Ridley Pearson - Killer View

Walt glanced over at Hillabrand, who stood half out the door. “Hopefully, you’ll believe her. I’ll be waiting just outside.” He pulled the door shut.

“Walt?”

She had sneaked onto the screen while Walt had been distracted with Hillabrand.

“How great to see you!” she exclaimed.

“Madame Vice President…”

“Enough of that, Walt. It’s ‘Liz,’ and you know better.”

“You look well.”

“I am, thank you. And you? You look tired.”

“I know your time must be limited. I was just speaking to Roger Hillabrand. He said you might clarify some of this.”

“Everything I presume Roger has told you is accurate, Walt. We were attacked, and we’ve had to play hardball to protect current negotiations. Its important for you to know that both houses have been briefed through committee. There is no cover-up taking place. It may take twenty-five years and the Freedom of Information Act for any but a handful of people to know about this incident, but that’s how the game has to be played sometimes.”

“They tried to frame Danny Cutter on a drug charge,” Walt said. “Is that protocol?”

“I can’t speak to specifics. I have heard that, in certain instances, pressure points were determined and taken advantage of in order to ensure full cooperation. They have to make absolutely sure that everyone will sign the NDA and cooperate fully. They can’t risk anything short of that. If a witness hesitates, there has to be backup. Some of this behavior is despicable, and I apologize for that. I’ve expressed my displeasure at some of the tactics used.”

“My wife? My children?” Walt suddenly saw Gail’s intrusion differently.

“What about them?”

“Never mind.”

“Tell me. Please.”

“It’s unrelated.”

“It may not be, Walt,” she said. “Please, tell me.”

He briefly explained Gail’s claiming the girls for herself-this after leaving the marriage because she felt overwhelmed by motherhood. It hadn’t added up until just this moment.

“I’m wondering if she didn’t get an anonymous phone call implying some kind of failure on my part. I’m wondering if there wasn’t some behind-the-scenes look at my divorce papers.”

“Walt, I would never condone such a thing. I want you to know that. The president and I are briefed regularly about the situation out there but certainly haven’t heard all the details. Nothing about what you claim happened to Danny Cutter, and most definitely nothing to do with you. I can, and will, make some calls.”

“A thing like this,” Walt said, “the sabotage, it can’t be contained. Not once it’s in the water. You know that, right?”

“Do you mean the news of the event or the contamination itself?”

“Both.”

“As to the contamination, it was minimal. There’s a tremendous volume of water we’re dealing with. Levels are well off of where they were two and three weeks ago. Another two weeks, we’re told, and we’re in the clear.” She pursed her lips as her attention was drawn offscreen. “As to the spread of information, we believe it can be contained, has to be contained. We need your cooperation, your assistance, in seeing that happens.”

“I signed the NDA, Liz. I’m not going to risk a stay in Leavenworth. I won’t say anything.”

“It’s more than that. It’s Mark Aker. We need to extract him before he’s forced to publish something that could be damaging.”

“Publish?”

“Maybe Roger didn’t tell you everything. What the Samakinn seek most is notoriety. Credibility. They believe credibility comes through verification, confirmation the sabotage was effective.”

“Scientific proof,” Walt said. “Like a veterinarian’s report on the sheep.”

“The sabotage is under investigation. The Samakinn must have had inside help. Roger’s people have been working twenty-four/seven with the Bureau, attempting to turn up the mole. Our information is that the Bureau has surveillance in place. They are ready to strike. We both know what happens to Mark Aker if he’s anywhere near them when that strike occurs.”

“I need whatever intel’s available,” Walt said, sitting forward in the chair.

“I’m not privy to the details. It’s too far out of my area of operations.”

“But you said yourself, Mark has to be extracted.”

“There’s a genuine fear of Ruby Ridge here, Walt. It’s one of the things holding the Bureau back. If they make this into a standoff, the Samakinn win the press coverage they so desperately seek. It’s a no-win for us. And that’s got all of us looking at alternatives. But if Mark Aker’s out of the equation, there’s a lot more leeway. There’s still time for you to help us fix this.”

“I have nothing,” Walt said. “I can’t do anything without something to work with.”

“Work with Roger. Cooperate with him, Walt. He’s not the enemy. That’s the purpose of this call: to try to bring you two closer together. His people have their suspicions, suspects. Maybe between the two of you…”

Walt had focused on Hillabrand as a suspect for too long to now reverse himself and make him an ally. Just the suggestion of working with him turned Walt’s stomach: the man had pursued Fiona, possibly in order to monitor Walt; he’d denied knowledge of Randy Aker’s death, which seemed unlikely.

Worming inside him was the realization of how misplaced his suspicions had been, how biased he’d been against Hillabrand’s big money, how eagerly he’d labeled Semper the corporate villain, the ranchers as easily compromised accomplices. Senator Peavy had tried to steer him toward Washington, had repeatedly said how he was trying to help Walt, and Walt had reacted negatively, immediately distrusting the man. Perhaps the plan had been for Shaler to seek him out in person and explain the events. It all played out so differently now.

“Listen,” Liz Shaler said, “I’ve got to go. But I want you to think about everything I’ve said. Follow your instincts on this, Walt. I’ve always trusted your instincts.”

“Thank you.” But he was questioning his instincts, and her praise only drove home that point.

“We need to pool our resources, find this group, and extract Mark Aker. Nothing short of that is acceptable.”

“Agreed.”

Even over a webcam, there was a look to Liz Shaler’s eyes that would haunt him. A fierce determination that flirted too close to fear. A take-no-prisoners defiance that mixed with the terror that any mention of radioactivity brought. She seemed to be telling him, without words, that if Mark had to be sacrificed for the “greater good,” then that was what was going to happen.

ROY COATS LIVED WITH THE PAIN. THE DOC HAD STOLEN all the serious meds; aspirin hardly helped. He felt his best when sitting quietly by the woodstove, the brand name of which was reversed on his cheek in angry blisters. The wound in his leg left him a cripple; it was a caked, spongy mass of scab and infection. His armpit wound was less of a concern. It hurt far less. But if he tried to venture outside into the biting cold, his face lit up in pain. He waited-impatient, hurting badly, and foul of mood-ready to tear the head off the next thing that came through the door.

The required knock on the cabin door won his attention.

He grunted loudly, admitting whoever it was. The burn’s infection kept him from speaking much. He could move his lips enough to get a few words out, but that was it.

The doorknob turned, and Newbs poked his head through, then stepped inside cautiously.

“’Bout time,” Coats said.

Donny Newbury was twenty-three but looked thirty due to the width of his round face and the thick scrub of a beard that he wore. He ducked his head, coming through the door, and filled the cabin with his wide shoulders and barrel chest.