Blowout Page 16

  “Yes, Mr. President,” a somewhat subdued Rogers replied uncertainly.

  “Wiretaps, arrest without habeas corpus, whatever,” Thompson said. He took a sealed envelope from his desk and handed it to the FBI director. “In writing, Ed. My signature. No equivocation.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Get the bastards, no matter what it takes.”

  27

  THE ROUGH RIDERS Hotel—the best accommodations in Medora—was a couple of blocks up from Osborne’s office in the Billings County Courthouse. He’d changed into civvies because he wanted to shed his LE presence and walked up just before six because he figured he needed the exercise and might need to clear his head afterwards.

  The late afternoon was cold, and the fireplace in Theodore’s dining room adjacent to the bar was pulling full strength. The comfortable warm, smoky atmosphere, Christmas tree in the lobby, something he’d always equated with peace and security, permeated the adjacent cocktail lounge where Ashley Borden was sitting at the bar sipping a red wine when he walked in. Only a few other couples were seated at tables, but she was alone at the bar.

  He hung up his jacket, then hesitated for just a moment, her back to him, and watched her fiddle with her glass. She was dressed in a light yellow sweater over jeans and the way she sat, the set of her head, long neck and narrow shoulders, the curve of her back and narrow waist was in his estimation very attractive. But he didn’t know if he should or even could take the next step.

  She turned as he walked across the dining room, and he smiled at her.

  “You were snooping on me, shame on you,” she said, nodding at the mirror over the bar, her smile warm.

  “Guilty as charged,” Osborne said. “I just wanted to make sure that I wasn’t being stood up. You might have been waiting for a boyfriend.”

  She laughed. “My dad says I’m too much of a spoiled brat to ever have a serious relationship unless I change.”

  “Are you a brat?”

  “Certifiable.”

  The bartender came over with a Michelob Ultra tap. “How’s it going, Nate?” she asked.

  “Not bad, Tina. You?”

  She nodded. “So, we heard there might have been some trouble down at the ELF station last night.”

  “Somebody threw a wrong switch and blew something up. No big deal.”

  “Anyone hurt?”

  “A few bruised egos from what I was told.”

  “You two having dinner?”

  “Thought we might.”

  The bartender nodded. “I’ll put your names in,” she said and moved off.

  Ashley laughed. “I wonder if there’s a waiting list.” She had stayed the night, and when Osborne had called to ask her to dinner, she’d told him to get over to the hotel as soon as possible. The place was practically empty and she was getting spooked.

  Osborne shrugged and took a pull of his beer. “I heard the Air Force kicked you out after the news conference.”

  “Nothing much to see or do except hang around and watch the cleanup. A bunch of construction types came up by air through Ellsworth, and it’s getting a little dangerous, stuff being pulled apart and hauled out to trucks. And nobody’s leaning on their shovels. They’re really working hard. Lipton wants the place back up and running by the end of next week. So here I sit.”

  “Did she say that you’d be kept in the loop?”

  “Yes, but she’s not really in charge. My dad is. And for now I promised to keep my mouth shut.”

  “You keep your promises?” Osborne asked, and she looked at his reflection in the bar mirror.

  “When they make sense,” she said. “Anyway I’m going to go back to Bismarck tomorrow or Friday and put in an appearance at the paper before I lose my job. Christmas is Saturday but I’ll be back if anything interesting turns up.”

  “I thought you’d be going to Washington to be with your dad.”

  She shook her head. “He’s pretty busy right now.”

  “No one in Bismarck?”

  “No one special. How about you?”

  “Divorced, she lives down in Orlando with our daughter.”

  “Couldn’t stand the North Dakota wilds?”

  “She grew up in a big city. It’s quiet out here.”

  “That it is,” Ashley said. “Find anything new about the Posse connection?”

  “We’re still digging.”

  “What about the Newell down by Amidon? Were either of the two bodies Posse guys?”

  Osborne was surprised, although he knew he shouldn’t be. She was a good reporter and she had some decent sources not only here in the state but as far away as Washington. After the murder suicide in the park, she’d found out that the father had lost his ad agency job in the Twin Cities, had gone bankrupt, and was in the process of losing his house. All in the few months leading up to the event. He’d been despondent; deeply troubled, she’d been told by neighbors who knew the family. And the first Osborne had known about those details was when he’d read about them in her article.

  “Where’d you hear about that?” he asked nonchalantly.

  “Around. One was just a kid, shot in the side of the head while he was behind the wheel. But the guy in the back was older and foreign. Maybe al-Qaeda?”

  “Even if I knew yet, I wouldn’t say; you know how it goes.”

  “Your county, your investigation, isn’t that what you told Captain Ranger Rick? Or has the Air Force put you on a leash, too?”

  “You’re going to keep the Newell out of the paper as well. If need be I’ll call your dad and let him cinch up your leash.”

  Ashley stiffened. “Just doing my job same as you, Sheriff,” she said sharply, a little color coming to her cheeks.

  Osborne decided that he liked her even though she was a self-centered and aggressive woman with a quick temper, and he smiled. “Do you ever stop being a reporter?”

  “No.”

  “In that case we’re not going to have a hell of a lot to talk about over dinner.”

  She let her eyes widen. “You mean like this is supposed to be a real date or something?”

  “Or something.”

  She nodded. “Okay, let’s call it a truce. But first one more thing. What’d you do with the Newell, or did the Bureau grab it?”

  “Their forensics people are taking a look.”

  “Is it still down in Slope County, or did they bring it up to the Initiative? Because I want to see it.”

  “Not until we’re done,” Osborne said. “The truce starts right now,” he added before she could press him.

  He took their drinks and they went into the dining room to a table near the fireplace.

  Tina was doing double duty as a waitress and she brought them menus. “Refills?”

  “Sure,” Osborne said. Only one other couple was in the dining room: a slender, mildly attractive woman with surprisingly broad shoulders and a man with a sagging face. He figured that the woman probably worked out and the man had the look of a longtime boozer.

  When Tina came back with their drinks, Osborne asked about them.

  “I think he said San Francisco. Guy talks like a Brit. Something’s wrong with the gal.”

  “Staying here?”

  “Haven’t checked the register yet, but I got the biggest tip in my life at the bar.”

  28

  WHEN OSBORNE AND Ashley walked into the dining room, Egan had stiffened slightly and it had been enough for Mattson sitting across from him to notice. But he waited until they had their drink orders, a ginger ale on the rocks with a twist for him and a house Merlot for Barry, before he said anything.

  “You know those two?” he asked.

  “Yeah, Nate Osborne, he’s the local sheriff, and unless I miss my guess the broad is Ashley Borden.”

  “The newspaper reporter?”

  “I think so, but I’m not sure.”

  “Hell of a coincidence them being here like this.”

  “Not at all,” Egan said, sipping his wine. �
�It’s why I picked Medora before Bismarck, ’cause I figured that she would be right here in the middle of it.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Her daddums is Bob Forester—General Forester, of ARPA-E—who runs what they call the Initiative.”

  Mattson shrugged a little irritably. “Would you mind filling me in now that I’ve come this far with you? Because I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. What Initiative? And what the hell is ARPA-E?”

  Egan explained just about everything, including his failed attack on Donna Marie, but not who hired him, or the names of Dr. Kemal and the others, or that they were all dead. None of it had been on television or in the newspapers, not even in the Posse’s blogosphere, and Mattson was stunned speechless for a long moment or two.

  “And you came back, and dragged me into it?” he said at length, careful to keep his voice low and as much as possible a neutral expression on his face. “Are you fucking out of your mind?”

  “No one knows my name, and sure as hell even if they did they never would expect that I’d come back as a woman.”

  “We’re supposed to be down at the Roundup Lodge with Toby, or have you changed your plans and just forgot to tell me?” Mattson demanded, his voice rising.

  “Keep a lid on it, goddamnit, or I just might scrag your ass and leave you out in the bush,” Egan said, smiling for the benefit of Osborne and Borden. “I told you that we were looking for her, and unless I miss my guess we just found her.”

  “We came all this way and you didn’t have a picture of her? Jesus.”

  “Yeah, from the newspaper, but it was lousy.”

  “Well, what the hell do we do now?” Mattson asked. His agitation was increasing.

  Egan gave him a hard look to try to calm him down. Sure as hell Mattson would never go out on any field operation again, and if the conditions were right his body would stay out in the Badlands right next to the broad’s. It was a tough old world sometimes.

  “Stay here and keep your mouth shut,” he said at last, and he got up and walked over to Osborne and Borden.

  They looked up, Osborne out of curiosity, but Borden watching closely, as if she were looking through a microscope.

  “Good evening,” Egan said. “Hope I’m not being too much of a bother.”

  “Not at all,” Osborne said.

  “I’m Beatrice Effingham. And my significant other thought we should stay the night here, and we were just wondering if this was a decent place.” Egan held out his hand, and Osborne shook it.

  “Nate Osborne, I’m the Billings County sheriff.”

  “Then you’re not staying in the hotel,” Egan said, and he extended his hand to Ashley who took it, though with a little reluctance. “That’s okay, sweetie, I don’t bite.”

  Ashley smiled slightly. “Ashley Borden, Bismarck Tribune. You coming from or heading back to San Francisco?”

  Egan’s stomach flopped, but he covered himself immediately. The bartender must have told them. “Back home, actually. Can’t stand all this cold weather.”

  “You’ll have to hustle some to make it by Christmas,” she said, her eyes never leaving his.

  “We’re thinking about spending the holidays with friends in Vegas.”

  “Well, there’s nothing much west of here,” Ashley said. “So if you don’t mind a little cowboy kitsch the beds here are clean and the food is passable. But it’s not Vegas or San Francisco.”

  “It’s quaint, but it’s refreshing for a change,” Egan said. “Are you staying here then?”

  Ashley nodded. “I was thinking about spending Christmas.”

  “Good enough for me then,” Egan said, and he started to turn away to go back to his table, but Osborne stopped him.

  “Where’d you say you folks were coming from?”

  “I don’t believe I did. But we spent a week in Minneapolis with some friends, and I’m telling you it’s almost as cold there as it is here.”

  29

  AFTER TINA CAME and they’d ordered steaks, baked potatoes, onion rings, and green salads, Ashley took a sip of her wine. “That thing is not a woman.”

  “What are you talking about?” Osborne asked, though he’d thought that something hadn’t been quite right.

  “Dear Beatrice with her significant other is either a man in drag, or it’s had a sex change operation, and not so long ago. Did you see the makeup? Didn’t quite hide the five o’clock shadow.”

  “I’d guess the sex change operation. It didn’t seem to me as if she were trying to act like a woman.”

  “You’ve had experience with drag queens?”

  Osborne had to smile. “Yes, I have,” he said. “My wife took me to a show in Miami’s South Beach when I was on leave.”

  Ashley laughed. “Why?”

  Osborne shrugged. “She thought it was sophisticated.”

  “How about you? What’d you think?”

  “It was sort of sad, actually,” he said, and glanced over at the couple who were engaged in conversation. “Different strokes for different folks, I guess.” The woman was odd, but to him she didn’t look like the drag queens in Miami. In the first place she was a lot smaller, not so obviously garish, and actually attractive in a way.

  When he looked back Ashley was studying him, something of a contemplative expression in her pretty eyes.

  “So tell me, Nate, what are you doing here?”

  “Having dinner with you.”

  “No, I mean North Dakota, Medora. You could write just about any ticket you wanted. I’m sure the bureau would take you in a New York minute.”

  “I wouldn’t do well as a wounded vet poster boy.”

  Ashley was stung. “I didn’t mean that, and you know it. You’re bright and well-trained; with the right motivation you could be anything, go anywhere.”

  Osborne smiled a little sadly. He was getting a little tired of answering the same question. “I am where I want to be, doing what I want to do.”

  “Kinda empty out here.”

  “Not right now it isn’t. Because whoever hit the Initiative won’t stop. And I think there are probably some larger issues going on that your father hasn’t shared with me.”

  “At the very least a leak somewhere.”

  “Yeah, but a leak of what? And to what end?”

  “Somebody wants to destroy the place.”

  “Why?” Osborne asked, and his cell phone chirped.

  “The sixty-four-million-dollar question, what I think you and I are going to figure out.”

  “A small-town newspaper reporter and an even smaller town cop,” Osborne said, and his phone chirped again. It was Jim Cameron at the Initiative.

  “Hope I wasn’t interrupting anything important.”

  “Just dinner with a pretty woman,” Osborne said, his slight irritation covered with interest. “What’s up?”

  “Some interesting developments. Can you get out here tonight?”

  “Anything you can tell me on the phone?”

  “Not unless you’re talking on an encrypted Nokia, or something like it.”

  “Will it hold until after dinner?”

  “Don’t have dessert,” Cameron said. “But we’d just as soon not have Ms. Borden out here right now, and that comes from Deb Rausch.”

  “Fair enough, but she’s kept her promise.”

  “Your call, Nate, but Whitney will get the general’s take first.”

  “I’ll see you in a bit,” Osborne said. “Alone.” He broke the connection and pocketed his phone.

  Ashley had watched him closely, the corners of her mouth turned up. “Thanks for the try,” she said. “And for the compliment, if you meant it.”

  “You’re welcome, and I did.”

  “Well, shucks, Sheriff, are you making a pass at me?”

  Osborne frowned. “You don’t take compliments very well. Is there a problem, or is it me?”

  Ashley was stung again and it showed on her face. “No, I guess I don’t, because it�
��s not you. Low self-esteem, I guess. And I sometimes catch myself ashamed by liking what I’m doing and where I’m doing it.” She looked away momentarily. “Goddamned backwards ice box of a place. But it grows on you. It’s become home. Sappy?”

  “I don’t think so,” Osborne said.

  Tina came with their steaks and salads, along with another beer for Osborne and the bottle of Merlot to refill Ashley’s glass. “Anything else?”

  “See if you can overhear what they’re talking about over there,” Ashley said.

  “I’ve tried but soon as I show up, they stop. But I can tell you this much, they’re not happy campers.”

  “What about us?” Osborne asked, and Tina grinned.

  “If you want my opinion, for what it’s worth, you oughta ask Ms. Borden to stay for Christmas. You’ve got no one here, and to hear her tell she’s got no one in Bismarck.”

  Osborne laughed. “Busybody.”

  “Shouldn’t have moved back home if you wanted your privacy,” Tina said and walked off.

  Ashley was grinning. “Ball’s in your court, big guy.”

  “I’ll go out to the Initiative to see what Jim wants, and when I get back we can figure out what we should do.”

  This time Ashley laughed out loud. “You’re not getting off the hook that easy. Do you want me to stay for Christmas or not?”

  Osborne thought her smile was the nicest he’d ever seen on a woman, and he nodded. “I wish you would.”

  “Glad you asked, Sheriff—Nate.”

  “Soon as I get back we can decide about presents.”

  “Tomorrow,” Ashley said. “I’m going to drive over to Bismarck tonight, pack a couple of things, and stop by the paper first thing in the morning. Should be back here in time for lunch.”

  “Careful on the road, we’ve got snow coming maybe tonight, for sure tomorrow sometime.”

  30

  AFTER DINNER EGAN and Mattson lingered over their coffees until Osborne and Ashley Borden finished theirs and got up to leave. Osborne gave the woman a hug, and when she left he came over.

  “Just a suggestion, folks. If you’re planning on leaving tonight, I’d head south to Rapid City. But you might want to think about staying here at least for tonight, maybe for a day or two. We have a fair bit of snow coming in from the west. Could get mean out there.”