senator from West Virginia, was in bed with the mining companies. He was a consummate politician who, over the years, had skillfully quashed any number of bills that would have caused hardship for the owners.
'The best I've ever been able to get from his office are a few 'We'll be sure to look into it' letters.'
'Well, you may or may not know it, but Alexander is the chairman of the subcommittee that oversees this bureau and its budget.'
'I'm not surprised.'
'He may be in line for Secretary of the Interior in Marquand's second administration. There is no way I can just barge into a company like BC and C and demand a spot inspection without hard evidence.'
'This is crazy,' Matt said, struggling to keep his voice even. 'I was there. I saw that dump. You have a chance to be a hero.'
This time it was Carabetta who rolled his eyes.
'Dr. Rutledge, I have never been a mover or a shaker or a hero of any kind. I expect to work in this agency until I retire. By then I will have moved up the GS ladder a couple of more notches. My pension at that level will serve me and my family well enough. The last thing I want to do is jeopardize that master plan.'
'I understand,' Matt said, resigned.
'There's one more thing,' Carabetta said. 'I have a graduate degree in chemistry, but I studied a good deal of biology as well. Over the ten years I have been in this division of OSHA, I have been involved in the evaluation of more chemical accidents and exposures than I can count. To my knowledge and experience, there is no toxin that causes the sort of neurologic condition you have described — especially in a woman who lived five hundred miles away and had probably never been in a mine in her life.'
'But don't you agree that toxic chemicals can cause mutations?' Matt asked. 'And don't you wonder why the mine would send four thugs out to my friends' farm to stop them from telling anyone what we saw inside that cave?'
'Perhaps,' Carabetta said. 'Dr. Rutledge, I'm sorry. I just don't see how I can go any further with this matter at this time, given your lack of concrete evidence. Maybe a report to the police is the way you should go.'
With a sigh, Matt stood and shook the bureaucrat's hand.
'Thanks for listening,' he said, taking no pains to mask his frustration. 'Hal asked if you might have a few minutes to speak with him.'
'Of course. Send him in.'
Matt crossed the small reception area to where Nikki and his uncle were waiting.
'No go,' he said. 'Not enough hard evidence for him to risk taking any chances — especially crossing Big Nick Alexander.'
'Freddy, Freddy, Freddy,' Hal sighed. 'You two wait here.'
He adjusted his sport coat, flexed his neck, and marched into Carabetta's office. Fifteen minutes later he emerged and motioned Matt and Nikki out of the reception area and into the hallway.
'Are you sure you can get us back to the cave at night?' he asked.
'Positive. Once we're through the cleft, there are no real forks in the tunnel, just twists and turns. Finding the cleft may be the hard part.'
'Don't worry about that. I know where it is,' Hal said. 'I grew up running through those hills. Well, the news is, it's going to be tomorrow night. You'll both stay at my place until then. We'll put your motorcycle in the garage, Matt. You both can just relax, empty the fridge, and watch videos until Fred arrives.'
'You did it!' Matt exclaimed, pumping his fists. 'Way to go!'
Then, just as quickly, he dropped his hands. 'Hal, you had to pay him, didn't you?'
'I was hoping your enthusiasm and persuasiveness would win him over, but the truth is, all along I suspected it would come down to money. Fred and I have had such dealings once before, and believe me, I'm not the only one.'
'Can you tell me how much he cost? I want to help if I can.'
'Being right about this cave is all you are required to contribute. And as for how, um, difficult Fred was to convince, let's just say that at the moment my uncle points should be at an all-time high.'
'Well, you sure have a hell of a grateful nephew. And don't worry — unless they buried it, the dump's still there. Speaking of which, the guards may be there as well.'
'I thought about that,' Hal said. 'I actually have made a few inquiries searching for someone who deals with such things professionally and might accompany us. Now that I know when we'll be going, I'll make a call.'
Matt gave his uncle a hug.
'You know, there's no reason you have to go in there,' he said.
'On the contrary,' Hal replied. 'With the sudden investment I have in Freddy Carabetta, I wouldn't miss this for the world.'
Ellen awoke to an unpleasant buzzing in her head. An unnatural film covered her tongue and palate. Well, she thought disdainfully, it had certainly been a blue-ribbon day. All she had done was gotten drunk in front of Rudy, passed out, and now was in the slow process of waking up with a nasty Merlot hangover, having managed still to say absolutely nothing of what she had done. And to make matters worse, a two-day-old girl was just forty-eight hours from the first formal dose of a supervaccine containing a component specifically included to halt a lethal epidemic that Ellen now knew was totally man-made.
She held her eyes closed tightly, wary of the dreadful spinning likely to ensue from opening them. Finally, more to check the time than anything else, she forced her lids apart a bit. The walls and ceiling stayed reasonably still. She was in Rudy's guest room, not, she suddenly realized, in the chair where she had nodded off. She was dressed as she had been, and still covered with the maroon throw. The curtains were drawn, but there was enough light to check her watch. Five. Assuming it was the same day, she had been out for four and a half hours. Not bad for a rank amateur.
She rolled over and switched on the bedside lamp. There was a single, beautiful, long-stemmed rosebud in a vase beside the lamp. And propped against the vase was an envelope identical to the one she had torn open. Her name and address were written on the outside in Rudy's hand, and in the upper right-hand corner was a stamp with today's postage. Her hands shaking, she gently opened the envelope.
Dear Ellen,
So, now you know. What a relief! I have debated more times than I can count whether to send the letter or hand it to you or wait. Now whichever fate decides such things has taken the choice from me. Well, so be it. I love you, and the next time I see you I'll probably tell you to your face. There is no need for you to respond one way or the other when I do.
Please don't let what I wrote change our friendship. That would hurt me as no rejection from you ever could. I have dealt with my feelings for you for many years. If necessary, I'll deal with them for many more. Please don't feel bad over having opened the letter. It was meant to be.
And for God's sake, no more Merlot.
With love, Rudy
Ellen washed her face with cold water and brushed her hair and teeth.
A fine-looking woman for your age. That's what Howard had said. Rudy Peterson hadn't even mentioned her age — or his, for that matter. He loved her thirty-nine years ago; he loved her today. She had, in many ways, been frozen since the day Howard left — her feelings tightly bound. Maybe it was time to open up. How much better could a woman ever do than her oldest, dearest friend?
A final check in the mirror and she went out to meet him. Rudy was seated at his dining room table, his unlit pipe resting loosely between his teeth, pages of data spread out before him, along with a large atlas of the world. Ellen slipped into the seat across from him, then slowly reached her hands over the table and took his.
'Thanks for the rose and the note,' she said.
'Thanks for taking the pressure off.'
'I can't really say anything in response right now.'
'I didn't expect you to.'
'But I'm going to be looking hard at my feelings and I'll certainly keep you posted.'
