Дэвид Балдаччи - Walk the Wire

Jamison’s gaze dropped to the floor, where sat an opened plastic condom package.

“Okay, I’m getting a tetanus booster as soon as we get out of here.”

Decker was walking around the room taking everything in. His observations were being placed on mental slides and uploaded to the cloud that constituted his largely infallible memory. “We’ll at least need to check all the prints here and try to do an elimination run.”

Kelly said, “Well, from what Ernie told us, it seems like Cramer and the young buck had sex that night.”

“Yeah, it does,” said Jamison. “And maybe the guy was so happy because she didn’t charge him for it.”

“And Ernie said Cramer was happy, too. I wonder why?”

Decker said, “We have to retrace her steps, every minute of every day. Now, Simms told us that Cramer was planning to go on a trip.” He eyed Kelly. “It’s early September, so I assume school has just started. Unless the Brothers have a different schedule.”

“No, they pretty much follow a traditional schedule when it comes to that.”

“Is she the only teacher there?”

“Except for the woman who lives out there and is a member of the Brothers’ Colony. Cramer taught the subjects the state requires under compulsory education, English, Social Studies, math, that sort of thing.”

“So what were they going to do while she was gone?” asked Jamison.

“Probably just have the kids taught by the other teacher. The Brothers only go to school until they’re fifteen. A week isn’t going to matter much one way or another.”

Decker said, “Let’s go talk to the Brothers, then.”

“We’ll have to make an appointment.”

Decker frowned. “Why, are they that busy?”

“It’s just common courtesy.”

“Fine. Then call them and tell them we’re on the way.”

“Decker, they might not like us barging in like that.”

Decker stared down at Kelly. “I doubt Irene Cramer ‘liked’ being butchered. So I’ll take finding her killer as fast as possible over somebody else’s possible hurt feelings over a visit .” He eyed the local cop severely. “This is a murder investigation, Kelly. Nothing takes precedence over that, at least in my book. If you think differently, we might have a problem working together.”

Kelly shot Jamison a glance and then looked back at Decker. “I have no problem with that.”

“Glad to hear it. Let’s go.”

“What the hell is that thing?” asked Jamison.

They were in the rental SUV heading east. They had cleared a slight rise in the otherwise flat plains and spied what appeared to be an Egyptian pyramid with its top chopped off and what looked like an enormous golf ball set atop this flat space. It was about a hundred and fifty feet high and made of what looked to be stone. It dwarfed the other buildings set behind it, all enclosed by double perimeter fencing with razor wire toppers.

“That’s the Douglas S. George Defense Complex, otherwise known as London Air Force Station,” replied Kelly, who was riding next to Jamison.

She said, “Air Force station? I don’t see any planes or runways.”

“It’s not an air base. It’s an air station . Although they do have a runway for planes and a helipad. And a super-duper radar array is housed in that blob. It can see into space. It’s part of the early warning system in case somebody fires nukes at North America.”

“Stuck way out here?” commented Jamison.

“I guess some politician from North Dakota lobbied hard for it. But it’s pretty ugly, so would you want something like that in your backyard? Anyway, it’s been here since the fifties, long before I was alive.” He pointed to an upcoming road. “Hang a right there, Alex.”

She did so and they found themselves passing fairly close to the Air Force station.

“Not too far now,” said Kelly. “Just up ahead we turn left and then we’re there.”

Decker looked puzzled. “But it looks like we’re still on the Air Force property.”

Kelly smiled. “About ten years ago most of the property went up for auction and the Brothers bought it. And then frackers recently leased some of it from them.”

“The Brothers bought land from the federal government that has an Air Force installation on it?” said Jamison, looking surprised.

“I guess Uncle Sam is trying to cut costs, or they didn’t need all of the acreage. And they didn’t buy the Air Force station, of course, just the spare acreage. Now, the Brothers did need that land. They’ve spun off a few new colonies and they needed the space for those folks to set up their farms and other operations.”

“Just so I’ve got this straight, you have a religious sect plowing fields right next to a government eye in the sky looking for nukes coming our way?”

“It would make for a great skit on Saturday Night Live ,” observed Kelly.

Jamison hung the next left, and another quarter mile down a freshly paved road, they arrived at the Brothers’ compound.

Kelly had phoned ahead, and there were two men waiting by a large metal farm gate. Even in the heat and humidity they were both dressed in heavy, dark clothing and wore battered black fedoras with silk gray bands. Full beards covered their jaws and chins. One wore a pair of old-fashioned pince-nez glasses. The other one, younger by about ten years than his late-fiftyish companion, gazed at them curiously through horn-rimmed spectacles. About a hundred feet behind them was a tall woman in her late forties with brown hair flecked with silver, wearing a long dress with colorful stripes and a kerchief with white polka dots. She, too, was watching them closely.

In the distance, Decker could see low-slung cinderblock buildings fronted either by well-tended lawns or crushed gravel. There were large corrugated-metal buildings, some grain silos, fenced crop fields, and many pieces of neatly arranged heavy farming equipment along with some other machinery that, to Decker’s eye, looked like they would be used in a building or manufacturing process. Everything was laid out with thought and precision, he concluded.

“Like I said before, it’s all communal living here,” said Kelly as the SUV came to a stop. “No personal property, really, except your clothes and what’s in your house.”

“The big buildings?” asked Jamison.

“They sell eggs and vegetables, and other things that they grow. They also make furniture and some parts for manufacturing, and they also do metal fabrication. The fracking people buy from them. They have their own truck fleet to deliver everything. It’s a fairly large-scale operation when all is said and done. They’re very self-sufficient. Their English is excellent, though their first language is German.”

“And you haven’t told them why we’re here?” said Jamison.

Kelly’s look darkened. “No, not over the phone. It’s going to come as a shock.”

“I’m surprised they have phones,” she said.

“Well, they don’t allow TV or the internet, strictly speaking. But younger members do use Facebook and Instagram and email to keep in touch with friends, though that’s closely regulated. And cell phones are necessary for business and personal tasks, so they have those too. There’s only one central hard line phone. They worry that the outside world will try to encroach on them.”

“And maybe convince some of the younger members to leave?” said Jamison.

“The outside world can be enticing, for all the wrong reasons,” conceded Kelly.

They climbed out of the vehicle and approached the two men, who came forward and extended their hands in greeting. They all introduced themselves to one another.

The older man was Peter Gunther, who was the minister of this particular colony, and his companion was Milton Ames, the secretary. The woman, who had remained standing back, was Ames’s wife, Susan, her husband told them. She was the tailor of the colony, Gunther said.