Barking Dogs

by R. R. Irvine

  Reisner snorted. “You’d better get on it. That mutt is tonight’s kicker. He’ll hit air here in the East in less than an hour.”

  “Dammit, Herb,” Vicki said, “why do you always have to play games?”

  “Reisner’s rules, Icky. Now what else do you want?”

  “We’ve got another angle in Idaho. As soon as I hang up, I intend to leave for there with my shooter, Lew Holland.”

  “What are you and Manwaring up to?”

  Vicki took a deep breath and looked at Eccles, who nodded reassuringly. “I don’t want to talk about it on an open line, Herb. Wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Sutton, that it’s always best to err on the side of caution?”

  “Before I agree to anything, I’d need something more from you.

  “You mean something in writing?”

  “Like an IOU?” Eccles added.

  “I think we have to cut Vicki some slack on this one,” Sutton said. “After all, she’ll be anchoring for us one day.”

  Reisner said, “Reisner’s rules state . . . ah, what the hell. I like doing people favors, especially network vice presidents.”

  Vicki smiled at Eccles. Favors, according to Reisner’s rules, had to be repaid with interest.

  35

  BY CALLING Information, Manwaring tracked down Bonneville’s regional office in Idaho Falls.

  “A two-hour drive,” Stacie said when she heard the news. “Judging by the address, it’s right on the way to the airport.”

  Manwaring examined the truck’s tires, which looked worn but serviceable.

  “Where’s your sense of adventure?” she said. “I’ll even let you drive while I’ll navigate.”

  “I thought you were supposed to stay away from me,” Manwaring said.

  “You heard the mayor. He told me to get you out of there when your car wouldn’t start at the airport.”

  “I paid two thousand for that damned thing.”

  “I’ll take it up with Abe after you’re gone,” she said. “Maybe I can get you some kind of discount.”

  “If you come with me, who’ll take care of Jess?”

  “Jess is doing fine, but I’ll phone my next door neighbor and have him change the water and put out food.”

  It took them slightly more than two hours to make the drive. They arrived at the outskirts of Idaho Falls shortly after seven P.M. and stopped at John’s Big Indian Cafe just off Interstate 15. While Stacie ordered, Manwaring called Bonneville’s twenty-four-hour number. A recorded voice answered, enumerating various options, one of which was a live operator. When she came on, he asked to speak to either Mr. Evans or Mr. Dixon. She took Manwaring’s number and said he’d get a call back if they were available.

  He waited by the phone until it rang five minutes later.

  “This is Jacob Evans,” a man said.

  Manwaring identified himself and asked for a meeting, figuring tomorrow morning would be the best he could hope for.

  “I’ll be at the office in thirty minutes,” Evans said.

  “I’ll need directions.”

  Manwaring ate his sandwich in the car while Stacie drove to a two-story concrete building surrounded by asphalt and lit up by spotlights. The same two men Manwaring had seen at the Ellsworth airport were waiting in front of double glass doors. Instead of suits, they both wore dark slacks, shirts open at the throat, and loose cardigan sweaters that gave the impression they’d just come off the golf course.

  “They look too eager,” Manwaring told Stacie. “You stay with the truck. If I disappear suddenly, drive away and get help.”

  “I’ve got a tire iron in the back.”

  Judging from her tone of voice, she’d love nothing better than to come charging in like the cavalry.

  “The police will do.” Manwaring got out of the car and went inside.

  Both men handed him business cards that said they were vice presidents. They were tanned and fit, interchangeable except for their sweaters, Jacob Evans in blue, Bill Dixon in camel. They ushered him to a table and chairs that had been set up in the lobby, in plain sight of the pickup truck.

  “We were hoping Vicki Garcia would be with you,” Evans said once they were seated. “We’re big fans of hers.”

  “I’m the one who gets stuck doing her legwork.”

  “I guess we’re stuck with you, then, Mr. Manwaring. What is it you want to know?”

  “First, I’d like to know why you’re willing to talk to me.”

  “The press always gets the last word. Besides which, No comment always sounds so incriminating.”

  “Then tell me about your plans for Ellsworth.”

  “Why not?” Evans said. “To cut our production costs on the Coast, we looked around and found Ellsworth, a depressed area with a willing work force.”

  “I understand you gave the town a deadline to come up with the water rights or else?”

  Dixon answered. “Look at it from our point of view. When the town council accepted our proposal, we gave up our lease in California. If we don’t have an assembly plant on line one year from now, we’re out of business. We accepted Mayor Kearns’s assurances that obtaining water rights was only a formality. When there were delays and trouble started, we had no choice. We told him we’d look elsewhere if he couldn’t keep to schedule.”

  Manwaring thought that over for a moment. “Where does that leave Ellsworth as of now?”

  The two men exchanged guarded looks. Finally, Evans said, “Our original plan called for the outright purchase of the plant site. To that end, we hired an intermediary who was to purchase the land quietly. That way the locals wouldn’t get wise and raise their prices. However, our agent decided to go into business for himself. He bought up the land in his own name and then offered a fifty-year lease to our board of directors. They didn’t like it but finally went along.”

  Looking at Dixon and Evans, Manwaring had the feeling that they’d known what the agent was up to all along, that the three of them were working hand in glove to screw money out of Bonneville.

  “Technically,” Evans continued, “any agreement we made was void the moment Ellsworth failed to meet our deadline on water rights. Considering the circumstances, the fire and all the subsequent publicity, our board is very relieved that we have a way out.”

  “Are you taking it?” Manwaring asked.

  “The final decision was reached late today. Even our agent doesn’t know it yet. We’re taking the assembly plant offshore, Taiwan or Korea. We won’t know for sure until the Orientals finish cutting each other’s throats over the low bid.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” Manwaring said.

  “Why not? The offshore deal will be public knowledge soon enough.”

  Manwaring stared at one man and then the other. They weren’t telling him everything, he was certain of that. Yet they seemed to be answering his questions without hesitation. Then again, maybe he wasn’t asking the right ones.

  He said, “Now that you have the water rights, why not use Ellsworth?”

  Dixon smiled. “Why should we make our agent rich?”

  “Don’t give Mr. Manwaring the wrong impression,” Evans said. “We could have lived with Ellsworth if it hadn’t been for the fire. Appearances are important. Bonneville can’t be seen profiting from the misfortune of those poor people who died.”

  “I think your deadline got those people killed.”

  “If that fire was started deliberately, we had nothing to do with it. Bonneville is not responsible for its local agent. His actions are his own. We want that to be clear.”

  “I need the name of your agent,” Manwaring said.

  “We thought you knew already,” Evans said. “There’s only one practicing lawyer in Ellsworth. A politician, too, wouldn’t you know.”

  “We had no way of knowing the mayor wasn’t trustworthy,” Dixon added.

  Hair prickled on the back of Manwaring’s neck. “Are you saying he’s responsible for what happened to Defiance?”

  B
oth men shrugged.

  “Why throw him to the wolves now?”

  Dixon said, “Sharp business practices are one thing, but we won’t tolerate murder.”

  When Manwaring stood up to leave, he noticed that Stacie was standing at the door, her face pressed against the glass.

  “We saw you and Miz Wagstaff on the news tonight,” Evans said. “And that wounded dog, too. Tell her for us that Bonneville will be glad to add to that reward you’re offering for whoever shot the animal.”

  36

  TATOR, THE news bureau’s night man, answered the phone. In the background, Manwaring could hear a telephone ringing.

  “Thanks to you and your damned dog,” Tator complained as soon as Manwaring identified himself, “I’m going to be burned out by the time I get to my morning job.”

  “Have we had any success?” Manwaring asked.

  “You know sob stories. They bring the crazies out of the woodwork.”

  “I’ve got the veterinarian here with me,” Manwaring said. “What can I tell her?”

  “Let me check the phone bank.”

  “How many operators?” Manwaring asked, but Tator had already left his post.

  Another phone rang. A short time after it stopped, Tator came back on the line. “Besides the usual out-and-out loonies confessing, we got one who claimed to know the shooter. Naturally, he wants money to reveal the name.”

  “Well?” Manwaring said.

  “Eccles figures he’s a lunatic, too, but I did hear him muttering something about dipping into the petty cash.”

  “I’ll cough up something if it’s needed. Put Vicki on and I’ll get some out of her, too.”

  “Are you kidding? When the ringing started, everybody not assigned to a phone cleared out of here like rats from a ship.”

  “Eccles, too?”

  “You’re damned right. By now he’s home with his feet up. Hold on and I’ll put you through to the bastard. Let him lose some sleep for a change.”

  A moment later Eccles said, “You make me feel like my children have come back to haunt my old age.”

  “This will make you feel young again. I need a cameraman to catch a mass murderer.” Manwaring quickly outlined the situation in Ellsworth concerning water rights and the mayor buying up the land in his own name.

  “Do you have proof?” Eccles asked.

  “All we need is a title search.”

  “Owning land doesn’t prove murder.”

  “That’s why I want Vicki and Lew Holland, plus the best directional microphone you can lay your hands on.”

  “Vicki’s way ahead of you. She and Holland left for the airport an hour ago.”

  “I hope she knows better than to go off on her own without me. Her face is too well known. If she shows up in Ellsworth, everybody in town will know something’s up, including the mayor. I want her standing by here in Idaho Falls.”

  “Her plane should be landing there in a few minutes.”

  “What about my directional mike?”

  “I’ll have Tator start calling around and see if he can pick one up there for you. If he’s successful, I’ll tell him to have it waiting for you at the airport when you meet Vicki.”

  ******

  While Stacie drove, Manwaring used the cellular phone to call ahead and leave a message, telling Vicki to stay put at the airport until he got there. As an added precaution, he left a second, similar message for Holland.

  Vicki was pacing in front of the terminal building when Manwaring and Stacie arrived. Despite the hour, midnight, not a wrinkle showed on her tan safari outfit. The olive-colored silk scarf at her throat matched her perfectly polished boots, and her hair looked as if Vidal Sassoon had just attended to it personally.

  Lew Holland, who was sitting on a stack of metal equipment cases, looked disheveled and exhausted.

  “If it hadn’t been for your message,” Vicki said when Manwaring got out to open the car door for her, “we could have been in Ellsworth by now.” She smiled at Stacie while digging her fingers into Marwaring’s arm.

  “We’ll find an all-night coffee shop somewhere and stoke up on caffeine,” he said.

  Vicki made a face at the shabby pickup truck.

  “Relax,” Manwaring said, “we’ll rent something bigger.”

  Ten minutes later, Vicki slid into the back seat of a Lincoln Town Car, while Manwaring helped Holland load the camera gear into the trunk.

  “Did you get the directional mike?” Manwaring asked.

  “It was waiting when we arrived. Somehow, Tator managed to pry it out of our affiliate here in Idaho Falls. It came with a note: If we break it, we buy it.”

  “I want it tested before we go into action. I don’t want to lose our killer’s reaction on tape.”

  Holland’s eyes widened. “Listening to you makes retirement sound better and better.”

  While Holland cruised downtown Idaho Falls looking for a coffee shop, Manwaring replayed his conversation with the two Bonneville vice presidents.

  “Did you believe them?” Vicki asked as soon as he finished.

  “The part about the mayor being their agent must be true. Otherwise, why lie about something so easy to check. Whether the three of them are in on it together, I don’t know.”

  “What do we do, then, bust in on the mayor with our camera rolling?”

  “A lot of people died in Defiance. I don’t think he’s going to admit killing them if he spots a camera.”

  “How do you want me to approach him?”

  “I don’t. As soon as the mayor sees your face, he’s going to want a lawyer.”

  “Don’t try leaving me out of a story this big,” Vicki said.

  “I wouldn’t have asked for you if I intended to do that,” Manwaring said.

  “You didn’t know I was coming.”

  He handed her the cellular. “Call Eccles. He’ll confirm that I asked for you.”

  “Let’s get moving, then.”

  “Without a satellite pack, we’re going to have to come back here to Idaho Falls to feed the story anyway. You’ll front it from our affiliate, that’s all.”

  “I may never get another chance like this,” Vicki said. “I want to be in at the kill.”

  “I don’t like the sound of that,” Holland said.

  “We’ll take out some insurance,” Manwaring said. “Forget the coffee shop and find us a phone. I don’t want to risk someone monitoring the cellular.”

  Five minutes later Manwaring was talking to Wayne Gossett, the desk man at the local ABN affiliate who’d originally confirmed the destruction of the town of Defiance. “Are you still in love with Vicki Garcia?”

  “What do I have to do?” Gossett said.

  “She’s here in town with me.”

  “Name your terms.”

  “She needs a cameraman and a field producer.”

  “I’m your man.

  “Come by here and pick her up.” Manwaring gave the address. “You’ll be driving her to an interview with a couple of local bigwigs at Bonneville Industries who may have conspired in mass murder.”

  “Jesus Christ. Tell Vicki I’ll arrive in a chopper if she needs one.

  “You’ll have another passenger, too. A woman named Stacie Wagstaff.”

  “Whatever you say.”

  “How soon can you be here?”

  “It’ll take me a while to round up a cameraman,” Gossett said. “Say an hour.”

  When Manwaring hung up, he felt instantly relieved. Vicki and Stacie would both be out of harm’s way.

  Once he explained his plan to Vicki, he kissed her on the cheek. “You’re our backup, Vic. Our insurance policy. If Lew and I strike out with the mayor, what you get out of Evans and Dixon will be our only hope.”

  37

  VICKI WAVED goodbye to the Lincoln Town Car, then turned to Stacie and said, “I hope you didn’t buy any of that bullshit.”

  The veterinarian raised an eyebrow.

  “He can stuff that women a
nd children into the lifeboats bit. We can take care of ourselves.”

  “You mean he’s trying to protect us?”

  “It’s obvious. He doesn’t want us around until the shooting’s over.”

  “He’s right about your face being known. Everybody’s seen you on the tube. Even me, and I’m not much of a watcher.”

  A few moments later a car pulled up and a young man in his late twenties got out, staring at Vicki as if he couldn’t believe his good luck.

  “You must be Wayne Gossett,” she said.

  He nodded.

  She shook hands with him. “Thank you for coming out this time of night,” she said.

  “Anytime, Miss Garcia.”

  “Call me, Vicki. Please.”

  His Adam’s apple yo-yoed.

  Vicki checked her watch. It was going on five A.M. “HOW soon can you get us to Ellsworth?”

  “I thought we were interviewing bigwigs right here in town.”

  Vicki shook her head.

  “What about my cameraman waiting at the station?”

  She touched him on the arm. “As a favor to me, just get us to Ellsworth as fast as you can.”

  “I’m your man.”

  38

  MANWARING STOPPED only once on the way, to buy candy bars and diet soda at a service station outside the town of St. Anthony. Forty-five minutes later the sun was just clearing the Bitterroots when they reached the Ellsworth city limits. They skirted the main part of town, hoping to arrive in Defiance without being seen. As far as Manwaring could tell, they did just that. Not another car had passed them all the way to the burned-out ruins.

  He and Holland left the car in front of what had been the community’s main building, a meeting hall. The nearest cover was a nest of fallen, charred trees fifty yards to the north.

  “What do you think of it as a blind?” Manwaring asked.

  “I brought the big lens with me. It will pick up every twitch on the mayor’s face.”

  “And the directional mike?”

  “If the wind doesn’t act up, and if we crank the gain high enough, we ought to be able to understand him. A wireless mike would be better, though.”

  Manwaring shook his head. “We can’t risk spooking him.”