by Jan Smolders
The mayor stood up and said, “You see we’re in good hands with Supren and Mr. Doyle. Don’t lose any sleep over methane. It’s going to be dealt with, and you’ll be pleased. And you wíll, wíll have all the bottled water you may need. Me, I’m going to have a good glass of tap water.” He turned. An assistant waited behind him, holding a tray with two glasses on it. Sanders handed one to Doyle and took one for himself. Both lifted their drinks and shouted, “Cheers!”
Tepid applause followed.
The mayor looked concerned.
Mary rolled her eyes as she stared at Frank. He seemed absent.
“Is anything wrong, Frank?”
He shook his head. “Do you know when we can get our hands on that petition? Can’t think of a better time to get those signatures.”
“I’ll check.” She dialed Dan’s number but had to leave a voicemail.
Around nine that evening her doorbell rang.
Andy ran to open the door. Neighbor Harriet Woods entered, mute, looking hurried and panting. She barged straight into the kitchen. “My niece Jennifer told me you were at that meeting,” she blurted out without greeting Mary or giving her a chance to remove her apron. “Sanders’s. The stories Jennifer heard…explosions and radioactivity, odors, poisons….” It almost sounded like it was all Mary’s fault.
“Take a seat, Harriet,” she said.
“No, thanks; I see the kids are ready for bed.” The woman started sobbing. “I’m scared, Mary. You know about this fracking, so…Jennifer said that that Mr. Doyle is going to solve the water problems. Do you believe he can?” She wiped her nose and shoved the Kleenex into her pants pocket.
“Who knows?”
“Jennifer said many people don’t believe him.”
Mary tried to keep scorn out of her tone. “I’m sure he’ll do his best, but he can’t guarantee anything. He doesn’t really know how much he can improve the water. He may be promising more than he can deliver.”
“But he doesn’t ask his bosses in Houston for help, or the governor. Somebody,” her neighbor lamented.
“He doesn’t now. He’d change his mind if it would look necessary, I think. Let’s hope.”
“But my land, the water, our fruit and vegetables….” Harriet’s tears flowed.
Andy and Jimmy looked at the woman with confused expressions.
She wasn’t finished. “I won’t get any royalties if….”
Mary looked at her askance. Yeah, not one cent more than I get. “All we can do is stick together, all of us, demand clean drinking water and keep the pressure on Doyle. Supren’s a powerhouse. It’s got to be the entire community against them or we lose. I’ve been fighting this battle from day one.”
“I know. I wish I’d never seen these frackers.”
You’re a little late. Mary bit her tongue: Harriet wasn’t moving anywhere soon. “Maybe it won’t be too bad in the end,” she said as she eased her visitor to the front door.
Harriet lowered her head and kept nodding. “Good night. Good night, kids.”
Chapter 25
When Mary and the boys arrived at school the next morning she checked her phone and found a text message from Frank: “Meet at Johnny’s during morning break? Urgent! Revert ASAP.”
She almost dropped her phone. “Wait, Jimmy!” she shouted as the boys marched to the front entrance. “Wait. Watch out!” She didn’t have to think longer than a split second to know what Frank’s message was all about. The smell. It must be something about the smell. She felt badly that after the mayor’s announcement last night she had had to run off in a hurry. Maybe Frank had wanted to discuss— not maybe. Certainly. He had probably wanted to tell her something he couldn’t say over the phone either.
She responded immediately. She didn’t care about the spelling errors her trembling fingers made. She could blame Apple.
When she found Frank just after ten at Johnny’s, the little coffee shop next to the school, she already knew what was going on—from Sonya. He looked deeply concerned.
“It’s the article, right?” she said by way of greeting.
“A hell of a smear job. And not just for me.”
“Yeah. A beauty, I hear.”
The Sentinel article she noticed in his hand mentioned her in almost one breath with Frank, Sonya had said. It had been written by Mike Doyle himself. “Where is it? The garbage about you and me?”
“Everywhere.” He handed her the Noredge Sentinel. “Front page. I highlighted the juiciest parts. Enjoy,” he said, disgust and fatigue in his voice. Sadness too. He sat back.
“The bastard. Liar. Lunatic!” Her anger burst out as she started reading.
He observed her, tapping the table.
“Drilling through the aquifer under the Alpha site at Rutgers Lake was done correctly, with all precautions, but the nearly simultaneous cementing operation around the drill pipe may have been done with insufficient care, and is likely to have caused a minor degree of methane contamination of the aquifer. Frank Anderson, who was responsible for drilling and cementing, left the Supren Company. We have ascertained that logs documenting three weeks of operations have disappeared….”
Mary stared at Frank. When pressed, industry officials had to admit that even the most advanced cementing techniques applied with the highest skill and care could leave tiny gaps between soil and pipe wall. They could allow methane to migrate, outside the pipes, up toward the surface and possibly through aquifers that in some cases had to be transpierced to reach the shale rock.
“But ‘Mr. Anderson’ hasn’t been contacted. Not contacted!” He hissed and pounded the little table. He didn’t seem to care that two ladies next to him were listening in. “Here’s the truth,” he thundered, hand rose. “The morning Vince took over for me the logs were intact and complete. He can vouch for that. They must have disappeared into some virtual black hole.”
Mary had her eyes wide open. “So…Vince is the one—”
“I didn’t say that!”
She felt she had irritated him with that question. “Then who?”
He opened his palms and stared at her. “The operator of that black hole, I guess. Not me.”
Rosie, the always tired elderly waitress, arrived with her coffee carafe and asked Mary, “Black, right?” She breathed heavily while she poured and then looked at Frank, who shook his head. She turned and left.
“Any suspect?” Mary asked soothingly, not wanting to fan Frank’s anger.
“Not yet. But maybe soon.”
“When?”
“Don’t know yet. Sorry.” He showed her a tired wink and went on, sounding serious, “I’ll have to do some heavy thinking. But read on.” He pointed at the next highlighted paragraph.
“Some in Noredge try to mislead the good citizens by spreading false rumors and baseless fears about our industry, which is already making a significant contribution.…” She skipped a few lines as he guided her to another yellow section farther down.
“One of the most vocal agitators, Mary Jenkins, works very closely with Mr. Anderson. Both seem hell bent on exacting revenge for his firing. (We don’t subscribe to the rumors that she would be romantically involved with Mr. Anderson. Her common-law husband Joe Bertolo is recovering in Cleveland from the accident he caused in Carrollton on July 23rd). Miss Jenkins also does not accept our well-founded refusal to absolve Bertolo of responsibility for the significant damage he caused by careless driving. She spouts half-truths and complete falsehoods about our industry day in, day out. Her and other amateur comments should be disregarded as well as the petition that, we hear, soon will be circulated under her impulse to impede Supren’s operations in Noredge.”
She flicked her wrist. “Don’t feel too bad, dear ‘boyfriend.’ We already covered that ‘romance.’ And he wasted more words on me than on you. What a joke.”
He was nearly
in tears. “But Joanna—”
She smiled. “She’ll know this is bullshit.”
“She called me this morning, all upset. Damn Mike. She cried. I explained, and she said she believed me, but….” He shook his head looking powerless.
“Relax, Frank. I’ll speak with her. That you’re an angel helping me. Nothing else.”
“Thank you.”
“And it’ll be my pleasure to tell Doyle to his face and in Joanna’s presence that he’s full of shit. How about that? Well, he may not believe this ‘witch who tells half-truths and complete falsehoods,’” she joked. “I’ll have to leave my broom at home.”
“Good, good.” He seemed to appreciate her attempt to lighten up the conversation and showed a weak smile. “Always be careful, Mary. Joe’s his employee and you are…vulnerable.”
She murmured, “I’ll kill the bastard before he—”
“Slow down. I may be able to support you guys.”
She knew she was just spouting venom. She looked at him helplessly and tilted her head. “How?”
He shrugged his shoulders and said, “It’s simple. We must confront the creep. You and me together. Right away. Today.”
“Huh?”
“Let’s leave as soon as you’re done at school. I’ll ask Sonya to keep the kids.” He stood up and dropped cash for the bill on the table. “Your break must be over.”
“Where do we find Doyle?”
“His office.”
“You know?”
He patted her shoulder and asked, smiling now, “Why don’t you ask me from whom I know?”
Chapter 26
“Two big points,” Frank said as a nervous Mary took her seat in his car for the short ride from the school to Doyle’s office.
“More surprises?”
“Shortly after I left Johnny’s, I received a rude call from Mike summoning me to his office. I agreed, but added, ‘With Mary Jenkins.’ He exploded, ‘I can’t stand that bitch’s face. This is between you and me!’ he screamed. ‘You’re going to explain to me how you got rid of those logs. And the back-ups. Where you’re hiding them. Or I’ll cancel your severance and file suit against you. Or worse. That Jenkins woman has no business being in that discussion.’”
“I see.”
“Okay. That was point number one.”
“Quite a point. Why do you want me to go with you?”
He chuckled.
The moment Frank had picked her up, Mary noticed that he was in a better mood than at Johnny’s. He and Joanna had talked and made up, she figured.
“Just wait for point number two. It gets better.”
“Better?”
“A real doozie, but I had to lie a little. I said I couldn’t possibly tell you not to join me because minutes before you had asked me, insisted, to go see him with you. He had attacked you and Joe in public and in the press, and you couldn’t wait to tell him some basic truths about fairness and honesty.”
“And about those slanderous rumors about ‘us.’”
He nodded. “I used your words and some of your fury.”
She smiled. “And?”
“He barked that he’d kick you out if you got even close to the front door. So, fasten your seat belt.”
It sounded, strangely, like Frank had enjoyed the verbal joust with Doyle. But Mary worried: Doyle had a tight grip on Joe and on her. “I’d better not. You can drop me off and I’ll walk back,” she said, concerned.
Frank snickered and didn’t slow down. “No way, Mary. We’re going to win this. For Joe. Mike’s going to lose big time.”
“You mean that? Win?” She looked at him askance.
“I know that. Maybe not the battle, but the war. Just wait and see. He’ll have to walk away tail between his legs. Soon. Believe me. Soon.”
In the Supren parking lot they spotted Doyle’s BMW.
“Let’s go, Mary. Head up.”
She feared her nod wasn’t convincing.
He patted her on the shoulder and rang the bell. “He’ll answer it,” he said, his voice hushed.
“Joanna—?”
“Running an errand for half an hour. If she sees my car she won’t enter.”
Doyle opened the door, looking determined, loaded for bear. His face turned red as he noticed Mary. “Didn’t I fucking tell you this was between men?” he thundered, his eyes drilling into Frank’s.
“Watch your language!” Frank shouted back, one foot on the threshold.
Mary tried to follow Frank in but Doyle lunged at her and roughly pushed her back out. “Not you. Don’t you ever enter this place again or I call the police!”
Four or five passers-by slowed their pace. One stopped.
She stumbled and fell down but quickly stood up, trembling as she rubbed little pebbles off her hands. Enraged, she tried to force her way in but Doyle kept pushing her back with both hands.
A crowd of about ten now had formed. They seemed to enjoy the little skirmish. Two youngsters aimed their iPhones.
Frank squeezed his tall, thin body between Mary and Doyle and breathed, “Mike, you’d better stop this. You’ll be all over the TV tonight.”
Doyle fired back, looking livid, “You’ll regret this, you loser. Get her out of here.”
“Loser? Yeah?” Frank’s voice sounded ominously low and threatening. “I’ve got a couple of pictures I took at Lanning’s. Not long ago. Mrs. Doyle must have been out of town. Vince too. Or did you have him working late in Carrollton?”
“Huh? You creep,” Doyle yelled and paled. He threw a punch at Frank, but missed.
“Calm down, Mike. You let Mary in or I’ll bring some sharp copies to WEWS. They love that juicy stuff. You accuse Mary and me of having an affair. Have you looked in the mirror recently?”
Doyle stepped back and hissed. “Everybody knows about you and her. Even the priest.”
“Because you whispered it in his ear?” Frank winked at Mary.
For a moment she felt for Father Bianchi, that credulous, pure, well-meaning man.
Doyle’s facial expression had turned subdued. His lips trembled. “You’ve got…got no shame,” he stammered, staring at the small crowd and then the ground. “Two minutes.”
They walked through Joanna’s office area. It was now a neatly appointed space, repainted a light tan, complete with a small polypropylene rug, a transparent polycarbonate desk sporting a combination of three baby pictures, a small reclining chair, a Dell Desktop and a little table with a Flavia coffeemaker and three wooden tabourets.
Doyle strode straight to his office and entered first, Frank matching his pace, Mary tiptoeing in behind him. Stony silence surrounded the threesome. Lips pursed, Doyle gestured to sit down at his little table. His nostrils were flared, his breathing audible as he stared at Frank. “I hope you’ll show at least some class, Anderson,” he said, his lips quivering. “Some discretion. I was in Bath with that woman to discuss a painful personal matter. My job requires a lot from me.”
Frank looked at Mary, showed her a quick eye roll and said, “We understand. I haven’t told anybody.”
“If I hear—”
“You won’t. Not from me. If you do, I won’t be the source.”
Mary coughed, turned right towards Doyle and said, her tone neutral, “Mrs. Woods came to see me last night in a panic. She’d heard about the meeting at City Hall—”
“Woods? Who’s that woman?” It was a bark. He didn’t sound grateful at all for the face-saving shift Mary had made for him in the conversation.
She was going to make sure she measured her words, but couldn’t help adding in a little prick. “‘That woman,’ Mr. Doyle, that woman is the owner of the land your Beta site sits on. She’s worried her land will be ‘poisoned,’ and—”
“Harriet, you mean. Why did she come to you? She knows
where my office is. She has my number.”
“She’s my neighbor. She came late at night, crying. Frankly, I’m worried about my land too. And my family.”
“How silly! I’ve explained at City Hall—”
“For sure you tried. And how,” Frank interrupted him, his tone pure scorn.
Mary couldn’t believe how confident her friend looked.
Frank went on, “You’re full of shit when you write that I screwed up at Alpha or sabotaged it to avenge my firing—.”
“I didn’t say that!”
“Let me finish.” Frank stood up and pounded the table. He leaned over it. His head inched so close to Doyle’s that their noses seemed to touch. “Don’t underestimate the intelligence of the Noredge people. They’re more than smart enough to read between the lines. Get it?”
Doyle waved him off. “It’s all in your paranoid mind, buddy. I never meant to—”
“You did. You keep lying. Next point….” Frank righted himself. “You know damn well that both the Alpha and Beta sites sit on the same aquifer. How do you know the methane comes from Alpha? Does it carry an ID?”
Doyle stood up and furiously pointed at Frank. “Let me tell you something, Mr. Anderson. I’ve handled drilling and cementing at the Beta site myself, neglecting some of my other duties, to free Vince up for Carrollton. I’ve been at this drilling business ‘a few’ more years than you. I guarantee you that the operation has been run correctly, no shortcuts in the cementing, no trace of a methane leak.”
Frank smiled. “Did you check the Beta logs? For your article?”
“I didn’t have to. I know what they say—”
“About yourself. And so, oh wonder of wonders, divine enlightenment led you to your ‘honest’ conclusion with the speed of lightning: ‘It’s Alpha!’ How can a reasonable person believe you when you open your mouth or hit the keys on your laptop?”
Doyle’s face was one scowl. Mary shifted in her chair, her worries intensifying by the minute. How was this going to end? She attempted a weak, “Maybe, Mr. Doyle, maybe you and Vince and Frank together could—”
“You shut up, woman!” Doyle shouted. “Where do you get the nerve to talk about matters you’ve only read about in activist articles? Scum. And you, Anderson, forget the ninety percent of your severance I haven’t paid you yet. You violated the terms of our arrangement. And now you both get out. We’re done.” He pointed at the door.
