by Ron Walden
One of the medical technicians stepped down from the plane. “We have checked, Sir. The man is dead. It is hard to tell, but it looks like a heart attack.” Then turning to Piersol, “I know this was an important friend of yours, Mr. Piersol. We would not ordinarily transport a dead man, but in this case we would do this for you, if you wish.”
“Yes, thank you. He is a very large man. You’re going to need help removing him from the airplane. I’ll have men from the hangar help you. There is a small fork lift in the hangar, you might put the stretcher on the forks and lift him down with that,” Piersol offered.
The two pilots were now stepping out of the plane.
“Rigby, would you and Wells stay here and supervise the removal of Mr. Bergstrom? Then bring my bags and those four file boxes up to Mr. Piersol’s,” Talbert said; then turned to Piersol. “I’ll find an office space to set up in just as soon as I can. Meanwhile, would you put me up for a short while?”
“Of course. It would be my pleasure. Come, I will have the men in the hangar come out to help; then we will drive out to my home. We can talk on the way.”
In the car, on the dusty road to his home, Piersol spoke in a low voice. “I want you to know that I am very sad about the loss of my friend. He has done many favors for me over the years. I will miss him.”
“Nels had a great deal of faith in you, too,” Talbert began. “He respected you and trusted you. I am assuming the leadership of the company. I hope to enjoy a smooth transition. There are several problems that must be dealt with as soon as possible. I’m going to need an assistant I can trust, someone to do the job I have done all these years. I would like you to take over that position.”
“This is very sudden and, frankly, almost overwhelming. I don’t know what to say. I’m deeply flattered by the offer. And you are correct about some serious problems to be dealt with immediately. How much time will I have to think about this, Mr. Talbert?”
“You can call me Russ when we are in private. How much time do you need? Will tomorrow be too soon?”
“I’ll have an answer for you by morning.” There was silence in the car for several minutes before Piersol spoke again. “The house is just up this drive. We could use a drink. No?”
Talbert was sitting on the veranda, watching the rain, and sipping a scotch and water, at the instant the attack was initiated on the ranch. He, of course, knew nothing of the raid or the death of John Sutter. He sat on the porch planning his strategy. He knew the Feds were trying to get enough evidence to arrest Bergstrom. How could he come out of this with the company intact, remain the Chief Executive Officer, and not get arrested?
The first order of business was to establish a communications network. The Venezuelan government owned controlling interest in the telephone company; therefore, it should be relatively easy to bribe an official to get a satellite station with a direct link to the office in Phoenix and connect with their existing network.
Secondly, since he had control of the offshore bank accounts, he could continue to finance the drug running business. He must be careful though, not to connect himself directly with any drug cartels or members. He figured that, since he was in South America, there would be attempts to contact him in person. He could not allow it, for safety sake.
Third, and most important, he must shut down the attempt to control worldwide oil shipping and oil pricing. He must let the price of oil stabilize on its own. It would take some doing, but he must establish a good relationship with the very people Bergstrom had been manipulating and intimidating. This would be the difficult part, building trust.
When the communication center was in place, he could begin. Meanwhile, he would have Donald Piersol contact Edwardo Martinez. He would have the two men resume oil flow and production from their own companies and pipelines. It was almost certain Japan would take control of the Maruma Corporation and start the supertankers moving again. With Yamamata in jail, that portion of the plan was bankrupt. Oil flow in Europe and north Africa were still being controlled, but Kisishkin was becoming undependable. He attached too much importance to military logic and not enough on financial influence.
That was it then. He would start the oil flowing again and become the hero of this disaster. The Board of Directors would have to concede that Russell Talbert had saved the company from financial ruin and possible takeover by the government. The government would not arrest him because he had been able to end the present crisis. The price of oil would stabilize, but at a much higher price than before, increasing profits for everyone around the world. They would view him as a savior too, for helping to establish higher crude oil prices when no one else could accomplish that fete. Yes, the plan would work.
Talbert was tired. He had been up nearly all night. He had suffered an adrenaline rush during the moments of Bergstrom’s attack. That, combined with the exhaustion and the Scotch he had just drunk, made him extremely weary. He decided he would take a short nap before going to dinner.
General Lianid Kisishkin didn’t want to admit it to Bergstrom, but his political and military influence were rapidly eroding. The government was regaining control of the Trans Russian Pipeline. That pilot, Popov, landing in Alaska, could be traced back to his command. With the Russian government trying to cement relations with the U.S. and procure huge loans, it would be a disastrous blow to his authority, Boris would see to that, personally.
Bergstrom had provided a large amount of cash for him to use. This was deposited in several banks outside Russia. If he could get to the Switzerland banks before being apprehended, he stood a good chance of escaping to South America, where he could live handsomely for the rest of his life.
He had moved his headquarters regularly, every several days, during the past months. This made it difficult for anyone to find him. Now in Dushambe, He would take a car across the provincial border into Kirghiz, then to Pishpek where he would get a commercial airliner to Switzerland.
The Russian president, however, had different plans. He had put a bounty on the head of Kisishkin. He knew that, in these harsh economic times, cash was worth more than loyalty. His men had traced Kisishkin to Dushambe and were on their way to arrest him when word was received that the General, carrying one bag, had driven his own car off the military installation. A quick conference was called to discuss the possibility that he was running. The logical escape point was from another province where he’d catch a commercial airliner.
The nearest airport, with flights to Europe, was 300 kilometers east. It would take at least 4 hours to make the drive. The small, six man, contingent acquired an airplane from Kisishkin’s base and flew to Pishpek. They waited more than 2 hours for the General’s arrival. When he arrived, it was near time for a flight to Zurich to depart. As General Lianid Kisishkin entered the terminal, he was arrested by the six ex-KGB officers.
In Phoenix, Dan Webster, Roger Dorfmann, and Gwen Stevens were spending most of their time helping with funeral arrangements and comforting their fallen friend’s family. The three had gone to the office for a few hours to write several reports, but the search of records and mundane tasks of investigation were now turned over to the officials from the task force. It would be several months before word of Bergstrom’s death reached the trio.
After the funeral, Roger and Gwen returned to Alaska. Dan and his wife, Beth, flew to California to visit with her parents before returning to their life, their family, and their home in Alaska. That home and family life was even more precious to them now. Sonja Sutter and her children would become closer than before. It was going to take a long time to get over the sadness of their loss.
Roger and Dan were bitter because they had let Bergstrom slip through their grasp. Neither man could have prevented his leaving but each took it personally. Each felt responsible. They had again suffered the loss of a friend and the man responsible was free to continue his criminal activity. It was going to take Dan much longer to absolve himself of blame than it would Roger. Both men would, however, harbor
bitterness for a long time to come.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
Gasoline rationing ended only days after the raid on the ranch in Arizona. The price of crude oil remained above $26 per barrel on the world market, nearly double the price of crude before the crisis. The Senate was talking about more oil industry regulations. For the most part, things were getting back to normal in America.
Three months passed since the death of John Sutter. Gwen returned to her position as technician at the pump station. She was moved to the top of the list for position of pump station supervisor. It had been a difficult 3 months, keeping her life her own. The news media, and in particular the pictorial magazines, found her to be an interesting subject. Gwen hated the notoriety. She enjoyed a small amount of freedom from the pests during her work week on the north slope. She wished they’d just go away.
During her weeks off, she spent a lot of time with Roger. They enjoyed the same things and were comfortable in each other’s company. She suspected Roger was about to ask her to marry him. She spent time searching her own soul for answers to that question. She had been happily married once, but the years of pain, suffered after her loss, were not balanced by the memories of her late husband. Roger was engaged in a dangerous profession, she could lose him, too. She loved Roger with all her being, but what would she be like if something happened to him?
Roger was extremely busy. He barely had time for meals and he was losing weight. Preparation for the trials ahead was mind boggling. He worked long hours while Gwen was on the slope, in order to relax enough to be with her while she was home. His mind kept drifting back to her. All his life had been dedicated to the job. Now, after all these years, something was more important. He was deeply in love with this beautiful blond.
Dan was delighted when the office in Anchorage asked him if, on his first week back at the pump station, he’d fly into Fairbanks, pick up the little plane he had borrowed from his friend on the north slope, and return it to the Deadhorse airport. In Fairbanks, he stopped at an electronics store and purchased a portable compact disc player. With it, he bought several country and western discs. He tucked the package into his bag before taking off for the far north.
His only stop on the way to Deadhorse was in Bettles. The young native girl came out of the cabin to put gas in the small craft.
“You can get cinnamon roll and coffee inside,” she said. “Hey, I remember you. Steve let you use his airplane.”
“Yes, that’s right. I have something for you. You did such a good job the last time I was here, I brought you a gift.” Dan reached into his bag and brought out the disc player and the discs. “Here, I hope you enjoy the music.”
She looked at the gift in disbelief.
“This is for me?”
“All for you.”
“Shouldn’t you give this to the pretty lady with you last time?”
“She’d like you to have it, too.”
Dan went inside to drink coffee. He rested and visited with the family about an hour, then returned to his plane to drain the fuel tanks of water and check the oil before taking off into the afternoon sun. The voice on the radio was the same one he had talked with on his trip south.
“Have a good flight; you made my daughter very happy. Come again when you can stay with us for a while.”
“Thanks,” Dan responded, “I’ll do that.”
His work was interrupted often, as was that of Gwen and Roger, to fly “outside,” the lower 48, for depositions and pretrial hearings. It had been three months of confusion and courts, lawyers, and press. Would it ever end? This week, however, he was going to be off work and he was going fishing with Roger and Gwen, and for a barbecue. Dan, an avid salmon fisherman, preferred a flyrod to more traditional bait or spin casting methods. Four species of salmon return to the Kenai River each summer. Dan fished for them all, and used whatever method worked best: flies for reds, silvers, and pinks; trolling and drifting for kings.
It was late afternoon on this, the last Friday of September. The silver salmon were running in the river and Dan was looking forward to giving exercise to a few of them. The days were getting shorter, but it was still daylight until 10 at night. His tackle box was a mess with hooks and lures tangled. He sat at the kitchen table sorting the tangle and teasing Beth.
“You claim to be a good housekeeper, but just look at the mess you left in this tackle box. And you’ve had all summer to straighten it out.”
She turned, wiping her left hand on her apron, shaking a large kitchen knife at him with her right. “I’ll straighten it out for you, mister,” she said, laughing. It was good to have her life returning to normal. The memories were still very painful, but being home, in familiar surroundings, made them bearable.
The ringing telephone interrupted them. Dan reached for the receiver.
“Hello.”
“Hello, my name is Wilson Carson. I’m from New York and I have some papers for you. I’d like to come to your home to talk with you, if you don’t mind.”
“Are you a reporter?” Dan asked skeptically.
“No Sir. I’m an attorney.”
“An attorney! Does this have to do with the Government case I’m involved in?” “No Sir, it doesn’t. This is a separate matter all together. I’d like to speak with you personally. I promise, this will bring no harm to you, or your family.”
“Okay, but I reserve the right to throw you out if I don’t like what you’re peddling.” Dan gave the lawyer directions to his home, and hung up the phone.
“What’s that all about?” Beth asked.
“I don’t know. Some attorney from New York. He wouldn’t say what it was about. He’s coming out here, though. I think I should find my little tape recorder. Just in case.”
Beth was more than a little upset.
“Why won’t they leave us alone, Dan? When will all this be over?”
“Take it easy, honey. He said it didn’t have anything to do with the Government cases. Let’s just wait and see what he has to say.”
They didn’t have long to wait. It was less than 10 minutes until the rental car pulled into the drive. Dan and Beth were home alone; the two boys were at the river, fishing. They waited at the door. Dan had his arm around Beth’s waist.
The car opened, a small, neatly dressed young man stepped out.
“Are you Dan and Elizabeth Webster?”
“That’s right. And you must be Mr. Carson. Come in.”
They sat in the living room, Beth brought coffee, while Lawyer Carson sorted through his papers and arranged them in proper order. He reached into his brief case one more time and retrieved a large document with a blue cover. He handed it to Dan.
“Mr. Webster, there is no need to read all this now, but this is your copy of, that portion of the will, which concerns you,” he began.
“Wait a minute. Whose will? Who died?”
“Let me start at the beginning. You have been named as a beneficiary in the estate of Nels Bergstrom. Did you know him personally?”
“Bergstrom’s dead?” Dan asked with surprise in his voice.
“Yes, Mr. Webster. He died of a heart attack 3 months ago while on a flight to Venezuela. The estate has kept it quiet, as most of the holdings are either held by the Bergstrom Enterprises Corporation or are outside the United States.
“Here’s a letter of introduction,” Carson took the top sheet from his brief case, “which will explain that our firm has been employed by Mr. Bergstrom for many years. We now represent his estate in the matter of his will.”
“I can’t believe it, Bergstrom is really dead?” Dan asked again.
“Yes, Sir, he is really dead.”
“I wonder why Roger hasn’t found out?” Dan asked himself, aloud.
“It’s like I said,” Carson explained again. “Not many people, outside the executive board, know about this.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to keep interrupting you, but this is extremely hard to believe. So what did old Bergstrom
leave me in his will? Another bomb?”
“No Sir. There is a letter in the document I gave you. Mr. Bergstrom admired you. You were the most honest and dedicated man he’d ever met. Although the two of you were on opposite sides of some issues, Mr. Bergstrom had great respect for you. You must have had contact with him, some 20 years ago, where you lost your job. He felt you had been treated unjustly, and, like I said, he admired and respected you.
“He had been involved in financing a wildcat oil operation at that time,” Carson continued, “and acquired a very large block of stock in the new company. He set up a trust, in a Bahamian bank, in your name. The trust has been managed by the bank since then. The original trust was a holding of 25,000 shares of TexWest Oil Company. The history of the trust is contained in this folder.” Carson handed another sheaf of papers to Dan. “TexWest no longer exists. It merged with some other company a short time after the trust was established. The bank in the Bahamas did well with your investment.
“I suggest you contact your lawyer to make certain everything is in proper order.” He handed Dan one more folder filled with legal documents. “Then, if you are satisfied, you can sign this release and the trust will be turned over to you.”
Dan was thumbing through the papers. They seemed to be genuine. “I can’t imagine Bergstrom doing anything for me, after all, he got me shot twice. Just how much is this trust worth anyway.”
“The total changes constantly, but as of the close of business in the Bahamas on Wednesday, it was,” Carson spoke while looking at a ledger sheet in his brief case, “1,585,000 shares of assorted stock, mostly oil, and $3,621,911”
Beth looked at the man in disbelief. “Are you saying we have over three and a half million dollars in the bank?”
“Yes, ma’am. That is exactly what I’m saying. And since the holdings are outside the U.S., there are special tax considerations. I can recommend a good tax attorney with our firm if you’re interested.”
