Dark Justice (8 page)

She shook her head. Those Green Ragers had to be crazy to hang out here. Not that there were a lot of choices.

She opened the front door of Bunyan’s. A thick cloud of smoke hit her so hard she almost choked. Her eyes stung; it was several seconds before she could see anything. When she could, she didn’t see much she liked.

The place was filled with men, most of them tough, bearded, and sizable. Not the kind you’d expect to see at the Friday-night poetry reading. Excepting the waitresses, she saw only a couple of women. The place was decorated with logging memorabilia—rusted hacksaws and chain saws, sepia-toned photos of logging operations throughout the century. One wall displayed a huge neon image of Paul Bunyan—one hand on his trusty axe, the other on Babe the blue ox.

She scanned the bar till she found the guys she was looking for. There were two of them, both seated at the bar. They both had long hair; one of them wore an earring, although these days that wasn’t uncommon even with the loggers. They were younger than most of the rest of the men in the bar.

She knew one of them—Rick Collier. He was one of the top men in the local Green Rage hierarchy, second in command to George Zakin, the man currently under lock and key. She didn’t know the other man, but since he was deep in an animated conversation with Rick, she thought it a good bet that he was also a member of Green Rage.

And as luck would have it, there was an empty barstool beside Rick. Although, upon reflection, she thought it probably was not luck but the fact that no one else in the bar wanted anything to do with them.

She sashayed up to the empty bar stool, consciously ignoring the leers she received from the men she passed. Most of them probably thought they were giving her a compliment, but from her perspective, all they were giving her was the creeps.

She took the empty stool and ordered a gin and tonic. While she waited, she tried to eavesdrop on the discussion to her immediate right.

“Can we trust him?” the man she didn’t know asked Rick.

“I think so,” Rick answered. “To a point, anyway. He’s probably at the dilettante stage. He’d like to think of himself as an activist, committed to the cause. But he’s probably not ready to take any risks.”

“How much can we tell him? How much should he know?”

“Nothing about anything illegal, that’s for sure. He’s still processing. Let’s not get his panties in a twist over some penny-ante act of ecotage.”

There was a pause before the other man asked the next question. “Do you think he suspects?”

“Naw,” Rick said confidently. “Not a chance. He’s clueless.”

The two men fell silent. Tess supposed this was her opening. She took a cigarette out of her purse, pressed it to her lips, and tapped Rick lightly on the shoulder. “Do you know if smoking is permitted?”

He peered at her through the smoke-filled air. “If it isn’t, you’d better run, ’cause this shack must be on fire.”

She smiled seductively. “Got a light?”

Rick shook his head. “Sorry. I’m not into self-destruction.”

She set the cigarette on the counter and leaned closer to him. “What are you into?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Tsk, tsk. Answering a question with a question. That’s a bit defensive.”

“I’ve learned to be.” He started to turn back to his companion. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Tess laid her hand on his shoulder and gently brought him back around. “Please don’t. I’m all alone here, I don’t know anyone, and I’d really like some company.”

Rick’s expression was decidedly unsympathetic.

“My name is Tess. What’s yours?”

“Rick. But then, you knew that already, didn’t you?”

Tess pulled up, startled. “Wha—what do you mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean. Who sent you?”

“Sent me? I just—this was the only place open—”

“Uh-huh. Right. Look, if you’re snooping for information, just ask. Chances are I won’t tell you squat, but at least we’ll save time and you won’t have to demean yourself by pretending to come on to me.”

Tess pressed her lips together. Some investigative reporter—it hadn’t taken him two seconds to make her. It was time to retrench.

“Look, I’m sorry,” she said. She cast her eyes downward. “I didn’t know how to approach you. I just … wanted to talk.”

“On whose behalf?”

“Just—for me. I wanted to get to know you.”

“Like I said, if you’ll excuse me—”

“Please wait.” She held up her hands and put on her most pathetic expression. “I want to help you.” She glanced at his companion. “All of you.”

Rick let out a guffaw. “I’m sure. Now I’ve heard everything.”

“It’s true.” She glanced around the bar, as if checking for spies, then lowered her voice. “I know about the Cabal.”

Rick’s eyebrows formed a broad ridge over his eyes. “What are you babbling about?”

“You heard me. I know about them. And I think I have information you could use.”

“And just what is it you think this Cabal is?”

“The Cabal is a secret organization formed and funded by a consortium of major logging companies. From what I understand, each of the eight largest companies kicked in a million dollars. They hired a man to lead it, a former CIA operative experienced with dirty tricks. His name is Amos Slade.” She paused. “Although those who know him call him the Prince of Darkness.”

“And what is it you think this so-called Cabal is supposed to do?”

“The Cabal was formed for one reason and one reason only—to screw the environmental groups, particularly the so-called eco-terrorists like Green Rage.”

“And why would they want to do that? We haven’t stopped the logging, as any fool can see.”

“No, but you have made it more expensive. Most analysts estimate that eco-terrorism costs the logging industry about twenty million a year in lost equipment, derailed plans, overtime, and other related costs. I suppose compared with that, the cost of funding the Cabal seemed pretty minor.”

“So far you haven’t told me anything I don’t already know.”

“Do you know they’re planning to strike? Strike and strike hard.” Tess tried to keep her eyes locked firmly on his, tried not to give any hint that she had segued from known fact to pure fiction. She had learned about the Cabal, or at least heard rumors about it, during her preliminary research before coming out here. What she didn’t know—had no way of knowing—was what the Cabal planned to do next. Although any educated guesser could anticipate that a strike against Green Rage was imminent.

Rick was obviously unconvinced. “Lots of people have heard about the Cabal. That doesn’t prove you have any inside information. How do I know this isn’t all some fantasy you’ve cooked up?”

“They’ve already hit you, haven’t they? Twice, from what I heard.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I know what I’m talking about. Don’t I?”

Rick hesitated before speaking. “There have been two raids on our camp out in the forest. Minor property damage. No one was hurt.”

“Those were just warnings—warnings you didn’t heed. The next attack will hurt.”

Rick batted a finger against his lips. “When will they strike?”

“I can’t say exactly. But I know it will be soon.”

“And how do you know all this?”

Tess lowered her head. If ever in her life she was going to give an Oscar-quality performance, it had better be now. “I—I’m having a relationship with a man in Slade’s organization. One of his most trusted advisers.”

“A relationship?”

“An … intimate relationship.”

“You’re sleeping with someone in the Cabal? And you’re talking to me?”

“Please try to understand. I’m not a bad person. At least I don’t think I am. I want to do the right thing. And I’m sympathetic to your cause.”

“I’m supposed to believe that some Cabal piece of ass is a secret environmentalist?”

“It’s true! I mean—” She paused, trying to create the right effect. “I suppose I wasn’t at first. I’d never really thought about it—forests, trees, nature. Truth is, I never spent much time outdoors. But then when I got involved with John and started seeing what those loggers are doing, I was horrified! They’re just destroying everything. At the rate they’re going, soon there won’t be anything left. And they know that! But they don’t care.”

Rick’s jaw was set, but if Tess wasn’t mistaken, his hard exterior had softened just the tiniest bit. “I still don’t understand what it is you want.”

“I want to join you. I want to be part of your work.” She sat up straight. “I want to join Green Rage.”

“Have you broken it off with this—what’s his name? John?”

“No, I haven’t.”

Rick rolled his eyes. “I don’t believe this.” He nudged his companion. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Wait. Please!” She grabbed his shirt sleeve and literally held him down on his stool. “Don’t you see? This could be perfect.”

“What could be?”

“Me.” She leaned closer to him and lowered her voice. “Don’t think of me as a Cabal insider. Think of me as Mata Hari.”

You re saying—

“That’s right. I’ll stay with John, much as he disgusts me. I’ll learn whatever I can. And I’ll report back to you.”

Rick chewed his lip for a moment. “And in return?”

“Nothing. All I want is to be part of Green Rage. To spend time with you. To help you with your work. I want to run with people whose hearts and minds are in the right place. I want to be a part of something that matters.”

Rick continued to ponder. “I’ll have to talk to Maureen. Some of the others. They’ll want to meet you.”

“I understand.”

“I don’t know what they’ll say. We haven’t been receptive to new members, other than those we recruited ourselves. We’re too worried about being infiltrated by loggers or the Cabal.”

“I understand. I’ll do whatever you want me to do.”

Rick shook his head. “An inside line on the Cabal. Damn. It’s almost too good to believe.” He stared at her another long moment. “You’ll have to give me an address or phone number.”

“No problem.” Tess smiled, and for once, her expression without reflected her feelings within. She had him hooked now. It was just a matter of time—and she was betting it would be a short time—before she’d be in like Flynn with Green Rage. Once she had their confidence, it should be a cinch for an old pro like her to find out what she wanted to know.

Like who was wearing the Sasquatch suit the night of the murder.

Sasquatch was sitting in the back of the bar, drinking alone. Sasquatch had seen Tess make her grand entrance, watched her cozy up to Rick Collier and initiate a conversation. Although Sasquatch didn’t know exactly what they were talking about, it didn’t take a genius to figure out what she was trying to do.

She was trying to worm her way into Green Rage.

She was trying to find the killer.

Wouldn’t she be surprised to know that killer was sitting barely ten feet away, downing a tall cool one?

Sasquatch turned slightly so she wouldn’t have a clear view of him. There was no telling what she knew anymore. Best to assume the worst—that she’d gotten a good view and it was recorded for all time on Video-8 tape. But if so, why all this subterfuge? Why all the investigation? Why hadn’t she gone directly to the source—or contacted the police? There was something strange going on here.

Sasquatch lifted a beer bottle, polishing it off. It could be that she was just swimming in the dark, that she didn’t know a damn thing. And if so, fine.

But it was also possible she knew everything, and she was just biding her time, filling in the gaps in her story. If that was it …

Sasquatch sat grimly in the booth, clutching the empty beer bottle with both hands. Things had come too far. There was too much invested to let her bring it all crashing down now. If she knew …

The secret would have to die. With her.

W
HILE BEN WAITED FOR
the sheriff to arrive the next morning, he strolled around the jail and courthouse complex. The building was weather-worn yellow brick, like most of the downtown edifices. Climbing ivy decorated the west wall, adding a splash of color to the otherwise monochrome facade. The parking was in the back, and there was a good deal more of it than Ben would have guessed. What most surprised him, though, were the two helicopters in the rear, each with its own helipad. Ben had spent enough time with his cop friend Mike Morelli, who was the pilot and co-owner of his own copter, to know they were expensive pieces of equipment—not something you’d expect to find in a tiny town like Magic Valley.

Eventually Ben saw Sheriff Allen pull into the parking lot. He followed the man to his office.

Allen was obviously surprised to see him. “Granted, I was expectin’ to see that cute little friend of yours come lunchtime, but I didn’t expect to see you again come hell or high water.”

“I can imagine. I thought you opened up at nine. I’ve been waiting since then.”

“Oops. Sorry about that. Had some business to take care of. Deputy Hardin was supposed to be in. Guess he got called out.”

Ben nodded. “It’s all right. Out catching bad guys?”

“I wish. Nah, I was on the phone with some hospital bureaucrat in Seattle. My mother’s in a cancer treatment center there.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“You and me both. She’s been there four years. It’s all that’s kept her alive. But it’s just about killed me.”

“Are you her only child?”

“Nah. Got me a sister here in town. But she’s—well, not too good in the head. So I’ve got to take care of Mom myself.” He waved his hand in the air. “But I’m sure you’ve got problems, too.”

“I saw two helicopters out back,” Ben said. “Mind if I ask what they’re for?”

“Mountain rescues, mostly,” Allen explained. “When we need to get up there in a hurry. Or when conventional approaches don’t work—like after ’bout thirty feet of snow.”

“You have pilots?”

“I fly one of those little birdies myself. So do two of my deputies. We don’t use ’em all that often, but they’re nice to have for emergencies.” He jingled the keys dangling from his belt. “Anyway, I’m sure you didn’t come here to engage in friendly chitchat. What can I do for you?”