William Rabkin - The Call of the Mild

When the last of the hostages was secured, the four masked men took positions around the fire pit, a small circle inside the larger ring of captives. After a long moment there was a rustling in the brush, and the red-haired man stepped out from between two large trees.

“Doesn’t this look like fun!” he said, smiling cheerfully. “Nothing like a little camping trip to build team spirit.”

“What do you want from us?” Mathis growled from across the circle.

“From you?” the red-haired man said. “Nothing. My brothers and I have everything we could need here. We’ve got the sky above and the ground below. We’ve got nature’s bounty all around.”

“Then let us go, you fat freak.” It was Gwendolyn. Gus was torn between admiration for her spirit and fear that she’d get herself-and maybe the rest of them-killed.

“I said there’s nothing I want from you,” the red-haired man continued, as if she hadn’t insulted him. “I didn’t say there was nothing I wanted at all. After all, you’re lawyers. If I were to sue Manning Timber because they illegally clear-cut thousands of acres of public land and you were to defend them, it wouldn’t be accurate to say that I wanted something from you specifically. You would simply be the vehicle through which I would address my demands.”

“You’re doing this because you’re mad about the Manning Timber case?” Balowsky said. “Because I think most of us would agree that that case was wrongly, even criminally settled based on false information supplied to the court about various members of the environmental organizations that brought suit. In fact, many of us voted to censure the lawyer who was in charge of that case. If you let the rest of us go, we can tell you which one that was.”

“You bastard,” Gwendolyn spat. “You all spent the money Manning paid us for my work. And besides, the strategy was Jade’s. You go after the weakest parts of the opposition first, and then use their failure to bring down the rest.”

“That’s not a license to slander,” Jade said. “You still need to act within an ethical framework based on respect for the other side’s point of view.”

“We were just doing a job for our clients,” Savage said. “That’s how our adversarial legal system works.”

“I understand,” the red-haired man said. “And I don’t hold you responsible for the decision. I just want to engage your services for the next round of negotiations.”

“Then use the phone like everyone else,” Gwendolyn said. “But I can save you the dime. We can’t take your side in the appeal because we’ve already represented your opponent. If you thought it through for one second, you’d realize that, you moron.”

“What my colleague means to say,” Balowsky said quickly, “is that the firm of Rushton, Morelock, while not able to directly aid you in your appeal, will do its utmost to find you the best counsel possible. And if your organization is in financial straits, we would be willing to handle your legal bills, as well.”

“Yeah, those death penalty cases can be expensive,” Mathis said. “And since there’s no chance you’d ever win, no lawyer is going to take your case without payment up front.”

“Will you shut up?” Savage whispered furiously. “We’re trying to negotiate a deal here.”

“I don’t deal with terrorists,” Mathis said.

“That’s really inspiring,” Balowsky said, “until you remember that corpses don’t deal with anyone.”

“Why are you doing this to us?” Jade wailed. “We haven’t done anything to you.”

“As I said, you are merely the vehicle through which I am seeking redress,” the red-haired man said.

“It’s about time you’re seeking to get redressed,” Shawn said. “Because that outfit does absolutely nothing for you. And if one more thread snaps on those shorts, we’re all going to wish you had killed us back at the camp.”

Gus stared at Shawn, who was smiling up at the red-haired man as if he were free and his captor was the one tied to the tree.

“What are you doing?” Gus whispered furiously.

“Testing a theory,” Shawn said.

“What theory?” Gus said. “That no matter how many rotten things you’ve done, you’ll still end up in heaven?”

Shawn ignored him. “Tell me, Tubby,” he said, “what’s the next part of your brilliant plan? Because right now all I see is a fat guy playing dress-up and dancing around a campfire.”

“Shawn, stop,” Gus said, fully expecting at least a small percentage of the inevitable hail of bullets to penetrate his own flesh.

But if the red-haired man was offended by Shawn, he didn’t show it. If anything, he seemed amused.

“My plan is done,” he said. “I’ve sent out my demands, I’ve explained what will happen to all of you if I don’t get what I want. All I have to do is wait.”

“Demands?” Savage said. “We’ll give you whatever you want.”

“I already told you,” Mathis snapped. “We do not negotiate with terrorists.”

“I’m not negotiating,” Savage said. “I’m giving him whatever he wants.”

“I’m afraid my demands have to be settled at a higher level than this, although I do appreciate your generosity,” the red-haired man said.

“What is it you want?” Jade said.

“Not much. Just the immediate and permanent end to all logging, hunting, and fishing on all federal and state lands in the country,” the red-haired man said.

“You’re insane,” Gwendolyn shouted. “That’s never going to happen.”

“I really hope you’re wrong,” the red-haired man said.

“There must be something else you want,” Balowsky begged. “We’ve got money. We can buy you your own forest, and then you can keep everyone from logging there.”

“The immediate and permanent end to all logging, hunting, and fishing on all federal and state lands in the country,” the red-haired man said, “or you are all going to die.”

The sun was hidden by the tops of the trees, but the air near the forest floor was hot and thick, choked with dust and decaying pine needles.

Gus crawled along the ground, sweat cascading off him. He scraped away a foot of dry needles, then clawed out a small handful of dirt and dropped an acorn into the hole. He swept the dirt and pine needles back in place and crawled forward another foot.

All around him in the forest he could hear the sounds of the lawyers performing the same ridiculous, repetitive task. He was sure their fingers were blistering just like his, that their bare knees were aching and their heads pounding from the heat.

Even their armed guards looked like they were beginning to fade under the high temperatures. Their camouflage shirts were rolled up to their elbows, and their pants, unequipped with zip-off legs, were pulled up to their knees. They’d even rolled their balaclavas up over the backs of their heads to let their scalps breathe. It would have made more sense to take them off altogether, but Gus was glad they hadn’t. The fact that they were concerned about being identified suggested they intended on letting their hostages go at some point.

Now that they were partially uncovered, Gus realized that he’d been wrong about one thing. These weren’t four men. Judging by the thin wrists and ankles and delicate neck, one of the guards was a woman. In normal circumstances Gus would have tried to figure a way to get her alone, in hopes of overpowering the weakest member of the team and getting away. But normal circumstances meant the weakest member wasn’t carrying an automatic rifle, and that wasn’t the case here.

And so he continued to crawl along the ground, dropping acorns into dry holes. This was the red-haired man’s order. Manning Timber’s clear-cutting campaign had cost the state hundreds of thousands of trees. Until he got his way, the hostages were going to repair that damage. They’d plant one tree for every one that had been cut.