Watchers in the Woods

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Watchers in the Woods Page 31

by William W. Johnstone

“There’s a saying that covers that pretty well.”

  “I am loathe to ask what that might be.”

  “Tough shit!”

  “The tribe trusts you, Matt.”

  “Which is exactly why I will not approach them with any offers until their safety is absolutely, positively, one-hundred-percent guaranteed. In writing. By law. Passed by both Houses of Congress and signed by the President of the United States and approved by the Supreme Court.”

  “Matt, listen to me—please. You probably don’t know that while the doctors were packing up, waiting for the helicopters to arrive that afternoon, someone, probably a tribe member, slipped back into camp and stole every blood sample they had taken. They took records, tape recordings . . . Everything. We’ve got to have those samples.”

  “Why? You’ve got hundreds of urge-followers in jail, and hundreds more who are related to the tribe out in the civilian sector. You don’t need more blood from the tribe. So don’t give me any patriotic bullshit about needing their blood samples to save lives. If you want to jack around with my pension, Rich, okay—go ahead. I married a very wealthy woman. I’ve made good investments over the years. You won’t hurt me financially. You let me tell you something, Rich. I’ll go in and try to find the tribe, on these conditions: I am in charge of security. Me. Personally. I have carte blanche in dealing with intruders...”

  Richard winced at that.

  “... I personally handpick security. Only when I am satisfied do I reveal the location of the tribe. That is, if I can find it. You have a map of Idaho? Give it to me. You see this area here, Rich, the central and eastern part of the Selway-Bitteroot Wilderness area? That belongs to the tribe. All of it!”

  “Jesus Christ, Matt!” Richard yelled. “Do you know how many hunter groups will be up in arms—figuratively speaking, I hope—if that went through?”

  “I don’t care, Rich. Sit down, I’m not finished. I want a federal law, on the books and enforced, prohibiting the killing of wolves in any part of the United States. I want the wolf reintroduced into the larger national parks. We can work out which parks after Congress approves all this.”

  Matt smiled, knowing how Ty would have approved of all that he had just proposed.

  Richard sighed again. Scientists and statesmen from all over the world had been on the backs of the State Department deploring what had happened to the lost tribe and why it was allowed to happen. The President was on the defensive and getting testy. Knowing that Matt had gained the trust of the tribe, he had tossed the whole matter into Richard’s lap with the orders, “Just get it done, Richard. I don’t care what you have to promise Matt Jordan. Just get it done!”

  “Is there anything else you want, Matt?” Richard asked wearily.

  “Oh, yes!”

  “Why did I have to ask? What else, Matt?”

  Matt began speaking. He spoke for five minutes. When he had finished, Richard’s jaw was very nearly touching the desk. “Are you out of your goddamned mind, Matt?”

  “No. I think I found it, actually.”

  “When did you become such an animal activist? There’s nothing in your jacket about it.”

  “Do you know what happens to a lot of greyhounds when their racing days are over?”

  “No.”

  “If somebody doesn’t adopt them, they’re either killed or sold to labs for use in experiments.”

  “I didn’t know that.” Richard grimaced. “That’s disgusting!”

  “Yes, it is, isn’t it? I didn’t know it either until Traci told me. I did a little investigating and found it to be true.” Matt held up a hand. “I’ve told you what I want, Rich. You know how to reach me. I’ll be waiting for your call.”

  * * *

  “I think it would be neat,” Tommy said. “Living in the wilderness. And the best part is no school.”

  “Wrong,” Matt told the boy. “A school is being built now. It’ll be ready for next year’s term.”

  Tommy’s face showed his disgust. “Well . . . I still think it’ll be neat.”

  Matt looked at Traci. “Honey, you’ll go to school in New York. Your mother and I would love to have you closer, but with all the death threats coming at us, it wouldn’t be wise. Have you thought of a name you like?”

  “Brown.”

  Matt smiled. “That’s a safe choice. Traci Brown. You’re going to have to live with it for four years. You understand that? Okay. You can never tell anyone who you really are or that I’m your stepfather or that you know anything about Project Unseen. There are a lot of nuts and wackos out there claiming to represent one group or another, and they wouldn’t hesitate to hurt you to get to me. The ranching industry is howling mad about the reintroduction of wolves in certain areas—even though money has been set aside to compensate them for any loss; the racing industry is screaming about the new legislation concerning the treatment of greyhounds once their racing days are through; and a certain type of hunter is killing mad about the land we’ve placed off limits to them in Idaho and in all large national parks. Some of those people are nuts, honey. You’ve got to be careful.”

  “I’ll be careful. I promise.”

  “Good girl.”

  “You’ve never told us, Matt,” Susan said. “You did locate the tribe?”

  “They located me. Yes. And I’m forced to change my opinion of many members of the press. They’ve done a very fair job of covering this issue.” He smiled. “Of course, it’s a politically liberal issue, so they would.”

  Even Tommy joined in the laughter at that.

  “You all packed up?” Matt asked Susan.

  “Yes. When do I join you?”

  “In the spring. I’ll come out several times and fly east to see you all. I promise we’ll spend Christmas together.”

  Traci and Tommy left to pack up a few remaining articles.

  “They didn’t mention their father, Susan.”

  “They never loved him, Matt. Neither of them shed a tear when they learned he’d been killed. You think his death was tribe related?”

  “Yes. We have teams tracking down the cells. We’ll eventually get them all, but it’s going to take some time. I’ve arranged security for you and Tommy, and loose security for Traci. It’ll be tense for a couple of years, then the furor will die down. What’s so funny about the whole thing is that I’ve been branded an anti-hunter by some nut groups.”

  “I fail to see the humor in it, Matt.”

  “Hell, honey. I’ve been a member of the National Rifle Association for over twenty years!”

  THE BEGINNING

  A wolf’s howl echoed over the cold and snowy land. Another wolf joined in, then a third and a fourth.

  “It’s almost as if they know they’re safe,” Matt said to Ty’s son, standing beside him in the winter’s frozen beauty.

  “They do,” the half-man, half-beast said “We told them.”

  Look for these other horrifying tales from William W. Johnstone.

 

 

 


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