“As you did with Ruth.”
“She the girl outside?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s not disturb her view of me as a monster. Unfortunately I can’t continue the performance while facing a woman who could be the one I lived with for two years, and would have for longer had she…” He snapped his file shut. “I’ll tell you another secret; I’m not a bit convinced an Indiana Bat made it all the way to New Hampshire. My real interest is in protecting the National Forest. Great Haystack is right on the edge, but indeed doesn’t impinge on it. Were you utilizing even a few feet of Federal land…” he shrugged and left the thought unfinished. He put the file in his briefcase and turned to shake Cilla’s hand. “I understand you and your husband are friends of Bob Gold. Perhaps we could all get together to do a little ice climbing. Bob tells me Cathedral is in great shape. Do you climb?”
“Years ago.”
“I’ll ask Bob to set it up. Though not for Cathedral. Maybe something milder. And remember, I’m dangerous.” He opened the door. Ruth was at her desk just outside. Adams turned for a long look at Cilla. Then gave a slight shake of his head and closed the door behind him.
After a few minutes on the telephone, Cilla knew a lot more about her visitor. Silent Spring, obviously named for the book by Rachel Carson that warned of the catastrophic consequences of inattention to human damage to the environment, had come into being sometime in the early nineties. Its Executive Director, Andre Adams, had made a name for himself as one of the leading environmentalists in the Northeast. His organization, headquartered in Boston, was responsible for new Clean Air laws in Massachusetts and Vermont, and his research on wind-carried acid rain had smokestack industries in the mid West quavering.
In recent years Adams had turned his attention to the White Mountain National Forest and he had appeared at hearings on such projects as the Appalachian Mountain Club’s request for extension of its permit, the Forest Service arrangements for clear cutting of timber and Skiway Mountain’s plans to expand its ski area further onto National Forest land.
Those she reached called him brilliant, tough and determined. Though a confirmed tree hugger herself, Cilla got the idea Adams could also be an executioner, depending on which side of the table you sat on.
Bob Gold, a former Navy Seal who had retired to the Valley, often worked out with Hudson in the weight room at Cranmore Sports Center. Cilla’s phone call caught up with him there. His take on Adams was straightforward: a good guy, enthusiastic about his work. Sure a bit of a fanatic, but probably had to be to get his point across in the world of big business.
“He’s been staying with me for a few days. Have to throw him out tomorrow, though; the crew is coming to put in a walk-in freezer that’ll take part of the room he’s staying in.”
“Starting a restaurant in Dundee, Bob?”
“No, no. The freezer’s just for me. Cooking’s my hobby, you know.”
“You ever meet a friend of his named Loni?”
“No, but I’ve heard all I want to about her. They lived together a couple years until she walked out on him a few months ago. The guy has bent my ear about her the whole time he’s been here.”
“Never saw a picture of her?”
“Nope, why the interest?”
“Adams said he wouldn’t close us down cause he couldn’t do it to someone who looks like her.”
“That would be you?”
“Yes. He seemed kind of squirrelly, was all hot to lower the boom on us when he came in.”
“He can do it, Cilla, I’ve seen him operate. But he’s really a nice guy underneath. We’ve made a couple of trips into the backcountry this winter. Up until this Loni business he was interesting to talk to. In fact, I’d think you in particular would get along well with him.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, you’re kind of a flower person, aren’t you?”
“What’s with you guys? Kurt gave me the same line this morning. Is it so crazy to want a clean home?”
“Home?”
“The earth, dummy. Where we live. You’re always out in the woods; you want to wander around it in smog?”
“Yeah, that sounds just like him. We’re going up Dracula Divide tomorrow before he heads back to Concord. Why not take a few hours off and join us? You’ll never get Hudson to take you ice climbing.”
“No, he’s not much for heights. I hated to ask him to fly to Europe.”
“I miss him in the weight room. He keeps me at it; without him I’d probably sit home and veg. Hasn’t he been gone longer than he expected?”
“Yes.” She wrinkled her forehead. “Back the day after tomorrow, I think. He took a side trip to Russia. You remember John Krestinski?”
“Sure, his FBI friend. Met him and his wife last month when they were visiting you.”
“John’s parents made their first visit back to St. Petersburg since they immigrated to the US back in the fifties. They were supposed to call John from there two weeks ago. They didn’t and they’re not at the hotel where they were staying. John asked Hudson to go to St. Petersburg and see what he could find out.”
“Why Hudson? Doesn’t the FBI have counterparts in Russia? Like whatever came after the KGB?”
“John doesn’t want to make an official case of it. I probably shouldn’t be telling you about it. So forget I did. Hudson speaks Russian; John doesn’t.”
“Isn’t that a little backward?”
“John was born in this country, and his parents wanted him to speak only English growing up.”
“But hey, the FBI’s the expert on disappearances, isn’t it?”
“I think John’s background has been a sensitive point in his job in the past. You know, an FBI agent with a Russian heritage in the days when we were fighting communism. I don’t think he wants that spotlight again. Where did you say you’re climbing tomorrow?”
“Dracula Divide at seven AM.”
“I’ll meet you there.”
Chapter 4
Ice climbing in the White Mountains as a sport goes back many years to a couple of students at Dartmouth who made a newsworthy ascent. Never a widespread activity, it was on an up tick of popularity with young athletes of both sexes, looking for new ways to work off energy and create manageable dangers. Along with the increasing numbers to enter the sport, came advances in its equipment. Boots, jackets, technique had all evolved.
Bob Gold had heard more about Adams’ visit to Great Haystack. “I understand your ski area has gone batty,” was his greeting to Cilla.
“Bob’s level of humor is only slightly higher than that of the mammal he’s referring to.” Andre unloaded rope from his crossover. “I brought along one of the new ice axes I thought you might like to try.” He handed it to Cilla.
“My role is cook,” said Bob, “and I have the finest P B & Js to be found in the Valley of the Saco. Stretched my abilities, but the occasion seemed to warrant it.”
“He’s actually quite a chef,” said Andre. “He made duck a l’orange last night that was as good as any I’ve tasted.”
“That’s why he’s not married. He wouldn’t let a woman in his kitchen,” said Cilla.
“Not true,” said Bob. “I spend too much time in the woods to interest a woman.”
“I don’t know about that,” said Cilla.
“Those with Native American heritage excepted,” Gold put in hastily.
“I hear you’re getting evicted for a freezer,” said Cilla to Andre, testing the weight of the ice ax