'Project on the roof. You know the first-floor rest room is awful. Why don't you start there?'
'It is?'
'Sure is.'
'Well, I guess I'll ride it back down.'
When Corey got off at the fifth floor, the woman went back down. The chances were that everybody on the first floor would be able to get out before lethal exposure. No sense killing an innocent worker when it wasn't necessary. Corey knew there wasn't enough cyanide to get everybody; the vents she was using fed only three second-floor courtrooms and one hallway. She hoped to get Maria Fischer and Dan Young.
There would be none of her kind-real radical activists- in the courtroom. She had spread a rumor that in retaliation for the ears, the sheriff was out to arrest monkey-wrenchers who showed up at the hearing. Corey had told everyone that the sheriff had a list of names, so she was confident they wouldn't show up.
There were three clerks in the hall. When she wheeled the drums past them, she nodded at no one for fear they might ask her a question. When she got to the door leading to the stairs, she looked through the small rectangular window. Much to her shock, there were two workmen at the door to the crawl space. Immediately she turned, said, 'Oh damn' as if she had forgotten something, and headed back down the hall to a storage room she had seen earlier. Trouble was, it was locked and she had no key. Fortunately, it was to the left and out of sight of the three clerks.
When she turned the corner, she noted with relief that no one was in this section of the hall. Maintenance people would be trouble. Leaning the dolly next to the storage-room door, she put one foot against the wall and leaned back as if she had all the time in the world. It was precisely what she did not have. She would wait fifteen minutes and try one more time. It was 9:30 a.m. exactly. The hearing would be starting now.
'Your Honor, I represent the Friends of the Wilderness, the Wildlife Society, the Wildflower Coalition, and other environmental organizations,' Maria said. 'Trees on this harvest plan at the Highlands are known to be over one thousand years old. In fact, it's possible some of the trees in the three hundred acres of old growth at White Horse Creek were growing when Christ walked the earth. These ancient trees are up to fifteen feet in diameter and over three hundred feet tall. We had no idea that this ill-conceived logging plan was under review. We made a mistake by not anticipating this. It's just that simple. Trees that are a national treasure-and can never be replaced-are going to be destroyed without serious thought, just because we made a mistake. Now, please note that we are not saying they can never be cut. We don't have to decide that now. What we are deciding here is whether this extraordinary decision, one that will affect priceless living things, should be made without a few moments of reflection. Can't our need to consume everything in sight be put on hold for even a few days, until the next hearing on this matter?
'Your Honor, it's not just the trees, although that would certainly be enough to give us pause. White Horse Creek runs right through the heart of this plan. For years it has been vital to local Coho salmon populations. The proposed plan will devastate it. Already half full of muck from logging, it will become even worse. For the salmon, for the trees, for our children and their children after them, we want those few moments of contemplation by this court to be informed moments. We want the court to have all the information reasonably available when the fate of these living things hangs in the balance.
'This forest has grown in silence since long before our country was founded. Give us just a few days to speak for it and to act on its behalf.'
'Yes!' Hushed exclamations went up from the environmentalists around the room; while around them, the industry supporters were obvious in their angry silence.
Maria paused a moment. ''Consider, Your Honor, another critical circumstance in this case. Anderson Logging, working together with their counsel, Dan Young'-she paused to enunciate his name-'deliberately attempted to steal our entitlement to those few moments of consideration by this court. We believe Anderson Logging and their counsel knew a suit would be filed, because they knew this old growth was part of the Highlands complex, lying as it does right against the border of the larger pieces. We know that over the weekend they sent in a greatly oversize crew and began cutting at a frenzied rate, laughing at members of our organization who suggested they wait until the court could consider the matter. Then they began killing trees by girdling, cutting the vital cambium layer because it was faster than harvesting the tree normally. A cynical way to make sure the forest died.
'Your Honor, they were holding in contempt our system of justice, which provides for the resolution of disputes through orderly processes. They were belittling those few moments of consideration that the law gives us to protect the public welfare. The court must not unwittingly become an accomplice to the attempt of a few greedy men to deprive society of a few moments of sober reflection concerning what we are about to do, which once done can never be repaired.'
Maria sat down, and true pandemonium broke out. 'Yes!' came the voices again from the gallery.
Traxler banged his gavel. 'Order in the court! Order in the court!'' But his words were drowned in the cheers.' 'This will not be tolerated!' the judge boomed. 'One more sound and this court will be cleared!'
Standing, Maria Fischer turned and held up her hands like a teacher before a classroom full of children. Instantly there was silence, but the people continued with their passionate stares, barely able to restrain themselves. Around them, the mill workers and loggers were stone-faced, waiting for their champion.
Traxler was visibly moved. 'Is this true? They were girdling trees they didn't have time to cut over the weekend so they could be sure of harvest later? Did they actually send in extra cutters over the weekend to beat a court order?''
Dan felt the stress in the tightened muscles of his chest and back. Even he had not realized how powerful a presentation could be made from these facts. He was staring at a tidal wave with no place to run.
Shohei waited behind the wheel of his Altima, puzzled. From what little he knew about Corey Schneider, she didn't seem like someone who would spend forty-five minutes shopping for a rental video. For a Monday-morning activity it didn't feel right. Yet the Mustang was still there, in front of the video shop.
Perhaps she had gone out the back door and this was a ploy to ditch any tails. Not wanting to attract attention, he walked across the street at a normal pace, hoping he wouldn't run into her on the way out. If she saw his face, the difficulties of his assignment would be significantly increased.
Inside, a few women browsed the stacks. None was Corey Schneider.
'Can I help you with something?'
'Is this everything?' He indicated the room.
'Well, yes.' She smiled. 'What were you expecting?'
'People come in here and stay for hours?'
'Oh, they're probably back there, watching movies in the private rooms.'
'I see. Well, my friend came in here. She is blond.'
'Corey?'
'Yes.'
'She's right back there, waiting for the library to open.'
'Ah.' Shohei nodded. But it still didn't seem right. Walking back in the corner where the woman had pointed, he opened the door. A movie was running, but no one was inside.
'Did you find her?'
'Yes. Thank you.' He stepped outside quickly. Like everyone else who listened to the radio, Shohei knew about today's duel at the courthouse. With all the demonstrators expected to attend, maybe she went there. But why so secretly? Unless…
Whipping his car around, he headed for the courthouse, the largest building in Palmer. He drove around the backside of the building, where he saw a dark van like the one Corey had recently parked in her garage. The lettering could easily have been added. Beside him sat his laptop. Quickly he scrolled through to Corey Schneider. The license plates on this van were not hers, so it was probably unrelated. But he had nothing else to go on.
Parking the car, he decided to inquire after the Johnson Electric man-or woman.
When Corey returned to the door to the roof, she put on an air of unconcern in case anyone was looking. Trying to control the tension, she peered through the window. Shit. They were there, coiling an electrical extension cord and putting away tools and a portable light. She looked up and down the hall, realizing that now a second
