Desolation Mountain by Krueger William Kent

Author:Krueger, William Kent
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Atria Books
Published: 2018-08-20T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 27

* * *

Bo pulled up beside the black SUV. Inside the cabin, Gerard was waiting for him, drinking a Leinenkugel’s pulled from the refrigerator.

“I see you didn’t stand on ceremony. Just made yourself right at home.”

“You know your Robert Service, Thorson? ‘Politeness is a platitude in this fair land of gallant foemen.’ It’s a poem about the cost of chivalry.” He sipped his beer. “Here I am tracking you down again. What’s this about you and the O’Connors?”

Bo tried to read him. He’d thought the truck that had staked out Gooseberry Lane the night before was Gerard’s doing, but maybe not. Maybe Gerard really was as clueless as he seemed.

“I worked with O’Connor years ago when I was Secret Service. He’s part Ojibwe, knows the territory. I’m getting good intel from him.”

“Yeah? So tell me about the Hukaris.”

“The husband was one of the Indians first on the scene of the crash.”

“And if someone were looking for the black box, they might think he grabbed it?”

Bo headed to the kitchen area and began to put together a pot of coffee. “That burned-out truck, your handiwork?”

“I wondered if maybe it was yours.”

“I don’t operate that way. But I wouldn’t put it past you. By the way, O’Connor found the transmitter you put under the dash of his son’s car. He left it in place, but I doubt they’ll be using the Jeep in any way that would be useful to track now. What were you thinking when you bugged the kid?”

“After we caught him up on the mountain and questioned him, it was clear all he was giving me was lies.”

“And you thought a twenty-year-old kid might be involved in some grand terrorist plot?”

“Kids younger than him blow themselves up in the name of all kinds of harebrained causes.”

“And what kind of harebrained cause do you think he might represent?”

“I was hoping you could tell me. You’re the one with an inside line to the Indians around here now.”

Bo turned to Gerard as the coffee began to drip. “Someone tried to break into the O’Connors’ house last night. Your people?”

Gerard lowered his beer. “Not mine.”

Bo opened a cupboard door, took a mug off the shelf. “Your guys up on the mountain, have they found anything yet?”

“Nothing. And nothing in the woods where the tail section broke off or in that muck where the plane crashed or anywhere around it either. Someone grabbed that black box.”

“Someone afraid what the flight recorder might say about the true nature of the crash?”

“Maybe.”

“Kind of flies in the face of most terrorist agendas, don’t you think? A real terrorist would want the cause front and center, blasted all over the headlines. On the other hand, I suppose if someone on the inside were responsible, they wouldn’t be eager for things to come to light. So, if the senator was murdered and it wasn’t done by terrorists, the question is, who wanted her dead? And also, who has the power to misshape an investigation?”

“Any theories yet?”

Bo removed the pot from the coffeemaker and poured himself what had brewed so far.

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