“What changed you?” Mac asked, sensing the conviction in his host’s voice. “What really made you see the world differently?”
“The Exxon Valdez, Mac. When that happened, I saw the damage an oil company could cause. I fought blame for what happened in Galveston Bay. I never looked at or cared about the impact of that on the Gulf. But when the Valdez happened, I went to Alaska and saw it for myself.”
“With a different set of eyes?”
“Yes, very much with a different set of eyes this time—a set of eyes that were opened to the wonders of the world as a diver. I walked that shoreline, I saw the birds coated in oil, the wildlife being choked by the negligence and greed of my industry, and I vowed to do what I could to make a difference.”
“How?”
“First, my companies are privately owned—none are public anymore. I don’t answer to a single shareholder, only to myself. My companies operate above and beyond what is required for safety. When we drill, we drill with the environment in mind first. My people work with authorities to make sure every code is followed to the letter, and in many cases, beyond what is required. We’re always, and I mean always, looking for safety improvements. I have a nonprofit totally dedicated to it.”
“That approach has to impact the bottom line negatively.”
“Perhaps a little, but I’ve found not dramatically so. And I’ve used those profits to fund research on alternative fuels, solar and wind, and I own companies that do all of those things. Through various foundations, we’ve funded research, promoted legislation and regulations, and when necessary, provided money for lawsuits to protect the environment. They don’t know it of course, but my organizations are one of the best allies the EPA has. If anything, I’d like the EPA to have more teeth, not fewer. I’d like to see that president of yours, the man from the Land of Ten Thousand Lakes that your lovely fiancée works for, be the environmentalist and conservationist that deep down inside I know he is.”
“You’re doing all of that?” Mac asked, still dubious.
Rahn smiled. “Mac, it is very safe to say, I have my fingers in everything energy and environment—everything. My interests expand by the day, and until recently, I was having an absolute ball with it all.”
“And nobody knows?”
Rahn shook his head. “And I’ve wanted to keep it that way. I fear if my name were attached to any of these ventures, they could suffer greatly. I’ve spent twenty-five years trying to make a difference. I couldn’t care less about getting any credit for it.”
“You don’t want the world to know you’re a changed man?” Mac asked, starting to believe Rahn.
Rahn waved in disgust. “Nah. I’ve grown to love my anonymity. It’s funny; when I was younger, there wasn’t a camera I wouldn’t talk into, a commercial I wouldn’t film, nor a picture I wouldn’t pose for.”
“And now?”
“I couldn’t care less. When I go to the gates of heaven, I hope what I’ve done with my life the last twenty-five years will outweigh what I did before. Besides, I had Callie. Everything funneled through her, and a few other people, and then up to me. She was my public face for many of my companies, foundations, and organizations. She was the one building her name, her reputation, and when I went, she was going to tell my story and take everything over.”
“Okay, so I now know the story of the last twenty-five to thirty years. What I really need to know about, however, is your recent interest in northwest North Dakota,” Mac said, refilling his coffee cup.
“Originally, it was to frack for oil and natural gas. I prefer gas and believe gas, more than oil, is the future. But we drill for both. Hydraulic fracturing, while it is not perfect, is not as bad as it’s made out to be, especially when done right. Fracking is the future, and it is a way for our country to become more energy independent. We need to get our asses out of the mess that is the Middle East. This is one way to do it.”
“One could say you’re playing both sides of the street.”
“Oh, I am,” Rahn replied, not the least bit ashamed. “I’m in all of it, and when one industry goes up, the others might go down, but energy, in the end, Mac, is always good. It always pays. Even with these lower oil prices, it still pays. As long as we’re around sixty dollars a barrel, we’re making money. I’m just prouder of the way it pays now. I sleep well at night knowing we’re doing it right.”
“How does Callie Gentry get involved up in Williston?”
“The Buller family and our farm property northeast of Williston. That property is in the name of Gentry Enterprises that, at least on paper, it looks like Callie owns, but I ultimately own it. Those poor folks were starting to get sick, very sick, and then their water was starting to smell.”
“I’ve smelled that water,” Mac said with a grimace and looked at his watch. “Fifteen, sixteen hours ago.”
“Then you know it’s bad.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“The Bullers were smart enough folks, and they thought it might have something to do with the oil well drilling nearby. So they first complained to Deep Core. They took a jar of the water with them and went to Deep Core and met with a gentleman named—”
“Adam Murphy,” Mac finished.
“Yes, very good, Mac. Murphy came out and saw firsthand what they were dealing with, so he did some testing, or so the Bullers told Callie. They said for a couple of days he was out in the field behind the house, in the pasture, between the house and the Deep Core wells, drilling down and taking samples. But then some days later some not-so-nice folks from Deep Core showed up and told the Bullers the wells had nothing to do with their water problems and that they should be careful about making any allegations against Deep Core.”
“A little intimidation,” Mac answered. “Hardly the first time that has ever happened.”
“No, it’s not,” Rahn replied with a knowing shake of his head. “I’m not proud to say I sanctioned such behavior in my younger days. In any event, the Bullers got scared and called Callie, saying they needed off the farm, that they were scared. She went up there to see them, and they told her about Murphy. The next day, she did some poking around town, tried to go see Murphy, and met with Deep Core’s local man in charge, a fella named Wheeler.”
“She met with Wheeler? The man lied to me about that.”
“That’s what she said, but then—”
“That night, the Bullers were murdered,” Mac finished.
Rahn nodded.
“Did she finally talk to Murphy after that?”
“Not right away,” Rahn answered. “The first time she talked to him, he denied the whole thing.”
“I bet,” Mac replied. “Murphy saw what happened to the Bullers.”
“I imagine so. But Callie”—the old man smiled—“she was not one to give up easily. She kept on him, calling him every so often, grabbing a seat next to him at a coffee shop, showing up at a conference he was attending. She had a bit of honey badger in her.”
“She stalked him,” Mac suggested.
“Stalking … is a strong term,” Rahn suggested with a knowing grin. “I prefer wearing him down. She sensed and was right, that Adam Murphy had a guilty conscience. About six weeks ago, he finally reached out to her. She met him in Bismarck, at a satellite office for Sterling’s law firm. Murphy reported that he’d tested that water, and he found evidence of significantly increased diesel fuel in it. Diesel fuel contains toxic chemicals, such as benzene, that cause cancer or other serious health problems, even at relatively low doses.”
“There must be a reason to use the increased diesel?”
“Yes.” Rahn nodded. “There are a couple of reasons. One, diesel fuel creates greater separation pressure at the bottom of the well, which causes bigger fractures in the shale so as to release more oil and gas. Problem is, when that greater pressure is released back up the well, it can create cracks in the well casing. The result is leakage, and those chemicals that leak get into the groundwater.”
; “Which I assume the company would know, so, again, why do it?”
“Because Deep Core was in financial distress,” Rahn answered. “They, too, are a privately owned company.”
“Who is the owner?”
“Selwyn O’Herlihy, a third-generation Texas oilman. They’ve been rivals of mine off and on for years. Selwyn’s company is a fairly small player in the oil exploration and drilling world, but he was doing quite well for himself until four years ago.”
“What happened four years ago?”
“There was a rig explosion on a controversial drilling project down in Wyoming. O’Herlihy’s company was found liable and forced to pay millions in damages. I know that, at least in part, because I funded the litigation.”
“What made it controversial?”
“Where and how they were drilling mostly, which was near the town’s water supply and schools. See if this sounds familiar, the drinking water was going bad.”
“Has a certain familiar ring to it.”
“We were helping fight that as well. It was ugly—three locals who were protesting and rallying the town’s residents turned up dead, and then there was the rig explosion. About the time Deep Core finally resolved all of those issues in Wyoming, there was then a train derailment, explosion, and massive oil spill in western Kansas.”
“I read about that,” Mac noted.
“I imagine you did. It was a pretty big national news story for a few days. There was footage of the explosion, which was right on the edge of a small town. That was Deep Core and the railroad in that one. In any event, those events cost Deep Core most of their financial reserves. O’Herlihy was tapped out.”
“But they’re still operating here in North Dakota,” Mac replied.
“They are,” Rahn replied, “but just barely. They couldn’t get their proposed wells at that North Station going because they didn’t have the money.”
Mac suddenly saw where this was going. “But if the wells out by the Bullers were paying big, they could finance it.”
“That’s right,” Rahn answered. “If they paid hugely—which, at the start, they did. Those wells were churning out huge amounts of oil, more than you’d think was really extractable, and with prices approaching $120 a barrel, they were in business. But then oil prices—”
“Started cratering last spring,” Mac finished the thought. “So they didn’t have the money coming in. But—”
“Then they did,” Rahn continued. “O’Herlihy got himself a financial partner.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been trying to find out, but no luck so far. His is a private company, so it doesn’t have to be disclosed. But he got the money he needed to get the North Station project operating.”
“Okay, great,” Mac stated. “The water is bad at the farm, but I still don’t understand why we have nine bodies down?”
“Because of Adam Murphy,” Rahn answered. “Remember our little problem out at the Buller place. Murphy originally reported that to the company, and here’s the kicker—he put his findings in writing.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. The son of a gun wrote a memorandum to the company regarding his tests, and I have a copy of it right here.” Rahn reached into a folder, pulled out a small binder-clipped set of papers, and slid them across the table to Mac.
Mac quickly read through the memo and shook his head. “This thing is the definition of a smoking gun—if it’s real.”
“It’s legit.”
“So you say, but it is a copy,” Mac replied, excited at its prospects but rightfully wary of its authenticity. “I don’t suppose you have the original or, even better, his research to support the memo?”
“No. Callie had them, as did Sterling, and so did that Weatherly fellow they hired to run independent tests as confirmation. She was going to get me a copy of all of it. She was coming to see me and was going to bring Sterling along to put things in motion, but then they were all killed.”
Mac read the page in his hand again. The memorandum summarized the findings, with special attention paid to the diesel component, noting that people coming into contact with the water and consuming it would likely become ill. The water would smell of gas, which was why Mac and Rawlings thought of methane. The report finished with: In conducting drilling, the chemical formula needed to be adjusted to reduce the use of the diesel fuel and ease the pressure in the well. Of course, Mac thought, if you use less diesel fuel, you get less oil out of the deposit and less profit.
“And it wasn’t just one well, Mac. This Weatherly fellow confirmed it was at multiple wells that Deep Core was operating. One can only assume they are doing the same just north of Williston as we speak. They have to be. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be going to such brutal lengths to cover it up.”
“How much does the increased diesel fuel affect what a well produces?” Mac asked.
“It can be significant, Mac. The more you extract, the better, the more profitable the well. And someone like Deep Core can claim they’ve refined their drilling process so as to get more out of the wells. You see, if wells are profitable, it’s easier to get an investor or investors to pony up the money to allow you to get your other wells up and running. Like I said, Deep Core was having some financial issues.”
“But those well projections would encourage someone to invest.”
“Exactly,” Rahn answered. “The history of oil is full of boom and bust oilmen. Selwyn O’Herlihy is one of them. Ole Selwyn was hurting, but he had one asset left that could save his ass—his drilling leases in North Dakota. He bought those lease rights when he was flush with cash, so if he got the operation going, he could make his money back and then some. He just needed to get off the ground. Those wells had to pay to get the investment Selwyn needed to get the wells closer to Williston going.”
“So corners get cut,” Mac suggested.
“Risks get taken,” Rahn replied. “I know, I’ve been there. I’ve made those decisions to cut those corners and take those risks. I ended up with Galveston Bay. They ended up with Wyoming, with Kansas, and then to try to make it all back, they ended up with this.”
It came into focus for Mac. A lawsuit was the potential problem. “You were going to sue Deep Core, weren’t you?”
“Damn right,” Rahn growled. “The North Dakota Industrial Commission wouldn’t do jack shit. But a court? That’s a different story. We were going to hang them with their internal memorandum and findings from Adam Murphy. And we were going to go after them for murdering the Bullers, and we were going to shut down their operation at the North Station for polluting the water supply.”
“And Shane Weatherly was going to confirm those findings?”
“Yes. He found the same things as this Murphy fellow, almost identical, if not worse, and Weatherly tested not only the Buller property, but also three other places that Deep Core was drilling. Now, those wells weren’t near homes and their well water for drinking, but he found the same readings in the water table. Too much diesel, among the other heightened chemicals.”
“What was the purpose of Isador Kane with the EPA?”
“Well, Mac”—Rahn sat back, a small smile creasing his face—“much to my chagrin, the EPA of today has lacked the balls it had back in the 1980s. These days, a little political pressure from a home-state senator or two, and they fold like a cheap suit. However, armed with what we found and with a lawsuit financed by us—a lawsuit that would not lack for financial resources—Callie thought the EPA would have the courage, and the political freedom, to put the hammer down on Deep Core and companies like Deep Core that go too far.”
“And by too far, we’re talking their drilling practices, which I assume are the same practices they’re using just north of Williston?”
“Correct. Now, you know what it was doing to the Buller family. They were getting sick. Now imagine what it would do to a town of twenty thousand folks, because where Deep Core is drilling is …”
M
ac’s eyes lit up. “Right on top of the town’s water supply. The sheriff and I were talking about this tonight. We were speculating, of course. What you’re telling me is, our speculation was on the mark.”
“Yes, it was. Callie’s plan was to file the lawsuit and at the same time go after Deep Core at the Industrial Commission and get their drilling leases pulled.”
“For you to swoop in and seize, I presume.”
“Still cynical, aren’t you?”
“Yup.”
“Well, I am still an energy man, after all, and the Bakken is a vast reservoir of oil and natural gas. If those drilling leases became available”—Rahn shrugged—“well, one of my companies might have possibly become interested in the acquisition.”
“I’m sure,” Mac replied, rolling his eyes.
Rahn was unbothered. “That’s business, son. That oil and gas is coming out one way or another, Mac. Might as well do it right. I may be an environmentalist, but I didn’t stop being a capitalist. Besides, our longer-term plan was to use all of this as a catalyst to get better regulatory oversight on fracking. I mean, in reality, there are almost no regulations on fracking under either federal or state law. That has to change, and that’s really my goal—to push people to be as responsible as us. Fracking is great, is the future, but we also have to make it safer for the environment.”
Breakfast came, and there was a smorgasbord of food: eggs, bacon, sausage, breakfast potatoes, toast, fruit, and sliced tomatoes. Mac scooped a little of everything onto his plate.
“Eat up, son. You need food, I can tell,” Rahn stated, filling up his own plate. “You’ve been going flat out for days, I imagine.”
Mac nodded and dug into his fried eggs, mixing them in with the potatoes. The food was excellent. “My compliments to the chef.”
“How do you keep going like this?” Rahn was genuinely interested.
Blood Silence - Thriller (McRyan Mystery Series) Page 28
