Chasing Fire
Page 114
“Yeah, I saw that, and that anybody on the Alaska jump could take a two-hour break first. But what the hell.” He leaned over, kissed Rowan. “We’ll get back to our agenda later.”
“Count on it.”
“I don’t see how it’s right and fair you got a woman right on base,” Dobie said as they walked toward the loadmaster’s room together. “The rest of us have to hunt one up, if we’re lucky and get a turn at a bar.”
“Life’s just full of not right and not fair. Otherwise I’d be stretched out on a white sand beach with that woman, drinking postcoital mai tais.”
“Postcoital.” Dobie snickered like a twelve-year-old. “You beat all, Gull. Beat all and back again.”
Since he didn’t find her in her quarters, Gull assumed he’d finished up his duties before her, and went back to his room to continue on his project.
He sat on the bed, left the door open in a casual, nothing-to-see-here mode.
People walked by now and then, but for the most part his section stayed quiet.
Since he’d left his window open as well, he caught snippets of conversation as people wandered outside. A small group not on the jump list made plans to go into town. Somebody muttered to himself about women as the shimmering afternoon light dimmed.
He took a moment to shift to look out, and saw Rowan had been right about the eastern sky. Clouds gathered now, sailing in like warships.
A storm waiting to happen, he thought, toying with getting his run in before it did, then decided to wait for Rowan.
She and the first grumble of thunder arrived at the same time.
“Lightning strikes all over hell and back,” she told him, and flopped on the bed. “I ran up to check the radar. Tornadoes whipping things up in South Dakota.”
She circled her neck, rubbing hard at the back of her left shoulder as she spoke.
“We’ll probably have to run on the damn treadmill. I hate that.”
He pressed his fingers where she rubbed. “Jesus, Rowan, you got concrete in here.”
“Don’t I know it. I haven’t had a chance to work it out today. I need that run, some yoga... or that.” She sighed when he shifted and dug his fingers and thumbs into the knotted muscles.
“We’ll do our run after the storm’s over,” he said. “Use the track.”
Lightning struck, a flash and burn, and the wind rattled the blinds at his window. But no rain followed.
“When things slow down, we’ll hit L.B. up for a night off and get a fancy hotel suite. One with a jet tub in the bathroom. We’ll soak in it half the night.”
“Mmm.” She sighed her way into the image he painted. “Room service with fat, juicy steaks, and a great big bed to play on. Sleeping with somebody who has money and doesn’t mind spending it has advantages.”
“If you’ve got money and mind spending it, you can’t be having much fun.”
“I like that attitude. Are you e-mailing back home?”
“No, something else. You’re not going to like it.”
“If you’re e-mailing your pregnant wife to ask about your two adorable children and frisky puppy, I’m not going to like it.” She angled around. “That’s the kind of tone you used. Like you were going to tell me something that meant I had to punch you in the face.”
“My wife’s not pregnant, and we have a cat.” He gave her shoulders a last squeeze, then got up to close the door.
“You didn’t do that because we’re going to continue our planned agenda from this morning.”
“No. It’s the tampering, Rowan. Brakeman thinking of it, then pulling it off—all while eluding the cops. That’s just not working for me.”
“He knows this area better than most. He’s a mechanic, and he has a grudge against us. It works for me.”
On the surface, he thought, but you only had to scratch off a layer.
“Why tamper with some of the equipment?” Gull began working off his mental list. “He doesn’t know how we roll here, or in a fire. Not all the ins and outs.”
“His daughter worked here three seasons,” Rowan pointed out. “She had a working knowledge of how we roll, and he’s spent time on base.”
“If he wanted to hurt us, there are more direct ways. He had weapons; he could’ve used them. Sure, he could’ve known or found out where the equipment is,” Gull conceded, “and he could’ve gotten to it. This stretch of the season, most of us would sleep through a bomb blast. We’d hear the siren, the same way a mother hears her baby crying in the night even when she’s exhausted. We’re tuned, but otherwise, we’re out for the count.
“This was subtle, and sneaky, and it was the kind of thing, it seems to me, you’d know to do if you knew just how broken equipment could impact a crew on a fire. Because you’ve been there.”
He was right, Rowan thought. She didn’t like it. “You’re actually saying one of us did this?”
“I’m saying one of us could have done it, because we know how to access the equipment, how to screw it up and how it could impact an attack.”
“How stupid would that be since you could be the one impacted?”
“There’s that. Let’s take that first. Who didn’t jump either fire?”
He toggled his screen back to the document he’d worked on.
“You’re right; I don’t like it one damn bit. And first, Yangtree jumped with us.”
“He spent nearly the entire jump coordinating, doing flyovers.”
“That’s crap. And L.B.? Seriously?”
“He didn’t jump. Cards worked as spotter, so he didn’t jump. Neither did any of these. That’s over twenty, with six of them off the list altogether for personal reasons or injuries.”
“Yangtree’s been jumping thirty years. What, suddenly he decides to find out what’ll happen if he screws up equipment? Cards has ten years in, and L.B. more than a dozen. And—”
“Look, I know how you feel about them. They’re friends—they’re family. I feel the same.”
“In my world people don’t make up a suspect list of friends and family.”
“How often in your world has your equipment been sabotaged?” He laid a hand on her knee to soften the words. “Look, it’s more with you because you’ve been with them a long time. But I trained with a lot of the names on this list, and you know going through that makes a tight bond.”
“Count on it.”
“I don’t see how it’s right and fair you got a woman right on base,” Dobie said as they walked toward the loadmaster’s room together. “The rest of us have to hunt one up, if we’re lucky and get a turn at a bar.”
“Life’s just full of not right and not fair. Otherwise I’d be stretched out on a white sand beach with that woman, drinking postcoital mai tais.”
“Postcoital.” Dobie snickered like a twelve-year-old. “You beat all, Gull. Beat all and back again.”
Since he didn’t find her in her quarters, Gull assumed he’d finished up his duties before her, and went back to his room to continue on his project.
He sat on the bed, left the door open in a casual, nothing-to-see-here mode.
People walked by now and then, but for the most part his section stayed quiet.
Since he’d left his window open as well, he caught snippets of conversation as people wandered outside. A small group not on the jump list made plans to go into town. Somebody muttered to himself about women as the shimmering afternoon light dimmed.
He took a moment to shift to look out, and saw Rowan had been right about the eastern sky. Clouds gathered now, sailing in like warships.
A storm waiting to happen, he thought, toying with getting his run in before it did, then decided to wait for Rowan.
She and the first grumble of thunder arrived at the same time.
“Lightning strikes all over hell and back,” she told him, and flopped on the bed. “I ran up to check the radar. Tornadoes whipping things up in South Dakota.”
She circled her neck, rubbing hard at the back of her left shoulder as she spoke.
“We’ll probably have to run on the damn treadmill. I hate that.”
He pressed his fingers where she rubbed. “Jesus, Rowan, you got concrete in here.”
“Don’t I know it. I haven’t had a chance to work it out today. I need that run, some yoga... or that.” She sighed when he shifted and dug his fingers and thumbs into the knotted muscles.
“We’ll do our run after the storm’s over,” he said. “Use the track.”
Lightning struck, a flash and burn, and the wind rattled the blinds at his window. But no rain followed.
“When things slow down, we’ll hit L.B. up for a night off and get a fancy hotel suite. One with a jet tub in the bathroom. We’ll soak in it half the night.”
“Mmm.” She sighed her way into the image he painted. “Room service with fat, juicy steaks, and a great big bed to play on. Sleeping with somebody who has money and doesn’t mind spending it has advantages.”
“If you’ve got money and mind spending it, you can’t be having much fun.”
“I like that attitude. Are you e-mailing back home?”
“No, something else. You’re not going to like it.”
“If you’re e-mailing your pregnant wife to ask about your two adorable children and frisky puppy, I’m not going to like it.” She angled around. “That’s the kind of tone you used. Like you were going to tell me something that meant I had to punch you in the face.”
“My wife’s not pregnant, and we have a cat.” He gave her shoulders a last squeeze, then got up to close the door.
“You didn’t do that because we’re going to continue our planned agenda from this morning.”
“No. It’s the tampering, Rowan. Brakeman thinking of it, then pulling it off—all while eluding the cops. That’s just not working for me.”
“He knows this area better than most. He’s a mechanic, and he has a grudge against us. It works for me.”
On the surface, he thought, but you only had to scratch off a layer.
“Why tamper with some of the equipment?” Gull began working off his mental list. “He doesn’t know how we roll here, or in a fire. Not all the ins and outs.”
“His daughter worked here three seasons,” Rowan pointed out. “She had a working knowledge of how we roll, and he’s spent time on base.”
“If he wanted to hurt us, there are more direct ways. He had weapons; he could’ve used them. Sure, he could’ve known or found out where the equipment is,” Gull conceded, “and he could’ve gotten to it. This stretch of the season, most of us would sleep through a bomb blast. We’d hear the siren, the same way a mother hears her baby crying in the night even when she’s exhausted. We’re tuned, but otherwise, we’re out for the count.
“This was subtle, and sneaky, and it was the kind of thing, it seems to me, you’d know to do if you knew just how broken equipment could impact a crew on a fire. Because you’ve been there.”
He was right, Rowan thought. She didn’t like it. “You’re actually saying one of us did this?”
“I’m saying one of us could have done it, because we know how to access the equipment, how to screw it up and how it could impact an attack.”
“How stupid would that be since you could be the one impacted?”
“There’s that. Let’s take that first. Who didn’t jump either fire?”
He toggled his screen back to the document he’d worked on.
“You’re right; I don’t like it one damn bit. And first, Yangtree jumped with us.”
“He spent nearly the entire jump coordinating, doing flyovers.”
“That’s crap. And L.B.? Seriously?”
“He didn’t jump. Cards worked as spotter, so he didn’t jump. Neither did any of these. That’s over twenty, with six of them off the list altogether for personal reasons or injuries.”
“Yangtree’s been jumping thirty years. What, suddenly he decides to find out what’ll happen if he screws up equipment? Cards has ten years in, and L.B. more than a dozen. And—”
“Look, I know how you feel about them. They’re friends—they’re family. I feel the same.”
“In my world people don’t make up a suspect list of friends and family.”
“How often in your world has your equipment been sabotaged?” He laid a hand on her knee to soften the words. “Look, it’s more with you because you’ve been with them a long time. But I trained with a lot of the names on this list, and you know going through that makes a tight bond.”
