Death Takes a Gander (19 page)

Nate’s office was located
in a building attached to the National Wildlife Research Center in Fort Collins, a facility engaged in developing methods to mitigate damage and reduce public risks posed by wildlife. It was through NWRC efforts that the Environmental Protection Agency was able to register methyl anthranilate as a geese repellant for use on turf and standing water. It was the NWRC that helped obtain FDA approval for the use of alphachloralose, an immobilizing agent that helps with the capture and relocation of nuisance birds. And it was the NWRC that worked to develop immunocontraceptives, chemical repellants, and hazing and harassment techniques to discourage the presence of wildlife in certain areas. Needless to say, Angela had a problem with the NWRC.

Billed as the “leader in nonlethal wildlife damage solutions,” the NWRC’s international reputation for seeking “selective, effective, and socially acceptable” methods for conflict resolution between people and wildlife preceded it. But as far as Angela was concerned, the NWRC rested firmly in the people’s camp. Nothing about harassing animals and birds seemed socially acceptable to her. And the money spent developing things like low-powered, nonlethal lasers for the dispersal of geese constituted cruelty to animals.

Dressed in civilian clothes—a pair of jeans, tennis shoes, and a pink sweater—Angela flashed her credentials to the guard seated at the NWRC reception desk. “Is Nate Sobul in?”

She hadn’t called ahead, so she breathed a sigh of relief when the guard pointed her down the hall. Pushing through a set of double doors, she crossed into the USDA building and poked her head into the third office on the right. Nate was seated at his desk.

“Hey, Nate.”

The room was big and comfortable, and he had found a way to make it his own. Large oil paintings, splashed in the yellows and reds of the desert, graced the bone-colored walls. A black desk faced a ribbon of windows framing a long-distance view of the Continental Divide.

In keeping with the decor, Nate himself was out of uniform. Rather than brown and khaki, he was decked out in chinos and a black, long-sleeved polo shirt.

“Peeps.”

Angela bristled at the nickname but forced a smile.

“What can I do for you?” he asked.

“Got a minute?”

Nate glanced at the papers on his desk. “Actually, I’m kind of busy.”

She stepped into the room. “I’ll only take a second, I promise.”

Nate waffled, then cleared off a chair.

Angela sat down, then told him about the new twist in the case, omitting the part about having been sidelined. Perched on the edge of his desk, Nate’s posture implied discomfort.

“Let me get this straight,” he said, stretching out his neck. “You’re asking me if Agriventures’s cornfields are genetically engineered?”

“Correct”

“The answer’s no.” He stood and placed his desk between them. “They sell organic product. The fields are processed clean.”

“Look, Nate, we know it’s not lead that made those birds sick. The only other common denominator is the corn. If you’re covering up something, now is the time to come clean.”

It was a bluff, but she had made it sound good. Nate reached for his water.

“Do you remember the morning of Eric’s accident?” she asked.

He nodded, keeping his gaze averted.

“You said the situation was something other than I thought.”

His gaze shifted, and he pinned her with a stare. “Leave it alone, Angela.”

“I can’t.”
Not if it means letting Ian’s killer go free
.

“Would it put your mind at ease if I told you Agriventures is under investigation?”

“By whom?”

His body language told her he knew a lot more than he was saying. Had Kramner already replaced her on the case?

Nate set down the water bottle. “By me.”

Angela sat in stunned silence. The heater fan whispered warm air into the room. Nate’s chair squeaked. Finally, she found her voice. “I thought you were just a commodities grader.”

That was a direct quote
. It had been his excuse for not helping during Operation Goose Rescue.

Nate tipped back his head and laughed. “I guess I deserved that.”

“You’re serious?” she said. She tried to keep the incredulity out of her voice and failed miserably.

“What, you don’t think I’m up for the task?” Nate rolled back his chair and swung the door closed. “Look, what I’m going to tell you has to remain in this room. Since last year, I’ve been working undercover with the IES.”

The Investigative and Enforcement Services division for the Biotechnology Regulatory Service division of APHIS. Nate was an agri-cop!

“I can tell by your expression you’re finding it hard to believe.”

“A little,” she admitted. “Okay, a lot.”

Based on her knowledge of Nate, he lacked the perseverance and follow-through needed to make a good law enforcement officer. If he was telling the truth, there had to be an angle.

“It was my ticket into the BRS division. Trust me, Peeps, biotech is the wave of the future.”

She knew it.

“You always were opportunistic.”

If the barb landed, he ignored it. “Last year IES received a tip that Agriventures was selling a nonorganic product under their organic label. We checked it out. The product turned up clean.”

“Using what criteria?”

“The basics. A farmer can’t have used pesticides, chemicals, or fertilizer on the crops for at least three years. The soil samples and product samples showed Agriventures complied.”

“What about genetically engineered plants? How do they factor in?”

Nate’s dark eyes locked on Angela’s. “It’s hard to prove.”

“How so?”

“You want the crash course?” Nate stood and walked over to the window. The sun danced off his hair, crowning his head in a reddish aura. “GE Farming 101. Farmers have been using genetics for years. They’ve bred plants together to come up with the best strain of peas, the best potato crop. But with today’s technology… ” Nate twisted the handle on the blinds, opening and closing the shutters. “Now, they can snip, insert, recombine, rearrange, edit, and program genetic material to create ‘Frankenfoods,’ bioengineered food crops that can be dangerous to consumers.”

“Aren’t there regulations?”

“There’s legislation in Congress.” He studied her for a second. “For instance, there’s a bill on the floor that would require food companies to label all foods containing GE material, and one that would require the FDA to ensure compliance with special testing.”

Angela wrestled with the information. “You mean they don’t do that already?”

“Only if it is determined that the GE product is
not
equivalent to a conventional product.”

That left room for definition. “Are there any more bills pending?”

Nate leaned against the windowsill and crossed his ankles. “There’s one to protect the farmer by granting him indemnification from liability and placing the sole responsibility for any crop failure or negative impact on the biotech company that created the GE organism. And there’s another that would place a moratorium on crops grown for pharmaceuticals. There’s a real fear that crops containing the antibiotic marker gene might recombine with disease-causing bacteria and create antibiotic-resistant infections we won’t be able to cure.”

Angela got a bad feeling. “Like what?”

“Maybe a new strain of E. coli or salmonella.”

Angela shifted in her chair. Despite the answers he gave her, all she could come up with were more questions. “Can you test products and determine if they’re genetically engineered?”

“Yes. But it’s expensive. And without just cause, not usually done. The truth is, if the product is tested, its usually by the purchaser after it’s in the market.”

Scientists playing God
.

“So where does the USDA stand on all this?” She hoped they were angling for more control.

“The BRS monitors the GE crops in field trials and evaluates the impact of any widespread environmental release.”

“In layman’s terms?”

“We want to know what effect the product has on weeds. And we want to know the effect on any other plants it comes in contact with. Most of all, we want to minimize contact.”

“How do you do that?”

“All GE experimental crops must maintain a one-mile buffer zone to avoid cross-pollination and contamination of other crops.”

Angela hooted. “What about birds and insects? Any animal moving between fields carries pollen on their feet. Contamination is inevitable.”

Nate’s face hardened. “Don’t forget, you’re preaching to the choir.”

Time to switch tacks
.

“So, basically, what you’re saying is, it’s not illegal for Agriventures—or anyone else for that matter—to grow GE plants.”

“Not if they submit to monitoring.”

Angela rubbed her temples and tried dispelling the faint throb in her head. “And if they don’t?”

“Then we can fine them up to five hundred thousand dollars and/or force them to destroy the plants and clean up any contaminated areas. The FDA determines if there’s a health risk and has its own fines. Hell, even the Environmental Protection Agency has a regulatory role.” Nate pushed himself off the sill and moved back toward his chair. “If a GE plant manufactures its own pesticide, the EPA ensures the pesticide levels present in the plant are safe for humans and the environment. Same with the herbicide-resistant plants. If not, then they have their own set of fines.”

“There isn’t just one oversight agency?”

“No, which makes it even easier for these guys to slip through the cracks.”

Angela considered his answers, then doubled back. “But if you suspect Agriventures of growing GE plants, why not test one of their samples?”

Nate picked a pencil up off his desk and bounced the eraser on the desk blotter. “I have no reason to request another sample. Hunches don’t count.” He set down the pencil. “I’ll let you know if I come up with anything more concrete.”

“What about the samples we took from the geese?”

“There’s no way to link them to an Agriventures cornfield.”

He was right. And the same would be true of the samples she and Lark had taken at the Barr Lake Hunt Club. What they needed was a sample taken directly from the cornfield. Was that what Ian had been after on the night he died?

“Did you talk to Ian about any of this?”

Nate didn’t answer immediately. “I told him to leave it alone, just like I’m telling you.”

Angela pushed up out of her chair and headed towards the door. “Thanks for your time.”

She knew what she had to do.

“I’m warning you, Angela. It’s dangerous.”

She thought of Eric and the phone call to Velof, and stopped midway to the door. Nate was Tauer’s alibi. “What time did you meet John Frakus and Donald Tauer in Elk Lake?”

“Why?” His eyes narrowed. “If you’re thinking Tauer pushed Eric Linenger into the water, think again.”

“What time?”

He stared her down, then answered. “Five forty. I was late, but he and Frakus were waiting.”

She would check his answer against the accident report and the estimated amount of time Eric was in the water. It would be close. “Thanks.”

She thought of another question as she hit the door. “Besides the fine, are there any other repercussions if Agriventures is caught growing GE corn?”

From what Nate had just told her, there didn’t seem to be enough at stake to warrant Tauer’s murdering anyone. With no laws in place monitoring GE crops, the penalties for noncompliance were practically nil. Exposure due to the deaths of a few migratory birds amounted to a slap on the wrist.

Nate cupped his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair. “Sure, there are a number of possibilities. Criminal charges could be brought against the principals, though I doubt it. More than likely, boycotts against Agriventures, Inc. within the organic industry would dry up the markets. Tauer would be forced into bankruptcy.”

“What you’re saying is, anyone connected to the company stands to lose.”

“Yeah, and on the flipside, any rival stands to gain.” He leaned forward again. “I need to get back to work.”

“Thanks for the information, Nate.”

“It was good to see you, Peeps.”

She wished she could say the same.

With her back to him, she didn’t see him get out of his chair, but suddenly his hand gripped the door above her head, preventing her exit. He smiled down at her, but his eyes remained cold. “Now that you know IES is on top of it, I’m trusting you to back off.”

He was telling her to drop the investigation. Had he asked the same thing of Ian?

“It’s out of my hands,” she replied. There was more truth in the statement than he realized. She tugged on the door, but Nate held it in place, bending down until she could smell the pine scent of his aftershave and the residue of Ivory soap on his skin.

“Don’t be stupid, Angela.”

Was it the couched warning or his proximity that was making her tremble?

Angela tugged on the door again, only this time he let it go. She stumbled, and he broke her fall, hard arms circling her waist. Her heart fluttered. A remnant of old love? It felt more like fear.

Clear of the building, Angela sprinted for her car, a slap-in-the-face reminder of her current position. Along with losing the case, investigating on her own time meant she lost the accoutrements of the job—the use of her truck, the uniform, the duty belt. The one exception was her gun, and that she kept locked in the glove compartment.

Sitting behind the wheel, she stared out at the farm fields stretching east to the Kansas state line. Most of them were planted seasonally in sugar beets or wheat. How many of them were genetically engineered? Or did anyone—even the USDA—know?

Despite her discomfort, the conversation with Nate had borne fruit. She had come away with a motive for Ian’s murder, Eric’s accident, and her own near brush with death. Whoever had perpetrated the crimes wanted to cover up the fact that Agriventures, Inc. had planted their fields in GE corn.

Of the possible suspects, Donald Tauer led the pack. He had the most to lose, and he had been in Elk Lake over the weekend. Had he arrived on the ice early and discovered the geese? If so, it made sense he would scatter the lead sinkers on the ice, figuring any further investigation would be halted and the geese would be treated for lead poisoning. It was his permit Frakus had used to instigate the carnage. Plus, he could easily have been Ian’s mystery date or caught Ian trying to sample his cornfield. Now that Coot had admitted to helping himself to the goose meat, all the pieces dropped into place.