Death Canyon

by David Riley Bertsch

  Makter glanced around. The instruments, monitors, and literature in the office seemed complicated, despite what Jan said, but Mak learned long ago never to doubt Jan’s intellect.

  “It took a few days for me to get a grasp on everything. Anything gets out of my control, I just call my contact and they take care of it. In two more weeks, our project is over; it’s really just a test, you see, and we all go home.”

  “Except for Trent?” Mak asked hopefully.

  Jan looked frustrated. “Do whatever the hell you want with Trent. Just don’t lead him here. And cut the cult bullshit. Then you can use your imagination, if it’s feasible.”

  “Feasible? Trent is responsible for what happened to your son. . . . They could’ve killed us! I want you there to watch him suffer and die! I went to fucking prison, Jan. Six years! How can you be so fucking soft? He deserves worse than death. Your son—”

  “Don’t tell me about my son!” Jan’s voice rose again, and then settled quickly. “I’m getting too old for this bullshit. If I finish this job, I go home to my family with my money. If I go chasing after Jake Trent, I risk it all. There’s a time for vengeance, Mak. For me, that time has passed. I bid you luck in your endeavor against him.”

  Makter stood up. “You’re being a pussy, Jan, and you know it.” He slammed his fist down on a desk. He was crossing the line, but the words had already left his mouth. His old friend responded in a surprisingly calm tone.

  “Is there anything else?”

  “No.” Makter caught his breath.

  “Okay, then one last thing.”

  Makter sat back down, trying to remain cool. “Okay, what is it?”

  “Do you know why I hired you? Why I always hire you?”

  “Because I’m good at what I do.”

  “Because I didn’t want to take the risk. I hired you back then and now because I wasn’t willing to go to jail, and I had money. You needed money and were willing to take the risk. That’s business.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “My point is that our government learned of this project, gave it the green light, and gave responsibility to some private security brain farm who hired the tech people, who hired some scientists. This went on and on until I got the call. I’m the project manager, the man on the ground, the fixer, but I needed help. The men at the top of the chain have no idea who I am, and my boss has no idea who you are. That’s the way everyone wants it.”

  Makter looked confused.

  Jan sighed. “Do you know why our criminal justice system works? Because everyone can deny accountability for the awful punishments they hand out. The judge makes the call but doesn’t have to witness the execution. The executioner takes a life, but he feels no remorse because it was at the judge’s orders. You are the executioner.”

  More confusion. “What are you getting at, Jan?”

  “Just do your part. No more, no less. And then collect your money.”

  * * *

  After Makter left, Jan poured himself a drink. He stepped out onto the deck and looked over the rolling hills and buttes of northern Yellowstone. For a second he thought he felt the earth move again. He hoped it was just the booze.

  He hadn’t mentioned the quakes to Makter. Hadn’t told his old friend everything.

  If I’m going down out here in the middle of nowhere, Makter is going down with me.

  Jan finished his scotch in one gulp.

  * * *

  Noelle thought she felt a tremor, but it could have been her nerves. Jake looked at her, confirming that she had. It lasted only a few seconds. They were at Noelle’s cabin doing some research on EcoAmicae. Jake’s bed-and-breakfast was still unsafe.

  They’d settled on leaving the police out of the equation from now on. Even if the cops weren’t in on it, Terrell and his crew had been useless to this point. There was no reason to believe they could help now.

  The research was yielding very little. EcoAmicae had been fingered for a few acts of questionable legality—trespassing, chaining themselves to trees, and otherwise interfering with development. But for the most part, they seemed to get positive press. An Internet search yielded message boards that coordinated rallies and fund-raisers. Their website sold T-shirts, vegan cookbooks, and green living manuals.

  “I don’t really see any reason to think these guys are out to kill you,” Noelle said over her shoulder.

  “Can I have a look?” Noelle agreed, and handed the laptop over to Jake.

  Jake scrolled through the search results, clicking on a few links. Noelle was right. There wasn’t anything incriminating to be found. Jake opened one of the message boards. There wasn’t much besides a few random rants and old meeting info.

  One user name stuck out: WYldlife111. Based on the username, the person was a local. The WY likely referred to Wyoming, and the number of environmentalists seemed to drop off precipitously once you left Teton County. WYldlife111 had to be here.

  Jake searched for all posts by that name. He or she had contributed quite a bit to the forum. From the posts, Jake could confirm that WYldlife111 was in fact in Jackson; there were plenty of references to Teton County. He copied the username and pasted it into the search engine.

  Noelle watched him. “Got something?” Jake didn’t answer. Noelle paced the cabin, thinking.

  Most of the results were garbage, site squatters trying to sell their domain names. The seventh one down—www.theonlycause.com—seemed promising, so Jake clicked on it and navigated to its message board.

  Jake waved Noelle over but kept his eyes on the screen. “Look at this.” Jake pointed to a thread started by someone under the username WYld111. “It looks like this person posts on both the EcoAmicae board and this one. They live here in Jackson.”

  “Check it out, click on it.”

  The post was dated only ten days ago. It was a call to action for the very protest Noelle had witnessed in the square. This was enough to get Jake’s attention, and he carefully read each post on the thread.

  “Holy shit!” Noelle pointed at the middle of the screen. Her heart stopped.

  #12 Re: . . . “town square protest . . .” BondurantJOE says: fingers crossed for appearance by THE Mr. S!!! (finally!)

  “I remember this! There was a bunch of people there in the square protesting. Some asshole smashed an egg on my car. The Shaman was there?”

  “Maybe.” THE Mr. S? The Shaman?

  Jake searched all posts referencing “Mr. S” and then tried the entire web. There were occasional mentions but nothing really stood out. No history of violence; quite the contrary.

  “Seems more like a hippie than a terrorist.”

  Noelle considered the statement. “Maybe something sent him over the edge?”

  Noelle was walking around the cabin, bouncing an old tennis ball nervously on the wooden floor. Occasionally a noise from outside would startle her, and she would look out the window.

  Jake eventually noticed this. “I think we’re safe, Noelle. I don’t think anybody knows we’re here. Besides, nobody is after you.”

  Noelle wasn’t so sure. “How do you know? Did I tell you a bear tried to get in here the other night? When I found the couple up there? Walked right over to my window, huffing and puffing, like it was trying to scare me.” Noelle was pinching her brow between her thumb and forefinger, clearly anxious. Almost forgot about the bear . . .

  Jake stood up and walked over to her. “Noelle, think about where you live. Look outside.” Noelle looked through the window into the dense pine forest.

  “I’m guessing you’ve seen bears up here before?” Jake was giving her a comforting smile, and just wry enough to show her how silly her suspicion was.

  “Well, yeah.”

  “Look, maybe you should take a little break from all this.” Jake closed the laptop. “It’s for the best really, it might get dangerous, you know?” He walked back over to her and put his hand on her shoulder.

  The sexism implied in his statement irritated N
oelle. She stepped back, away from his reach. “No way. I’m fine. You know I’m actually a federal law enforcement agent, right, Mr. Big-Time Lawyer? Let’s just go get some fresh air. I haven’t had exercise in way too long.”

  * * *

  Noelle set the pace high, a power walk bordering on a jog. From the cabin they headed due west toward the Tetons. It was late afternoon, but the sun was high and bright. Evening’s chill was still an hour away.

  It’s only Tuesday? Jesus. A lot has happened in the last couple days. She looked at Jake. Including that. A smile crept onto her face.

  She skipped up and over the rocks on the trail. She knew the route well. In half a mile, they reached a series of shallow lakes and marshes. The Cathedral Group—the range’s highest peaks—loomed over the water and were reflected back up from its glassy surface.

  Noelle stopped.

  “Never gets old, does it?” Jake said aloud.

  “The view? No, it sure doesn’t.” Noelle felt a momentary wave of serenity.

  They started moving again, but at a slower pace, walking alongside the water. It was still early in the summer, but some of the birds had returned for the season. A bald eagle was stoically perched atop a lodgepole pine across the pond from them, looking for fish. In the mud, Jake pointed out the tracks of moose, elk, and coyote.

  While they walked, Noelle thought:

  All this chaos, and no sign of it here. Nature plugs along as if nothing is happening.

  After fifteen minutes walking along the shore, Noelle spoke.

  “Wanna run back?” She had a devilish smile on her face.

  Jake looked down at his attire, corduroy pants and a button-down flannel shirt. Stiff leather boots.

  “Oh, c’mon!” Noelle pleaded before Jake could even speak. “I’ll take it easy on you. Follow me!”

  * * *

  Noelle pranced off directly into the woods, taking a different route from the one they used to get there. Jake tried his best to keep up. The trail was not as well used as the first. It looked to Jake like it was just a game trail, something used by the elk and moose to get to the water in the evening. The willows and underbrush kept it isolated from the sky and the rest of the world. Time after time, Jake had to slow his jog to a walk to squeeze through small openings in the vegetation. This was a perfect place to surprise a bear or moose.

  Apparently she’s not so frightened anymore, Jake thought as he strained to keep up.

  Up ahead, Noelle was gaining more ground, her fitness and familiarity with the trail giving her a clear advantage. After what seemed like an eternity to Jake, the trail finally tunneled through one last thicket and into a pine forest. Just ahead was Noelle’s cabin.

  He slowed to a walk and caught his breath as he approached the back of the cabin. There was no sign of Noelle.

  When Jake was breathing normally, he shouted, “Remind me never to go jogging with you again.” He waited for a response. “Noelle?”

  Suddenly alarmed, Jake slowly came around the corner of the house. He slowed his breathing. The front door was open. He picked up a sturdy stick from the ground and tested its strength, should he have to use it as a weapon. It held against his pressure; it would do.

  He walked along the front of the cabin, ducking down so that the porch obscured him from the view of anyone within. Jake couldn’t see anything; the cabin looked empty.

  Quietly, he walked up the front steps and onto the porch. The wood creaked slightly under his weight. With the make-do club drawn back and ready to strike, he slid in through the door.

  Kssshhhhhh! The sound of glass shattering. Noelle yelped, but Jake didn’t see her. The ruckus came from the right, near the sink. He quickly spun and finally saw her, standing alone, hands in the air, with a shocked look on her face.

  “Jake?! What the hell?”

  “Jesus!” Jake said aloud, tilting his head back and sighing with relief. He tossed the stick through the open door and onto the gravel driveway.

  “I thought something had happened. I thought someone was in here with you.”

  Noelle was stooped over picking up shards of glass from the floor, breathing heavily.

  “I appreciate your vigilance, but I was just having a glass of water.”

  They both laughed. Jake walked over to her and helped her clean up the mess.

  26

  JACKSON. LATER THAT DAY.

  Makter drove back to Jackson, trying to decipher the message Jan had just given him. It’s all gibberish. He’s getting philosophical now?! He thinks he’s so much better than me.

  He had to take the long way back to the motel—through Idaho, crossing the Henrys Fork and climbing over Teton Pass into Jackson Hole. He checked his phone messages when he got there. Nothing on the room phone. His cell phone had quite a few messages, eleven to be exact, but he deleted them after listening to the first three. Everyone was looking for the Shaman. Each caller reported that they had done as he asked and that the development site was ruined. Makter knew this wasn’t true—they probably had delayed the development by only a few days, not that it mattered. For all they’d done to annoy him, he would miss his followers. Miss the power. But Jan had given him an ultimatum: continue and get removed from the job. If he was fired, Makter knew this also meant that Jan would have him killed.

  But is that the only way?

  He had worked so hard to achieve something, and now it had been taken away. Jan couldn’t understand it. Makter needed the power. He needed his followers.

  There had to be some way that both he and Jan could get what they wanted.

  If not, kill the asshole! Makter ignored the voice as best he could.

  He called the front desk for a massage.

  “Yes. A female massage therapist, please.”

  * * *

  Meanwhile, on the deck of the big cedar house, Jan was desperately trying to get ahold of his wife. He hadn’t spoken to her in weeks. For all he knew, she had left Argus with the caregiver and wandered off to Vegas or Rio. It wasn’t really her he was worried about, though.

  After the fourth attempt at her cell phone, he left a message: “Hi, we need to talk. Something came up. Do not come West no matter what you do. Call me as soon as you can. Good-bye.” He hadn’t told her he loved her in years.

  Should he warn Makter of the danger?

  It’s too early. If things got worse, he could still warn him. For now, the risk of disclosure didn’t outweigh the benefits.

  Who knows what he might do? Kill me? Ruin the whole experiment?

  Both possibilities were equally undesirable to Jan. The machines had only a half mile to go and then ten million dollars would be his, maybe more. Legal and tax free. He would be able to care for Argus again—regain some pride in his life.

  * * *

  In Jackson, another quake was rocking Makter’s bed. I swear these fucking things are getting stronger. The TV went out momentarily, only to come back on a bit fuzzier. Jesus, Makter thought. If I’m gonna deal with this shit I wanna be in California, where it’s warm.

  27

  GRAND TETON NATIONAL PARK. THAT EVENING.

  It was dark outside. Noelle poured boiling water over the noodles in the Styrofoam cup, walked over, and handed Jake his dinner.

  “I know it’s not gourmet.”

  “It’s perfect. Thank you.” Jake was back at the laptop now, his shirt still sweaty from the run. Noelle was pacing again.

  “It just doesn’t make sense,” she said. “This old enemy of yours is around, doing who knows what. Then there’s this development project, which you oppose, I mean we all do, and a group of conservationists are after you because they think you support it? What are we missing? How would they get that idea? You really think this is all related?”

  “I don’t know, probably. It doesn’t make sense to me either, but sometimes it’s hard to understand things when you can’t relate to the person behind it all.”

  “You mean like ‘seeing things through the eyes of a madman�
� kind of thing?”

  “Something like that.”

  Noelle went back to her thoughts again. Now walking the inside perimeter of the cabin, still occasionally looking out the window.

  “Holy shit,” Jake whispered. Noelle scrambled over to the table where Jake sat.

  “What?!”

  “One of the members of this site—Cursed1—his quote says ‘Save the Willamette—NO MORE DAMS!’ ”

  “So?”

  Jake spoke fast. “The Willamette River. It’s a short ways from Lewis and Clark Law School. The anadromous fish, steelhead and salmon, their spawning runs have been demolished by dams on the river. And under education, it says JD.”

  “What do fish have to do with this?”

  “Nothing. The dead lawyer I found in the river. He went to Lewis and Clark.”

  “Didn’t a lot of people?”

  “Sure, but this guy lives here. He must, he responded to the protest invitation. Said he couldn’t make it.”

  Noelle looked at the screen. He was registering as a member.

  “Thank you! Your username and password will arrive shortly!”

  Jake opened his email. From www.theonlycause.com, a username and temporary password were already in his in-box. He went back to the page, entered the information, and clicked the log-on button.

  “Maybe I can get more information this way.” He searched by member for Hawlding. Cursed1 had chosen not to enter his or her real name.

  “Shit!” Jake’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, unsure where to go next.

  “Try C. Stanford. The name from the receipt.”

  Jake nodded and entered the name. There was a long list of posts and messages that contained both “C.” and “Stanford.” Jake scrolled through the first page of results and then opened the second, then the third.

  “I don’t see anything.”

  “Stop! Middle of the page.”

  Jake looked where she pointed.

  CarlofNature (posts to)>Cursed1, re: celebration: r u nervous or excited or both?

  “There’s no response.”