The Glacier Gallows (5 page)

Doyle radioed down to his special investigator, who was working with Walter Blackwater and Inspector Reimer at the base of the cliff. Cole heard Doyle say that the team was going to divert the
RCMP
A-Star helicopter to do a sweep over the mountains to the west of the camp to see if they could locate Foreman.

“It's been more than an hour since Mr. McGrath left Foreman on his own,” said Doyle. “He could be three or four miles from here by now. If you don't get him on the first pass, I'm getting another team up here.” A few minutes later the A-Star buzzed the camp, heading west.

“Derek,” said Doyle, standing before him and Cole and Tad, “I don't recognize this fellow Blake's name. Is he new on your payroll this summer?”

“He's new this
trip
, Allan. We were down a man for this outing and he was hanging around, looking for guiding work in East Glacier. He has his ticket from the American Mountain Guide Association and seemed like a pretty congenial type, so we picked him up.”

Cole interrupted. “What happened to your regular guide?”

“Nothing that we know of.” Derek sounded defensive. “He emailed me two days before the trip to explain that he was sick as a dog.”

“Did you talk to him?” asked Cole.

“No. I just got the email from him.”

“When you spoke with Foreman an hour ago, what did he say?” continued Doyle.

“I told him what had happened. He asked that I take Jessica and Mike back here, and he said he was going to have a look around. Just that. He seemed pissed off about Brian. He said he would be close on our heels.”

Doyle said, “Alright, listen, we need to find this guy, and then we need to talk with every single one of you. Derek, I suggest that you and your colleague here get some lunch started for this crew. If you've got any to spare, I think the interviews will go a lot better if we feed everyone.”

“HEY RICK.” COLE
was sitting close to Rick Turcotte as they pushed food around in their bowls. Cole saw that the ranger watching them was absorbed in another conversation. “You alright? You look pale.”

“I'm fine. It's just that, you know, Brian . . . he was
my
friend.”

“Mine too.”

“Yeah, well, I've known him a lot longer than you have. And we've been friends—”

“Where've you been?”

“I had to make a call. To Ottawa. The minister. I had to find a place with cell reception. That wasn't easy.”

“You were gone a long time.”

“I had to walk about two miles to find a place where I could hit a repeater. The minister wasn't very happy. This is going to be awkward.”

“More so for Brian, I would say.”

“Don't lecture me, Cole. Brian and I have known each other for twenty years.”

“Are you in the animal soup with Minister Canning?”

Rick blew his breath out between pursed lips. “You might say that. He didn't want me to go on this hike. He really doesn't like Brian. But I told him it would be good for our climate-change program.”

Cole wanted to ask him what program that was but decided now wasn't the time.

“Looks like it was a bad idea after all,” said Rick.

IT WAS ALMOST
one o'clock before the investigation team was ready to conduct interviews. The afternoon sun was hot and the hikers had sought out what little shade the kitchen tent provided from the high-altitude rays. Finally, the party was split up and the conversations began. Cole, to his dismay, watched Inspector Reimer walk toward him. “Mr. Blackwater, unfortunate circumstances once again.”

“They are.”

“May we talk, please?” Reimer indicated that they were to step apart from the rest of the group. Cole lifted himself from the rock on which he sat and followed the inspector.

“Homicide suit you, Inspector?” Cole asked as they moved a few hundred feet apart from the group. They were near the cluster of tents.

“We call it Major Crimes, and it does. So, what was your role in this little adventure, Mr. Blackwater?”

“Haven't we got to a first-name basis yet?” The
RCMP
inspector didn't say a word. “I was hired by a client out of Vancouver called Nexus Energy to represent them on the steering committee of the Alternative Energy Group. Brian Marriott was the executive director. I have a lot of backcountry experience, so when we decided to put this fam tour together, it was logical for me to come along and help out.”

“Fam?”

“Familiarization tour. The intent was to highlight the impacts of climate change on Waterton-Glacier International Peace Park. We wanted to use it as an example of the real-world impacts of climate change. No glaciers, less water, and so on.”

“And your guests?”

“Policy makers, a reporter, experts on climate change, a token environmentalist to keep us all honest.”

“Tell me about Brian Marriott.”

“He was hired about eight months ago to lead the
AEG
. He used to work for the oil and gas lobby. He was an Ottawa insider, tight with ministers and Members of Parliament. I guess he had some kind of conversion awhile back, read a few books, got excited about climate change and the role that alternative energy could play to reduce greenhouse gas emissions.”

“You don't sound convinced.”

“Don't I? I don't know; I think he meant well. I'm just never sure when people have these so-called conversions if they really leave their pasts behind.”

“Didn't you?”

“What? Have a conversion? I don't think so. I've always been who I am today.”

Reimer flipped through a notebook. “What was your relationship like with Mr. Marriott?”

“It was getting better. It wouldn't take much to dig up evidence that for a long time Brian and I were on opposite sides of the fence: on climate change, oil and gas exploration, just about every other environmental issue you could think of. I'm sure there's lots of tape of he and I arguing on
Question Period
or
The House
about endangered species or drilling in protected areas. But that was a long time ago.”

“How long?”

“At least five years now. More like six. I've been out of the Ottawa scene for that long. I left all that behind when I moved to the coast.”

“How did you feel when you learned that your old arch enemy was going to run the show?”

“It wasn't like Superman and Lex Luther, Inspector.”

“What
was
it like?”

“I wasn't very happy. But I got over it.”

“How did things turn out?”

Cole looked out across the cluster of tents, then at the peaks that rose all around the plateau. He was sweating under the blazing sun. “It was still too early to tell.”

“You had your doubts about something?”

“Nothing I could put my finger on. Just a suspicion.”

“Did you ever talk with him about it?”

“Not in so many words.”

“Mr. Blackwater, you understand that this is a murder investigation. There isn't much doubt that Mr. Marriott didn't die in the fall. We'll have to confirm this once we recover his body and the
ME
has an opportunity to do an examination.”

“How
did
he die?”

“I'm not at liberty—”

“He was shot, wasn't he?”

“Again, I can't say. My point is this, Mr. Blackwater. We're in the middle of nowhere. There are nine of you up here, along with three guides, assuming we find Mr. Foreman. That's a lot of people for us to weed through. I wonder if you could tell me if any member of this party might have wanted Mr. Marriott dead?”

“What?”

“You heard the question.”

“Did anybody in the party want him dead? That's crazy!”

“I don't think it's that crazy. Unless someone walked all the way up here specifically to kill Mr. Marriott, then someone in your party has to be responsible for his death. It would be a big help to us if you could shed some light on the relationship he had with each of these people.”

Cole shook his head. A trickle of sweat dripped from his eyebrow and fell onto his nose. He wiped it off with the back of his hand. “Brian didn't know a lot of these people well, really. We came up with the list together.” Cole listed off the members of the group.

“Who else?”

“The three guides.”

“Whom did he know the best?”

“That's easy. Richard Turcotte. He's the parliamentary secretary to the Minister of Natural Resources and the
MP
for Fort McMurray-Athabasca. They've known each other for twenty years. I think Brian raised money for one of his campaigns. They are both pretty close to the Minister of Natural Resources. I mean, Brian
was
close . . .”

“Did Mr. Turcotte have any reason not to like Brian?”

“Are you asking me if the parliamentary secretary had any reason to kill Brian?”

“Mr. Blackwater, I don't expect you to like me much. You and I have history—”

“You could call it that, Inspector. When I was trying to get to the bottom of the Mike Barnes affair and save the Cardinal Divide a few years ago, you were trying to run me out of town and lock up an innocent man.”

“I think things worked out pretty well for you in the end. Can you tell me about Mr. Turcotte and Mr. Marriott?”

“I don't really know, Inspector. I suspect that Mr. Turcotte wasn't very happy when Brian left the oil and gas lobby. He likely saw that as a betrayal.”

“But here he is on a fam trip, as you call it.”

“Here he is. You'll have to ask him why he came along.”

“Anybody else?”

“I honestly can't think of who else in this party would have held a grudge against Brian.”

“Except you. You've already told me that there was no love lost between you.”

“My beef with Brian Marriott was over the day I left Ottawa.”

“Was it? I think your history of aggressive behavior would suggest that you have an anger-management problem, Mr. Blackwater. I wonder if you didn't hold a grudge and wait for an opportunity just like this.”

“You're out of your mind.” Cole got to his feet.

“We're not done here.”

“Oh yes we are. You want to accuse me of murder, you're going to have to get me off this goddamned mountain and put me in a room with a lawyer.”

“Nobody is charging you with anything.” Inspector Reimer stood up too.

“Doesn't make a damn bit of difference to me. You're fishing, and I'm not going to go along with it. This conversation is over.” He turned to walk away.

“Mr. Blackwater, I have one more question.”

“What?”

“Which of these tents is yours?”

“That one.” He pointed.

“From this point on, you may not remove anything from it without me or another officer being present. Are we clear?”

“Whatever you say, Inspector.” As he said it, the sound of a helicopter engulfed his words. Both looked to the east as a Black Hawk came in low over the ridge and circled the camp once.

“This just got a whole lot more interesting,” yelled Reimer over the din.

“Why is that?”

“That's the
FBI
.”

OTTAWA, ONTARIO. FEBRUARY 12.

BRIAN MARRIOTT WALKED UP METCALFE
Street to Wellington and faced the Parliament Buildings. He crossed the street and watched snow fall on the Centennial Flame. Beyond the expansive front lawn, lights shone on Parliament's gothic Centre Block and Peace Tower. Three hundred feet above, a Canadian flag snapped in the cold wind. Brian pulled his scarf up around his neck. It was a beautiful building. He had always believed that every Canadian should see it. It stirred something and made him feel patriotic.

The
US
Embassy was on the far side of the Rideau Canal. He considered the jet-setting former
US
senator who was now the head of High Country Energy. The
US
, Canada, and China in the same month. What was Thompson promoting? His energy play on the Blackfeet Reservation had nothing to do with Canada or China. He'd also visited Fort Mac; was
HCE
looking to buy into the tar sands?

The snow was falling harder; the hooded lights that lined the broad walkway seemed to glow. Brian Marriott drove his hands into his pockets and walked toward the West Block.

THE ROOM WAS
crowded by the time he arrived. He checked his coat and straightened his tie and patted the rest of the snow off his hair and used his fingers to comb it into place. He found his way to the bar and amid the chatter ordered a beer. There was a massive table in the center of the room, piled with food. He didn't have time to fill a plate before he heard his name called.

“Call security—the enemy has infiltrated the party.” Three men in dark suits and flashy ties were watching him and grinning. He put his plate down and extended a hand.

“Come all the way from Calgary for a free meal?” Brian asked.

“Lobby day on the Hill. Everybody is here. Our people met with two hundred
MP
s today,” a man named Frank Sheridan said.

“It's good to see you, Frank. Who are your friends?”

Frank introduced Terry and Roger. They all shook. “Young guns at Centrex Petroleum. Hungry; you remember how that used to feel?”

“I still do. Now I've got an appetite for something other than bitumen.”

“You're
the
Brian Marriott?” asked Terry.

“That's right.”

“I read about you when I was in university. You ran the campaign to shut down the Endangered Species Act. Keep the feds from sticking their noses into provincial jurisdiction. Man, that was a hell of a move.”

“It was.” Brian ate a shrimp.

Their conversation was interrupted when a microphone was turned on and feedback echoed in the room. “Friends,” said Rick Turcotte from a podium. The parliamentary secretary held up his hands, and the room fell quiet. “Friends, it's my pleasure today to introduce to you someone who every single day of his life wakes up and fights for the vitality of this great country's heart and soul. A man who, every Wednesday, when he sits down with his Cabinet colleagues—and let me tell you that despite what you might think, there are a few in Cabinet who are not
our
friends—fights for your interests and the interests of Canada. Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce the Minister of Natural Resources and the
MP
for Calgary North East, the Honourable David Canning.”