by Mark Lashway
“You bet. In fact, I left all of the debris as it was, as a memorial, a reminder of the dangers that we face exploring our brewing frontiers.”
This guy is unreal, Cam groaned to himself. He kept looking around the area, terrified at the prospect of Shauna wandering by. If she saw him still with Ned Inkwell and hanging out with the Stardust Boys, he’d be done. There would be no explaining it.
“Ned, I leave you in their hands. I’m done with you now. Good luck on everythin’,” Cam told Inkwell before hurriedly leaving.
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦
After they had left Duke Lando’s tent, slipping out unnoticed as they always did, Tom Deville and Clay Sharper went to work on one of the tasks that Lando had set for them: Watching Maria Sanchez. Phil Utah had been busy preparing for tonight’s competitions, so they would deal with him later.
“I see her,” Sharper muttered in a low tone, pointing to a barely moving figure about a hundred yards away.
“Here’s what we’ll do,” Deville told him. “You tail her from a short distance and I’ll hang back a lot farther, watching where you go. We’ll be less noticeable individually.”
“Sounds good,” Sharper agreed, nodding. He left while Deville stood there pretending to look at something at a vendor’s display. Deville watched with a discreet glance as his partner got to within about 40 yards of Sanchez and maintained the distance as she moved about. Then he started out to do his part.
When Sanchez paused at a vendor stand to say something to the owner, Sharper quickly strolled onto a side path between tents and in back of the vendor stand. He was doing well.
Without giving anything away, Maria Sanchez caught sight of Tom Deville walking slowly down the main road like he really had nowhere to go. She wondered where his sidekick, that Clay Sharper, was. She sighed. Oh well, I really have nothing to do right now. I might as well do some intel on those guys like Duke wanted. I’ll follow Tom around awhile. Pretending that she was looking over at the opposite side of the road, she took a few steps and then went down another side path not far from where Clay Sharper was watching her. Sharper again followed her very carefully from a distance.
Deville knew from where Sanchez and Sharper had taken their routes where he had to go himself to maintain the tail. Sanchez saw where he went down a side path and knew that she had to make a great arc herself in order to circle back to his rear. She realized that she had a lengthy walk before her, but immediately set to it, walking briskly through the heart of GWIBE.
Surprised by her quick pace, Sharper lost ground due to having to occasionally move around a tent or vehicle to stay out of sight. The distance between them doubled at the very least, he figured, as he struggled to keep her within view.
For Deville, it was even worse, and he lost track of his partner. Throwing caution to the wind, he moved less discreetly, running in short spurts, making it obvious that he was looking for someone. Phil Utah happened to be passing through, having finished his work, saw Deville and decided that he needed to speak with him. He walked as fast as he could, limited by the shoes he wore, knowing that yelling to Deville in this mid-day din would be useless. There was nothing else to do but follow him.
Eight Ball Kowalski was finishing the last of a beer that Sonny had given him as he chatted with Lombardo and Helen Bowman, the other horsemen having scattered to do various things. He saw Maria Sanchez hurry by, then Clay Sharper, followed at a greater distance by Tom Deville, then finally Phil Utah. Eight Ball gave Lombardo a certain look.
“I can’t follow,” Lombardo said. “I’m too fat and old. See what’s up with that, Eddie.”
Knowing that the whole scene meant that something no good was afoot, Eight Ball’s eyes gleamed at the prospect of once again fighting evil, fondly remembering the glory days of last year when he’d been a hero in the Tony Rizzo affair. Making sure that the length of rope serving as his belt was tight enough to keep his pants up, he pushed the black plastic-framed glasses up on his nose, gave Lombardo and Bowman a terse nod, then began tailing Utah.
Cam was wandering around aimlessly. He’d found that Shauna had unexpectedly taken off somewhere when he’d returned to their tent. He knew that he hadn’t been gone long enough to have pissed her off even more. Miffed, he didn’t know what to do. Then he saw the strung-out procession pass by, immediately grasping who was trailing who. He watched for a few minutes while sipping a pale ale that Randy Otto, a man he knew only vaguely from last year, had presented to him after intercepting Cam during his travels. When Cam saw Eight Ball Kowalski involved in the mix, however, he knew that disaster would inevitably strike. With a sigh, he gulped down the remaining brew, thanked his host and took off.
Demonstrating great skill at tailing, Cam was able to keep Eight Ball within sight, as well as Utah. Nobody would have noticed his part in the whole thing except that Ned Inkwell was roaming around after having left the Stardust Boys and their entourage, figuring that he needed to get some work done here today. With his own experienced eye, Inkwell casually trailed Cam with a skill that even Witter would have admired.
His talent, however, wasn’t so great as to prevent him from being spotted by Shauna, who was out looking for Cam after she had returned to their tent and found him gone. I shouldn’t have left to go talk to Kim, she told herself. Irritated at having to now chase down her husband, she grew even more so when she spotted Cam way off in the distance and Inkwell trailing behind him, clearly following Cam. That man sure has some nerve….
The stalkings continued on for a few more minutes until Maria Sanchez realized that her strategy wasn’t working and began walking at a furious pace in an attempt to catch sight of Tom Deville again. Clay Sharper had to pick up his pace in order to keep up with her, and in the process lost Tom Deville, who decided to rush off in a completely different direction. Phil Utah lost track of Deville and gave up the chase, figuring that he could catch him later anyway. Utah then noticed a couple pawing each other over and proceeded to give them a morality lecture, whereupon they cursed at him and began throwing things at the Ace Brewing rep, who quickly retreated. Eight Ball Kowalski saw it all, figured that there was no news there, and in his attempt to discreetly break off his surveillance of Utah tripped over a tent line and went head-first into the side of a man’s brand-new pickup truck, putting a noticeable dent in the driver’s door. The outraged owner began swearing at the horseman and threatened to kill him.
Remember to stay out of it, Cam reminded himself. It was time to break off his tailing of Eight Ball. He sauntered down a side path, away from the action. Inkwell saw the change and turned to take a different course himself when he came face-to-face with Shauna, who had followed much too closely.
“Uh, well….hello, Shauna,” Inkwell mumbled, taken by surprise.
“Hello,” she responded very coolly.
“Actually, I’m glad I ran into you, Shauna. I’ve really been wanting to apologize to you since I sobered up this morning.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. What I did was awful and I’m very sorry. I hope you understand that I’m really not like that. For what I thought was a good reason, I let my guard down and partook of the customs here, which I really regret now.”
“For what it’s worth, Ned, you’re far from being the first one this place has claimed.”
“I guess, but I’m really ashamed just the same,” Inkwell replied, his face getting red. “I hope that you can forgive me, but if you can’t, then I understand and won’t blame you.”
She could see that his apology was completely sincere, and her heart softened toward him. He would be on the up and up now, having learned his lesson, and undoubtedly show more resolve and discipline than Cam had last year.
“Ned, I accept your apology,” she told him, giving him a warm smile. “We’ll put it in the past and say no more about it.” She patted him on the arm.
“Great!” he exclaimed, smiling for the first time. “Shauna, since we’re back to normal, I’m wondering if you can help me.�
�
“Oh? How?”
“I was wondering if you could give me a little time and explain things to me concerning the people here. That way, I won’t have to drink my brains out, gain trust and that whole show.”
“Sure. You should have taken that route the first time!” she laughed. “I only have a few hours, though. I have to judge at more of the competitions tonight.”
“I’ll take it. I’ll call Jeanne Lamp and tell her she doesn’t need to come around today. I want to work this place for a while and see what I can find out.”
“I’m sure that you’ve been told that Tex Cutter wasn’t tied in….”
“Yeah. I can’t see it as being tied into this event. Plus, I have to see if….” He discontinued the thought, although Shauna guessed that it had to do with the dead monk.
As they walked away, with Shauna hoping to find her husband, Ned Inkwell got the idea into his head that due to his skulking around Cam must have something that he was holding back from him. He had to find out what it was.
Maria Sanchez would report back to Duke Lando that she had followed Tom Deville and that he had been acting suspiciously, anxious to avoid being followed.
Clay Sharper and Tom Deville would report back to Duke Lando that Maria Sanchez had been acting suspiciously, anxious to avoid being followed.
Duke Lando would do the math and for once come to the erroneous conclusion that instead of the fact that he was employing a bunch of idiots, he had a bunch of conspirators with their own agendas. He had to find out what they were.
-14-
Cam sat on the bleachers inside the competition tent as he awaited the start of the contest for the open wheat category. He sipped on one of Helen Bowman’s altbiers, careful to drink it slowly since it had to last him for a while. Not many people had come in so far.
He was content. Ned Inkwell’s apology to Shauna had really calmed the waters, although he’d been surprised that once she’d found him, Shauna had almost as quickly cut him loose again while she took Inkwell around to explain things. No matter, it had been a fortunate break. He was free to do as he pleased for the next several hours before he had to report back in.
“Bobby!” he exclaimed as Bobby Bobb took a seat next to him. He hadn’t seen much of Bobby since GWIBE had opened, which was unfortunate since Bobb usually proved to be a valuable source of gossip. “What’s the word out on the street?”
“Just the usual stuff,” Bobby replied, knowing that he didn’t have to explain. Cam noticed Reuben taking a seat on the other side of him.
“Do you think Gerhard can win this one back this year?” Cam asked hopefully. He saw the judges taking their seats, Shauna being one of them. They waved to each other.
“Nope!” Bobby shot back. Reuben shook his head in confirmation. Cam thought back to Trub’s observation last year that Streicher would find it extremely difficult to beat Vosloo in the future considering the limitations that the Reinheitsgebot attitude put on the German.
“Ah well, considerin’ the state that our Bavarians have been in, this competition probably won’t be worth watchin’ anyway,” Cam remarked.
“No, but it’s the only action in town right now,” Reuben observed.
“Fireworks or not, I’m just gonna lay back, relax, drink some brew and appreciate the beauty of rural North Dakota,” Cam said. “For whatever reason we’re here in particular.”
“What do you mean by that, Cam?” Bobby asked.
“Oh, I mean, it just seems odd that bein’ in such a low population state to begin with, that they wouldn’t at least try to make it somewhat close to at least a small town, like last year.”
“It was a compromise solution,” Bobby informed him.
“Compromise?”
“Well, Utah’s crew had things planned for Wainscott, Missouri. That you know,” Bobby began, relishing playing guru.
“And?”
“And the other side….”
“Which, from what I’ve been told, was spearheaded by Dale Sassie.”
“Yep. So, the other side was planning things for somewhere near Missoula, Montana. A real tug-of-war went on, Cam. Missouri was definitely not happening, but Utah’s people put up enough of a fuss, threatening to get all of the company funding yanked, if….”
“If what?”
“That, I don’t know. Various places in between were discussed, but nothing was resolved. Then, Dale’s crew went silent for a while, for several weeks, in fact, until someone put up this location as a compromise that was fairly in the center. Then, Dale’s crew did something unexpected: They agreed to it.”
“I was hopin’ for somethin’ sexier than that,” Cam muttered, taking another sip. “But it was just more of the GWIBE politics, eh?” He felt satisfied just the same, since he always liked to know the story behind things. The question would nag at him no more.
Some more people had entered the tent and taken their seats, although it was nowhere near the number that would normally be expected for such an important contest. The three men looked at each other and nodded. Word had spread fast. Any competition involving Gerhard Streicher was now a non-event. Several of the new arrivals looked over their way, wearing those hard looks.
“Whoa, what did we do?” Reuben wondered.
“Actually, those were meant for me,” Cam groaned. “All because of the Trub affair.”
“Yep, and now we’ll be tarred a bit from sitting with you,” Bobb added.
“All of it because I was just doin’ my job,” Cam muttered.
“Yeah, but you took down a popular guy fighting the good fight,” Bobb reminded him.
“From what I hear, many folks were upset that there was no body to say goodbye to, also,” Reuben said. Cam merely nodded. He could understand that.
“But it’s over and done with,” Cam told them. “I can’t undo the past. Why can’t they just move on? Don’t they appreciate how much trouble I got into over him?” Damn it all, why am I re-visiting this yet again? No good can come from it.
“Cam, maybe some of it comes down to people feeling like you weren’t completely honest with them, and after they took you in and gave you their beer. I mean, that FBI….”
“FBI?” Cam spluttered, taken off guard. “What the hell are you talkin’ about?”
“The FBI, Cam,” Bobby Bobb hissed, lowering his voice. “You remember!”
“No, Bobby, I don’t!” Cam growled. He stared at Bobb, then Reuben, both men taken aback by his confusion.
“You mean….you don’t know about that, then?” Bobb asked, mouth agape.
“No, obviously I don’t, Bobby. Start talkin’, and do it fast!”
“I don’t know what really went on much beyond that, Cam. Right after Trub….mmm….well, after he….”
“After he killed himself,” Cam finished the sentence, getting impatient now.
“Well, right after that, not long after the ambulance squad lost Trub’s body, a couple of FBI agents showed up, wanting to see the body. When they’d found out what had happened, they started threatening the ambulance guys. From what I heard, they were really mean, Cam.”
Cam’s mind raced as he tried to make sense of the revelation. FBI? What would they want with Trub? He wasn’t a pervert who would solicit children on the internet….he wouldn’t have been tied into any kind of terrorism. Wait a minute….Trub dealt in the commodities market, that’s how he made his money. Could he have been in the middle of something dirty there? OK, stop it right now! It’s over, it doesn’t matter why the FBI was interested in him. Walk away, Cam, and let it fade into the past. Goddamnit, Trub, you’re haunting me from the grave!
“Cam, you’re getting that look again,” Bobby told him. “You know how Shauna….”
“What the hell do you know about it?!” Cam snapped. Glancing off to the side, he saw Shauna staring at them, frowning.
“Actually, quite a bit,” Bobby smoothly replied.
“Yeah, Cam, don’t take this the wrong way, but the o
dds on the street are 5-2 that your marriage will be on the rocks before the end of GWIBE,” Reuben informed him.
“And I know at least a few guys waiting in the shadows, hoping it is,” Bobby added.
Greatly agitated now, Cam was about to erupt at his two companions but was cut short by the sound of a microphone being turned on. Phil Utah was inadvertently coming to their rescue by announcing the beginning of tonight’s competition.
“Oh goodie!” Reuben cried, both he and Bobby Bobb patting Cam on the back like nothing had happened.
“Why, hello, folks!” Utah exclaimed, flashing those trademark pearly whites. “It’s time to begin the competitions for tonight, the first one being the open wheat category. Our contestants are now all here, so let’s hope for more excitement than last night’s contests!” The crowd groaned at the memory.
Cam glanced over at the contestants, whom he hadn’t noticed entering the tent earlier, consumed as he was by the revelations from Reuben and Bobby. There were eight in this contest: Gerhard Streicher, Jan Vosloo, four contestants from last year and two newcomers. Vosloo looked very cocky while Streicher wore a slightly fearful look. The others looked like they were awaiting their executions.
“Let’s have a round of applause for our contestants!” Utah cried, trying to whip up the audience, which Cam thought was very unwise considering Utah’s history with crowds. “Now, without further ado, let’s get it on! The first contestant to be sampled will be Zeke Shandy. Pourer of the brews, let’s begin!”
As the pourer went through the routine, Cam took another sip of his beer, glad that he had brought one. It made sitting through the long process a bit easier and made him feel like he was part of things. Reuben and Bobby, even more experienced than he, had each brought two full cups of brew with them.
The whole thing was predictable, as the first entry was sampled and then commented on by the other contestants while the judges huddled in consultation. It continued on this way for the next several contestants. Cam was tempted to chat with his two companions to pass time, but then remembered that doing so openly was considered to be rude and disrespectful toward the contestants. He sighed and slowly nursed his drink.
