here on your premises, an Indiana Bat, protected under the Endangered Species Act - the animal is protected, not the premises. The actual sighting took place nearly a year ago. I wrote a Mr. Carr, who was listed as Chief Executive Officer.” He referred to one of his papers. “Wrote him several times in fact. He has not chosen to respond. At least we have no record of a letter from him. I see you have the title of President at Great Haystack; is Mr. Carr still around?”
“No, I’m also CEO. Mr. Adams, the ski area has been under new ownership since the end of the year. I found one of your letters from last year in the files after receiving the one yesterday. I am unfamiliar with the situation beyond that. What is this Indiana Bat? And who saw it?”
“The Indiana Bat is a small creature about the size of a mouse, whose habitat - as its name suggests - is generally the Midwest. This is as far east as one has been observed. Only a handful are known to still exist. They have thus been designated an endangered species, and the Federal Government is charged with taking all measures necessary to preserve them. This one was seen by a skier last April 13.”
“I understand it was seen in the Isis Cave area. That part of the mountain wasn’t available for skiing then. We are just now opening it up.”
“Precisely. That work will of course have to cease at once. As will all activity within a radius of a quarter of a mile of the cave.”
“You can’t be serious. That would take in almost the entire ski area!”
“Four fifths of it to be exact.”
“You plan to shut us down?”
Adams put down his papers and looked at Cilla for a long moment. “That is the scenario the way it is supposed to be played out. However, I am not an employee of the Federal Government and thus have a certain latitude unavailable to those who are.” A wry grin. “What I am is human, though if the word gets out it will make my job impossible. The secret of any success I’ve had is in scaring the shit out people, if you’ll excuse the language.”
“As you did with Ruth.”
“She the girl outside?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s not disturb her view of me as a monster. Unfortunately I can’t continue the performance while facing a woman who could be the one I lived with for two years, and would have for longer had she…” He snapped his file shut. “I’ll tell you another secret; I’m not a bit convinced an Indiana Bat made it all the way to New Hampshire. My real interest is in protecting the National Forest. Great Haystack is right on the edge, but indeed doesn’t impinge on it. Were you utilizing even a few feet of Federal land…” he shrugged and left the thought unfinished. He put the file in his briefcase and turned to shake Cilla’s hand. “I understand you and your husband are friends of Bob Gold. Perhaps we could all get together to do a little ice climbing. Bob tells me Cathedral is in great shape. Do you climb?”
“Years ago.”
“I’ll ask Bob to set it up. Though not for Cathedral. Maybe something milder. And remember, I’m dangerous.” He opened the door. Ruth was at her desk just outside. Adams turned for a long look at Cilla. Then gave a slight shake of his head and closed the door behind him.
After a few minutes on the telephone, Cilla knew a lot more about her visitor. Silent Spring, obviously named for the book by Rachel Carson that warned of the catastrophic consequences of inattention to human damage to the environment, had come into being sometime in the early nineties. Its Executive Director, Andre Adams, had made a name for himself as one of the leading environmentalists in the Northeast. His organization, headquartered in Boston, was responsible for new Clean Air laws in Massachusetts and Vermont, and his research on wind-carried acid rain had smokestack industries in the mid West quavering.
In recent years Adams had turned his attention to the White Mountain National Forest and he had appeared at hearings on such projects as the Appalachian Mountain Club’s request for extension of its permit, the Forest Service arrangements for clear cutting of timber and Skiway Mountain’s plans to expand its ski area further onto National Forest land.
Those she reached called him brilliant, tough and determined. Though a confirmed tree hugger herself, Cilla got the idea Adams could also be an executioner, depending on which side of the table you sat on.
Bob Gold, a former Navy Seal who had retired to the Valley, often worked out with Hudson in the weight room at Cranmore Sports Center. Cilla’s phone call caught up with him there. His take on Adams was straightforward: a good guy, enthusiastic about his work. Sure a bit of a fanatic, but probably had to be to get his point across in the world of big business.
“He’s been staying with me for a few days. Have to throw him out tomorrow, though; the crew is coming to put in a walk-in freezer that’ll take part of the room he’s staying in.”
“Starting a restaurant in Dundee, Bob?”
“No, no. The freezer’s just for me. Cooking’s my hobby, you know.”
“You ever meet a friend of his named Loni?”
“No, but I’ve heard all I want to about her. They lived together a couple years until she walked out on him a few months ago. The guy has bent my ear about her the whole time he’s been here.”
“Never saw a picture of her?”
“Nope, why the interest?”
“Adams said he wouldn’t close us down cause he couldn’t do it to someone who looks like her.”
“That would be you?”
“Yes. He seemed kind of squirrelly, was all hot to lower the boom on us when he came in.”
“He can do it, Cilla, I’ve seen him operate. But he’s really a nice guy underneath. We’ve made a couple of trips into the backcountry this winter. Up until this Loni business he was interesting to talk to. In fact, I’d think you in particular would get along well with him.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, you’re kind of a flower person, aren’t you?”
“What’s with you guys? Kurt gave me the same line this morning. Is it so crazy to want a clean home?”
“Home?”
“The earth, dummy. Where we live. You’re always out in the woods; you want to wander around it in smog?”
“Yeah, that sounds just like him. We’re going up Dracula Divide tomorrow before he heads back to Concord. Why not take a few hours off and join us? You’ll never get Hudson to take you ice climbing.”
“No, he’s not much for heights. I hated to ask him to fly to Europe.”
“I miss him in the weight room. He keeps me at it; without him I’d probably sit home and veg. Hasn’t he been gone longer than he expected?”
“Yes.” She wrinkled her forehead. “Back the day after tomorrow, I think. He took a side trip to Russia. You remember John Krestinski?”
“Sure, his FBI friend. Met him and his wife last month when they were visiting you.”
“John’s parents made their first visit back to St. Petersburg since they immigrated to the US back in the fifties. They were supposed to call John from there two weeks ago. They didn’t and they’re not at the hotel where they were staying. John asked Hudson to go to St. Petersburg and see what he could find out.”
“Why Hudson? Doesn’t the FBI have counterparts in Russia? Like whatever came after the KGB?”
“John doesn’t want to make an official case of it. I probably shouldn’t be telling you about it. So forget I did. Hudson speaks Russian; John doesn’t.”
“Isn’t that a little backward?”
“John was born in this country, and his parents wanted him to speak only English growing up.”
“But hey, the FBI’s the expert on disappearances, isn’t it?”
“I think John’s background has been a sensitive point in his job in the past. You know, an FBI agent with a Russian heritage in the days when we were fighting communism. I don’t think he wants that spotlight again. Where did you say you’re climbing tomorrow?”
“Dracula Divide at seven AM.”
“I’ll meet you there.”
