Stabenow, Dana - Liam Campbell 02 - So Sure Of Death

by So Sure Of Death(lit)

  A roar sounded right over his head and he looked up, blinking the tears away to see a bull rear up, tusks that must have been two feet long at present arms. Down they came, straight toward him, in a slashing move that would have splattered him all over the beach if he hadn't pushed himself away, scuttling backward on hands and feet like a crab. At the same time something swept down on ebony wings, straight into the face of the walrus.

  The whole herd was up now. Their grunting roars of protest were deafening. On his feet, Liam was dazed and disoriented. He still had his weapon but what good would a little popgun like this be? The bullets would be lost in all that blubber. He wiped his arm on his sleeve in time to see a walrus lumber toward him, probably the same one, tusks raised again. No, this one had a tusk broken off halfway up, leaving a jagged point that looked even more threatening than a whole one. He thought Prince yelled something but he couldn't hear what. He saw what he thought was Old Walter in the middle of the herd, standing still, watching him. Down the tusks flashed; again he avoided them by the merest inch. He thought he saw the dark-winged shadow diving at the walrus for the second time, and the walrus dodging out of the way of its wickedly curved beak.

  Prince yelled again, and Liam blundered backward until he ran into her. They both sat down heavily in the sand, and watched as the river of brown fur poured into the water, yipping and barking and growling and roaring defiance. A moment later there was nothing left but roiled sand and glassy water and blue, blue sky.

  “He's gone.

  “He must have been flattened by the herd.

  “I don't see anything, do you?

  “No. She swept the beach with the glasses. When no walrus popped up from behind a rock, she ventured forward to explore the beach where Larsgaard and the walrus had been. When she came back she said, “Okay, this isn't weird or anything.

  “No sign of him?

  “None. She paused, and said doubtfully, “You don't think they ate him, do you?

  “I think they mainly eat fish and shellfish.

  “Oh. Nobody said anything for a while. “Well, he's gone.

  “He's gone, Liam said. He got to his feet. “And so are we. Let's head for home.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Their dinner date had been postponed a week and changed to a picnic on the beach. They were one short, as Tim was long gone up the river with Moses, but as Wy was guiltily aware, they didn't even miss him.

  “I was so smug, Liam said, regarding the hot dog he held suspended over the flame with a critical eye. The raven croaked agreement from a convenient spruce branch on the cliff. “I had them both, both perps, locked up in the local jail. Petla was as good as convicted, and I didn't think twice about walking into Larsgaard's house. I didn't think for a moment Larsgaard Junior didn't do it. Sure, there were things wrong with his story, but hell, he had means, motive, opportunity.

  “So did I, in May. Her smile was tentative, as if she wasn't sure it was permissible to joke about that yet.

  He grinned at her. “Yeah, but you I'm hoping to get back into the sack at some point. I couldn't put you in jail.

  She laughed.

  “Besides, Larsgaard had even confessed, for crissake.

  “True.

  “And then there's Frank Petla. He looked at where the bandage showed beneath the arm of her T-shirt. “He was there, he had a gun, he was in possession of goods stolen from the scene, including the murder weapon, he'd assaulted two people in fleeing said scene, what more could I want?

  “Yeah, well, Frank kind of set himself up for that.

  “Still, Liam pulled his hot dog out of the fire, decided it didn't pass and put it back. “So after we got back to town and find Don Nelson's real killer in your custody, I went after Dick Ford again. I found him this time, up in Icky helping Aneska Ugashik fillet her salmon so she could hang it. He tells me he loaned his four-wheeler to Frank Monday morning, and then he tells me that he was fishing the same section of river Frank was over the weekend, Cache Creek, and Frank was out there all day both days, and Charlene was right, he didn't kill Don Nelson.

  “He shot McLynn. He hit Diana.

  “He was drunk.

  “Don't make excuses for him, Liam. He's already made enough of them for himself.

  “You know who I think of when I think of Frank Petla?

  “Who?

  “Tim.

  “Tim? Wy ruffled up. “He's nothing like Tim, he

  “I didn't mean it like that. I meant, Tim gets a chance. You gave him a chance.

  “Charlene and Peter gave Frank a chance.

  “Yeah. Well. Maybe if they'd gotten to him sooner. Or for longer.

  “Maybe. She didn't sound convinced. She'd taken a liking to Diana Prince, and she didn't take kindly to Frank shooting her. “Are things back to normal now?

  He thought about the nine funerals in Kulukak, the plain coffin shipped home to Seattle. “It is for us. Not for others. But yeah, for us, I think so.

  “Is your father gone?

  “Oh yeah.

  The raven let loose with a series of calls that sounded like one big, continuous belly laugh.

  “Why do you say it like that?

  Liam thought back to two days before, two weeks after Don Nelson had been found dead on the site of the old dugout. “So you had the wrong man, Charles had said.

  “The wrong men, Liam had said equably.

  Charles shook his head. “Sloppy.

  “Fairly, Liam agreed. “Must be hereditary.

  “I beg your pardon? There was frost on Charles's vowels.

  “I called your office. At Hurlburt Field.

  “Really? Charles examined the contents of his glass with interest. “Why, when I'm right here?

  “You are no longer assigned to Hurlburt. You up for promotion, Dad?

  Charles laughed it off. “I'm always up for promotion.

  Liam had heard that kind of laughter before, the laughter of military officers trained to support one another in life-and-death situations and yet oh so aware that a misstep here, a missed salute there and you were retiring at your present rank. It was sharply edged, competitive laughter that gave no quarter and had nothing to do with humor. “Sure you are. You've been a colonel now, what, five, six years? About time to move up, isn't it? What's next? Major general?

  “Brigadier, Charles said involuntarily. His mouth snapped shut and formed a thin line.

  “That's right, brigadier, said Liam, who had remembered that perfectly well but had wanted to see if Charles would jump at the bait. “Means you're off active flight duty, right, your next promotion?

  He waited with every outward sign of being willing to wait until this time next year for Charles's answer, until his father said reluctantly, “Not necessarily.

  “Yeah, but you'll be flying a desk sooner or later, so it makes sense that you'd already be looking for a job that suited you. So then I called your new office.

  Charles frowned down at his plate, disconcerted by Liam's sudden change of subject. “How did you get the number?

  “Innate charm, Liam replied. “Also hereditary. You're working on some kind of Superfund cleanup task force, aren't you, Dad? In fact that's the real reason why you're here. Not to facilitate turning redundant Air Force buildings over to the local community, but to hide a toxic waste site.

  “I don't know what you're talking about. I've got to get back, anyway. Charles pushed his plate away and half rose to his feet.

  “Sit down, Dad. Charles had sat down, had glared at Liam from the other side of one of Bill's booths where they were hav- ing a meal before Charles shipped out. “Don Nelson had it all down in his journal. He found your dump site. He went down to the river below the dump site and smelled fumes, so he figured it was leaking. He wrote to a reporter for theNews. A good one who could be your worst nightmare, Liam thought, and wondered why he hadn't said it out loud.

  “I had a friend do some searching on the Net for me. Fuel spills into fresh water are less publicized than
ocean spills, although spills into fresh water are way more destructive. Freshwater is more sensitive to a spill than salt water, plus people and other mammals drink fresh water, and birds nest in it, fish lay eggs in it, mosquitoes give birth in it, like that. And of course the fish eat the larvae and the birds eat the fish and the people eat the birds and pretty soon you've got toxic poisoning of human beings, never mind the environment. Did you know, he added parenthetically, “that human beings are inedible? It's a fact. We sprayed DDT all over the place for years and it got into the food chain and now we're inedible. I ought to find that comforting, but I don't somehow.

  Maria stopped by with another round of drinks. Charles flashed his automatic smile. Maria wilted a little, rallied and moved on to the next table.

  “You get the idea, Dad, Liam said. “You spill petroleum or petroleum by-products into fresh water and it gets into everything from the algae up. He took a bite of cheeseburger. “You want to know the worst kind of fuel spill there is?

  Charles, busy with his own burger, didn't reply.

  “I'll tell you, Liam said. “Light refined products. Kerosene. Gasoline. Jet fuel. It spreads like thathe snapped his fingers“and it soaks right into the ground. No surface tension to speak of, like crude oil has. Specific gravity is way lighter than crude, and viscosity . . . well, hell, jet fuel hasn't much more than lighter fluid. The fumes evaporate, there isn't any residue, you'd hardly know it was there. Liam dug into his fries. “Until it starts showing up in your drinking water as benzene. A known carcinogen. Cancer-causing substance, he added helpfully.

  “I know what carcinogen means, Charles snapped.

  Liam wiped his mouth with a napkin and leaned forward, speaking in a low voice. “Good. Because I want you to know just what it is YOU'VE BEEN DOING OUT ON THAT FUCKING BASE!

  There was a reasonable lunch crowd at Bill's that day, and conversation stilled for a moment when Liam's roar echoed around the room. But people were eating and drinking and talking and laughing, and Jimmy was singing about fruitcakes strutting naked through the crosswalk in the middle of the week, so it was only a momentary lull. Bill eyed Liam narrowly before deciding to let it ride and returning to her New Orleans guidebook. It was open to the section on graveyards, which in New Orleans, she had informed everyone the previous day, were a tourist attraction.

  For his part, Liam felt another root send out tentative tendrils into Newenham ground. He wouldn't have put it in quite those words, but he was rallying to the defense of his new home. He was telling his father, Air Force Major Charles Bradley Campbell, You may not shit in my nest. He let his voice drop back to a normal tone. “You've been burying fifty-five-gallon drums of byproducts, haven't you? I saw all the heavy equipment at the base. Thought it was mostly there for snow removal, and it probably was, to begin with. Liam ate a fry with more relish than he was feeling. “Why, Dad? Do you make general quicker if you don't go to all the time and expense of disposing of toxic waste in an environmentally acceptable manner?

  Charles wiped his hands on his napkin and folded it precisely in fours. “You said there was a journal?

  “Yeah, there's a journal.

  “What are you going to do with it?

  Liam looked at the last of his cheeseburger with regret, and savored it as it went down. “I had the M.E. test a sample of Nelson's tissue. He and McLynn had been getting their drinking water out of the Snake River. They'd been filtering it, of course, for beaver fever. But Nelson had traces of benzene in his body.

  “I repeat, Charles said, very controlled, “what are you going to do with the journal?

  “I don't know, Liam said. His brow creased in deep thought. “Wy's a friend of that reporter Nelson wrote to, he offered. “Do you think she'd be interested?

  Charles's mouth set in a thin line. “Cut the crap, Liam. What do you want?

  “I want you to dig up that dump east of the archaeological dig, Liam said promptly.

  “Do you know how much that would cost?

  “Nope, Liam said. “Don't care, either. Dig it up and dispose of it properly. And I'll be checking, Dad. Wy and I will be doing fly-bys on a regular basis. Dig it up, move it out, dispose of it, and I don't mean drop it in the Nushagak. I'll find out if you do, and I'll resurrect that journal and the results of that tissue sample. I'm pretty sure this was all your own idea, so I don't imagine the Air Force would be pleased to hear officially about it. He smiled. “One thing for sure after that: you wouldn't have to sweat out any more promotion reviews.

  “You're blackmailing me, Charles said.

  “Oh, you noticed, Liam said. “It's my first attempt, I was afraid it wouldn't go over. Yeah, I'm blackmailing you, and it's a damn sorry thing to have to do to your own father. He wiped his hands and tossed his napkin down. “You raised me better than that, Dad.

  Thinking back on it now, on this lazy evening on the beach, he looked down at the powerful flow of the Nushagak and wondered what an analysis of its waters would produce. Maybe that was one of those things he was better off not knowing.

  He wouldn't give Nelson's journal to Jo. He never would have, no matter what he'd said to his father. Jo was going to have to leave without her story. He hadn't even told Wy about what Nelson had written.

  For better or worse, Charles was Liam's father, and if you were any kind of a human being, you looked out for your own. He hadn't told Charles that, of course. He wasn't sure he ever would. But he had used Nelson's journal to start the fire which was cooking their dinner.

  For now, he had a hot dog so burned it was about ready to drop off the stick onto the fire, just the way he liked them, and a bun prepared with mustard, onions, relish, shredded cheese and jalapeo peppers, just the way he liked them. He was sitting next to the woman of his choice, that goddamn raven was keeping his distance, and . . . “Wy?

  She was absorbed with putting the finishing touches on her own hot dog. “What?

  “I know you were really young when you left the village and moved to Newenham, but do you remember any Yupik?

  She looked up from the bun upon which she was lavishing mustard. “Some. A few words. Like the word for storyknife. She said it, and it still sounded like “yawning ruin to him, just like it had when Frank Petla said it.

  “What about tookalook?

  “What?

  “ Tookalook, he said. “I heard it for the first time this week, and I was wondering what it meant.

  “Tookaluk. Tookalook. Um, maybetulukaruk?

  “Oh, he said, disappointed. “That's just the name of the dig.

  “Yeah, she said, heaping chopped onions on the bun. “And raven.

  Overhead, the raven clicked,k-k-k-k-k-krACK.“Tulukaruk means raven?

  “Uh-huh.

  Liam thought about that afternoon on the island beach, with the hundreds of walrus between him and Old Walter. The old man had said two words. “Tulukaruk. Asveq. Raven. Walrus. Had he seen a raven, there on the beach that afternoon? He said, “How long did you say Tim was going to be gone?

  “You didn't answer my question, she said severely. “Why did you say, Oh yeah, like that when I asked you if your father was gone?

  He fell in love all over again with her reproving frown and abandoned the hot dog to the fire to pull her into his arms. She came willingly and they tumbled down next to the big driftwood log they'd been leaning against. “God, you feel good. He looked down into her face, at her eyes, her skin, her mouth, her hair. Maybe another man wouldn't see what he saw, maybe another man wouldn't see the beauty and the intelligence and above all the strength, but then maybe that was what made her the only woman for him. “You could live without me, couldn't you? he said suddenly.

  “I have, she said simply, and smiled. “But I'd much rather not. If I have a choice.

  “You don't, he said, and kissed her. He had her shirt up and her bra open and then he was cupping her breasts, biting her nipples so that she whimpered and arched her back, instantly ready. “That's what I love most about making lov
e with you, he murmured. “The way you respond. You go off like a rocket when I barely touch you, don't you? He laved the nipple he'd bitten with his tongue. She moaned, her breath coming faster, and he felt like the king of the world. He slipped the snap of her jeans and slid a hand between her legs. “You're wet, ready and waiting for me. Only for me, Wy.

  “Please, she said, “hurry.

  “I don't want to hurry, he said. “I like you needy. He rolled her to her back and captured her hands to hold them over her head.

  “Liam.

  His free hand wandered, down, up, in. Her breath caught and her hips moved against his hand. He sought out another spot with his thumb and rubbed, oh so gently. Her eyes squeezed shut and she arched and cried out, and he watched with immense pleasure as a deep, dark flush rushed up over her breasts and throat and face. “You are so easy, Chouinard. How many times can I make you come?

  She opened her eyes to meet his. “That was one, she whispered, and he was on her and in her before the last word was out of her mouth.

  It was almost dark, or as dark as it gets in August in Alaska, and the fire had burned down to a steady bed of dark red embers. They lay breast to breast, and Liam could feel the slow thud of her heart next to his, the skin of her back warm against his palm. Jimmy's right, he thought through a haze of contentment. Maybe twenty-four hours, maybe sixty good years, it's not that long a stay. This was what made the sixty years good.

  She stirred. “So Walter's home now?

  “Yeah. He shifted and pulled her closer. “I could have charged him with obstruction of justice and accessory after the fact, but hell, he's just lost his lover, their child and his father. Going home to an empty house that is going to stay empty for the rest of his life is punishment enough.

  “Why did he do it? Old Walter? Why did he kill her, all of them?

  “He had a problem with booze. He used to live in Anchorage but he spent most of his time between Fourth Avenue and Cook Inlet Pre-Trial. The last time, about four years ago, right after Walter's wife ran off with the vipso, Young Walter flew to Anchorage and brought his father home. Kulukak's a dry town, but Newenham's only a plane ride away. I finally got Mike Ekwok to tell me that Old Walter was in the bag more often than not. I'm figuring he was fairly well oiled that Sunday night.