Death Canyon (31 page)

It's just Jan.

Makter was relieved it wasn't the cops but not too eager for the conversation, judging by his old friend's tone. Just like in high school, Jan had naturally risen to the top. Although Makter had helped him gain connections in the criminal world, Jan was now his superior.

How can he know Trent tried to follow me?

“Jesus, Jan. I came up to . . .” Makter was trying to come up
with an answer. He had come to give Jan a piece of his mind, but Jan's aggression was derailing him. He was on the defensive.

“I asked you a question, do you know why you're here?”

“To get rid of Jake Trent.”

“Wrong.” Jan's voice got louder. “You're here to keep me safe and worry free. You're here so that I can do what I have to without interruption. Do you know the other important part of your job? Maybe nobody mentioned this to you.” Jan had a crooked smile on his face.

“Don't try to intimidate me.” Makter's eyes were fixated on Jan's.

Jan ignored the stare. “To take the fall if things get really bad. You and that little cult of hippies you've collected go to jail while we finish our tests and move on. You know damn well that the people I work for can't have their names mixed up in this.”

“So you say.” Makter spoke defiantly now.

“So now that you know who is going to take the fall if this thing goes wrong, why don't you tell me what your progress is with Trent?”

“Everything is going fine.”

Jan opened his eyes wider and looked at Mak with doubt. “So you've got nothing to tell me about today. Nothing?” He laid the sarcasm on heavy.

“I didn't do
anything
today except drive here,
sir
.” Makter was trying to be respectful, but the violence in him surfaced through this sarcastic remark. He had bashed men's brains in for disrespecting him like this.

“Let me show you something.” Jan led Makter over to an open map on the desk. He pointed to the location where the house sat. “We're here. Jake Trent lives down here. Mr. Trent, as we both know, is a legendary crime solver . . .”

Makter laughed out loud thinking it a joke, but quieted himself because of Jan's glare.

“Am I wrong, Mak? Do you think I'm stupid?” Jan's anger was hitting a peak. He started to shout. “So if Trent lives down here, and we're trying to keep him in the dark about what's going on up here”—Jan again jammed his finger at the location of the house; his voice turned into a strained shout and his face was red—“why the fuck would we allow him to follow us up to here?” Jan's thumb was now on the road in Yellowstone, about where the bison had crossed. He was spanning the distance between his thumb and forefinger. “Fifty miles south of here! You brought a criminal investigator fifty fucking miles south of me!!”

Makter raised his voice in response. “What? Nobody followed me anywhere! And Trent's retired! If I
was
followed, how the hell would you know? I told you to give me space to operate, you sonofabitch!”

There were dissonant voices in Makter's head. In some ways, he still feared and respected Jan. Mostly, though, he wanted to slit his throat. Watch him bleed out.

“How would I know? Despite my confidence in you—my now rapidly fading confidence—I took some of my own measures to ensure my safety.”

“You put a fucking tracker on my car? His too? I'm not a fucking child, Jan!”

“I did indeed. And rightfully so, as it turns out.” Jan's temper was flaring. “You out of your mind, Mak? What did I ask you to do?” He didn't leave time for the man to answer.

“I asked you, no, I
told
you, to stay near Trent and watch him. Watch him! I told you if and when I needed more, I would instruct you further. I told you we needed to make sure that he didn't come snooping around, that nothing caught his attention.

“And what did you do?” Jan was shouting now. “You came up with some sick fucking fantasy world! You let your own twisted desires put our work at risk! Start a cult? That's what you gleaned from my instructions?! That you should dream up a goddamn cult to ‘distract' Trent, that just so happens to satisfy your sick mind? We only needed three months! Your ‘distraction' is going to ruin us!”

Jan was pacing in front of Makter now, the veins in his head and neck bulging with boiling blood.

“I mean, fucking murdering people, Mak? Really? You're a sick fuck! I used to think it was a good trait, to be merciless and demented like you. You would do anything, no matter the consequences. Now I know you're just a demented little child!”

This was too much for Makter's mind to digest. He wanted to pounce, to end Jan's life. But again, something held him back.

Argus was like a fucking son to me!

Another voice:
Fucking kill Jan, you pussy!

Then another:
Keep it together. He'll get his!

Makter's eyelids twitched. Instead of addressing Jan's insults, he dissociated totally and readdressed the previous topic. His voice was friendly.

“Well, shit, don't you think that would have been helpful for me down there? The trackers? Sonofabitch, Jan! How the hell did Trent follow me anyway?”

“I've got no idea.” Jan's voice was calmer, resigned. “I'm guessing he recognized you, you
idiot
. Have you even figured out what I am in charge of up here, Mak?”

Makter ignored the insult. “No.
Hell
no. I don't give a shit. I just wanna do my job, make my money, and get back at that bastard for what he did. For both of us.”

“I share your sentiment on Jake Trent. But don't you think his
death would attract some unwanted attention? If you'll recall, he's still got some pretty important fed friends. Someone could come looking around. Someone not on our payroll.”

“You've paid off the feds? What for?”

“Feds, a few locals. Everybody we could. Some of the low-level authorities were too principled and shortsighted to hear me out.” Jan paused. “It's time you understand what's going on here.”

Makter wasn't listening.
He's soft! Kill him!
The voices came out of nowhere again, louder now.

“I need a glass of water,” Makter said. His scalp and face were itching and burning. He felt hot.

“I'll do you one better.” Jan walked over to the serving cart and poured Makter a scotch.

Jan started talking again. “Do you know what a barrel of petroleum costs right now?”

The question caught Makter by surprise. “It's high, I know . . . a hundred dollars?”

“It's one sixty, and that's an all-time record high. Do you know where we get energy in this country?” Jan asked. Makter shook his head rather than guessing again. He could feel the scotch coursing through him. It relaxed him slightly.

“Coal, natural gas, nuclear power, and the rest? What do you know about nuclear reactors?”

“Nothing really. I don't wanna live near one; coal's dirty—pollution and shit.” Makter shrugged, still not seeing the point.

“Right. Nobody wants a nuclear plant in his or her backyard. And with this eco-generation”—Jan practically spit the phrase out—“moving us all toward sustainability and eco-friendliness,
nobody can stomach the thought of black smoke billowing into the air anymore, right?”

Jan is always interested in the dumbest shit. What the hell is he talking about? I thought he wanted Trent's head?

“Mak, what if I told you that what we are working on here could someday contribute as much energy as both of those sources combined?”

Makter was confused. “Are you fucking with me?”

“I'm a businessman, you know that. I don't give a shit about the environment one way or another. I go where the money is, and I get no real thrill from committing petty crimes.” He gestured at Makter, who took it as a compliment.

“The people who came to me with this job, they can't afford to be held accountable if things should go wrong. My reputation isn't quite as spotless as theirs. So like you, I'm a liaison, a link in the chain. I watch over the day-to-day operation of the project. It wasn't complicated really.”

Makter glanced around. The instruments, monitors, and literature in the office seemed complicated, despite what Jan said, but Mak learned long ago never to doubt Jan's intellect.

“It took a few days for me to get a grasp on everything. Anything gets out of my control, I just call my contact and they take care of it. In two more weeks, our project is over; it's really just a test, you see, and we all go home.”

“Except for Trent?” Mak asked hopefully.

Jan looked frustrated. “Do whatever the hell you want with Trent. Just don't lead him here. And cut the cult bullshit. Then you can use your imagination, if it's feasible.”

“Feasible? Trent is responsible for what happened to your
son. . . . They could've killed us! I want you there to watch him suffer and die! I went to fucking prison, Jan. Six years! How can you be so fucking soft? He deserves worse than death. Your son—”

“Don't tell me about my son!” Jan's voice rose again, and then settled quickly. “I'm getting too old for this bullshit. If I finish this job, I go home to my family with my money. If I go chasing after Jake Trent, I risk it all. There's a time for vengeance, Mak. For me, that time has passed. I bid you luck in your endeavor against him.”

Makter stood up. “You're being a pussy, Jan, and you know it.” He slammed his fist down on a desk. He was crossing the line, but the words had already left his mouth. His old friend responded in a surprisingly calm tone.

“Is there anything else?”

“No.” Makter caught his breath.

“Okay, then one last thing.”

Makter sat back down, trying to remain cool. “Okay, what is it?”

“Do you know why I hired you? Why I always hire you?”

“Because I'm good at what I do.”

“Because I didn't want to take the risk. I hired you back then and now because I wasn't willing to go to jail, and I had money. You needed money and were willing to take the risk. That's business.”

“What's your point?”

“My point is that our government learned of this project, gave it the green light, and gave responsibility to some private security brain farm who hired the tech people, who hired some scientists. This went on and on until I got the call. I'm the project manager,
the man on the ground, the fixer, but I needed help. The men at the top of the chain have no idea who I am, and my boss has no idea who you are. That's the way everyone wants it.”

Makter looked confused.

Jan sighed. “Do you know why our criminal justice system works? Because everyone can deny accountability for the awful punishments they hand out. The judge makes the call but doesn't have to witness the execution. The executioner takes a life, but he feels no remorse because it was at the judge's orders. You are the executioner.”

More confusion. “What are you getting at, Jan?”

“Just do your part. No more, no less. And then collect your money.”

*  *  *

After Makter left, Jan poured himself a drink. He stepped out onto the deck and looked over the rolling hills and buttes of northern Yellowstone. For a second he thought he felt the earth move again. He hoped it was just the booze.

He hadn't mentioned the quakes to Makter. Hadn't told his old friend everything.

If I'm going down out here in the middle of nowhere, Makter is going down with me.

Jan finished his scotch in one gulp.

*  *  *

Noelle thought she felt a tremor, but it could have been her nerves. Jake looked at her, confirming that she had. It lasted only a few seconds. They were at Noelle's cabin doing some research on EcoAmicae. Jake's bed-and-breakfast was still unsafe.

They'd settled on leaving the police out of the equation from now on. Even if the cops weren't in on it, Terrell and his crew had been useless to this point. There was no reason to believe they could help now.

The research was yielding very little. EcoAmicae had been fingered for a few acts of questionable legality—trespassing, chaining themselves to trees, and otherwise interfering with development. But for the most part, they seemed to get positive press. An Internet search yielded message boards that coordinated rallies and fund-raisers. Their website sold T-shirts, vegan cookbooks, and green living manuals.

“I don't really see any reason to think these guys are out to kill you,” Noelle said over her shoulder.

“Can I have a look?” Noelle agreed, and handed the laptop over to Jake.

Jake scrolled through the search results, clicking on a few links. Noelle was right. There wasn't anything incriminating to be found. Jake opened one of the message boards. There wasn't much besides a few random rants and old meeting info.

One user name stuck out: WYldlife111. Based on the username, the person was a local. The
WY
likely referred to Wyoming, and the number of environmentalists seemed to drop off precipitously once you left Teton County. WYldlife111
had
to be here.

Jake searched for all posts by that name. He or she had contributed quite a bit to the forum. From the posts, Jake could confirm that WYldlife111 was in fact in Jackson; there were plenty of references to Teton County. He copied the username and pasted it into the search engine.

Noelle watched him. “Got something?” Jake didn't answer. Noelle paced the cabin, thinking.

Most of the results were garbage, site squatters trying to sell their domain names. The seventh one down—www.theonlycause.com—seemed promising, so Jake clicked on it and navigated to its message board.

Jake waved Noelle over but kept his eyes on the screen. “Look at this.” Jake pointed to a thread started by someone under the username WYld111. “It looks like this person posts on both the EcoAmicae board and this one. They live here in Jackson.”