“Please grab Stephens and tell him to come up here.”
The intercom crackled and a woman’s voice responded. “Yes, Mr. Livingston.”
Livingston knew it was an act of arrogance, but he didn’t care. Their office space was so small that the only closed-door office rooms inside were his own and Julie Richardson’s, which was, of course, currently unoccupied. The administrative secretary, technically charged to serve the entire staff of seven, had been given the nameplate “Executive Administrator” by Livingston, in order to help specify to everyone in the room who exactly she — and everyone else — really worked for.
A knock on Livingston’s door caused him to look up. He waited a few seconds, sat back down, then cleared his throat. “Come on in, Stephens.”
Benjamin Stephens opened the door and appeared on the threshold. He looked annoyed, but entered anyway. “What can I do for you, Livingston?”
Livingston bristled a bit — he wasn’t a fan of people calling him by just his last name — but he let it slide. “Thanks for coming so quickly.”
“David, the secretary’s desk is literally right next to mine, not four feet from your door. If I didn’t hear you over her intercom, I would’ve still heard you asking for me through the door.”
Livingston ignored the response and motioned for Stephens to sit.
“I need you to do me a favor, Stephens,” he said. “Richardson’s out on assignment, and she was near Yellowstone Park.” He paused. “You’re aware of what happened at Yellowstone Park?”
Stephens nodded.
“Good. Well, anyway, she’s out there traipsing around, trying to figure out how the regional environment will be affected by the radiation.”
“I thought she was trying to study some fishing traps and the impact they’re having on insects downriver?”
“She is — or she was. This is a little side project she came up with when she heard about the explosion. You know how she can be.”
Stephens nodded again.
“I want you to check in with her, like normal. You’re her second-in-command on this team, and I need you to step up. She’s not the kind of person to get excited about reporting back to base, but I know you understand why we do that.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Get in touch with her and stay in touch with her. Stick to the traditional channels — send everything through SecuNet. Clear?”
Stephens hesitated.
“What is it?”
“Well, no, sir, I mean that’s great, but I don’t understand how that’s different than how I usually run things.”
“It’s not, Stephens. I’m just reminding you, since your boss seems to think she can invent the rules. I don’t want you forgetting how we do things around here, okay? You get Julie on speed-dial, and you keep me updated on what she’s doing.”
“Right.”
“Randy from Data is ready to go, and he’ll get you set up on SecuNet if he already hasn’t. All phone calls, emails, hell — even telegraphs, I don’t care — go through Data.”
Stephens stood as Livingston was finishing. “Got it, sir.”
Livingston watched his employee carefully, trying to read the younger man’s expression. He knew that Stephens knew Randall Brown was on vacation, but he wanted to see how Stephens would react.
It was one of many types of “power games” Livingston enjoyed to play with his underlings — watching them suffer as they tried to figure out how best to respond.
In Stephens’ case, Livingston was usually disappointed: Stephens had a fantastic poker face.
“Great.” Livingston looked back down at his computer and pretended to be checking email. He waited until Stephens left the office, then he stood and walked to a small cabinet on the wall at the back of the room.
Opening the cabinet door, he pulled out a decanter and poured himself a Scotch. He’d made sure to specify in the employee manual that drinking was not allowed in the office, but he also believed that it was his executive right to be able to indulge in some of the finer things in life. He would have lit a cigar as well if it wouldn’t smoke them all out of the small space.
Chapter Twelve
They’d been driving for the better part of three hours, and Julie was now fast asleep in the seat beside him. He glanced over at his passenger.
Julie’s hair was tousled, now poking up from the back where her tight brown ponytail had come in contact with the seat’s headrest. Her blouse and slacks were wrinkled, as she’d kicked her right knee up and against the window, trying to curl up into a position that was more conducive to sleep. Her body was pressed into a much smaller space than Ben would’ve imagined, but it was evident from her bare feet and light snoring that she was comfortable enough to get some sleep.
He shook his head and changed the radio dial to country music, turning it up enough to hear an old George Strait song pipe through the speakers.
Apparently it was too much. Julie stirred, then wiped her mouth. She opened her eyes and blinked, then seemed to suffer a moment of surprise. “Oh, my God. I, uh, I guess I fell asleep.” She sat up straight, moving her leg back down and straightening her blouse, then reached up to her hair. “Oh, man, what a mess. I guess I was more tired than I thought. Sorry.”
Ben smiled. “Don’t worry about it. You can probably use the rest. And besides,” he started, then stopped himself.
“What?”
“Huh? Oh, nothing. Just, uh, don’t worry about it. Get some sleep.”
“No, I think I’m good.” She noticed the music. “Country? Good choice for this road.”
Ben thought for a moment. “Hey, back at the staff building. That guy they brought in? What do you think it was?”
Julie didn’t answer at first, collecting her thoughts. “I’ve been thinking about it too. I didn’t see it, obviously, but the way they described it — at least what I could hear — it sounded like a rash. Maybe viral.”
“Viral? You don’t think it was just poison ivy or something?”
“Are you kidding? The way they were talking about it? Those guys were mostly all park rangers, right? They would know what a simple poison ivy rash looked like. It was spreading, too. They said it was on his hands and arms, but then a few seconds later said they thought they saw it on his neck, too.”
“Have you heard of anything like that?” Ben asked.
“Well I guess — if it’s just a rash, it could be anything. Candidiasis, rheumatic fever, mononucleosis, even chickenpox.”
“Chickenpox? Really?” Ben looked skeptical.
“Sure — the varicella-roster virus. When you don’t get it as a child, it can be dangerous as an adult, especially if you’re immune-deficient. But without getting a look at it, it’s impossible to say. I’m sure there’s a medical team there now, taking a look. Or he’s been moved, depending on how critical it is.”
Ben waited a moment before asking his next question. “But you don’t think it’s just anything, do you? You don’t think this is just some run-of-the-mill rash, right?”
Julie looked over at him and paused for a long moment. “No, I don’t. This is something else — something bigger. First the explosion, then this? And with how quickly it’s spreading?”
They drove on in silence for another fifteen minutes, both thinking about the day’s events. Close to one hundred people had died from the explosion, and countless others were now being evacuated from the park grounds. Ben thought of the morning he spent in the campsite, peering down the sights of his rifle. He thought of Mo the grizzly bear and of Carlos Rivera. Finally, he thought through everything that had happened at the staff facility, culminating in his leaving with Julie on a wild goose chase across the country.