The Hunting Ground by Jean Heller

Author:Jean Heller [Heller, Jean]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-10-03T16:00:00+00:00

36

I checked the Washington Post online every day and saw nothing significant about Saudi Arabia. I grew increasingly impatient.

The body count at Ryan Woods escalated to twenty-three. Anthony Donato thought his team had found all there was to find, but they weren’t positive. In some cases they found entire skeletons. In others only a half dozen bones that matched. Scavenging animals had carried off a lot over the years. They continued to use ground-penetrating radar outside the original excavation zone. The entire area remained an active crime scene.

As I reviewed the last conversation I’d had with the medical examiner, a new question came to me, and I jotted it down to ask him later in the day. There was another call I wanted to make first.

I didn’t tell anyone in our Washington bureau I was calling the State Department. I didn’t need permission. But when I got through to the press office and asked to speak to Eleanor Troy, the assistant secretary for public affairs, the fact that nobody in Troy’s office ever heard of me became an impediment. An introduction from our State Department correspondent might have helped.

The first person I spoke to was a secretary type who quickly let me know she’d never heard of me.

“Are you new to the Journal’s Washington bureau?” the woman asked.

“I’m not in the Washington bureau,” I said. “I’m a columnist in the main office in Chicago. I have a question about the Middle East. I would like to talk to someone who might be able to answer it.”

“What’s the question?”

“Are you a Middle East specialist?”

“No,” the woman said, sounding huffy about my challenge to her gate-keeping authority. “But if you give me the question, I’ll be better able to direct your call.”

“I’ll say it’s about Saudi Arabia, and you find somebody to talk to me?”

“There’s no reason to be snippy, Ms. Mora,” she said.

And she was right.

“I’m sorry if I sounded that way,” I said. “This is something I’ve been chasing a long time, and it’s wearing me down.”

“If that’s an apology, consider it accepted. Hold on.”

There was no hold music. I had no way to know if she was looking for someone to help me or had put me on hold and would leave me there the rest of the day in retaliation for a perceived insult. I didn’t have to wait long to find out.

There was a click and a voice that said, “This is Zack Harrison. I’m the press officer for the Middle East Desk. How can I help you?”

I started to identify myself, but he interrupted.

“I know who you are, Ms. Mora. I’m from Chicago. Wicker Park. I always read your column. I don’t have as much time now as I used to, but I go online and read the paper on occasion. What can I do for you?”

“I’m trying to find out if there’s anything particular—beyond the normal, everyday stuff—going on between the United States and Saudi Arabia.”

“Stuff?” he said.

“It’s a technical diplomatic term,” I said.

“What sort of ‘stuff’ are we talking about?” he asked.

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