Fault Line In The Sand Page 7

  “That doesn’t make sense,” Mac said.

  “What makes even less sense is, no one recognizes this guy.”

  “You know everyone else on the crew?”

  “We may forget your name, but not your face.”

  Mac fell back in line and was quiet the rest of the way to the top of the hill. Taking our packs off and leaving them on the ground, Mac had us crawl to the big boulder at the crest of the hill. The rock geeks hung back and crouched behind the boulder while Liz and Mac got their first view of the bay.

  Mary Bay is located in the northeast corner of Yellowstone Lake. Before the blast her blue water matched the sky, making it appear to be a reflection of itself instead of water meeting the atmosphere. Grizzly walked her shore to the delight of little kids seeing their first wild bear. Steam covered the road most mornings as the cold night air met the heated thermal pools near her shore. She was the low spot before beginning the drive up to Avalanche Peak and over Sylvan Pass.

  That bay no longer existed. The road was gone; buried under debris and the water of the bay, which now tilted further inland. Her water still showed signs of the murky mud the blast threw when the lakebed exploded. The fragile thermal ponds and small meadow across the road were now under the lake. Walking her wide shore was no longer a delightful hike that soothed the soul. The new shore was narrow and in many places butted up against the mountains on her eastern side. It was also closed to tourists.

  Closed for the second time in a year. This time the park service was making no attempts to rebuild the road that connected Cody, Wyoming to Yellowstone Park. All the communities along that path were dying, their businesses going bankrupt, their lodges and restaurants empty. The state of Wyoming was threatening to take the park away from the federal government, declare the Wyoming section as a State Park and rebuild the road. The Feds were screaming no, and in the process screwing the locals. If our investigation could blow open the real reason some of those federal officials were denying access it would be worth exposing our identity. If I kept repeating that, maybe my brain would eventually buy into the altruism and not be scared shitless.

  “I’ll be damned,” Mac said.

  “Confirmed,” Liz agreed.

  I wasn’t sure what they were damned about but it didn’t sound good. Both continued to watch the bay through their binoculars.

  “How do we proceed?” Mac asked Liz.

  “More carefully than anyone in service to this country ever has before.” Liz turned around and looked at the three, mouths-wide-open, stooges behind her. “One of you hand me the camera out of my pack.”

  Todd was the first to react and pulled out a very expensive camera with a 400mm lens and 2x extender, and handed it to Liz. The camera clicked away taking photos so fast that when downloaded you could scroll through them like an old movie shot on frames of film. Mac rolled over on his back and closed his eyes.

  “Someone start talking,” I said.

  “Yeah, what’s damned and why is it confirmed?” Amanda asked.

  Mac opened his eyes and spoke without looking at us. “The ‘mystery man’ is the new President’s personal aide.”

  “Why would he be slumming in Wyoming?” Amanda asked.

  Todd made the sign of the cross. “Oh boy, this is bad.”

  “Fuck!”

  The alarm went off in Amanda’s head and she repeated my sentiment. “Guess I’m going to be putting money in the ‘F’ boot also.”

  “Jorie seems to be done mumbling foul language,” Todd said.

  “She must be out of money to put in the F-bomb boot.” Amanda swatted a lone horsefly that hadn’t gotten the winter-is-coming memo.

  We’d returned to camp once Liz finished taking photos. I’d been sure my life couldn’t get any more screwed up, yet here I sat. One President murdered, and the new one responsible. The whole scenario seemed too ridiculous to be true. Was there more happening behind the scenes than she was aware of? Was she a pawn in a bigger plan? “This is off the probability chart for me.”

  “Me too,” Amanda said. “The new President is fantastic. She’s well liked, and was headed for an easy win in the next presidential election. It’s not like the other side had any viable candidate to compete against someone so respected by both major parties.”

  “There is definitely something wonky. And so much so I give it a WonkFac 1,” Todd said.

  Liz looked at Mac. “Can I assume this is their take on DEFCON?”

  “You can.”

  “Then I’m prepared to agree with Todd, this calls for a WonkFac 1.”

  “I agree the facts don’t add up,” Mac said.

  “Mac has his fact-finding hat on. Better take off my cowboy hat and saddle up to my camo,” Todd said.

  “Okay, soon-to-be Dr. Todd.”

  Amanda interrupted Mac. “Please don’t call him Dr. Todd, it makes him sound like a sex-therapist instead of a volcanologist.”

  Todd moved in close to Mac. “This is Dr. Todd, what’s your question young man?”

  “Told you,” Amanda said.

  Mac shook his head. “Soon-to-be Dr. Cooper, what facts can you present that make a case for the President’s innocence?”

  “To reiterate, she’s very-well respected with a great electable political personality. She also, at age 54, has plenty of good years to complete her own eight years in office. Most importantly, in my opinion, she’s only gaining an additional 18 months in office by participating in the assassination of her predecessor. I conclude there is no reason for her to be a suspect.”

  Mac applauded, “Nice job, however I don’t think she’ll be hiring you as her defense attorney.”

  “Why not?” Todd asked.

  “You sir, gave me her motive.”

  Todd was counting on his fingers the items he offered. “I got nothing.”

  “It’s the timeline,” Liz said.

  Todd counted again. “Eight years. Age 54. 18 months. That’s it! 18 months.”

  “I bow to your deduction,” Mac said.

  There wasn’t any bowing from me. “What’s happening in the next 18 months to make a person with the highest pre-election approval rating in recorded history, incapable of waiting her turn at the presidency?” I took the bottle of whiskey out of the pack and held it up. “Thinking juice anyone?”

  Chapter 9

  You knew?” I asked.

  “I was 80 percent sure.” Liz didn’t try to hedge.

  “The truth will set you free.”

  “The truth will get some life in prison.”

  “And thus your reason why the truth isn’t your policy,” I said.

  “Exactly. Although, I’ll concede it has its place,” Liz smiled at me, which was disconcerting since her honest smile was captivating and truly beautiful.

  “It’s why you’re here.”

  “Yes.”

  “Did Mac know?”

  “No.” Spies and their one-word answers. Makes me understand why their counterparts want to stick bamboo under their fingernails.

  “Don’t make me have to cut you. You told him your suspicions?” I was getting bold with my threats veiled in fake accents, and not unhappy at the prospect of pulling my knife on her.

  “Yes. And that was the worst German accent I’ve ever heard,” Liz said.

  “It was Russian.”

  Her eyebrows rose, and she started speaking what I’d assume was flawless Russian. I could easily picture her with a dark wig, dowdy clothing and sensible shoes shopping in a Russian market passing top-secret information without a second look from the KGB.

  “Anymore questions?” she asked in English with a Russian accent. My accent really was worse than the hotdogs Gramps fed me as a kid with mayo, grape jelly and peanut butter on them.

  “Are you officially working for the DIA?” I asked.

  “No,” Liz said.

  “Someone else in the espionage world?”

  “Yes.”

  “Wanna tell me who?”

 
“No.”

  “I’m starting to sweat from so much truth.” Even if it was only one word answers.

  “It’s why misinformation is better, it never makes me sweat.” Liz smiled at me.

  “I thought lie detector tests were based on factors that make you sweat?”

  Liz looked around, checking to see if anyone was eavesdropping. I couldn’t help but follow her lead, but I felt like a cartoon animal chasing its tail. “Jorie, I’ve never failed a lie detector test.”

  “Holy brain freeze, batman!” I said, stealing Todd’s line.

  The piranha look returned as she walked away.

  “Hey wait,” I called. “Can you teach that?”

  She stopped. Stood like a statue. I waited. And waited. Finally, she slowly turned and signaled me to come closer. Like a mosquito that can’t resist flying into the light of a bug zapper, I approached.

  “What do you want to learn? How to beat a lie detector or the piranha look?”

  I swallowed, and through no fault of my own jumped straight into her. Mac had swatted my butt, pushing me forward at the same time. “You don’t need either of those skills.”

  Standing boob-to-boob with me, Liz winked. “Sure you do.”

  I turned to give my best piranha look to Mac, but he was gone. Turning back, Liz was too.

  A huge boar was moving slowly along the banks of Turbid Lake and nearing our camp. The horses were grazing away from camp and the bear was oblivious to them and the humans. He weighed between 600 and 650 pounds and I knew he was hungry and upset that another bear was poaching in his territory. To attempt to communicate with this bear would be like trying to sweet talk a mass murderer into leaving you the only person alive.

  Backing away from the area, I moved as quickly as possible without running back to camp. “Bear coming.” Everyone but Liz pulled their bear capsicum spray out of their holders. I gave Liz the evil eye and she lowered her .45 and took the spray from its pouch. Todd, Amanda and I started making noise in regular toned voices. Yelling at a bear was more aggressive than letting him decide for himself to avoid the pesky, talking, humans.

  “Hey bear, we’re having a party.” Todd was singing to the tune of We’re Having a Heat Wave.

  “A human party.” Amanda joined.

  I might as well join too. “It’s not for you, cuz Liz has a gun, so run, run, run.”

  Mac laughed, but sang along “That was really bad.”

  “I know it was. But it’s better than being bear food.”

  “Here he comes,” Todd sang.

  “Keep singing,” I said.

  “He’s not even looking” Amanda’s voice cracked as she sang.

  Mine cracked too. “He’s ignoring our show, but still dangerous, and there he goes.”

  The singing stopped.

  “I’d like to say that was the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen, but it worked.” Liz bent over and attempted to slow her heavy breathing.

  “Lucky for us that was four-toes,” Todd blew out a long breath.

  “He can be a mean SOB if you don’t acknowledge he’s king of this territory,” Amanda said.

  Liz looked at Mac and back at me. “Four-toes?”

  “He’s actually bear 422, but a lot of us prefer to call them by human names. It’s a sign of respect,” I said.

  “What’s wrong with calling him 422?” Liz asked.

  “What’s wrong with your name being 504,322,000?”

  “Got it. Why four-toes?”

  “He only has claws on four toes of his left front paw. Probably from a fight with a larger bear when he was young,” I said.

  “Why did Todd say we were lucky it was him?”

  “The east road was next to the bay before it was wiped out in the explosion and buried underwater. Four-toes was a regular visitor to the edge of the bay and was accustom to seeing cars and humans.”

  Amanda was watching behind camp in case the bear chose to circle around on us. “The park calls them road bears. They’re more tolerant of humans than backcountry bears since they see us regularly.”

  “We were also lucky we were not in the path of where he wanted to go,” Todd said.

  “How do you know we weren’t?” Liz asked.

  “Because, he never looked this way,” Mac answered. “I told you I’d been reading about bear behavior.”

  “Most important thing to remember, Liz, is even with knowledge and lots of experience you never really know what a bear will do. They’re all different, just like humans are different,” I said.

  Todd laughed, “And like humans they have good hair days and bad hair days, so always be prepared for the worst.”

  “That better not be a reference to me.” Amanda finger-combed her hair.

  “Ruffled your feathers, princess?”

  “My hair looks fabulous.”

  “It’s a rat’s nest.”

  “I left it down for those hotties. Hey, what happened to them?” Amanda asked.

  Mac’s trained-to-fib face was firmly in place. “They must have hiked up another trail before reaching us.”

  “There is no other trail.” Amanda clapped her hands once.

  Todd rescued Mac. “They took the game trail and went around Turbid Lake the other way.”

  “Maybe we’ll see them later.” Amanda accepted that explanation way too easily.

  “You never know,” Mac smiled.

  I whispered to Liz, “With those guys working together, it’s not looking good for our bet.”

  “I’m holding out she’s smarter than them.”

  Mac and Liz had been doing whatever spies do for almost two hours. The rest of us had finished our lunch of peanut butter crackers, freeze-dried fruit, and jerky, and were playing 3-handed poker.

  “I’d like to move to the original camp where the assassins remotely detonated the bomb,” Mac said.

  “Good. There are too many bears around here. I swear every sound freaks me out,” Todd said.

  “Tata, you get started with the tents and gear, we need to talk to Jorie for a moment,” Mac directed.

  “Okay.”

  “Got it, boss.”

  “How do you do that?” I asked.

  “No idea,” Mac said. “The weather forecast changed the morning we left the ranch, and not for the better.”

  “You’re just telling me now?”

  “I was waiting to see what was happening here first.”

  “In the backcountry you don’t wait. Delayed weather information can get you killed.”

  “Sorry.” Mac actually looked sheepish.

  “What’s the forecast?”

  “The predicted snow amount for tonight and tomorrow has increased.”

  “I keep my eye on the barometric pressure and haven’t seen anything that worries me yet.” Truthfully, I was worried. Autumn snow is serious business; it can fall like it’s being dropped on you by a dump truck and basically not stop till spring.

  “Frank said it looks like a hit and run storm,” Mac said.

  “I sense there’s a but.”

  “It could dump up to two feet of snow in 12 hours,” Liz said.

  “Crap.” I hate heavy fall storms. “What’s the temperature predicted to return to after the storm?”

  “Should be 38 degrees the first 24 hours, and then 42 the next day,” Mac said.

  “And the overnight lows?” I wasn’t sure I really wanted to know the answer.

  “The high teens,” Mac said.

  “You’re going to be glad you packed for camping at the North Pole.”

  Mac took hold of my arm. “Jorie.”

  I don’t think I’m going to like what’s coming. “Yes?”

  “We could have sustained winds of 40 mph,” Mac said.

  A blizzard. And not the yummy kind from the Dairy Queen in town.

  “Good thing we’re moving camp. We’ll be more protected in the dense forest, than sitting up here in a heavily burned out one with dead trees falling over in high winds.”

>   Moving to saddle up the horses I wondered if we should return to Fishing Bridge and see if we could use a cabin there or at Lake Yellowstone. While it would be smarter to ride out the storm there, it would also give away to Bull Johnson and the President’s aide that we were here. There was no point in suggesting it. I knew the spies would never agree. We were going to hunker down and literally hang on. I hope we had enough whiskey to pacify the boredom. And enough rope to tie down the tents against the wind, with some leftover in case I needed to hang myself.

  The ride from Turbid Lake to the main road was approximately five miles. The sun was heating the October day into the low 50s and with the trail in good condition the horses covered the distance quickly. We crossed the main highway, rode through the Nine Mile parking lot, and melted back into the forest on the Thorofare trail without seeing another human. There were several trucks with horse trailers in the parking lot, left by backcountry hunters and their guides. It was legal to use the park as access to hunting areas, but illegal to hunt inside the park boundary.

  Poaching inside the park, especially in the Thorofare, had been going on for decades. Some outfitters would place illegal salt licks in the park, creating a trail to lure park elk outside the boundary where their clients could legally shoot them. The arguments between outfitters and rangers had been known to get physical. There wasn’t a chance you’d find me in the Thorofare during hunting season. I liked my skin, and preferred to keep it without holes in it.

  Mac assured me he had no interest in traveling back to the Thorofare. The evidence he was interested in was in the area of Mary Bay. The camp the assassins based out of in July was not a sanctioned campsite. They rode off-trail on an old game trail and created their own camp hidden in the trees close to the shore of Lake Yellowstone. I was still amazed no one had discovered them. Mac acted like hiding for days or weeks, almost in plain sight was easy to do. Spies and assassins may be trained for this, but geology geeks weren’t. Todd and Amanda made so much noise our camps often felt like a small circus.