Black Sun Descending (21 page)

“No monkey-wrenching.”

“You spoil all the fun.”

SILAS WAITED FOR
Hayduke to return and, when an hour passed and he hadn't, made a simple meal of freeze-dried pasta and beef jerky and drank one of the beers that Hayduke had carried down the trail. After the beer and the food Silas felt better and realized that he was probably letting his imagination get the better of him.

At about eight o'clock, with the sun down behind the canyon rim, Hayduke reappeared.

“Where have you been? You didn't do anything to their boats, did you?”

“Fuck no, would you relax? Nobody gets hurt, that's the first rule of monkey business. No, I went and cased the ranch. I found out who was in what cabin and had me a little listen in on some conversations.”

“How . . . ?”

“When I was in Iraq I manned a listening post. We used to sneak right into the buildings that some of those terrorist fuckers were sleeping in and place listening devices right under their noses. I got pretty good at moving around unseen and unheard. I just did the same thing here. Do you want to know what I heard?” Hayduke didn't wait for an answer. “They got big plans. Love and Hinkley and that congresswoman and those others—they're mostly business types from Page—are going to try and cut off the debate over Wilderness along the Colorado River at the knees.”

“Why is this so important?” Silas asked.

“It's about protecting the peace and quiet and tranquility of this place, man. It's about dignity and freedom and the goddamned purpose of this here national park. It's about saving a place where people can travel at the speed God intended, and not be always rushing and making a fucking mess of things. It's about saving something of the America that Major John Wesley Powell saw when he made the first trip any white man had made down this here Colorado River through the majestic Grand Canyon. And it's about setting up the fight to kill that motherfucking Glen Canyon Dam.”

Silas was smiling despite himself. “Nice speech. That last bit, about the dam. Is that what this is really about?”

“For some of us, sure.”

“And how does this fight set up the effort to drain Lake Powell?”

“It's not just about draining the lake. I told you that before. It's about tearing down that concrete monstrosity. The lake is draining itself. Hell, the water level has dropped fifty feet in the last decade. Climate change and drought is doing that for us. But if we can get the Colorado River designated as Wilderness, then we can make the argument that the Glen Canyon Dam is interfering with the natural flow of the river and should be decommissioned.”

“You think that Chas Hinkley and this congresswoman—Crocket—and others are on to you?”

“They probably are.”

“Do you think that's why they're fighting it?”

“Yeah, so what?”

“It seems like a lot of work for a long shot.”

“Wilderness has always been a long shot. But we've won lots of other battles and we're going to win this one.”

“What did you hear Love and Hinkley and the congresswoman discussing?”

“They said that if a bill gets to the floor of Congress about Wilderness, they are going to hang a rider or something on it that defunds the National Park Service. Then nobody will be able to vote for it without gutting Grand Canyon, Canyonlands, Arches, and all the rest.”

“Clever.”

“Evil.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Go and crash their party.”

Silas exhaled loudly. “No fighting. We try and get Love and Hinkley alone and ask them about Jane Vaughn and Darcy McFarland's connections. Nothing more.”

“And Kiel. Don't forget Kiel. And Penny!”

“Let's go.”

“Got to get a beer first. Maybe two. All this sneaking around is thirsty work.”

SILAS WORE HIS HEADLAMP AND
Hayduke followed him down the trail, clutching a can of warm beer in each hand. He finished one and nearly threw it into a clutch of prickly pear cacti before remembering where he was. Instead he crushed it and put it in his pocket.

When they arrived at Phantom Ranch the group of rafters had finished dinner in the lodge's small, rustic dining room and moved outside to a fire circle. A blaze burned and the faces of the group were illuminated in the night. Silas turned off the headlamp.

“What do you want to do?” Hayduke swallowed more beer and belched.

“Let's wait a minute and see if either Love or Hinkley gets up to go to the washroom or to get a drink.”

They waited. Someone in the group brought out a guitar and a few of the guests sang along to old seventies songs. “Good lord, make this stop,” moaned Hayduke. “Nothing worse than drunk rednecks trying to sing.”

“Look, Hinkley is getting up.” Silas made his way along the trail, following Hinkley toward the lodge. The superintendent entered the building through the staff entrance and went into the kitchen. Silas followed him.

Hinkley didn't look over his shoulder when Silas stepped through the door into the cramped room. He was at the propane fridge pulling a six-pack from an ample supply stocked inside. “Get you a beer?” he asked.

“Sure,” said Silas. Hinkley turned around.

“Oh, um, sorry, I thought you were with us.”

“Nope. But I'll take the beer.”

Hinkley hesitated and handed Silas a can of beer.

Hayduke pushed in the door behind Silas. He crushed the second can of beer he had and tossed it in the trash. “I'll have one too if you're offering.”

Hinkley reluctantly pulled another can off the ring and handed it to him. “You guys staff here?”

“Nope. Campers,” said Silas.

“I don't think you're supposed to be in here.”

“Probably not,” answered Silas. “But I really wanted a chance to talk with you.”

Hinkley was a middle-aged man, with dark hair graying at the temples. He was tanned and lean, but had a small beer gut that protruded above his belt. He still wore his Park Service uniform. “I should get back to the party,” he said.

“This won't take long,” said Silas, smiling. “We found correspondence between you and Jane Vaughn in her office in Flagstaff. In your most recent letter to her, dated just shortly before she disappeared, you said that if she didn't stop her work to protect the Colorado River, she might find herself at the bottom of Lake Powell.”

Hinkley put the rest of his six-pack down on the food prep table. “Who the fuck are you guys?”

“Shortly after that letter was written, Jane Vaughn was killed and her body dumped at the Atlas Mill project. What do you have to say about that, Mr. Hinkley?”

“I know who
you
are. You're that crazy son of a bitch who keeps finding bodies all over the place. You're certifiable, you know that?”

“Answer the fucking question,” said Hayduke, foam from his beer caught in his beard.

“I don't have to answer a goddamned thing. Not to you, not to anybody.”

“It's either us or the
FBI
,” said Silas.

“If the
FBI
want to talk, they know how to find me. Now get out of my way.” Hinkley tried to squeeze past Silas and Hayduke, but Hayduke stepped in front of him. “You're asking for trouble, young man. I'm a law enforcement officer. I'm deputized by the state of Arizona. I could place you under arrest right now.”

“Feel free,” said Hayduke.

“Listen, Mr. Hinkley,” said Silas, trying to lower the temperature in the tight space. “We just want to know what you can tell us about Jane Vaughn's death.”

“And Kiel Pearce, too,” added Hayduke.

“I don't know anything about the Vaughn woman's death. Sure, we had some pretty heated correspondence, but that's it.”

“You are a part-owner of Mr. Love's rafting company, aren't you?” asked Silas.

“Wait a minute,” he started to protest.

“That's a conflict of interest, Mr. Hinkley.”

“I don't own anything.”

“You do. Your name might not be on it, but I know you've made a hefty investment. There's a numbered company listed on Grand Canyon Adventure's list of investors that is owned by your wife. I wonder what
else
the
FBI
might turn up if they went nosing around in your banking records.”

Hinkley pointed a finger, first at Silas then at Hayduke. “Are you guys working with the Grand Canyon Preservation group? That's it, isn't it? You can't win your fight fair and square so instead you come after
me
, try to impugn
my
good name. Well, let me tell you something: you come after me, and you're going to find that I can make your life miserable.”

“What are you going to do, Mr. Hinkley? Take away my park pass?” asked Silas.

“He'll do more than that,” said a voice behind them. Hayduke swung around and faced the barrel of a gun. He dropped his can of beer. It exploded on the floor, sending a shower of foam over his boots. Paul Love was holding a .22-caliber pistol before him. “Let's close this door so we don't let in any mosquitoes, shall we, gentlemen?”

“I DON'T KNOW
what your problem is, Mr. Pearson,” said Paul Love. He had the pistol in his hand, and rested it on the counter in the middle of the small kitchen. Chas Hinkley stood behind him, his face deeply creased. Hayduke and Silas were on the opposite side of the table, their backs against the gas stove. “First you accost me at the beginning of this trip, then you sabotage my vehicle, and now you show up here, in the middle of nowhere, to accuse Mr. Hinkley of murder? Are you out of your mind?”

“You're the one holding the gun,” said Silas.

Love looked at the gun. He checked the safety and then tucked the compact pistol into his pocket. “I had reason to believe that Mr. Hinkley here was in danger.”

“I think the two of you know more about what happened to Jane Vaughn than you are letting on. You both had very good reason for wanting her out of the way. She knew that you had gone into business together. She knew that Mr. Hinkley here was investing in your company, Love. Maybe you thought she was going to use that information to hurt you somehow. Maybe she was going to use it to get some traction on the Wilderness issue.”

“You're grasping at straws, Pearson,” said Love.

“Did you know Kiel Pearce?”

“The boatman? Yes, of course,” said Love.

“I found him dead, hanging in Paria Canyon.”

“I heard about that. I read the news while I was down here. The internet said that he committed suicide.”

“Nope. He was murdered. He was stabbed before he was hung. It was made to look like a suicide.”

“That's a shame,” said Love. “He seemed like a decent sort.”

“I don't see how this relates.” Hinkley shook his head.

Hayduke said, “Kiel was an oarsman. He was a river rat, right to his bones. If he knew you guys were in cahoots trying to block the Wilderness Bill with this bullshit scam you're going to pull with the Park Service, he would have had a fit.”

“I don't know what you're—” started Hinkley.

“Sure you do. I overheard you and the congresswoman talking. Did Jane know too? Is that why you killed her?”

“Wilderness designation for the Colorado will
never
happen. Not with this Congress, and not with the next. There's no way the government would vote to shut down a multimillion-dollar industry just so a bunch of environmentalists can have the river all to themselves.” Hinkley's face grew flushed.

“So Kiel and Jane found out about your plan to attach a rider to the Wilderness Bill and you decided that was too big a risk?”

“They didn't know about any plan. There is no plan,” insisted Love. “We were just talking. And that was the first time it came up.”

“You're lying.” Hayduke pounded his fist on the table.

“People's livelihoods are at stake here,” said Love. “The Colorado River is the lifeblood of towns like Page. You shut down motorized rafting on it and twenty shops will go out of business. What then?”

“It's not about rafting, though, is it?” pressed Hayduke. “It's about the dam. If the dam gets torn down, you're both out of a job.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Chas Hinkley's face was twisted into a question. “Nobody is going to tear down Glen Canyon Dam. That's ridiculous.”

“Is it? That's what Jane wanted. And that's likely what Kiel Pearce had in mind.”

“And that's what my wife wanted too,” said Silas. “Did either of you know her? Penelope de Silva?”

“I met her once at her . . . I guess that was at
your
house? How is it we didn't meet then? We had her picture on our bulletin board in the Patrol Office at Glen Canyon. She went missing, what, four years ago?” asked Hinkley.

“Four and a half,” said Silas, taken aback.