Free Fire jp-7

by C. J. Box

  “Happy to,” Nate said, reaching over the front seat of Lars’s pickup. McCann tried to turn his head but Nate grabbed a cornerof the tape and ripped it off hard. Red whiskers and a few pieces of skin came with it. McCann howled.

  They were headed south from Mammoth, climbing the canyon out of the valley, the snow a maelstrom. Joe was driving and McCann was wedged onto the narrow back bench seat, hands and feet bound with tape.

  Joe was still angry that he had had to send his family away, that someone had tried to harm them. Seeing his daughters look back at him from the windows of the van as Marybeth pulled away had torn his heart out. It hadn’t helped seeing the grim look on Marybeth’s face as she drove, determined to get her girls out of there while at the same time upset over leaving her husband. Joe blamed McCann because he didn’t know whom else to blame and McCann was in the truck. “You can’t do this,” McCann sputtered, tears in his eyes from the sting. “I’m technicallyinnocent. This is kidnapping and assault.”

  “Nate, can you put fresh tape on his face and rip it off again, please?” Joe said.

  “Happy to,” Nate said.

  “No!”

  Nate stripped six inches of silver tape from the roll with a sound like fabric tearing.

  “I asked you who figured out the microbes,” Joe said.

  Nate started to lean over the seat.

  “Genetech people!” McCann said quickly, “but they didn’t realize what they had.”

  Nate shot a glance to Joe, who nodded back. Nate lowered the tape but glared at McCann with menace.

  “Talk,” Joe said. “It’s the only thing that might save you right now. And don’t start in on kidnapping and assault. You murderedsix people. Putting a bullet in your head will not cause any crocodile tears up here, I’d say.”

  McCann breathed deeply, worked his mouth since he couldn’t rub it with his hand. “Why should I talk?”

  “Because,” Joe said patiently but with an edge, “it’s the only chance you have to stay alive.”

  “Why should I trust you?”

  “Because you have no choice. We don’t even have to kill you. All we need to do is stop and let you out, which I’m more than happy to do. The bears and wolves will take care of you. That’s the disadvantage of living in a place where there are so many animals that can eat you. And with this snow, your bones won’t be found until spring.”

  “I recognize your voice,” McCann said. “You were the one who yelled at me this morning outside the jail.”

  Joe watched McCann’s face in the rearview mirror. The lawyer seemed to be calculating his odds on the fly. He saw McCannshoot a quick glance out his window at a coyote nosing into the snow after a gopher. Good timing, Joe thought.

  “Genetech has a little branch office in West Yellowstone,” McCann said. “They hired two local guys who do no more than drive to Sunburst every couple of weeks, harvest the pink microbes,and send them in a special incubation container to Geneva. They’re not engineers, just local boys. One of them got into trouble a year ago, DUI. He asked me to represent him, since I’m also local counsel for Genetech.”

  “Stop,” Joe said. “What does that mean? What do you do for them?”

  “Very little,” McCann said. “I file the annual extensions for their permit with the Park Service and meet a couple of times a year with James Langston to assure him the company is complyingwith all of the environmental regulations. I’m on a retainerto keep an eye out for my client in case something goes wrong or there is a challenge to their permit.”

  “Ah,” Joe said, now knowing how McCann and Langston had met. “Go on.”

  “Anyway, this Genetech guy with the DUI was telling me about something that happened when they were at Sunburst gettingthe microbes. He’s a smoker, and he said he tossed a cigaretteaside while they were working and suddenly flame was shooting out of the ground. He said it singed his jeans. At the time, I thought it was just one of those weird Yellowstone things, and I forgot about it.

  “Then I was approached by the CEO of a start-up company out of Denver. They knew about my familiarity with Genetech and the permitting process, and they were interested in getting a permit from Langston to harvest thermophiles.”

  “Who is the CEO?”

  McCann sighed. “His name is Layton Barron. He’s a con artist, but I didn’t know it at the time.”

  “What’s he look like?”

  “Mid-sixties, thin, gray hair. An arrogant prick.”

  Joe turned to Nate. “Sounds like the driver of the black SUV.”

  Nate nodded.

  “Anyway,” McCann said, “Barron asked me to meet with Langston to try to secure a permit for them. He said he had investorslined up all over the world who would put up big bucks if EnerDyne got the permit. It had to do with bioengineering or something I don’t really understand. It was later when I realized Barron was a fucking con man. He was fishing, is what he was doing. He was just hoping that if his company could start harvestingmicrobes that maybe, just maybe, his engineers could figure out a use for them. Since the microbes from the park are unique to anywhere else, he might have been right, but who knows?”

  “Did you get the permit for them?” Joe asked.

  “I’m getting to that.”

  Nate stripped off more tape.

  “Okay, okay,” McCann said. “I found out that some Zephyr employees were up in arms about the harvesting permits. They were environmental extremists, and they planned to start letter campaigns to newspapers and politicians and some kind of on-linefund-raising movement to wage war on Genetech and anyoneelse who was harvesting microbes. Legally harvesting microbes, I might add.”

  “That’s where Rick Hoening comes in,” Joe said.

  “He was their leader. He made no bones about what he planned to do, and he was getting a buzz going in the park and within the environmental community all over the country and internationally. They wanted a moratorium on any new permits, and an investigation into who they’d been given to in the past and why. Langston was beside himself, to say the least, since he was the guy who signed the permits in the first place. Genetech slipped him a little something on the side, you see. I know that because I delivered the envelopes of cash.”

  “Bastard,” Nate said.

  “Barron and EnerDyne were even more up in arms when they found out about Hoening’s plans. If he was successful, they’d never get their piece of the pie.”

  “That’s where you saw your opportunity,” Joe said.

  “Being a lawyer is all about recognizing opportunities.”

  “And here I thought it was more than that,” Joe said. “Silly me.”

  “I really didn’t care how it came out,” McCann said. “I looked forward to the fees that would come from litigation. But I did contact Hoening on behalf of Genetech. That’s when he told me about the flamers. He thought Genetech’s activities were causing some kind of disturbance, and he was damned mad about it. I remembered what the Genetech employee had said, and I gave this information to Barron. He sent a couple of his engineers up here, and they were the ones who made the connection between the microbes and the seam of coal. Barron was out-of-his-mind happy, and knew he really had something. The information was worth billions.

  “See, the problem with coal gasification is the huge expense of building the plant, and the fact that Western coal is soft and might require so much coal to get gas that the dollars just wouldn’t work. But if these Yellowstone microbes could be injectedinto the ground, into that coal, a big plant wouldn’t be necessary.The coal gasification would occur underground, naturally. All EnerDyne would need to do was tap it and pipe it out. And I was the only person outside of his company who knew it. So we made a deal. They retained me as their counsel. Barron started working the inside, finding players who could help him get exclusivityin exchange for positions and stock within the company.

  “But before we could get everything into place, Rick Hoeningstarted causing trouble.”

  “So yo
u had to stop him,” Joe said.

  “Yes, I had to stop him.”

  “But why kill the others? Why didn’t you quit with Hoening that morning?”

  McCann shrugged. “Two reasons, Game Warden. If I’d walked away after Hoening went down, the investigation would have centered on him and me, and no doubt someone before you would have put the pieces together long before now. Plus, I had no doubt Hoening had recruited his friends to his cause. They would have carried out the campaign against bio-mining and made Hoening into some kind of martyr. Taking them out eliminated the effort entirely, and cast everything in the light of the Zone of Death instead of Hoening.”

  “But,” Joe said, “four innocent people. .”

  “No one is innocent,” McCann said definitively.

  Joe just stared at him, hatred building.

  “Joe. .” Nate cautioned.

  Joe took a breath. “What happened next?” he asked McCann.

  “Barron recruited Chuck Ward from your governor’s office so Ward would be available to head off any action that might stop EnerDyne at the state level. And he got Langston to buy in, knowing Langston was a few years from retirement and wanted a huge payoff.”

  “Those bastards,” Joe said.

  McCann shrugged. “It’s amazingly easy to buy public officials.Everybody knows that. Barron was a master of it, and quite a salesman.”

  Joe was disgusted. The governor’s chief of staff and the chief ranger for the park had exchanged their positions of trust for big personal payoffs. Worse, they’d gone off the deep end to protect their interest, including the ambush of Judy Demming, the likely murder of Cutler, and targeting Joe and his family. As much as he despised McCann, Langston and Ward were as bad or worse.

  The snow was building up on the road and Joe had to slow down. At least four inches had fallen and stuck. Park policy was not to plow the roads in winter, but to let the snow build up untilonly snowmobiles and snow coaches could use them. That meant if he got stuck, it could be days before someone found them. And, based on what they were learning, there were no guarantees that whoever found them would be friendly.

  “Okay, so EnerDyne wants to harvest the microbes,” Joe said. “That I understand. But how did it happen that you turn into Rambo?”

  For the first time, McCann smiled. Joe could see him in the mirror, and he thought McCann looked smug.

  “That came about by happenstance. One of my clients is an elk poacher. He kills the elk, cuts off their antlers, and sells them to Asian firms who grind them up and sell it as an aphrodisiac.”

  “I hate poachers,” Joe said, “nearly as much as bureaucrats who go bad.”

  “I’m a lawyer, I don’t make moral judgments.”

  “Which is why you’re an asshole,” Nate growled.

  “Anyway,” McCann said, gaining in arrogance as he went on, Joe thought, “his hunting ground is near Bechler ranger station,technically in Idaho. He was contacted by the Idaho Fish and Game, who told him they were watching him. He came in to see me to find out whether Idaho could arrest him or not, since he was doing his poaching on federal park land. So as I researchedhis question, I found the loophole. I couldn’t believe it when I found it. I told Barron about it and said I’d take care of his Hoening problem if he’d make me financially secure for the rest of my life. You see, I’d learned about the annual reunions of the Gopher State Five from Hoening himself. I knew where they’d be, and when they’d be there.”

  “You sound proud of yourself,” Joe said.

  McCann shrugged. “Why shouldn’t I be? I committed the perfect crime.”

  “So why didn’t you just leave with the money after you killed Hoening and the others?” Joe asked. “Why stay around to be caught?”

  “First, I’m not caught,” McCann said. “Second, Barron renegedon me. It turned out he’d filed false financials with the SEC, and all that public money he promised was tied up in regulations.He simply didn’t have the cash. He lied to me.”

  “Imagine that,” Joe said.

  “Worse than that,” McCann said, “they panicked. They really are amateurs. Instead of concentrating on ways to get me the money, they screwed everything up by lying and delaying further. I knew they had decided to get rid of me somehow, so I stayed ahead of them and got myself put in their own jail where I’d be high profile and safe. Meanwhile, they tried to eliminate all of the witnesses, or anyone who might potentially be a witness. I want no part of them anymore, or EnerDyne. I just want my money.”

  “But they want you,” Joe said, “so you won’t talk and implicatethem.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why did you kill that woman and the ex-sheriff?”

  “They knew too much. If someone got to them, they might have exposed me.”

  Joe said, “So you lured them into Idaho to kill them. You’ve admitted to kidnapping.”

  McCann said, “Sure, I talked under duress. Under the threat of torture from your friend here. After being kidnapped and assaulted.Sorry, my confession won’t stand since I’ll claim I said whatever I had to to save my life. It would be your word against mine.”

  He beamed at Joe.

  Joe dug his microcassette recorder out of his pocket and held it up.

  “Want to bet?” Joe said. “Anybody who hears this tape will hear how proud you are of what you did. None of it sounds forced out of you.”

  McCann went white and his mouth sagged open.

  “Shut him up,” Joe said, and Nate eagerly dove over the seat with the tape and stretched it across the lawyer’s mouth.

  “You’ll get death,” Nate said, smoothing the tape.

  “Assuming he lives long enough to get to trial,” Joe said, turning and looking into Clay McCann’s wide, panicked eyes.

  And seeing that less than a hundred yards behind them was a park ranger Ford Explorer with wigwag lights flashing, gaining on them by the second, snow flying from the tires in twin plumes of white.

  “Uh-oh,”Joe said.

  McCann turned, saw the vehicle, and whimpered. He sagged in the seat to hide. The Explorer closed the gap, fishtailing a littlein the snow as the driver accelerated.

  “Who is it?” Nate asked, squinting. “Can you tell?”

  “My guess is Langston and Layborn,” Joe said, reaching behindhis back and gripping the Glock, putting it on the seat next to him. “Here we go.”

  “I can put a bullet into the grille,” Nate said, “knock them out.” He ran the window down so he could lean outside. The cab of the truck filled with swirling snow.

  “Hold it,” Nate said, “there’s only one guy inside.”

  Joe concentrated on driving because it was getting harder to see where the road was in a sea of white. He shot a glance in his mirrors. Yes, there was only the driver, and Joe recognized him.

  “Don’t shoot,” Joe said. “It’s Ashby.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Ashby’s not involved, is he?” Joe called to McCann, who grunted something back.

  “What did he say?” Joe asked Nate.

  “I think he said no.”

  “Let’s pull over and take our chances,” Joe said. “We can reallyuse Ashby’s help if he’ll cooperate. Be ready.”

  Joe didn’t dare pull off the road and chance getting stuck in the snow, so he gradually slowed down. The Explorer stayed with him, a few feet behind, until both vehicles were stopped. Because of the way the wind-driven snow moved steadily across the meadow on either side of the road, it seemed to Joe as if they were still moving.

  “Cover me,” Joe said, opening his door and jumping down. Snow lashed him in the face.

  Ashby was out of the Explorer, his hand perched on his holsteredgun.

  Joe held up his hands to show he had no weapon.

  “Up against the truck and spread ’em!” Ashby yelled. “And tell your buddy to get out and do the same.”

  Ashby was wearing sweats beneath his parka, and had apparentlyjumped out of bed to pursue them.

 
“Hold it,” Joe said. “I’m on your side.”

  Ashby withdrew his gun, held it with both hands in a shooter’s stance, aimed at Joe.

  “Del,” Joe said, feeling his belly clutch up, “calm down. We have McCann. We’re using him as bait. Before you try and arrest me or pull that trigger, there’s something you need to listen to. We’ve got new information and you’re not going to like it.”

  Ashby wavered, Joe could see it in his eyes.

  “Five minutes,” Joe said. “Just listen to McCann’s confession.Then you’ll want to help us out.”

  “Confession? Everybody knows what he did.”

  “But not why he did it,” Joe said.

  “He’ll tell me?”

  “He doesn’t need to. I’ve got it on tape.”

  Ashby seemed to weigh what Joe said, and while he did he glanced toward the pickup. His face dropped with shock and fear. Joe quickly followed Ashby’s sight line. The muzzle of Nate’s.454 aimed straight at the ranger.

  “He’ll blow your head clean off with that,” Joe said.

  “Tell him to lower the gun,” Ashby said. “I’ll listen.”

  “You can tell him,” Joe said, able to breathe again. “He speaks English, you know.”

  When he put Lars’s truck in gear and plowed forward in the untracked snow, Joe had trouble getting the image of Ashby’s face out of his mind from a few minutes before, when the ranger sat in the truck and listened to the tape. It was the stricken face of betrayal, and what he heard caused Ashby to slump against the door as if all the fight had been punched out of him.

  “I know how you feel,” Joe said.

  “Langston doesn’t surprise me as much as I would have thought,” Ashby said. “But Layborn. .”

  “Really?” Joe asked, surprised.

  “I thought Layborn, despite his faults, was a true believer in the Park Service, in our mission here,” Ashby said. “I thought he was loyal to me.”

  “Sorry,” Joe said, meaning it. “Why is it some bureaucrats always think they deserve more?”

  Ashby shook his head. “I don’t,” he said.

  Nate said, “That’s why you’ll always be poor like Joe. And I say that with compassion.”