Torched (9 page)

“I don’t like this,” I said as Richter leaned against a box marked
CORNUCOPIA
. “I don’t like this at all.”

“Why?” He seemed genuinely surprised.

“You wanted me to prove myself. I thought it would be something little. Not . . .” My voice faltered as I thought again of the fire.

“You did exactly what we wanted you to do, and you did it well,” Richter said.

“Better than we expected.” The new voice made me jump.

I turned to face the new speaker, who had appeared from behind a pile of boxes. Dressed in jeans and an old Pendleton shirt, he looked like one of my parents’ friends. His grizzled hair was caught back in a thin ponytail, as if his ability to grow hair on the back of his head made up for the receding hairline in front.

“Who are you?” For a second I wondered if there were people behind every pile of boxes. Was I being watched? Was this being videotaped? Anything seemed possible.

He regarded me calmly. “A friend.”

“Do you have a name?”

He shrugged. “You can call me anything you want.”

Richter nodded like it was okay. But it wasn’t okay. What had I gotten myself into?

Deciding to ignore Ponytail, I turned back to Richter. “How can you say that I did a good job?” I protested. “That fire caused a million dollars’ worth of damage.”

“Gluing locks was something anyone could do. Torching that car dealership was your first real test. They know you’re willing to go all the way. They’ll trust you more now. You helped them create something that got them headlines across the nation.”

I snorted in frustration. “Helped them create something? Because of what I did—something
you
wanted me to do—this guy got his car lot burned down. All I did was help them destroy a million dollars’ worth of cars.”

“He has insurance,” Ponytail said dismissively. “I hear he might even be claiming a few things burned up that didn’t. And the day after the fire, he even sold two Hummers from the far end of the lot.” He gave me a mirthless grin. “You should tell those MEDic people that they got it bass-ackwards. That fire put tons of pollution into the air, and putting it out meant a bunch of dirty water went straight into the river and then the ocean.”

His words just made my head hurt even more.

Richter touched my arm. “Look, if you hadn’t lit the match, someone else would have. Remember, our priority is to stop them before they
kill
someone. And by getting even deeper inside, now you’ll be able to help us do that.”

“But why do you need me? I’ve been doing some reading about MED. It’s just a bunch of independent groups—you’ll only ever know about what’s happening in this one.”

“Cedar’s group is willing to go a lot farther than most,” Richter said matter-of-factly. “More than just pickets and protests. They’re willing to destroy to make their point. It’s only a matter of time until they turn to violence. Have you heard them talk about anything like that at all—even if it’s just a hint?”

I shook my head. “I can tell there are still things they don’t talk about in front of me. But hurting somebody, it really doesn’t seem like something they would do.”

“Did you know that a cleaning woman was scheduled to be in the car dealership office the next night?” Ponytail asked. “What if she had gotten caught in the fire?”

The hair on my arms rose. “But Coyote and I staked it out.”

“Staked it out?” Ponytail echoed sarcastically. “Dropping by for a couple of hours for a night or two doesn’t count as professional surveillance.”

I shivered. Had they followed us?

“If you can tell me everything that happened, why do you even need me, anyway?” I said, taking a step toward the door.

Richter grabbed my wrist. “We do need you. We can’t always follow them, not without their knowing it. We need to be able to stop them before somebody gets killed. Not come in when it’s too late and mop up the blood.”

I shook myself free, but I stayed put. There was something in his voice, desperation, fear. A raw honesty I hadn’t expected.

Ponytail leaned down and picked up a black case off the floor. He opened it up to reveal a device about as big as a full-sized iPod, with wires leading off it instead of headphones. “That’s why we need you to wear this.” He slid it into a black case that had a wide strip of elastic that looked like it was meant to go around my waist.

I took a step back. “It’s almost summer. It’s not like I’m going to be wearing heavy sweaters. If one of them finds that thing on me, there’s no way I’ll be able to talk myself out of it.”

Ponytail slapped his hand down on a box, making me jump. He turned to Richter. “Well, that’s just great. If she’s not going to wear a wire, how are we going to be able to tape-record anything?”

“She’s a girl,” Richter said calmly. “She’s got a purse. We can use that.”

“A purse?” I said. “No one in MED carries a purse.”

“We can put it in a backpack, then,” Richter said. “Something.”

Ponytail made a face. “Not nearly as good, you know that. We need something on her person.”

“We’ve got to work with what we’ve got,” Richter told Ponytail. He turned to me. “We’ll get you something no one will notice and arrange another meeting.”

A weight settled on my chest. I didn’t want to have any more meetings. I just wanted this to be over. But all I could do was nod.

“So, what is it they call you again?” Richter asked.

“Sky.”

It was a pretty word, open and blue, made even more special by the fact that Coyote had chosen it for me.

But now it tasted like ashes in my mouth.

Three days later, I climbed the worn wooden steps of Hawk’s sagging rental house in a rundown section of North Portland. As I did, I hit the record button on my watch—the little “gift” Richter had given me.

The door flew open just as I pressed the button. I gasped. Hawk stood in the doorway. He looked at me with his bug eyes and a trace of what might have been a smile. It didn’t seem friendly.

“Just leave your things here,” he said as I followed him inside into a hum of people laughing and talking in loud voices. There was already a pile of rain slickers, denim jackets and backpacks in the small foyer. Hawk turned into the kitchen, leaving me on my own.

I dropped my backpack and shrugged out of my jacket, glad that I didn’t have to worry about anyone finding a recording device in either. After much discussion, the FBI had decided to give me the watch, with its special built-in recorder.

“Here she is!” Jack Rabbit yelled when I walked into the living room. “Sky—one of the Hummer Three!” He led scattered applause, joined by Seed and Grizz.

Blue raised an open bottle of wine. “Woo! Sky! Woo!”

Even Cedar gave me a nod, which felt like high praise.

But I only had eyes for Coyote, who was sitting on an old green upholstered chair with leaking seams. Just the sight of him made my breath catch. How many times had I longed to talk to him in the last few days? I felt so alone. There was no one I could tell the whole truth. Not even Marijean. We still walked home from school together, but we didn’t talk nearly as much as we used to. We walked, and she smoked. I had been, too, until she complained about my always mooching from her. Then it went back to just her smoking.

Coyote scooted over and patted the space beside him. I picked my way between Liberty and Meadow and squeezed next to him. The length of my leg tingled where it pressed against his. Coyote rested his arm behind my shoulder, but I didn’t know if that was intentional or because it was the only place to put it. I thought of the nights we had spent on stake-out, talking about school, books, music, movies. Everything except whether he wanted to kiss me as badly as I wanted to kiss him.

He had half turned to talk to Jack Rabbit, leaving me free to look at him. One corkscrew curl was wrapped around another, reminding me of the double helix of DNA—and of the D I had gotten on my science test last week. It was hard to concentrate when you were leading a double life.

A shrill whistle cut through the room. Cedar took his fingers from between his lips. “Okay, people, settle down.”

“Oh, come on, Cedar, let us have our fun!” Meadow said, waving the wine bottle.

“Yeah,” Liberty said. “They did it, and they got away clean. Even the cops are saying the only evidence they’ve got is some white melted plastic.”

“We deserve to celebrate!” Meadow took another sip of wine and wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. Her face was unguarded, her eyes squeezed by her smile. She looked so happy that I found myself grinning back, forgetting for a minute that I was only pretending.

Meadow continued, “The operation was pretty much flawless.” She looked at me, and I knew she was remembering the dropped lighter but choosing not to bring it up in front of everybody. “And now the whole world is listening!” Thanks to Google, we knew that Meadow’s communiqué had been picked up by media outlets around the world.

“So a few newspapers ran the story.” Hawk emerged from the kitchen. At his sarcastic tone, the room went completely quiet, as it hadn’t even for Cedar. “They also said that the dealer was back in business the next day. When I read that, I realized it was meaningless. It didn’t change a damn thing. The only thing that has changed is that now some people are calling us terrorists.”

I flinched at hearing the same word Richter and Ponytail used. To make sure that no one in the room doubted my commitment, I spoke up. “That’s stupid. It wasn’t an act of terrorism. It was an act of love for the environment. Owning a Hummer—
that’s
an act of ecoterrorism.”

“Whatever it was, Sky,” Hawk retorted, “it hasn’t kept people away from the Hummer dealership. It was a symbolic act, nothing more. We need to do something that makes a difference in the real world. Crap, there are probably people who want to buy a Hummer now because it makes them even more macho.”

Cedar’s eyes narrowed. “We did real damage, Hawk. Millions of dollars’ worth. We hit the corporate machine right where it hurt, in the pocketbook. That’s the only language that’s spoken in this country.”

“I think Hawk’s right,” Liberty said. “I mean, what did we really accomplish?” Meadow shot her a hurt look, but she didn’t see it. “When we burn a Hummer dealership, we’re not hurting the General Motors of the world. But sometimes you’ve got to ask yourself—what if we took out the president of General Motors? Then people would listen.”

I put my elbows on my knees and leaned forward. It was happening like Richter had said it would. I made sure the watch face and the tiny microphone it concealed were pointed right at Liberty.

“You know what MED stands for, Liberty,” Cedar said, “and what it doesn’t. MEDics don’t harm people.”

Coyote nodded.

“Or animals,” Blue said. “Don’t be species-ist.”

“But I think Liberty’s right,” Hawk said. “The time is coming when we are going to have to go a step further. If someone has their hands around your throat strangling you, would you politely ask them to stop? Or would you defend yourself by any means necessary?”

This was just the kind of thing Richter had been looking for. Even though it scared me, it also made me strangely excited. It had to be enough to get Matt off!

“All right,” Cedar said, his face looking like it was carved out of stone, “are you looking for an action that is more than a symbol, more than economic resistance? An action that is literally a matter of life and death?”

“What are you talking about?” Hawk demanded.

“Have any of you ever seen a lynx?” Cedar looked around the room, clearly not expecting a response.

Then Coyote said, “Yes.”

All eyes turned to him.

“My grandfather’s a big hunter. He’s the kind of guy who has a coatrack made out of deer hooves.” Seed moaned as Coyote continued, “Anyway, I think he’s got a stuffed lynx in his basement.” He took his arm from behind me and measured a space about a foot and a half high with his hands. “Like a bobcat, only with longer back legs, bigger feet and bigger ear tufts, right?”

Cedar nodded. “That’s right. The last known lynx in Oregon was shot outside Corvallis thirty years ago. Who knows? It could even be the one in your grandfather’s basement.”

He grabbed a folder off the top of the unlit woodstove and took out a color printout of a photograph. It showed a side view of a catlike animal with thick fur and back legs that were longer than its front ones.

“Well, for those of you who haven’t seen a lynx, here’s one. In winter, their fur is silvery brown. In summer, it’s reddish. Sometimes they have dark brown spots, especially on their legs. They weigh about twenty pounds. They’re solitary and mostly nocturnal. And they’re listed as a threatened species in those few states where they still manage to live.”

He took a deep breath. “For thirty years, those states have not included Oregon. Now we have it on very credible information that Oregon may again be one of those states. A lynx has been sighted on land belonging to PacCoast Lumber outside Bend.”

“That’s great news!” Seed said. When everyone turned to her, she hesitated and said in a smaller voice, “Isn’t it?”

“It’s a logging company, for God’s sake,” Meadow said. “Not a nature preserve.”

Seed sucked in her bottom lip and looked down at the floor.

“For those of you who don’t know,” Cedar said, “PacCoast is a small logging company that has been doing business in the Northwest for seventy years. For a logging company, they have a pretty good reputation. But they were recently bought out by a Texas-based company, Stonix, who thought their assets could be maximized through ‘accelerated logging.’ According to what we’re hearing, that’s Texan for ‘clear-cutting.’”

I made a face. A clear-cut was just like it sounded, when loggers mowed down a section of forest. No shelter for birds or animals, nothing to keep the soil from running off in the next hard rain.