Bare Bones

endangered species. Finally, I dropped my bombshell about the missing wildlife agents Brian Aiker and Charlotte Grant Cobb.

As I spoke, Rinaldi took notes on his designer pad. Slidell listened, legs thrust forward, thumbs tucked into his belt.

For several seconds, no one said a word. Then Jansen slapped the table.

“Yes!”

Slidell’s eyes crawled to her.

“Yes,” she repeated.

Unzipping a leather case, Jansen withdrew several papers, laid them on the table, ran her finger down the middle of one, stopped, and read aloud.

“‘The charred substance from the underbelly of the Cessna contained the alkaloids hydrastine, berberine, canadine, and berberastine.’”

“That make Ovaltine?” Slidell asked.

“That makes goldenseal,” Jansen said.

We all waited for her to go on.

Jansen flipped to another paper.

“Hydrastis canadensis. Goldenseal. The roots and rhizomes are thought to have medicinal properties because of the hydrastine and berberine. Cherokee Indians used goldenseal as an antiseptic and to treat snakebite. Iroquois used it to treat whooping cough, pneumonia, digestive disorders. Early pioneers used it as an eyewash, and for sore throats, mouth sores. Commercial demand for goldenseal began around the time of the Civil War”—Jansen looked up from her notes—“and it’s now a top-selling herb in North America.”

“Used for what?” Larabee’s disdain of herbal medicines came through in his tone.

Jansen went back to her printout.

“Nasal congestion, mouth sores, eye and ear infections, as a topical antiseptic, laxative, anti-inflammatory, take your pick. Some people think goldenseal boosts the immune system and increases the effectiveness of other medicinal herbs. Some think it can induce abortion.”

Larabee sheeshed air through his lips.

Jansen looked up to see if we were with her.

“I got on the Net, did a little research.”

She selected a third printout.

“There’s been such intensive harvesting for both the domestic and international markets that goldenseal is now in trouble. Of the twenty-seven states reporting native patches, seventeen consider the plant imperiled. Its wholesale value has increased more than six hundred percent in the last decade.”

“Call the posy police.” Slidell.

“Does goldenseal grow in North Carolina?” I asked.

“Yes, but only in a few places. Goldenseal Hollow, for example, deep in the mountains in Jackson County.”

“Is it considered endangered in North Carolina?”

“Yes. And because of that status a permit is required to cultivate or propagate the plant within the state. Ever hear of CITES?”

“Yes.” Three for three.

“You need a CITES permit to export cultivated or wild-collected goldenseal roots or parts of roots. To get a permit you need to show that your roots, rhizomes, and seeds came from legally acquired parental stock and that the plants were cultivated for four years or more without augmentation from the wild.”

“So it’s difficult to obtain a supply of living roots with which to start plantations in this country?” Rinaldi asked.

“Very.”

“Is there a black market for goldenseal?” I asked.

“There is a black market for all herbs found in the North Carolina mountains, including goldenseal. So much so that a special five-agency task force has been set up in Appalachia.”

“Sweet God in heaven, there really is a veggie squad.” Slidell pooched out his cheeks and wagged his head, like one of those dogs in an auto rear window.

“The task force is made up of agents from the National Park Service, U.S. Forestry Service, North Carolina Department of Agriculture, North Carolina Wildlife Service, and U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. It’s headed by the U.S. Attorney’s Office.”

The group went mute as each of us tried to integrate Jansen’s report with my findings. Slidell broke the silence.

“Some mope was dealing snort out of the Foote farm. We know that ’cause we found product in the basement. You’re saying the place was also used for trafficking dead animals?”

“I’m suggesting it’s a possibility,” I said.

“As a sideline to the coke?”

“Yes,” I said coolly. “And the bird was probably alive.”