Dark Justice (20 page)

“Unofficially.”

“But of course.” Slade pointed toward a box on the table. “Care for a doughnut? We’ve got jelly-filled.”

“Thanks, but no.”

“You have a disagreement with Adams?”

“What makes you think that?”

Slade shrugged. “Would you believe I just had a hunch?”

“More likely you have his office bugged.”

Slade laughed. “Well, anything is possible.” He shoved the doughnut box down the table toward Ben. “Look, Kincaid, you’ve never done anything to me, and whether you believe it or not, I’m not your enemy. So do you mind if I give you a little advice?”

“Not unless you expect me to take it.”

He laughed again. “I think I’ve got you pegged, Kincaid. You’re Don Quixote.”

“Excuse me?”

“You know what I mean. Tilting at windmills. Fighting for lost causes. That sort of thing.”

“You’re barking up the wrong—”

“Don’t bother denying it, kid. I’ve had you checked out.”

“What?”

“Don’t act so astonished. You don’t go into the courtroom unprepared, and neither do I. Did you think you were going to be able to waltz into this little melodrama and not get your hair mussed? That you could play with fire and not get singed? Well, wrongerino, kid. I’ve got your whole bleeding-heart background stored away in a file folder. As I’m sure those Green Ragers did before me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You thought this was some sort of coincidence? That they just happened to stumble across exactly what they needed most? Sorry, kid, I don’t believe in miracles. At least not at that level.”

“Your problem is that you think everyone in the world uses the same underhanded tactics as you.”

“You know, kid, I do think that. But it’s not a problem. It’s a reality.” He raised his hand to his face and let his fingers dance a moment on his forehead. “Which is all getting me far afield from the tiny piece of advice I wished to convey. Here it is, kid: go home.”

“You’re wasting my time.”

“No, I’m not, and I’m not joking, either. I’m vewwy vewwy serious. Go home. Catch a plane and fly back to sleepy little Tulsa. You’ll be a lot safer back where Ma and Pa still rise with the chickens, everyone believes in God, and nobody’s ever heard of nasty things like industrial sabotage or eco-terrorism. For your own sake, kid. You don’t belong here. So go home.”

“Well, thank you very much for your considerate advice. I promise to give it all the attention it merits.”

Slade leaned forward. “You think I’m going to let you win this case? Let me disinform you. I won’t.”

Ben felt the hairs on the back of his neck rising. “I wasn’t aware you had every juror in the county in the palm of your hand.”

“Then you should be. I can get anything I want, Kincaid. It’s just a question of time and money. And as far as this case goes, I’ve been given the green light.”

“What does that mean?”

“You figure it out. I’ve been authorized to do whatever it takes to accomplish our objectives. And I will.”

Ben tried to be brave, ignoring the fact that Slade was giving him the major-league creeps. “Look, it’s this simple. I don’t think George Zakin did it. And in any case, he’s entitled to a defense. So I’m going to give it to him.”

Slade let his hands flutter to his side. “I’ve got a surprise for you, chump.”

Ben blinked. “What are you talking about?”

“Very soon your newfound employers will be racing back to the rabbit warrens they crawled out of, and you will be left here holding the bag. Very alone. And very vulnerable.”

“If this is supposed to scare me, it isn’t working,” Ben lied.

“Like I said, I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?” Ben sputtered. “What is that, some—some kind of threat?”

Slade shook his head slowly back and forth. “I don’t make threats.” He lowered his eyes till they met Ben’s. “I don’t have to.”

T
ESS CROUCHED DOWN BEHIND
the dense foliage at the edge of the clearing. As long as she stayed behind the greenery and didn’t move, she should be safe from detection by the men congregated a few hundred yards away.

At least that was the theory.

“Tell me again why we’re out here in broad daylight,” Tess whispered to Al, who was crouched beside her.

“It’s a reconnaissance mission,” Al whispered back. He glanced at Rick, who was hovering just above them. “Although I wonder if we don’t have an opportunity to do a little something more.”

A trace of a smile played on Rick’s lips. “Shhh. We don’t want to be spotted.”

“If we don’t want to be spotted,” Tess said, “why are we here?”

“Because we’re predators, remember?” Al answered. “We have to go out when our prey is afoot.”

Like that was a good answer or something, Tess thought. What on earth was she doing? Every mission she went on with these people seemed riskier and crazier than the one before. Sure, they had come to trust her. They were more comfortable talking to her, taking her into their confidence. But what a price …

“I know I’m the new kid on the block,” Tess whispered, keeping her eyes fixed on the men in the clearing, “but this seems awfully risky.”

Al looked unsympathetic. “Wah, wah, wah.”

“I mean, think about it. Our last raid was in the dead of night, and we still almost got caught. We had to run almost two miles before we lost that team of loggers. That team that, I might add, was probably waiting for us all along, like a cat hovering by a mousetrap.”

“We still got away with the cheese,” Al noted.

“That time, yes. But coming out here in broad daylight is totally harebrained.”

Al and Rick exchanged another wry glance. “We’re monkeywrenchers,” Rick said, grinning. “We like harebrained schemes.”

“And,” Al added, “this one isn’t even in the top ten.”

“Oh yeah?” Tess said. She saw an opportune opening in the conversation. “What would be? Running around in a Sasquatch suit?”

Al drew his head back. He gave her a long look, then winked at Rick. “Little pitchers have big ears.”

Rick nodded. “Loose lips sink ships.”

“Exchange clichés some other time, okay?” Tess said. “You guys were behind the Sasquatch sightings, weren’t you?”

Al looked away. “Whatever gave you that idea, my dear?”

“I just tried to imagine who might have a motive, my dear, and the only answer I came up with was Green Rage, several times over.”

“We’re tree huggers, remember? Not bear huggers.”

“Bigfoot huggers,” Rick corrected.

“Yeah, but if there was evidence of a rare, near-extinct life-form running around these woods, much less one as interesting and humanoid as Sasquatch, you’d be able to get an injunction to stop the clear-cutting.”

Rick touched a finger to the side of his head. “Al, I believe she’s a bit brighter than she first let on. Maybe we should put her in charge of operations.”

Al shook his head. “A little too bright for me.” He glanced at Tess. “Sorry to disappoint you, but the Bigfoot legend is not a grand eco-terrorist plot. Big-foot sightings continue on their own momentum, like all myths, urban and rural. I don’t know who started this current spate, but it wasn’t us.”

“Not that we didn’t think about cashing in on it,” Rick added. “We even sent Deirdre to Seattle for an appropriate costume. But we never used it.”

“Sober second thoughts?” Tess asked.

Rick shrugged. “Turned out Al didn’t look so hot in black fur. Angora goes better with his complexion.”

Al rolled his eyes. “Let’s return our attention to the matter at hand, team, shall we? They’re moving.”

There were two distinct groups of men in the clearing, both maybe three hundred feet from where Tess and Rick and Al were hiding. The first group of six men were loggers; Tess was sure of it. The other group was smaller, only three in number, and they were definitely not loggers. All three wore suits with thin ties; all three suits were some variety of black. Their white shirts gleamed in the bright noonday sun.

“Suits,” Al had explained earlier. “Corporate execs.”

“What would they be doing here?” Tess asked. “Out in the field?”

“Beats the hell out of me,” he answered. “Probably trying to figure out how to get their systematic rape of these supposedly protected five-hundred-year-old trees back on line.”

“Even after we blew their tree cutter?”

Al waved his hand. “A few hundred thousand bucks. In a forest like this, they could make it back in a week.”

“That’s probably why the execs are here,” Rick added. “They’re trying to figure out how to clear out this forest good and quick, before anyone knows what happened. ‘Omigosh, Mr. Ranger. Did we do something wrong?’ ”

Al pounded his fist into the palm of his hand. “
Damn
! I just can’t stand it anymore!”

Rick pressed down on his friend’s shoulder. “Hey, man, chill. We’re in hiding, remember?”

“How much longer can this go on? We fight and we fight and we fight, but these bastards just keep coming!” Al’s jaw was tightly clenched. “They won’t stop till every damn tree on the planet has been razed!”

Tess noted the tremor in his voice, the wild look in his eye. “Hey, Al. We need you to stay calm.”

“I won’t stay calm. I
won’t
! I’ve had enough!” He pushed himself to his feet.

“Al, stay down. They’ll see us!”

Al pulled away from her and turned toward Rick. “Do you still have the sugar?”

Rick hesitated before answering. “It’s—it’s broad daylight, man!”

Al snatched the backpack lying on the ground beside them. He opened the top flap and pulled out a half-filled bag of sugar.

“Al,” Rick said edgily, “what are you thinking, man?”

“I’m thinking I’ve had enough.”

Rick jumped between Al and the clearing. “Wait until the sun sets, okay? We can’t do anything about it now.”

“Just watch me.”

There was nothing Rick could do to stop him. Another second and Al had left the safety of the foliage and entered the clearing.

“Al!” Rick hissed after him, but it was too late. Al was gone. Fortunately, they were still about three hundred feet to the rear of the huddle of men, and they were still engaged in a very animated conversation. Still, Tess knew all it would take was a stray look to the south and one of them would see Al, alone and exposed, creeping across the clearing.

She held her breath. Come on, Al,
move it
! The longer he was out in the open, the more vulnerable he was. And she didn’t kid herself that she and Rick would be able to do anything to help him—alone, unarmed, outnumbered nine to three. If they saw Al, he was history.

She watched as Al continued his stealthy crawl across the yellow plain. Her palms were sweating and there was a tightness in her throat.

Al’s objective was obvious—he was trying to get to the cars. The loggers had walked over from their base camp, but the suits had driven. Turned off the main transport road about two miles north, she guessed, and used the trail the men had already plowed—for use of eighteen-wheelers for hauling felled timber—to get into the clearing. A limo and two Ford GTOs, since each exec of course had to have his own transportation. These schmucks couldn’t even conserve gas, much less trees. Al was planning to pour sugar down the crank-cases or gas tanks. Or both. To put a monkeywrench in those suits’ plans they wouldn’t soon forget.

Unless he got caught.

A few tense seconds later, Al reached the first car, the limo. Jesus God, she’d never been more nervous in her entire life. Not when she staked out Jackie O’s private jet. Not when she hid in Michael Jackson’s Dumpster. Not even when she ran for life itself two nights before with armed loggers dogging her heels. Actually, she would like to be doing some running right now. Being forced to stand still, being forced to wait—that was simply unbearable.

She watched, scarcely breathing, as Al flattened himself and crawled under the limo. Jesus, couldn’t he make do with the gas line? Surely he didn’t think he could get to the crankcases, with those men scant yards away. Was there some other aperture under the car, something equally susceptible to the hydrating and hardening influence of sugar? She didn’t know; she was still new to the monkeywrenching game. But Al would know. He must have a plan. Even if she didn’t have a clue what it was.

A few interminable seconds later, Al reemerged from the back of the car. He flashed them a quick thumbs-up, then crept over to the next car in line, the first of the Ford GTOs.

Tess’s heart felt like it skipped a beat.
Come on
! she silently urged him, hoping that for once she might turn out to have the mental telepathy she had fantasized about as a child. One car is enough. They’ll get the message. Get out of there!

But of course it wasn’t enough. She watched as Al slid underneath the second car, still toting his bag of sugar. He didn’t want the suits to be mildly inconvenienced. He wanted them positively crippled. He wanted them to spend the day out here, contemplating the environment they were trying to pillage, taking the measure of the fighting force they were up against.

She didn’t swallow, didn’t breathe, until she saw Al crawl out from under the GTO. Two down, one to go. Now if their luck could hold out just a short while longer …

But it didn’t. Their luck ended the instant Al moved from the safety of the second car toward the third. When his image flickered in the gap between the cars, someone spotted him.

“Hey, look!” one of the loggers shouted. She didn’t know which, and it didn’t matter, because a second later, all six of them were headed in Al’s direction.

“
Run
!” she shouted. It was stupid, she knew. She’d blown their position, and she saw two of the loggers pause and glance in their direction. But she had to let Al know he’d been spotted; she had to give him a fighting chance to escape.

Al didn’t need a second hint. He dropped the sugar and bolted back toward their hiding place, loggers close at his heels. He had maybe a fifty-foot lead and he was a good runner. But there were six of them, Tess realized, and they were probably no slouches in the physical fitness department themselves.

Six of them? She scanned the clearing. Two of the men had disappeared. She knew what that meant. They’d had the sense to split up—four in pursuit, while the other two tried to head them off at the pass.