Читать книгу Cordi O'Callaghan Mysteries 3-Book Bundle - Suzanne F. Kingsmill - Страница 18

The machine whizzed and whirred and then a large room, like a school gym or auditorium the size of a hockey rink, jumped into view. The camera panned the room slowly. The lighting was soft and dim, but there was no way of knowing if it was day or night as there weren’t any windows in the whole of that gigantic room. The off-white ceilings were very low, giving the impression that this was a basement room. On the stuccoed ceiling some tattered white gauze streamers hung languidly over strings of fairy lights not turned on, presumably leftovers from some previous party.

There were groups of people moving about looking at what appeared to be displays at the back of the room. Someone had arranged hundreds of regulation school-type chairs in neat rows down the length of the room. There was an aisle down the middle and a lectern and seating for eight at the front table. The film picked up the muffled footsteps and the shuffling, laughing, and coughing of fifty people, but the size of the room deadened the sound. The organizers had obviously expected a much bigger crowd.

Most of the first thirty minutes was taken up by speeches from foresters and loggers giving background information and regulations. It was obvious that the timber licence had already been granted and this was purely a public relations effort to sway dissenters to their side.

The audience was unusually passive, and I was beginning to think Kevin-buddy had given me the wrong film when the meeting was suddenly opened to the floor for questioning. It looked as though no one was going to ask anything, but then someone rose to ask the first question.

I was surprised to see the camera swing over to Don Allenby in the front row clearing his throat. His thin voice squeezed around the auditorium like a lost waif, but for all that it was steady and clear, if vaguely apologetic.

“I have a question for the forester, Ray De Roach.”

A tall, thin, mustachioed fellow on the stage nodded his head and said, “It’s Raymond Desrochers.”

“Pardon me. Mr. Desrochers. You’re a biologist and a lumber company employee. You advise the lumber company on forestry issues. Surely, you can understand that the lumber industry has never shown much leadership in doing what’s right. We all know it took decades to get them to even replant after they clear-cut, and then it took decades to convince them that clear-cutting was causing havoc by eroding the rivers and mountains and creating moonscapes where trees would never grow again. I mean no offence, but can you tell me why we should trust the lumber industry to do the right thing when they don’t even know what the right thing is?”

There was a murmur of voices and some applause as Don sat back in his chair and wiped his forehead with a big handkerchief, looking relieved at having gotten his question out. The camera swung over to Raymond Desrochers, who rose from his chair and walked over to the podium.

He took a long time adjusting the mike, fiddling with its height so that he didn’t have to stoop over it.

“There have been mistakes made in the past. We can’t ignore that. The lumber industry, like all of us, is not perfect, but we’re helping them remedy the situation by improving forestry techniques.”

“By logging what little there is left?” The voice was deep, low, and rumbling with menace. The camera swung over to a man I recognized as Diamond from his pictures. He was sitting in the first row.

“Some remedy,” he growled.

Desrochers cleared his voice and responded in a calm, quiet voice.

“We don’t go in and clear-cut any more, if that’s what you’re saying. We are practising sustainable development now. Razing the area is not environmentally sound. We’ve discovered that. We admit we were wrong. So we don’t clear-cut any more. We cut selectively and we replant when we’re through. We leave buffer zones around the water. We leave any trees that hawks and other endangered species might be nesting in. We leave them standing with a buffer zone around them and we don’t cut down trees near bear dens and habitats like that.”

When Diamond didn’t respond Desrochers continued.

“Loggers are people too, they care about the wildlife the same as you do.”

The film panned to the loggers, who began to whistle and clap.

“I’ve been really impressed with how they phone up and tell me they’ve got an eagle’s nest, or ask us to come out and help them with a bear den. These guys care, not just about their jobs, but about the animals too.”

There was more applause from the left side, and the forester turned back to his chair as the applause died down. Into the ensuing quiet, clear and strong, Diamond said, “How can you claim to be a forester and advocate this baloney? I’m ashamed to admit you and I went through biology together before you sold out.” The camera swung jerkily over to Diamond, who pushed back his chair and stood up, the scraping of metal against the floor sounding ominous in the sudden quiet of the auditorium.

“Sustainable development, bullshit,” he said, spitting out the words. “You’ve twisted the concept to mean anything goes as long as everyone gets a chunk of the pie. Oh sure, you leave trees around the hawk nest, but those trees are vulnerable to wind. Ever heard of the ‘edge effect,’ or were you asleep during that lecture? I can jog your memory. It’s the little problem where wind screaming in from over the clear-cut areas hits the edge of your buffer and knocks the trees down. And you make it sound as though all loggers spend their days and nights nursing abandoned fawns and baby eaglets. That’s bullshit and you know it. Once in a blue moon, maybe. There’s a far sight more loggers out there who swerve in their big bulldozers, not to avoid the hawk’s nest or the bear’s den, but to flatten them.

“And what about the trees themselves? All you see in these trees are dollar bills, but what about their value as trees and as habitat for all those animals? For God’s sake, Ray, we’re losing maybe two hundred and fifty acres of trees every frigging hour in this country. Our wilderness is shrinking faster than plastic in fire, and you’re willing to leave a couple of trees for the hawks? Well bravo! What a thoughtful man.”

I could see Shannon lean over and try to pull Diamond back into this seat. She was whispering furiously, but Diamond shook her off and glared at Desrochers.

When the camera panned back to Desrochers his face had flushed a lively red colour and he gripped both hands around the mike, knuckles white. His voice was low and even when he spoke, but he recited his words as though they were a set speech.

“I don’t want to get into another fight here, Diamond. It doesn’t get us anywhere. All I can say is we are practising good forestry techniques now and the animals and trees will benefit from that. We’ll keep erosion down and manage the fish and other wildlife like that. You know as much as anyone that when we cut down the trees, new growth moves in and the forest regenerates. It’s healthy, and the moose and deer and lots of other plants and animals thrive on it.”

Diamond leapt to his feet again.

“Why the hell do we need to manage the forest and the animals? They’ve managed on their own quite well for millions of years. Isn’t it rather presumptuous of us to say we can do that? It’s like asking us to manage our own circulatory system. It can’t be done without irreparable damage. Why the hell can’t you leave them alone to manage themselves?”

“As I said before, the forest has to be managed. Old trees need to be cut before they die or cause massive forest fires that destroy valuable timber and kill wildlife.”

“You dirty, rotten quisling. You sold out to your own profession, Ray. You know that? Why the hell did you do it? How much are they paying you? Trees need to be cut before they die. Hallelujah. Euthanasia. Killing the trees for their own good. A really dignified death. Don’t let them suffer or cause others to suffer. Don’t be such a coward, Ray. Say what you mean. You’ve got to cut down the old tree before it falls and rots and becomes worthless.”

Ray moved closer to Diamond, anger suffusing his face. The hate between the two men was palpable, even in the film.