Sleeping Beauty (66 page)

“I don't remember. Everybody wants to go to Washington; they all want a free ride.”

“Not me,” Keith said quickly. “No way. I'm ready to work. I'm good, you said so yourself, and there's lots of things I can do. I mean, I have all these talents, you know, and I'd never get to use them if it wasn't for you. So I thought we'd make a deal now, and pretty soon, when things, like, settle down here—it wouldn't be smart for me to leave right away—but later, maybe in a few months, I'd come to Washington and we'd be, like, partners. I mean, you'd be president and I'd be your assistant. Chief assistant. You said that, remember? I said could I go with you when you're president and you said why not?”

“I don't remember. But I'm a long way from president. When it happens, you can remind me about all this. If you can't wait until then to get out of Tamarack, my friends in New York or Chicago can find a way for you to use your talents. If you're trying to impress me, Keith, you're doing a lousy job. I asked you for a report and you haven't finished it.”

“The other thing is, there was a call in the office this morning. Those guys from, you know, Egypt backed out. I mean, they read about the gondola and they figured it's not such a good deal. I keep my eyes and ears open, Vince; I mean you really, like, need me. What I wanted was, you know, a promise.”

The light was fading, and Vince reached behind him to turn on the table lamp. It threw Keith's thin face into relief, making his cheeks seem more hollow, his Adam's apple more pointed. His legs were stretched out on a hassock, crossed at the ankles, and he looked relaxed and cheerful, but he was watching Vince so intently he was almost squinting, and there was a small twitch at the corner of his mouth that gave away how important this was to him. Important enough to try to hold Vince up for it.

Fuck it, Vince thought, he's right; I do need him. And I will for a while. Then he can be bought off or sent somewhere. It won't be hard; he'll collapse like a balloon the first time somebody punctures his tough act. Me or somebody else. There's always somebody to do these things.

“Of course I promise,” Vince said easily. “I didn't know it meant so much to you. You're a valuable part of my team, Keith; I wouldn't want to lose you.” He shook his head slowly. “People in government don't have many real friends, you know; people they can truly trust. That's what I meant by people wanting a free ride. But you're not one of them; you know how to do a job, you don't mind getting your hands dirty, and you take pride in your work. We're a lot alike, you and I. You're right: we make a good team.”

Keith squinted in the lamplight. “Thanks,” he said, giving nothing away. “I'll tell my lady friend we're moving. Like,
April? That's, you know, four months. Plenty of time for things to calm down here.”

Vince felt himself being squeezed, and fury swept through him. He smiled gently. “That may be a little soon for me. April is a hellish month in the Senate; you'll know all about that when you're working there. Let's think about June, when we're in recess. I'll have time to show you and your lady around, help you find a place to live, make you feel at home. Keith, I hate to break this up, but I've got a lot to do and it would help if you finish your report. You did a fine job with the gondola—of course I never doubted that you would—and you were very good on television. You said ‘somebody coulda got to it.' Did anybody ask you what you meant?”

“They couldn't; I got out of here right afterward. I mean, I went to Durango to, like, do some errands; I figured I ought to talk to you first.”

He hadn't missed a trick, Vince thought. It was too bad he was such a weasel; he really was a sharp kid. “Good for you,” Vince said, and waited.

“Oh, yeah, the bolt,” Keith said. “I hid it in front of somebody's garage.” He grinned at Vince. “There's workmen finishing this remodeling job and there's a lot of crap in Dumpsters, construction stuff, you know, and I tossed it in there. I mean, it's different from all the other junk in there; anybody looking couldn't miss it. If they were told where to look.”

“Whose garage?” Vince asked.

“Josh Durant's,” Keith replied, and his grin widened until his thin face was shiny with stretching.

Vince erupted from his chair and began to pace around the room, a wonderful excitement stirring in him. “That's what you meant when you said someone could have gotten to the gondola.”

“Could be. I mean, I can't remember exactly what I was thinking.”

“They'll ask you that. You'll have to say something better than that.”

Keith shrugged. “That's all I know. Like somebody coulda. It's not, you know, guarded or anything; it's just there and people go through it. I mean Josh went through it, Leo took him and like, you know, explained the whole fucking thing. And he hung around—”

“Who?”

“I'm telling you. Josh. Whenever he was in town, he went up in the morning with Leo and Anne. Only that day he didn't. I heard he left town.”

Vince shot forward, pacing again, suddenly filled with energy, his muscles coiled with power, his thoughts racing. He knew what he would do and how he would do it; the scenario played out in his mind without a hitch. Keith had done far better than he knew. “Who's in charge of the investigation?” he asked. He was standing near Keith's chair; the only way he could tower over him.

“Something Halloran.” Keith looked up at him. “Irving or Ervin, something odd like that. He's staying here, in the hotel. You want me to get him for you?”

“I'll take care of it.” Vince moved to the door and opened it. “I'll call you tomorrow or the next day, before I leave. And we'll be in touch when I'm back in Washington.”

Reluctantly, Keith lifted himself from his chair. “I better call you. Tomorrow. I mean, we've got a lot to, you know, talk about, and I'm, like, in the middle here, people asking me questions and Leo coming back one of these days, and I don't like being left hanging out there. . . .”

“Keith, I have complete confidence in you,” Vince said warmly. He hung a heavy arm around Keith's narrow shoulders. “You can handle anything. You've been a real help to me, a real friend. I'm not worried about you being here, Keith; there's nobody I trust more to take care of things the right way.” He edged him toward the door. “You can call me anytime, you know that. And I'll call you before I leave town. That's a promise.”

When he was gone, Vince stood beside the desk and called Beloit in Denver. “It's all yours. Call Charles tomorrow morning; they may pay you to take it off their hands.”

“There's those Egyptians,” Beloit said.

“Not anymore. They changed their mind. I'm telling you, Ray, it's yours. At just about any price you name.”

“God damn. You're a hell of a friend, Vince. And we're going to run one hell of a campaign. When're you coming to Denver so we can celebrate?”

“Tomorrow. I'll call when I get in.”

Then, still standing, he called the front desk and asked for the room number for Irving or Ervin Halloran.

“Arvin Halloran, yes, sir,” said the operator, and rang the room. An hour later, Halloran was in Vince's suite, and drinks had been sent up.

“This is very good of you,” Vince said as they sat in the armchairs beside the window. Tamarack Mountain was lost to the darkness now, but here and there on its broad face, gleaming like the brightest planets in the sky, were the Sno-Cats, working in pairs, smoothing the slopes for the next day's skiing. Vince filled two glasses and put the cheese board and baskets of crackers and walnuts in the center of the table between them. “I appreciate your making time for me.”

“We never turn down information, Senator,” said Halloran, taking a fistful of walnuts. He was a huge man with shaggy hair and wire-rimmed glasses that magnified sharp brown eyes. “Anyway, it's an honor to meet you. You've got a lot of fans around here; I want you to know we're real proud of you, Senator.”

“Thanks,” Vince said. “I need to hear that. Those of us in government need to know people understand what we're trying to do. It's pretty discouraging, otherwise.” He sipped his drink. “I'm discouraged about Tamarack, too. It's not good, what's happening to this town. And to my family, of course. I think you've met a lot of them by now.”

“I have. Good people, Senator; you're a lucky man to have such a close family. It's too bad they've had such rotten luck.”

“Is it really luck? I don't know where you are in your investigation.”

“Well, we don't talk about it, you know. But I don't have any trouble telling you, Senator; you're not about to broadcast it to anybody. We've talked to everybody who can talk to us who was in those two cars, and it's pretty clear that the J-grip failed. You probably don't know what that is—” Vince let him describe it without interruption. “It seems to be working now, and there's no evidence of poor maintenance or tampering, but we'll have to wait for lab tests to be sure of that; it was damaged in the collision. We do know why the gondola didn't shut down when it should have; there's a bolt missing from the support bracket of the safety mechanism, so it slipped out of its operating position.”

Vince frowned deeply. “ ‘Missing.' It fell out?”

“We don't know. It might have loosened due to vibrations, and been swept up by the cleaning crew, though they say they didn't notice it—it's big, you know, and odd shaped; you'd think they would have seen it. There was a full test of the gripping mechanism five days before the accident; the bolt could have been missing for some or all of those days; you'd never know it until the J-grip didn't clamp right. Anyway, we've searched for it and I'd bet my job it's not there now. Either the cleaning crew swept it up and tossed it out with the other trash, or . . . somebody removed it from its bracket and took it away.”

Vince looked up sharply. “Why do you say that?”

“Well, the assistant mountain manager, Keith Jax, hinted that's what happened. Weird kid—oh, I'm sorry, he's a relative of yours, isn't he?”

“My nephew. A little strange, I agree, but generally reliable. What did he say?”

“That somebody could have done it. We're looking into that, but that's really up to the sheriff; we're just supposed to pass on the maintenance of the system. And that looks okay. Leo Calder—he's married to your niece, right? We talked to him in the hospital in Albuquerque, by the way; he's doing pretty well; it looks like he won't need surgery. Anyway, he and his crew have always been absolute tops in my book; they've got a perfect record of testing and inspection, and
their maintenance is as good as you can get. But then you have this mess, so it looks like they slipped up somewhere. Or they didn't, and somebody did tamper with the system, though I don't know why the hell anybody'd do that. But the point is, even if we never know exactly what happened, we'll have to recommend that all the safety bolts be secured by locking devices so they can't jiggle loose, and that the whole system be tested daily for a couple weeks before they start up again. That's what I think'll happen. I wish we could give 'em a clean bill of health, Senator—I know this could cut like hell into their business—but I just can't do it. Not as of now, anyway.”

“My God, Arvin, you're not talking about cutting into their business; this could ruin them.” Vince stood, his thumbs in his belt, looking down at the floor, his face troubled. “They work so hard to make this place a success . . .” He pondered it, slowly shaking his head. “Well, I have to do it; I don't have any choice,” he said at last. “I'd rather not, but . . . Arvin, what if you found the bolt?”

“Well, we'd have a shot at knowing what happened. Defective bolt, sabotage, whatever.” He took another fistful of walnuts and gave Vince a long look. “Is that why I'm here tonight, Senator?”

Sadly, Vince nodded. “I'm afraid so.” He sat again and refilled their glasses. “It's an ugly story. The only good part of it is that I'm absolutely sure my family has nothing to do with it.”

Halloran sat back, his glass almost hidden in his broad hand. “I'm listening, Senator.”

Vince let a brief silence hang between them. High up the mountain, the Sno-Cats were working their way down Ethan's Run, under the gondola cable, their headlights illuminating the slope where the car had fallen. “There's a man named Josh Durant,” he said. “Lives in Los Angeles, an archaeologist and I think a professor at UCLA. He and my daughter had a thing going for a while, so I've known him, though not well; he's a cold bastard, hard to get
friendly with. He spends a fair bit of time here; I heard he bought a new house in Riverwood. He's been coming here for years and never paid any more attention to the town or the company than any other tourist. Then, a few months ago, he was all over the place, talking to people about the company and the problems it's had—you know about the pollution in the reservoir, of course; unfortunately the media had a field day with it—and he started spending a lot of time with Leo Calder and his family; he even got himself invited to family dinners. And then he asked Leo to show him around the gondola, take him to the upper level and show him how it works, the safety features, the whole bit.”

Halloran leaned forward.

“You'll understand how odd it seemed,” Vince went on, his voice troubled and confiding. “Some of us began to wonder if he might be thinking about buying The Tamarack Company. God knows why; maybe he decided he was tired of mummies and wanted some action.” He and Halloran exchanged a smile. “Anyway, that's what it began to look like to us. Of course the family hasn't had any intention of selling, and in fact, as far as I know, he's never said anything directly. But then, at Christmas—I couldn't be here; my damn politicking kept me in the East—this Durant got himself invited to dinner, and my nephew Keith told me that out of the blue he said he'd lined up a bunch of Egyptian investors to buy into the company.
Lined up,
mind you. What the hell was he doing? Running around the desert asking every sheik who went by if he wanted to buy The Tamarack Company? Let me tell you, it struck a false note with a lot of us, and it worried the hell out of me. You're a family man, aren't you, Arvin?”