by Fritz Galt
“Very funny.”
“I’m not joking,” he said. “What altitude?”
“Baby,” she said. “We’re in the second highest town in America.”
“Highest what?”
“This is the highest resort town in America, with a base altitude of 10,000 feet. Only Leadville, Colorado, is higher.”
He winced. So this was altitude sickness? “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I thought you knew,” she said.
“Why would I know that? I’ve never even heard of Brian Head before.”
“Clearly you aren’t from the West.”
He tried to laugh, but only got out a few snorts. “I guess I should have done my research.”
“No, baby,” she said. “It’s all my fault. And all the alcohol last night and the hot tub and the… It all added up, I guess.”
Jake felt like a walking public service announcement: “Pay attention to altitude when booking your vacation!”
She urged him back downhill. “I’ll get you to the car and down on the flatlands in half an hour.”
He wanted to go with her, but his body resisted. His migraine made the otherwise pastoral meadow swim in a bright haze.
“Won’t I get the bends?”
“Do you even know what you’re talking about?”
“No.”
He squatted down and steadied himself. He wasn’t sure he could make it back to the car.
“Can you just drag my body out of here?”
“Oh, buck up, you wimp. We have a long drive to SLC.”
Jake tried to swallow, but his throat was completely dry. “I can’t wait.”
Halfway back to Salt Lake City, Jake’s wooly head became filled with another kind of confusion. It had to do with the night before.
Despite the fact that he was drunker than usual because of the altitude, he was feeling strong crosscurrents of remorse, confusion, and even self-righteous anger.
Once again, with Bonnie at the wheel, he had a chance to size her up. Straight-backed, level-headed, and forward-leaning, how did she feel about their sleeping together?
Did she know that he had a committed partnership? Did she care? Maybe she was just a sex-affirmative kind of woman who was disinterested in his other emotional attachments. Maybe she was a person who was perfectly satisfied to accommodate him in an uncomplicated, good-natured way, especially considering their adrenaline-filled afternoon.
He didn’t deny his physical attraction to her. After all, if Amber had cut him loose, he had every right to pursue his feelings for others. But considering Bonnie’s forceful nature, he was afraid of how strong her feelings might be.
“Bonnie, I’m no good at expressing my feelings.”
She took her eyes off the horizon and focused on him.
“What are you trying to say?”
“I mean, I like how you’re such a strong, independent sort of woman.”
She blinked.
“Which isn’t to say that you aren’t capable of strong personal attachment.”
“What are you saying?”
This wasn’t going well. “I find you highly attractive and, boy, you can be very affectionate.”
She put on her turn signal. “Do you want me to stop right here?”
Was she going to kick him out of the car?
“No. Please go on.”
“Are we in this together or not?” she shot out.
“Oh, we’re in this together.” Whatever that meant.
She was slowing down in the middle of the highway, and the cars zooming around them made him nervous.
“I’m just wondering,” he said. “No, you can speed up. I’m just wondering if I didn’t make myself clear last night.”
She wasn’t picking up speed.
“I’m not even sure of myself right now. Please proceed.”
A smile appeared on her broad lips.
“Oh Jake, you told me how you felt.”
With that she picked up speed and joined the normal flow of traffic.
“I don’t remember saying anything,” he said. “What, exactly, did I say?”
“Oh you were pretty voluble last night, Agent Maguire. You told me all about Amber. You’re such a Boy Scout. But don’t go all noble on me. I’m a big big girl. I was wound up after nearly dying on the mountain. I have my needs and I needed a strong man to show me his might. And that you did. But please relax, baby. I seduced you shamefully. Not that it was difficult. And if you can keep your mouth shut, I sure can. I don’t mind having a man in my bed from time to time. But I really don’t need a man in my life.” She threw back her head and laughed heartily while throwing him an arch look.
“Heaven forbid.”
Jake’s burden felt lighter as they zoomed up north. The conversation was much more than he had bargained for, or could handle. He realized then that when it came to women, words weren’t his strong suit.
He preferred to think that actions spoke louder than words. At least there he couldn’t be outgunned. But somewhere along the line, he needed to get both under control.
“Ready for this?” Bonnie asked as they found street parking in Salt Lake City.
Jake grunted. He had to take his mind off his personal life and focus on the professional. “It’s Kingston-Maes or bust.” That was the mining company where Tom Weaver worked. And Jake needed to ask Weaver’s boss Oscar Shultz several questions. Such as why did he want files that mentioned his company destroyed in Bill Frost’s house in Hurricane. And who had ordered Weaver to break in a second time to steal the China file.
“I must warn you,” Bonnie said. “Commodity prices have been low for several years. So there might be only a skeleton crew at their headquarters.”
Jake had been wondering at the prosperity he saw around him relative to other cities in the United States. Not only were the buildings upscale and modern, the streets were clean and tidy as if maintained by an army of streetcleaners.
The closer the two walked toward the Mormon Tabernacle, the more foreign languages they heard. The city had a cosmopolitan flair that Jake had scarcely anticipated.
The Kingston-Maes corporation might be located near holy ground, but it represented an industry known for raping the land. It also generated wealth to build cities such as this. The ironies were too overwhelming to contemplate on the short walk from the metered spot to the glass and chrome entrance of the mining firm.
“Feeling better?” Bonnie asked before they entered.
He had overcome his headache, but experience told him to be wary of rapid ascents. He had had enough of high elevation, but an elevator sure beat stairs.
He took a deep breath. “Bring it on.”
He had called ahead to set up the meeting with Oscar Schultz, and he fully expected the German to bring an army of attorneys.
Instead, Jake and Bonnie were met by a dapper man who was all alone. His office was spacious and surrounded by other such offices, each buzzing pleasantly with activity.
“I’m Maguire, FBI,” Jake introduced himself, giving the man one last opportunity to run for counsel.
“SAC Lakewood, FBI,” Bonnie said.
They shook hands cordially, and Oscar asked them to take a seat on the couch by the picture window.
Jake glanced briefly outside at the eleventh-floor view of the mountains to the east and, finally, a view of the lake to the west.
The company wasn’t suffering as badly as Bonnie had predicted. In fact, it looked like Kingston-Maes was sitting pretty atop their pile of coal ash. How could any company make that much money legally?
“Before we get into the details of why we’re here, would you mind explaining to me what Kingston-Maes does?” Jake asked.
Oscar Schultz chuckled. He was a middle-aged man in the prime of life. His accent was strong, but hardly a full-on Henry Kissinger.
“Kingston-Maes S.A. is a global mining corporation based in Belgium,” he began. “Our engineers are the highest trained in the world. Our business began in the
Belgian Congo, but quickly spread to South Africa and Australia. Now our work focuses primarily on third-world countries. Essentially, we help finance large national enterprises and provide them with technical expertise.”
“Are we talking about coal, or what?” Jake asked.
“Some coal, but mainly metals and minerals these days.”
To Jake, that evoked precious metals. “Gold? Silver?” That would explain the expensive digs and the pinstripe suit.
“No. Gold and silver are basically biproducts,” Oscar said. “It’s the bulk commodities that generate income.”
“Which commodities?” Jake asked, still unclear what kind of mines the company operated.
“Magnesium, molybdenum, copper, asbestos…”
“You still mine asbestos?”
Oscar spread out his large hands. “Whatever the market needs.”
That hardly cast Oscar in an environmentally friendly light, considering the human health cost of asbestos fibers. But Jake put that aside. For one thing, Oscar seemed entirely unapologetic.
“Our market advantage,” Oscar sought to explain, “is that our firm is capable of extracting and refining under the most hostile conditions. We operate undersea and at extreme depths underground. We also work in the most remote locations on earth.”
He seemed about to toss Jake a brochure.
Jake turned to Bonnie. “Any more preliminary questions?”
“Just one,” Bonnie said. “How profitable has your company been during the downturn in commodity prices? After all, metal and mineral prices have fallen dramatically over the past ten years.”
Oscar nodded empathetically, as if he got the question a lot. “Because we’re so technologically leveraged, we’re able to operate at higher efficiencies with a lower cost per yield compared to other operations. Does that answer your question?”
It explained a lot, but hardly removed the look of skepticism on Bonnie’s face.
“All right,” Jake said. “May I ask you more specific questions?”
Seated opposite them, Oscar smiled, revealing a row of gleaming teeth that were only enhanced by his tan.
“Do you know Tom Weaver?” Jake began.
Oscar’s fixed smile turned into a relieved laugh. “Of course I know Tommy. He has his problems, but he also makes an excellent security guard.”
“Excuse me,” Jake said, “but you’re a high executive in this corporation. How is it that you know personnel at that level?”
“People are our business,” he said blithely, and Jake almost believed him.
Money was also their business, but he put that aside.
“Okay, fine,” he said. “Did you send Weaver to break into Bill Frost’s house in Hurricane?”
Finally Oscar blinked. Now he got where the questions were headed. “Yes, I did send Tommy. Since he and Bill Frost live in the same town, I asked him to check with Bill on whether he was going to do a story on our company.”
Bonnie shot Jake an “I knew it” glance.
“And why would you be concerned about Bill Frost?” Jake asked.
“It’s no secret that environmentalists have long been at odds with the mining industry. In fact it’s an article of faith for them that what we’re doing is bad for the environment.”
“Isn’t it?” Bonnie erupted.
Oscar turned to her, mildly surprised. “I call it an ‘article of faith,’” he said, “because it isn’t based on fact. The goal of corporations such as ours is to spare Mother Earth from the scars and long-term damage inflicted on her by mankind.”
“But aren’t you the ones doing mankind’s bidding?” Bonnie said.
Oscar looked at them blamelessly. “Of course mankind has been on a long march toward progress. And corporations such as ours exist to ensure minimal impact on the environment. In the long run, we are helping build a world that is designed to co-exist with the natural world, in utter harmony.”
Bonnie’s noticeable lack of reaction told Jake she stood somewhere between charging the man with making a materially false statement and ripping the guy’s throat out.
“Just exactly how are you helping the environment?” Jake asked.
Oscar stood up and explained. He gestured with every word as he walked around the office. “The economy can go one of two ways. Green or gray,” he said. “If we go green, we not only minimize the impact of resource extraction, we extract what will leverage technology in a transfer to a green economy. If we go gray, we neglect the impact of extraction and continue along the path of an industrial-based economy. Kingston-Maes S.A. has chosen the green path, and we simply want to inform the well-meaning public of our positive vision for the future.”
Jake glanced at Bonnie, and she seemed to bridle at every word. She wasn’t having any of it, and Jake had to intercede quickly.
“Then surely Weaver’s breaking and entering the premises and ransacking the house was unintended?”
Oscar looked confused. “He did what?”
“He tore Bill Frost’s house apart in search of documents related to your company,” Jake said.
“I simply wanted Tommy to meet with him,” Oscar said, looking thrown off balance.
Bonnie finally spoke up. “Then you aren’t aware that Bill Frost was killed last weekend?”
“Killed?” Oscar seemed blindsided by the news.
“It’s been in all the papers,” Jake said. “Bill Frost was in Mongolia when he disappeared Sunday, five days ago.”
“I sent Tommy to talk with him over the weekend…”
Oscar was at a loss for words.
Bonnie intervened. “When did Tom Weaver send you the documents that he stole from Bill Frost’s house?”
It wasn’t how Jake would have phrased it, but he let the accusation stand.
“I received no such documents,” Oscar said.
“Did you ask Weaver to destroy them?” Jake asked.
“Not at all.” Oscar sat down gingerly.
“Okay, that was this weekend,” Jake said. “I would like to turn to yesterday morning. Tom Weaver returned to Bill Frost’s house to steal a file on China.”
Oscar’s deep tan turned a darker shade. “I have no knowledge…”
“Oh yes you do,” Jake said. “We have Tom Weaver’s testimony.” He looked at Bonnie and she gave a confident smile.
“What…did Tommy say?” Oscar asked.
“First let me ask you what you told Weaver to do yesterday morning.”
Oscar’s eyes narrowed as he sought to remember, or as he sought to find the least self-incriminating explanation.
“I got a call from Tommy early yesterday morning asking if he should get certain files from Bill Frost. Rest assured, I had no idea that Bill wasn’t there. I asked Tommy why he was getting the files, and he told me that it was for a certain acquaintance who does some work on a contractual basis for our corporation.”
So far, Oscar’s response tracked with what Tom Weaver had said, while minimizing the legal implications.
“I told him to go ahead,” Oscar said. “I thought he would simply ask Bill for the information.”
“Not steal it?” Bonnie said.
He turned to her with irritation. “Not at all.”
Jake was left at an impasse. Oscar’s account sounded plausible, a simple case of misunderstanding with an employee and that employee taking things too far.
“But who asked Weaver to take the file?” Jake said. “Who is this ‘certain acquaintance’ who ‘did some work’ for your company?”
“He’s a lobbyist in DC,” Oscar explained. “As it happens, he’s Bill’s brother.”
If Jake’s attention had been wandering, this brought him back with a jolt. “Cal Frost? The tech industry lobbyist in McLean, Virginia?”
“Yes. That’s him.”
“Why in the world would Cal Frost want to have his brother’s file?”
Once again, Oscar spread his hands in an innocent gesture. “I don’t know why Cal wanted the file.
They were brothers. What reason would I have to tell Tommy otherwise?”
Jake was still stunned and needed to recap. “You mean to say that Tom Weaver called you and told you that Bill Frost’s brother needed a file, and he wanted your permission to get it?”
Oscar nodded, still looking perplexed.
Which was how Jake felt. “Why in the world would Weaver need your permission?”
Oscar grasped for words. “I guess…since he was working on company time, he needed my permission.”
Bonnie scoffed. “That sounds pretty lame.”
“I know it sounds lame,” Oscar said. “But I had no idea that Bill Frost wasn’t home, much less dead. I had no idea that Tommy was breaking into Bill’s house.”
“So you’re chalking this up to an overzealous employee?” Jake said.
Oscar shook his head in a violent, head-clearing manner. “I certainly didn’t authorize him to break into the house.”
“Twice,” Bonnie reminded him.
“Tommy isn’t that irresponsible,” Oscar said, finally coming to his employee’s defense. “This had to be a simple misunderstanding.”
But Jake’s thoughts weren’t on the ponderings of a misguided mining executive.
His interest had been piqued. Cal Frost knew his brother was missing, if not dead. Why in the world had he asked a young man to risk jail time to steal the China file?
Whitney Baker might have taken Jake off the case, and his buddy Todd Williams at the National Security Council might have told him to back off, with the enormous weight of the White House behind him. But for Jake, the incongruities were staggering.
He turned to Bonnie. “Let’s go.”
They bade farewell to the well-heeled, and shaken Oscar Schultz.
Jake needed to have a chat with Cal.
Bonnie checked her watch. “We have an hour left on our meter.”
“Is there somewhere we can sit and make a call?” he asked.
“To Frost’s brother?” she asked.
He nodded.
She set her jaw and steered him into a lush garden with splashing fountains, children running about, and a bride and groom lining up for a photograph in front of the triple spires of the Salt Lake Temple.
Jake scrolled through his emails until he got to the one sent from the State Department’s Citizen Affairs office that gave him Cal Frost’s home and office numbers.
