That floored me.
Walter’s eyebrows lifted.
Hap pointed to the last ore cart.
Walter moved to have a look.
I took note of the hose clamp bolted to the cart’s rim. I took note of the black ribbed hose that Hap had snaked from the hopper in the shaft to where we now stood. I took note of the red cord wrapped around the cart’s brake handle. I figured I understood. This was the demonstration that required Walter’s counsel. Fill the cart and threaten to send it into the world. The cart was rusted bloody red. I tried to recall the shielding properties of iron. The cart was chest high, maybe three feet wide and a good four long. I tried to work out the volume, how many cubic feet of resin beads it would hold. Walter swore. I stopped doing the math. Walter turned to Hap, face set. “You know my counsel.”
I came up beside Walter and looked in the cart. My heart fell. Surprises within surprises, sucking me down. I thought I might fall in.
Hap joined us. “You’ve been asking. Here’s the man himself.”
Milt Ballinger was stretched on the floor of the cart, bound and gagged with duct tape. Ankles crossed, wrists in prayer, mouth sealed, eyes squeezed shut against my headlamp. I’d seen this handiwork before. “Roy did this?”
“I did this, while Roy held a gun on me. But that’s all in the past. Roy’s not here. Milt’s here.” Hap leaned in the cart and ripped the tape off Milt’s mouth. “Damn, I know that hurts, Milt. Buttercup did the same to me.”
Milt whimpered.
I said, “Stop it, Hap.”
“Soon as we run a little test.” Hap held his hand so that our lights shined his signet ring with its desert scene, so that Milt could fully see it. “Milt, you figures out what the ring means, you gets to wake up tomorrow.”
Milt croaked, “Roy’s ring, right?”
“Somebody give him a hint.”
Walter said, “This is sadism, Hap. We don’t know what you’re getting at.”
Milt’s eyes found mine but I had no hints, I’d fail Hap’s test, we were all going to forfeit to this freak out of hell. Milt blinked back tears. I dredged up all I had, for Walter’s enlightenment as well as Milt’s. Neither had been there at the lawn table this morning when Pria identified the drawing on the ring. “It’s a race. Badwater to Whitney. Maybe a play on words.” They nearly choked me. “Bad. Water.”
Milt sucked in air. “It’s the leak? At the dump?” He turned from me to Hap, who waited soberly. “And Roy got mad…” He cleared his throat. “Okay then, so Roy ran the race and…”
“Not Roy,” Hap cut in. “Sheila Cook ran the race. Her ring.”
I gaped. Not Roy’s ring, not Hap’s ring. Roy’s sister’s ring.
“She got it for participating but she DNF’d.” Hap glanced at me. “Sorry Cassie, I know how you hate those cryptic initials. Did…not…finish. Collapsed in a heap, to be precise. First clue she’d won the cancer lottery. About a year later she DNF’d for real. Didn’t get a ring for that.”
Walter said, “Dear God.”
“God doesn’t give a fig, Walter. So give Milt the clue. The one about helping. Somebody? Test isn’t optional.”
I said, faint, “You can’t get good help.”
Hap beamed at Milt. “That’s you. Youse is the star of the show.”
Milt was crying now.
“Y’all know why?”
Nobody spoke.
“Sheesh.” Hap sighed. “Weren’t you listening down at the borax mine? Nobody listens. Milt’s the star because of Sheila.”
Milt shook his head.
“No? Let me jog your memory. We were discussing revenge?”
Walter snapped, “Why now?”
Hap pointed at me. “You remember, Buttercup. How revenge is like a runaway chain reaction?”
I remembered. “But Roy’s dead.”
“Well I know that. I saw him get shot.”
“Then why avenge his sister?”
“I’m not.”
“You said it’s because of Sheila.”
“It is.”
In all its horror, the truth dawned on me.
“Not Roy’s sister.” Hap reached down and hooked Milt under the armpit and hoisted him to his feet, a brutal one-handed yank. “Mine.”
44
It seemed to have grown darker. Our headlamps were dying. Faces were dimming. My senses were going. Arms numb, hands dead. Ears plugged. I heard Milt’s mewling like he was far away, buried. I heard Walter’s voice like he was talking through dirt. Words filtered up. Right. Wrong. Justice. Prison.
Hap watched Walter, intent. No cartoon eyes. No wise-up smile.
I cast about in my woolly mind for pleas, rebuttals, anything — because for those heartbreaking minutes it really did seem that Hap wanted to listen.
But in the end he did not take Walter’s counsel.
It was not going to be ALARA.
Hap opened his belt pouch and brought out a handheld remote. He punched the buttons and the dusty light bulbs overhead flickered on. He threaded the ribbed hose through the clamp so that its mouth fed down into the cart. Milt’s eyes followed the hose from the cart back uptunnel to the shaft. He appeared to understand. His eyes — animal-in-quicksand eyes — flicked in desperation to Hap. “New-hire form said she’s Roy’s sister.”
“Forms can be altered.”
“Then no way I’d know she’s yours.”
“That your philosophy, Milt? Ignorance? Sure ticked off Roy.”
“But if she’s your sister…” Milt cast about. “Why’d Roy care?”
“Roy was already unhappy with you, Milt, about that cesium-source prank. Thought you were covering up so nobody’d be arrested — because that would shine the spotlight on your management history.”
Milt’s scalp leaked sweat.
“Since we’re clearing things up, Milt, here’s another FYI–I’m the one who planted that source under Roy’s pillow. Needed a recruit. Somebody who’d share my outrage against you. By gum, Roy did. Real helpful, until he went wacko.” Hap sighed. “Murphy’s Law.”
I blurted, “That’s why Roy turned against you? The prank?”
“Nope — he never found out. Like I told you earlier, he turned against me when I joined up with y’all, thinking I might sell him out. And then he got touchy about you, Cassie. Thought I was ‘courting’ you. Said I wasn’t worthy.”
I went sick. Roy’s moist eyes. Roy’s yearning smile.
“Hap,” Milt said, “I’m sorry about your sister.”
“Been carrying my sister’s ring for two years, Milt. Always in my pocket, hidden away. It was my own private connection to Sheila. My own private declaration of war against you.” Hap fingered the ring. “Time to go public.”
“But Sheila wasn’t my fault.”
Hap unwound the red cord from the brake handle.
“Wait,” Walter said.
Hap cocked his head.
“You told us it’s about money,” Walter said. “You dump the beads now, you lose your bargaining chips.”
“Bargaining’s over. Deadline’s come and gone.”
I said, “Try them again.”
Hap smiled. “They’re still gonna pay. Spotlight’s going to shine real bright on CTC’s indulgence of Mister Radwaste. Money would’ve been icing on the cake, but I’m here for the cake.” He gave Milt a long look.
Milt whispered, “Please.”
“We’re gonna mosey on out now, Milt. My guests ain’t wearing protective clothing.” Hap turned his back, urging Walter and me forward with the subgun. We set off downtunnel. Behind us, the screaming started. At the tunnel mouth we hugged the wall while Hap unlocked the gate. He swung it wide and we emerged into the day as if it were the most natural thing in the world.