“Now!” he roared.
“I’m coming, too,” Georgia volunteered, pulling the cotton balls from between her toes.
“No. Someone’s got to stay here,” Noah quickly said. “Just in case.”
“Just in case of what?” she asked suspiciously.
“Just in case! That’s all. We don’t want to attract any attention. Two people are already more than enough. Three are way too many,” he gruffly explained.
I had the distinct feeling Noah was trying to protect her.
“Great,” Georgia pouted. “So I’m the one who gets to stay home. What am I? The happy housewife?”
She poured the remaining vodka into the blender and flipped on the switch, drowning out the possibility of any further conversation.
We walked out the door, the whirring of the blender following us like an angry hornet. Noah quickly made a beeline for his Suburban before I could say a word.
“Why don’t we take my Blazer for a change?” I suggested. I was getting tired of playing sidekick in his wreck of a vehicle.
Noah stopped abruptly. “Listen, Porter. I don’t like the idea of you coming along either. So don’t push it.”
I turned and stared him down. “Noah, you couldn’t stop me if you ran me over with your damn truck.”
“I know that,” he growled. “Why the hell do you think you’re coming?”
Noah jerked open the door of his Suburban and jumped in as I made a dash for the passenger side, afraid he might leave me behind. Reaching under his seat, he produced the same rumpled Hawaiian shirt he had worn yesterday, complete with the sour aroma of day-old Bud.
“Yeah. That’s a good cover. Pretend you’re a drunk going to a luau. That shouldn’t attract too much attention,” I commented snidely.
He pulled on the shirt, not bothering to retort. Turning on the engine, he headed out into the night.
Noah knew the way better than I ever would have. He navigated past each rock and perilous slope in the dark as if he had done it countless times before. I snuck a glance and was taken aback by the focused look of determination on his face. The overwhelming silence gnawed at me. Noah had provided more questions to think about than answers.
“Are you certain it was Brian Anderson that you saw at Los Alamos?” I asked. “After all, it was a few years ago. Maybe you have him confused with someone else.”
With all the booze Noah must have consumed between then and now, I wasn’t sure how much his memory could be trusted.
“Of course I’m certain,” Noah snarled. “I’ve got the mind of a souped-up computer. I never forget a thing. I knew I’d seen that silver-haired freak somewhere before.” I didn’t remind him that it had taken until now for his souped-up mind to click in.
“If you’re right and Anderson really does work for DOE, why would he pose as the manager of a mine?” I countered.
“Good question, Red. That’s exactly what we’re going to find out,” Noah replied.
The clouds were beginning to break, allowing the moon to slip in and out of its cover like a child playing a game of hide and seek. Just enough light shone for Noah to drive with only his dims. We had barely reached the summit overlooking Golden Shaft when a noise ripped through the blanket of night, slapping the air in an unexpected assault, and quickly escalating into a whirring roar. Noah immediately cut the engine and doused the lights before jumping out of the Suburban to get a better view. I joined him, hunkering down close as I approached the ledge.
The lights were on at the mine, where a group of people were busy milling about. But it was what had caused the noise that caught our attention. A large, unmarked black chopper hovered just above the ground, a canvas sling attached like a kangaroo’s pouch below its belly. Sticking out of the top was what appeared to be part of a boring machine. We watched as the chopper slowly pulled up and away. Silhouetted against the moon, the cargo was anchored by a large metal hook held firmly in place with a thick coil of cable.
“It looks like they’re moving out. But why at night? It doesn’t make any sense,” I whispered.
Noah didn’t respond. I turned around, my stomach lurching, to find he was no longer there. A wave of panic rippled through me. I quietly backtracked to the Suburban, where I found Noah banging his head on the steering wheel over and over again.
“Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!” he exclaimed.
I slid into my seat and took a deep breath, relieved that he hadn’t mysteriously disappeared, as I watched his head bob up and down.
“Exactly what is it that you’re referring to in this particular instance?” I asked.
Noah stopped and raised his head. A curved red line looked as if it had been permanently carved into his brow.
“Those tortoises of yours were the tip-off. But the ’copters are how they did it!” Noah exclaimed and then laughed at the thought. “It really was just that simple! How the hell could I have been so blind?” He slapped himself on the forehead.
“Clue me in here, Noah—because there’s obviously something you know that I don’t.”
Noah leaned toward me and whispered in my ear. “Spent nuclear rods, Porter. They’ve been bringing them in here on government Black Hawks at night, all along.”
I looked at him and froze, the implication more than I was willing to imagine.
“You’re saying the mine is a front? That this is really a nuclear waste facility?”
“Welcome to the wacky world of DOE, Red Riding Hood.” Noah gave me a wicked grin. “I’ll bet Granny’s house that what they’re doing is testing the stuff here.”
“What do you mean, testing it?” I asked apprehensively.
“Look around you, Porter. The rock structure here is exactly the same as the rock structure at Yucca Mountain,” Noah explained, an edge of excitement creeping into his voice. “Because of all the ruckus by anti-nuke activists, DOE has never been able to fully test their system for storing spent nuclear rods there. And they need to see just how well it will work. Think about it,” he continued. “What better place to test how effective your set-up is than out here in the middle of nowhere? A place that everyone thinks is a gold mine? And to top it off, one that’s about to be closed to keep unwanted visitors away! Shit, I couldn’t have planned it better myself.”
I was tempted to accuse him of having watched one too many episodes of X-Files. I really wanted to believe that Noah was just one more nut case feeding off conspiracy theories.
“We’re being shafted all right, Porter. DOE set up this mine as a shell company in order to secretly lease the land and then buy it. And while I’ve been keeping my eye on Yucca, they’ve probably been conducting all their testing on nuclear waste right here.”
I continued to look for loopholes in his theory, though everything Noah said was beginning to make scary sense.
‘‘But how can they legally get away with it?” I asked.
“That’s the beauty of it, Red. Everything changed when Golden Shaft’s patent went through. The fact that DOE doesn’t own all of the land at Yucca was part of their problem. Other agencies were involved, which meant that their work had to be out in the open. But here DOE has total control. They don’t have to squabble with other government agencies about what they can or can’t do. Hell, nobody even knows that they’re here. For chrissake, they just overcame the last legal impediment that stood in their way!” Noah urgently explained.
It suddenly all began to make sense.
“That would explain why those fifteen thousand acres were given to Alpha. The land must have been offered as a kickback to Garrett to help buy the county commission’s silence,” I reasoned aloud.
Noah nodded in agreement, his unkempt hair illuminated by a ray of moonlight that glimmered in through the windshield. “You got it, babe. Funny what an offer of free land in Clark County can accomplish. Especially when it’s to be used for a multi-billion-dollar development deal.”
Clearly it had been enough to buy DOE what it most wanted: anonymity, with its guarantee of no public
hearings, no public protests, no public knowledge.
“Garrett and his cronies get rich off their real estate holdings; meanwhile, the county is kept fat and happy as Las Vegas Valley continues to grow,” I surmised.
Noah beamed. “Red, if you weren’t already in love, I’d marry you myself.”
I felt my face flush and was glad for the cover of night.
“Let’s see what’s going on now,” Noah suggested.
He shimmied out the van door and crept back to the ledge. I followed close behind, glad to have Noah with me. We watched in fascination as a crew of men scurried about, diligently loading equipment and boxes onto a waiting convoy of trucks. The lead lorry’s engine rumbled to life, its low roar filling the valley below. Almost immediately the second truck joined in, and then the third and the fourth until the valley floor reverberated with their growls. I could almost feel the gear shifted out of first and thrust into second as the head truck heaved and then slowly pulled forward. The lorries lumbered past the guarded gate and headed down the road. We watched the slow procession go.
“If this is a nuclear waste facility, why is everyone leaving?” I asked, mystified by what was going on.
Noah pulled at a lone blade of grass and began to nibble on it, deep in thought. “They’re probably just leaving a skeleton crew. In fact, they may not need any staff at all. With the proper computer equipment, this baby can be monitored from anywhere in the U.S.”
He studied the scene below as he continued to munch on the blade. “Still, I can’t see them locking it up and just walking away. Someone will have to be down there.” Noah began to walk back toward the van. “Come on, Red. It’s time to head out.”
The Suburban’s ancient engine whined and complained before finally kicking in, the sound muffled by the din of the departing cavalcade. Noah carefully guided the vehicle along the top of the ridge until the far side of the mine came into view. Ahead of us lay a faint dirt path that appeared to plunge straight to the valley below. I found myself praying that Noah wouldn’t be crazy enough to take it. But before I could wrap up my prayers, Noah had swung the Suburban’s nose onto the path and we headed over the ledge.
My stomach leapt up to my throat as our roller coaster plunged down to meet the earth. Once I was sure we had landed, a rush of words came pouring out in one long, continuous flow.
“Listen, Noah, now that we know about this facility, we can stop it from operating. We can go back and tell—”
Noah cut me off at the pass. “Tell who Rachel? Just who is going to listen to us?”
I stopped and thought about it for a moment before Noah continued. “We need proof, Porter. Without it, we’re just two nuts picking our noses out in the desert in the middle of the night.”
He was right. I would never have believed it myself until now.
Noah studied me and then pulled something out of his pants pocket. He reached for my hand, turned it over, and placed his palm on top of mine. When he took it away, a gold medal of St. Christopher dangling on a chain glistened in the palm of my hand.
“That’s to protect you wherever you go,” Noah said, looking at me intently.
“But you’re Jewish,” I blurted out, taken by surprise and not sure what else to say.
“Yeah? So?” Noah groused. “What does that mean? That a saint can’t help me out every now and then?”
“Why are you giving this to me?” I asked.
Noah chewed on his bottom lip, focusing his attention back on the mine. “At least two people have already been killed over this. And those are only the ones that we know of. DOE’s playing for keeps, Rachel. I want you to stay here and keep watch while I go in and find out what’s going on.”
My hand shot out and grabbed his wrist as his other hand reached for the door.
“If I’m not going in, then neither are you,” I informed him. “What are you trying to do? Get yourself killed?”
Noah grinned at me. “Didn’t I say something like that to you just the other day? When you barged up to those guards like a bat out of hell?”
I didn’t answer.
Noah sighed and patted my hand. “Don’t you get it yet, Porter? I don’t care. I died two years ago along with my family in that flood. This is all I’ve been hanging around for.”
He released my hand as he reached behind the seat, grabbed a large backpack, and headed out the door. I followed close on his heels until he stopped and turned around.
“You’re not going in without me,” I told him defiantly.
Before I knew what was happening, Noah planted a kiss that smelled of Jack Daniel’s and Bud on my lips. I stared at the overweight man in his loud Hawaiian shirt, hairy legs, and cowboy boots, trying to imagine what he must have been like when he was cleaned up and working five years ago.
“Hey, those kisses used to be great,” he smirked, breaking the awkward silence.
“I’m not going to scream sexual harassment and run, if that’s what you’re thinking. Don’t try to scare me off, Noah. I’m coming in with you,” I said, standing my ground.
Noah gave me a wink. “That’s what I like about you, Porter. You’re as crazy as I am.”
Turning back toward the mine, we examined the fence, searching for a way in. Noah had begun to pull out an unwieldy pair of metal snips when I stumbled upon a gully under the wire that was just large enough for us to squeeze through. I realized it must have been the hole Pilot had dug only yesterday. The knot that had formed in my stomach tightened as I motioned to Noah.
Noah looked at the hole skeptically. “Sure. It’s fine for you. For me, crawling under there is gonna be like trying to squeeze through an iron lung.”
I wanted to attract as little attention as possible if we were going to do this. I was worried that the sound of metal snips cutting away at the fence would echo throughout the valley. In addition, it was possible that an alarm could be triggered.
“Listen, if we slide under, no one at the mine will ever know that we’ve been here,” I reasoned. “I promise I’ll help you get through.”
Noah rolled his eyes, dropped his backpack, and hit the dirt. He maneuvered his body between the fence and the ground until he resembled a hot dog stuck in a bun.
“Okay, Porter. Brilliant idea. Now what?” he grumbled.
I sat down next to him, drawing my knees close into my chest, and braced my hands behind my back.
“Now I push,” I said as my feet shot out, propelling his butt under the wire.
“Hey! That hurts, Porter!” he hissed in surprise.
“Just once more for the shoulders,” I promised, setting myself in position again.
“Oh, shit! You’re scraping my tan right off me,” Noah complained. I pushed while he wriggled his shoulders, clearing the fence.
Noah brushed off his back and scrambled to his feet. “If you think I’m going out the same way, think again,” he groused as I slid his backpack under the wire. “I expect a night on silk sheets after this, just to soothe my ravaged skin.” He pulled me through to join him.
Though no guards were in sight, a heavy stillness bore down upon us, as though we’d just breached forbidden ground.
“Now what?” I whispered, afraid of disturbing the silence. “You’re not planning an assault on the main office, are you?”
Noah snorted. “What do you take me for? Rambo? My motto is, If you’ve got a brain, use it. And the first thing it tells me is to stay away from the coffee machine. That’s usually where everyone congregates late at night.”
Noah hesitated, and I wondered if he’d begun to change his mind.
“You sure you want to go through with this?” I asked.
“You chickening out on me, Porter?” Noah taunted.
I’d sooner face Harley and his friends on a bad day. “Lead the way.”
Noah turned and headed off across a large open space as I kept pace behind him. We made it to the base unobserved and then quickly scrambled up the far side of the mine, intersecting with a
dirt road built into the mountain. The path led to an overhang, in which an electric meter box and a telephone were mounted. Closing off entry to the interior was a large steel door.
“Here’s your first tip-off, Red,” Noah noted. “You’ve gotta ask yourself what the hell an electric meter and a phone are doing outside a mine shaft.”
“How did you know this was here?” I asked, not quite ready to believe Noah had the instincts of a bloodhound.
Noah grinned, adjusting the pack on his back. “You think you’re the only detective in town? I started to get suspicious after our visit yesterday. So I set myself up on the ridge early this morning with a pair of high-powered binoculars and a couple of cans of beer, kicked back, and watched the show.”
“Sort of your proverbial fly on the ledge?” I chuckled.
“You got it, Red,” Noah agreed, pleased with the recognition.
I pulled out a pen and jotted the phone number listed on the meter onto the back of my hand. Noah looked at me, raising an eyebrow.
“Hey, you never know,” I said in my own defense, not quite sure why I had done it.
Noah twisted the knob on the door, pressing against the steel with his shoulder. It gave way with a low creak that reverberated loudly in my ears. We walked ten feet inside and found a locked steel grate blocking our way. A second door stood behind it, slightly ajar. I half expected an armed guard to appear and blow us away, but the only thing I could hear was my heart pounding like a battering ram.
We stood still, barely daring to breathe, for what seemed an eternity. If a guard was on duty, he’d apparently taken a break. I pulled out my Leatherman and jimmied the lock. The grate swung silently open.
Noah shook his head in disbelief. “Pathetic, isn’t it? Don’t you think they’d take the time to put a decent latch on the place?”
He closed the outer door behind us as I peeked into a room ablaze with light. It was as if we had been magically transported into a technological wonderland, far away from the barren desert outside. Millions of dollars’ worth of electronic equipment and gear filled the room, each instrument alive with an assortment of lights that glittered and gleamed and blinked on and off. I stood in the looming silence and gaped in astonishment. If I’d been Dorothy in the land of Oz, the Wizard’s voice would have nailed me by now. I’d stepped into a secret world far beyond any I’d ever known, and I knew it would do no good to click my heels. There was no going home now.
Tortoise Soup (Rachel Porter Mysteries) Page 27
