you need.”

Erika re-crossed her legs. “We’ll be fine.” She nodded, giving Jack a glance. “I look forward to learning a thing or two. Like old times, huh Jack?”

Jack refused himself a reaction.

Margie stuck her head in the door. “Phone call. Washington.”

“I have to take this. Jack, tell her what we’ve got going on. Send me that email later.” Joe gestured them toward the door. He picked up the phone. “Good morning.”

They slipped into the hall. Jack stopped at his office door and motioned her inside. She took the seat beside his desk.

She smiled and locked eyes on his. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you in uniform. Only a coat and tie, maybe a suit. Looks good.”

He avoided her eyes. “Identity. Tradition. All that stuff.”

“Part of the team.”

“I’m in no mood for small talk. What are your questions?”

“Sometimes I wish I still wore the uniform. I have one, you know. Past job, and I look pretty damned good in it. Most people trust the uniform. I like that.”

“Maybe that’s why you’re not allowed to wear one. Might ruin it for the rest of us.”

Her eyes moved to his left hand and back. “You’re carrying hard feelings, Jack.”

“I think about your boyfriend every day. You, I haven’t given you much thought. Not sure why.”

“Why do you call Clint my boyfriend?”

“You were chummy. Neither of you made my job any easier.”

She crossed her legs. “I was just doing my job. Don’t know about him.”

“When all hell broke loose, I was the one thrown to the wolves.”

“And you think you were the only one?”

“Look at Foss. Didn’t hurt him any. He’s now a superintendent back east, pulling strings with the Director any time he wants.”

“Why do you think things were different for you and me?”

“Because they were.”

“You weren’t the only sacrificial lamb. When you were sent here, I was sent to Denver. I was buried so deep in the regional office that people wondered if I was dead. Put me in an office that felt like a custodian’s closet. They hid me.”

He stared.

“It’s taken a couple of years to prove myself and get back in the game.”

He sighed. “You’re saying . . .”

“I’m not saying anything.”

“I . . . I had no idea.”

“Now you do, so cut me some slack. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. It’s not a time I want to remember. Tell me about this Coalition. Tell me about its work.”

He looked into her eyes, and waited to see if she looked away or flinched. She did neither. Just move on. “Know about the national monument?” he asked. “Know about the Presidential proclamation that created it?” He waited for her nod, and continued. “Part of it managed by us. The rest by BLM. The two agencies work together on a management plan.”

“Yes, I know about that,” she said, sitting erect. “Is the Coalition doing any good, and where are they in their process?”

He flipped past pages in his mind. “They’re getting to the hard work, some difficulties now, but they’re good people, they’ll get through it.”

“Anything I can look at?”

Good question. He pulled out a file drawer, found a red file folder and handed it to her. “Detailed briefing statements.” He started to close the drawer, but left it open.

She scooted closer to the corner of the desk and thumbed through the pages. She stopped, closed the file, and put it on her lap. “I’ll look at this later. So . . . what’s the purpose of this meeting tomorrow?”

“Continue discussion of protection measures. There’ll be discussion of ranching culture, river protection, protection of cultural sites.”

She twisted his way. “Sounds exciting. Can I play?”

Jack studied her eyes. The old Erika. “Obviously I didn’t know your story, or what happened to you. Give me time to absorb that. Play? I don’t think so.”

“May I at least come?”

“Joe wants you to have the full picture, so yes.”

She smiled. “All I can ask is to be on the playground.” She glanced at the door. “You’ve got a visitor.”

Jack spun around in his chair.

In the shadows of the hall stood a man—Thomas, leaning against the wall, his nose still bandaged, another now wrapping his elbow.

“Thomas, come in.”

“I can wait. I don’t want to interrupt,” he said meekly. “Could we talk later today?”

“Yes, but I can also ask Erika to come back later.”

He considered it, then shook his head. “I just want to ask a favor.”

“Shoot.”

He reached into a pocket, pulled out a sheet of paper, slipped a finger into the fold, and flipped it open. “Look at this,” he said, drawing Jack toward him. He turned and shielded the page.

Jack looked closer. A map.

“I want to go here. Think it’s possible?” He waved his finger over a spot on the page.

The cliffs above Sipapu Falls. “What’s there, Thomas?”

“Please don’t be concerned with that,” he whispered.

“You won’t tell me what it’s about, but you ask me how to get there. I don’t get it.”

He handed Jack the paper.

Jack studied the map. The contour lines were so close, nearly a solid strip of black. Vertical cliff. Talus slope below. A few lines spreading out under the rim of the plateau. The alcove from which Sipapu Falls emerged hardly appeared on the map because of vertical cliff face above and below. “This isn’t a good idea.”

“Tell me.”

Jack eyed a spot on the map, one that suggested an approach from the south and above, but maps can be deceiving. “I don’t have a good picture of what sits to the west and south.” He handed the sheet back to Thomas, and stepped past Erika Jones to a map tacked to the wall.

A hanging side canyon sat to the north of the falls—probably the one from which Thomas’ ledge had emerged. There was no point thinking about that one. To the south was nothing like it, but there was the hint of an apron above. Was it accessible? How would you get there from the south? He walked his fingers down the map. A drainage, a side canyon that appeared to step gradually up to the level of the apron, below the rim of the plateau.

“Hard to be certain because of contour interval. A map can suggest one thing but you have to go there to know, and I don’t want to suggest something where you could get yourself killed.”

“I won’t get killed,” Thomas said. “I just never learned to read a map like this.”

Jack shook his head.

“Do you see something?”

“Not sure I should say.”

“Show me.”

Jack tapped at the map. “If you can work your way up this drainage, if that’s possible, and if you get on this level and cross this apron, you might be able to get to here.” He tapped an open spot between contours. “That is, if there’s much of anything there. If so, might be possible to rappel in from above.” Jack set a finger on Sipapu Falls. “It’s quite a drop if you miss.”

Thomas kept his eye on the map. “It doesn’t look easy.”

“Wouldn’t be. Know how to set up an anchor?”

“I can figure it out.”

“It’s not something you figure out. It’s something you learn. Why would you put yourself in that kind of danger?”

Thomas kept studying.

“What’s there, Thomas? I know about your sister. What was she doing?”

He didn’t flinch. “She wanted to see the waterfall.”

“If you go there you’ll get yourself killed.”

Thomas backed away.

“What could be so damned important?”

“Never mind.” Thomas backed to the door. He turned to leave.

“Take him!” Erika said.

Thomas stopped.

“Just take him.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Why not? And take me. Show a girl a good time.”

Thomas studied her, then waited for an answer.

Jack let out a sigh. “I don’t have time for this.”

“In two days?” Thomas asked.

Jack collected himself. “The weekend. Will you tell me what this is about?”

“I’ll tell you now. It’s about three people taking a hike.”