Gabriel's Stand (5 page)

Gosli brushed Fowler's hand away, Knight exchanged eye contact with the German woman.
There's always one
, the look said. Berker nodded imperceptibly. Ed was too furious to catch the exchange.

“I want no part of this cabal of yours, Knight. In fact, you might be concerned that someone decides to go public.”

“That would be a mistake, Ed.” They were standing in front of the glass exit door in front of the building.

“As you know, Knight, I don't tattle. But I am strongly leaning against this Treaty. And when I make up my mind, I will be heard.”

Fowler flinched. “Don't you at least want to meet with Rex to discuss—”

“Discuss what? An illegal compact to restrain trade, fix prices and screw the ordinary Joe and Jill? I thought you had something
new
to offer. Thank you for the invitation, Knight, but I have nothing to contribute here. I'm a live and let live kind of guy. But mess with me and you'll regret it, Knight. I mean it. Play nice or I will blow the lid off your whole amateurish scheme.”

Fowler smiled thinly. “Thanks for the head's-up, old friend. I'm sure it will never come to that. Louise, please escort Ed to his transportation.” Knight Fowler extended his hand. “Later, Ed.” Gosli shook it perfunctorily, noting that Knight's hand was clammy and cold.

The German woman smiled winningly. “I'm Louise Berker of Opinion Research Associates in Seattle. We're sorry you couldn't stay for everything, Mr. Gosli. I imagine your driver didn't expect you to leave so early. Our limousine can drop you wherever you like.”

Ed Gosli looked at his watch. “Sure,” he said. “Why not?”

Ed stepped outside the hotel and was immediately engulfed in cloying, damp heat. Berker followed him, talking into a headset. Moments later, a silver Mercedes limousine slid into the blue zone outside the Fowler Building and the rear passenger door popped open.
The quicker I get back to my hotel, the better
, Gosli thought. He slid into the rear seat, grateful for the rush of chilled air. As the door closed, Ed looked for the driver. The seat was completely empty.

“Where's the driver?” Gosli just could see Berker smiling through the dark glass. She was saying something. He opened the window a crack.

“Your ride is fully automated, Mr. Gosli.” Just then the car pulled sharply away, its acceleration pulling Ed against the upholstery. As the window closed, Ed could hear Berker's retreating voice over the hiss of the tires.

“Goodbye…”

Ed Gosli looked out through the darkened window at the traffic.
Where the hell am I going?

It suddenly occurred to him that he didn't have a good feeling about this.

CEO KILLED IN TRUCK COLLISION

BOSTON
:
Police are still investigating the head-on collision that took the life of Edward F. Gosli, the CEO of General Advanced Technologies, and an unidentified truck driver, yesterday at 2:34 P.M. No witnesses were present at the scene in which Mr. Gosli's vehicle, a leased limousine, was totally destroyed. Edward Francis Gosli is survived by his wife, EDITH, and son, ED GOSLI, JR.

——

The next morning Fowler met with Louise Berker. Knight was a man bent on using his vast financial resources to remake the world to his specifications. He stared at the younger German woman who had been sent to him by his European environmentalist contacts. Berker was a specialist who would operate under cover of a legitimate consulting business sited next to Rex Longworthy's law offices in Seattle.

Fowler underestimated this young woman, who had a similarly audacious agenda, but no scruples whatsoever. Each of them, in this cause-driven relationship, was using the other, and each felt secure in holding the ultimate superiority of position. But Berker's was the stronger position—she was far more dangerous than Fowler realized. Ultimately the G-A-N, the international organization, held all the cards.

“Louise Berker, I take my hat off to you. You are just as brilliant and dedicated as advertised. And your instincts are excellent, almost as good as mine. How did you pull it off?”

“Surely you don't want to know.”

“I suppose not.”

“Mr. Fowler, I am here because the European movement is much further along than that of the American.”

“That's true. You already have a Technology Retirement Commission up and running in Brussels.”

“Clever movies won't be enough to make this happen in the US, Mr. Fowler.”

He smiled condescendingly. “We understand that, Ms. Berker. That's why I'm paying so well for your services. For the next phase, we will deal with the holdouts. We need to convert some senators. But failing that…” Fowler paused. “You are our backup plan.”

Two months later

It was early fall in Santa Fe, New Mexico when Fred Loud Owl slipped into the back of the conference room as the movie,
Earth at Risk
was being shown. When the lights came on, a small, earnest man in tweed was standing to the side of the screen. He moved to the podium and introduced himself as Rex Longworthy. As he began his talk, Fred watched from the back of the conference room.

Fred Loud Owl, a weathered Navajo shaman, stood out in this gathering of rich white people like a coyote in a flock of turkeys. He was sprawled in an armchair, an ironic figure in mended jeans, faded black tee and a woven vest, surveying a sea of well-meaning, manicured matrons, tanned young women in expensive denims, and beautiful men with carefully trimmed facial hair.

Longworthy was talking with the bewildering earnestness of the self-convinced doorbell evangelist. “Gaia now stands for the idea that the earth is in fact an actual living being. And we have seen just how deeply we have injured Gaia.”

Fred Loud Owl crossed his legs, listening intently to Longworthy's words. He scribbled in a sweat-stained notebook, looking up occasionally.

“This is why we must seriously entertain the idea that
Homo sapiens
has become an alien predator species, a huge and growing burden on this injured biosphere.”

Fred sat quietly, his gray-streaked black hair drawn back, his piercing dark eyes watchful, his face working hard to hide his amused contempt.

“Years ago a new name for our species was proposed,
Homo ecophagus
, which means species that destroys the ecosystem. I think the title has been earned by now, don't you?”

Longworthy paused for applause.

Loud Owl stayed for the Q&A, and later milled about in the crowd. People smiled at the trophy Indian in their midst but no one spoke to him as he moved among them, smiling, alert for overheard conversational fragments. He paid close attention to the two women who had come with Longworthy. One of them greeted him briefly, but abandoned any further conversation once she had verified that Loud Owl was merely a Local Native, and not a Somebody. Eventually Fred slipped out the side door. Moments later he was in the brilliant sun.

Near the plaza, he found his brush-scarred pickup next to a spotless bronze convertible. Fred Loud Owl had never shopped for such a car but he knew that its price exceeded the value of his father's house several times over. He removed a parking ticket from the truck windshield, shrugging. Then Fred slipped the ticket under the wiper blades of the bronze convertible, adding a note to the bottom, “Please forward to Rex Longworthy. Fred Loud Owl – for my expenses.”

He left town as he had come.

——

Two hours later, Old Chief Walking Wolf looked up when Fred entered his tent two hours later. “Welcome, Loud Owl,” he said.

The filtered light was yellow, and smoke curled out of the Chief's favorite pipe toward the vent hole in the top of the teepee.

Loud Owl's attention was immediately drawn to a very tall Indian with distinctive dark features. Fred immediately recognized the man. He was High Tree, Gabriel's storied relative, a Nez Perce warrior who had served as an Army Ranger, then distinguished himself as an Olympic medalist in archery. High Tree was seated next to Chief Walking Wolf. Both men smiled as Loud Own stepped inside.

“Fred, this is Gabriel Standing Bear's cousin, Walter High Tree. Join us. Share the pipe.” Fred Loud Owl nodded respectfully at both men, and sat cross-legged on the dirt across from them. Fred took the antler pipe in his hands and slowly inhaled.

“The wife won't let me smoke in the house anymore,” High Tree said.

Chief Walking Wolf smiled. “You should get out of the house more.”

Fred grinned and handed the pipe to the large Nez Perce.

“It seems High Tree's Son is to be named by the Nez Perce Tribe in Idaho soon,” the Chief said. “Just like young Standing Bear was when you were there.”

“And like his daughter, Snowfeather,” Fred added.

“The family would very much like you to come,” High Tree said. “Gabriel remembers your hunting lessons well. His office told me he would try to be there.”

“I haven't been to our old hunting places for a long time,” Fred Loud Owl said. “Is it very different these days?”

High Tree's eyes twinkled. “Different…and the same. My son and I are going early next month. I have plenty of room for you in the van, if you can come. I can give you a refresher course with my new bow.”

“I will, then.”

“Good, I'll ask Gabriel to join us.”

“No smoking in the van?” Fred's face was deadpan but his eyes twinkled.

“Gabriel's people will be happy to see you again.”

“What can you tell us about the event in Santa Fe?” Chief Walking Wolf asked. “And thank you for attending on my behalf.”

Loud Owl nodded and took out his notebook. “It was good that you did not attend in person, I think. This is a traveling show, with a movie, a speech by an environmental lawyer, a true believer named Longworthy, and some big fundraising. They talk about the earth as a living being named Gaia. The idea has its good points.”

“I thought you might say that.”

“We have always seen the Great Spirit in the world, in every part. Many of the Gaia worshipers talk about respect for the world, the land, the animals, about the deep interconnections. Of course they are right about that…as far as it goes.”

“Can you tell me more?”

“As you suspected, this is becoming a huge movement among certain groups. I wish…” Fred paused, searching for the words. “I wish it didn't worry me so much. I think there is something very dangerous at the core of this.” Walking Wolf stared at him intensely, as if he might have already entertained the same suspicion. “Of course, they would very much like the public support of Native Americans.”

The Chief nodded knowingly. “No doubt. Did anyone talk to you?”

“Not much. I noticed a couple of women—one from Germany I think. They were working the room. One of them—her name was Berker—thanked me for coming. She did it as if she already knew me and in a voice that the others could hear. Then she paid close attention to the rich ones.” Walking Wolf smiled slightly at that. He'd been there many times before. “They were fundraising for something called the Gaia Network. They also called it the G-A-N. Don't know what the ‘A' stands for. The white eyes are fond of using letters where words would do.” The phrase, “white eyes” was a running joke among the Indians who were enjoying the current old western movie fad. Walking Wolf smiled again as Fred continued. “There was a talk about humanity as an ecotumor, and a planetary malignancy.”

“What was
that
about?”

“I think they meant it almost literally—that we human beings are a tumor, a cancer on the world, an infection in Gaia.”

“
We
are?”

“Yes. We are the malignancy.'”

“A cancer?” Chief Walking Wolf chuckled. “Oh boy.” He laughed again; then he took a long puff from the pipe. “This
is
interesting. You have a good ear, Loud Owl. I chose well.” He handed Loud Owl the pipe. As the Navajo took a puff, the Chief looked at High Tree, then back at Loud Owl. “And how did the rest of them take to these crazy terms?”

Fred blew a tendril of smoke that curled and rose in the tent in a shadowy helix. “They loved the idea. Large checks were written.”

“Fools and their money. So what does all this mean?”

“For us? You were right to be cautious. When they call for your support, they will probably take a ‘yes' for granted. So I advise to keep your distance.”

“I should not ride this horse?” The Chief was still amused.

“Not this one. I thought about this while I drove back. The idea of people as a malignancy is very dangerous. What do physicians do with a cancer? They don't talk to a cancer. They don't try to get it to change.”

The Chief grew more serious. “They just cut it out. They kill it. So what kind of people were these two women, the ones who were collecting the money?”

“The younger one seemed to be the leader. Her name tag said ‘L. Berker, Opinion Research Associates.' She asked for my card.”

Both High Tree and Walking Wolf laughed. The idea that Fred Loud Owl carried a card was immensely funny. “I looked into her eyes…” Loud Owl paused, his expression suddenly grave. “She smiled at me, but not with her eyes.”

“What do you mean?”

“Hers were the eyes of a dead person.” A chill descended. There was a long silence. Fred Loud Owl handed the pipe to High Tree.

“Why do so many of the white people always seem have this side to them?” High Tree asked.

“Many of the white eyes become unbalanced by the lure of the dark side,” the Chief said. “It has always been that way with them.”

“I see trouble ahead, Walking Wolf.”

“I agree, Loud Owl. I think we will not ride this horse.”

“When I come to Idaho, I think I'll talk to Standing Bear about this,” Loud Owl said.

“A very good idea,” the Chief said. “But you may have to call him in DC. Now that Gabriel is in the Congress, he is hard to reach.”

“I heard rumors that Standing Bear has lost his way,” High Tree said, “but he will talk to me.”

“All those politicians are lost. When I last saw Gabriel, I believe he was recovering his balance,” Fred said. “Don't worry. Gabriel is one of us. He will listen.”