Slickrock Paradox (24 page)

“What happened to your rope?”

“When I was down in the kiva someone unlooped it from the belay point. Dr. Anton, you're the
only
one who knew I was there.”

“Are you suggesting that I did this? Are you accusing me?”

Silas shrugged. “I'm not accusing you—”

“You are. You're suggesting that I followed you out there and . . . and what? Untied your rope? Left you to die there? And for what? You think
I
killed the Wisechild girl? What motive did I have? Because you think I had an affair?” He was hissing now, leaning into Silas. He wasn't a big man, and Silas towered over him by at least five inches.

Silas shrugged again. “Nobody else knew I was there.
I
told nobody. Did you?”

Anton looked at Silas a while. “I didn't tell anybody.
I
didn't follow you. You can ask my wife. She's in the kitchen right now. You can ask her. I was home all day that day.”

Silas regarded the man. “That won't be necessary.”

“I can read you, Pearson. You didn't believe me about Kayah, and you don't believe me about this.”

“Let me ask you this,” Silas interrupted. “If anybody else was trying to develop a project in the Flat Iron Mesa or Hatch Point region, or even at Behind the Rocks, would Dead Horse likely get the nod to do the
EA
work? And the archaeological assessment? Would another developer know that you've already done a baseline survey and rather than turning to some other firm, would they just say, Dead Horse has the data, let's use them?”

Anton was still clearly flustered. He shook his head. “I don't know. There are a dozen firms in Utah doing this sort of work, maybe two dozen. If the developer had local connections and knew that Dead Horse had a bead on what was going on in that area, they might try to save some money.”

“Have you ever heard of a company called Canusa Petroleum Resources?”

“No, I haven't. I'm tired of getting the third degree, Dr. Pearson. Step aside. I'm late for a meeting.”

“They plan on drilling for oil in the Hatch Point area, Flat Iron Mesa, and Behind the Rocks.”

“I said I haven't heard of them. Now get the hell out of my way before I call the police.”

“You know what I'd be worried about, Dr. Anton?”

“What? What should I be worried about?” He had pulled his cell phone from his pocket and flipped it open.

“Well, if
you
didn't kill Kelly Williams and Kayah Wisechild, then you're likely next on the list.” Anton stared blank-faced at him. “I think you know a lot more about this than you're telling me, Anton. If I find out you're behind any of this, you're going to regret not having sealed
yourself
in that kiva. Do you understand me?”

Anton started pressing numbers into his phone. “I'm calling the cops.”

“Be my guest. I expect you'll be getting another call from the
FBI
soon anyway.”

THE OFFICE OF C. THORN
Smith was on South Main Street in the town of Blanding. When Silas arrived, there were already more than fifty people there from the local constituency, along with a bank of television cameras and a gaggle of reporters. The senator's office was in a historic red brick building that also housed other government offices. A crisp new American flag sagged on its pole in the noonday sun. Silas stood across the street and scanned the swelling crowd for Hayduke, but he could not see him.

As he watched, a chartered bus arrived and several dozen people disembarked. Silas regarded this new group of supporters: typical middle-aged, middle-class Americans; most were overweight and had trouble walking along the flat sidewalk. He was absorbed with his observations when a voice startled him.

“Bussed these fuckers in.”

Silas turned and Hayduke was next to him, a ball cap on his shaggy head, a wide, toothy grin on his face.

“Brought them all the way down from Price, near Smith's hometown of Huntington. Miners and their families, mostly. Out of work now, because the greedy bastards who run those mines have been bringing in cheap labor to replace the local workers. Guess they think they might get jobs in the new oil patch if they wave that flag for our senator.”

Silas looked back at the growing group of supporters. Indeed, someone was circulating through the audience handing out flags. “Is that Charles Nephi?” asked Pearson, pointing to a man standing near the stage in crisp tan slacks and a white button-down shirt.

“It is,” grumbled Hayduke.

“How much do you know about him?”

“Only what Pen told me. She did all the political work. Nephi's been around on and off for a while, works with the senator as a special constituency assistant or something. His whole gig is resource development in Utah. He stage-manages the senator's interests in forestry, mining, oil and gas, water. He's the brains behind Smith's relationship with the resource industry. A lot of people say that he's a dirty fucker, on the payroll of industry lobbyists, working the inside of the system for the petrochemical industry. There's no proof. He's never been registered as a lobbyist in Utah or in Washington. Doesn't mean he's not in their fucking pockets.”

“What is
this
all about?” Silas looked around the small crowd. “I don't see how this relates to my wife.”

“Patience, man, patience. Let's hear what the senator has to say.”

Silas looked at his watch. A few moments later C. Thorn Smith walked out of his office with several men in casual business attire behind him. The senator was a tall man with a narrow, handsome face and well-groomed salt-and-pepper hair that gave him a presidential air. Casually dressed, he walked to the podium with a poised confidence and quickly got down to business.

“Good afternoon, friends,” Smith said calmly. “It's one hell of a hot day, and I'm glad you all have come out to hear what we have to say. I'll get right to it and then let you find some shade. This afternoon I'm here with leaders of several of Utah's leading resource companies to tell you about an economic stimulus plan that will put the people of Utah back to work. It's called the Utah Land Stewardship Fund, and these companies have agreed to invest one hundred million dollars into our great state over the next ten years to ensure that what made Utah the best state in the Union continues to sustain and support our communities and families for the next generation.”

The senator looked to the men at his side and continued. “Now, I'd like to introduce you to just a few of the leaders who will be investing in this program. Come on, step forward, gentlemen. This is Frank Palmer, of the Rainbow Bridge Coal Corporation. He's born and bred here in Utah, and his company now operates across the United States, in South America, and all over Asia. He's one of Utah's favorite sons.”

There was a spatter of applause.

“This is T. Dermit Calhoon, vice-president of Forestry Operations for Tillicum Forestry. And last but not least, this is Tim Martin, president and
CEO
of Canusa Petroleum Resources. Tim was born and raised in the Great White North, in Canada, but he's since relocated to our great state and is residing in Salt Lake City to be closer to Canusa's main oil and gas play here in the Four Corners region. I want you to meet these forward-looking business leaders who will help ensure this state's future.”

The senator stopped talking and nodded to his assistant, Charles Nephi. “The senator will take a few questions from the press now,” said Nephi.

“Senator, tell us what you mean by the harmonization of development permits?” asked a reporter.

“I'm glad you asked about that. Did you know that right now, for a company like Canusa to help this country develop energy security by drilling for oil deep beneath our feet, they have to jump through no fewer than a dozen regulatory and licensing hurdles?
BLM
,
EPA
, Park Service, Agriculture, state regulators, county commissioners, water boards, you name it! It's easier for these companies to go to Saudi Arabia or Iraq and drill for oil than it is for them to supply our domestic demand with oil and gas right here, under our feet!” The senator jabbed his finger on the podium to emphasis his point. “That's going to come to an end with the Utah Land Stewardship Act, which I will introduce into the Senate when we sit again next week. I have co-sponsors for this bill and we're going to make it easier for companies to do business here at home than it is for them to do business overseas. We
can
protect the environment while we do it.”

“How will this protect the environment, Senator?” asked another reporter.

“We'll simply ensure that the highest standards of environmental protection are considered, while not burdening these companies with excessive red tape. We'll cut through that red tape,” he made a cutting motion with his hands, “and let American businesses do what they do best. Support this great state and this great country.”

One reporter addressed Tim Martin: “Where will you be concentrating your oil and gas development?”

Martin looked at the senator, who stepped back and gestured to the microphone. “Thank you for that question. We have a number of options we're exploring. The Kaiparowits Plateau, the region north of the Grand Canyon along the Kaibab Plateau, and nearby in the Canyon Rims region. We believe these are three areas where we can support local employment and community while supplying long-term energy security to the nation.”

The reporter put up his hand. “A quick follow. Energy development on the scale you're considering will require a lot of water. How will you address your water needs without compromising the water supply for wildlife or communities?”

Martin looked at the senator and then stepped to the mike again. “That's a good question. Part of the harmonized process the senator has been discussing here today is the streamlining of water storage and withdrawal permits for these projects. We'll be working with the
BLM
and the Bureau of Reclamation to address our water needs, as well as those of other stakeholders.”

“You hear that fucking shit,” spat Hayduke. “Now they've got the fucking dam builders involved. That's just what I was fucking concerned about. Those fuckers are talking about building dams to supply water to these projects. I fucking knew it!”

Silas noticed several bystanders were casting concerned looks at the rough-talking Hayduke. “Listen, let's get out of here so we can discuss this.”

“I've heard enough from these fucking bastards,” agreed Hayduke.

AFTER SOME DEBATE
Silas followed Hayduke north on the 191 toward Moab. When Hayduke turned off the road to take the dirt track where Silas had ventured just a few days ago toward Hatch Point, he began to wonder what the renegade young man was up to. Hayduke soon pulled his jeep off the road where the main stem of Hatch Wash was just a hundred feet deep. They were still in sight of the road. He got out of his machine and walked to Silas's car. Silas opened the window.

“Wasn't sure how far your station wagon would make it,” he patted the hood. “I wanted you to see what they are talking about. This is what they will dam.” He pointed to Hatch Wash, with its thin trickle of water.

“Not here, though, surely?”

“No, down by Kane Creek. It will be a small dam, but it will flood Hatch Wash so they can draw on the water for injection drilling on Flat Iron Mesa and in Back of the Rocks.”

Silas got out and looked down at the trickle of water. “It will take a long time to fill a reservoir.”

“You think fuckers like Martin and Smith give a shit? They will take all the time in the world to destroy this, and not think twice.”

Silas started to piece things together in his head. “How long has this been in the works?”

“I don't know. Maybe years.”

“You don't think Penelope—”

“I don't know. I think if they were planning it, she knew. Maybe she was on to them.”

“Lot of money at stake,” said Silas. “Penny talked about water a lot in her notebook, about the dams that destroyed these places, Glen Canyon, especially.”

Hayduke shook his head and spat. “We should have just blown that fucker up and been done with it.” He spat again. “Now they want to dam this one. It don't look like much here, but you've seen it. The canyon's a thousand feet deep, and with those ruins in them. They flood this and it's game over.”

“You can't flood a canyon that's got such an important archaeological site in it, can you?”

“If nobody knows about it, you can.”

“Somebody should document it. Get in there and photograph it. Take the press down there.”

“Maybe that's what them other two, Williams and Wisechild, were doing, and it got them killed. I know that I'm not going to let them destroy this place. Not after all the work me and Pen did to protect this area.”