Barb walked with Maria Sanchez as she supervised the process of getting her cattle settled in. Three young men did most of the actual labor. They looked happy to be back at work. One by one, Maria went up to each of them and pressed a check into his hand. Each looked at it in surprise.
“I can’t take this, Mrs. S,” said the first one. “I didn’t work those days.”
“That’s not your fault,” said Maria. “Thanks to Ellie here, we have the money to pay you, so you take it. I figure you’ve earned it by not letting those lies they told about us keep you from coming back.”
“Everyone who knows you and the mister knows who you are. You’ve always been more than fair with us, and we all appreciate it.”
At those words, Barb could see the beginning of tears come to Maria’s eyes. Barb linked her arm through the other woman’s and gave her a gentle pat. Maria wiped her eyes before moving to the next ranch hand.
All the while, behind them walked Tyler, staying about ten feet back. While Maria handed over the next check, Barb stepped over to the boy.
“Have you had any luck getting in touch with my brother?” she said.
“I leave messages, but I don’t never hear back.”
“He’s a busy man. Sometimes I even have trouble getting through to him. Tell you what, do you have a recording of any raps you’ve done?”
“One or two,” he said, his cheeks reddening.
“Send them to me, and I’ll forward them to Bobby. He’s a lot better at listening to demos than he is at returning phone calls.”
She gave the boy the number for her current burner phone, and he eagerly texted her a couple of audio files. She felt a twinge of guilt, knowing that they’d never be listened to by her imaginary record company executive brother, but it wasn’t enough to make her listen to them herself.
By then, Maria had finished giving out her checks, and Barb went with her into the barn. There, she checked on three horses, each in its own stall. They seemed to recognize her and to be happy to see her.
“Rascal here is Ramon’s,” she said to Barb, patting the side of the big stallion’s face. “He lives up to his name, and the only one he doesn’t fight is my dear husband.”
She walked over to a slightly smaller horse, who whinnied at her approach. “Bella’s my baby,” she said, taking the horse’s face in both hands. “Thank you so much for bringing her home to me.”
The final horse nickered in its stall. Maria walked over to it and soothed it with her hands. “This is Trooper. He was Ramon Junior’s. When I touch him like this, it’s almost like touching my boy.”
Barb was surprised at the emotion that welled up, threatening to overwhelm her. In her life, she’d witnessed more than her share of human misery, and she’d thought herself inured to it. There was something about the misery that resulted from cruelty, however—especially casual cruelty—that pierced her defenses. She had no doubt that when Jackery had the Sanchez animals confiscated, he’d given no thought to the effect it would have on them—other than to make them more willing to accept his lowball offer. It was the ethos of the predator, and what she found most depressing about it was how unnecessary it was. A man like Jackery had more than enough to last his lifetime. He had no need to take anything from anyone. And yet he seemed to operate out of a pathological drive to amass more and more.
She thought again of the boy, desperately fighting his brothers for his father’s approval. Approval that would be reluctantly granted—but only contingent on continued victory. How was it that these wounded children again and again seemed to rise to positions of power? Why was their private misery so often revisited upon the innocent?
These questions were unanswerable—and ultimately irrelevant. Her job wasn’t to explain Jackery. It was to weaken him to the point where he could no longer cause widespread harm.
#
Jackery spent the morning preparing his updated plan. He had Marcy research various governmental bureaucrats, looking for any who were in financial difficulty or who were involved in activities that would cause them distress if they were to be exposed to the public. By the end of the afternoon, she’d prepared a list with seven possible candidates. During the return flight to Dixon, he had her summarize each one.
“The first candidate is an inspector in the local health department,” said Marcy, reading off her notes. “He’s in the middle of a messy divorce, and his legal bills are mounting.”
“Sounds promising,” said Jackery. “What else do you have?”
“Next is a supervisor with the county who’s rumored to have taken money under the table to bury a toxic site report.”
“Even better.”
Marcy went on to lay out the details on the other five candidates. They each had something to recommend them, but it was the fourth candidate who seemed to offer the best opportunity. Ryan Hitchcock was the division manager of the EPA. After a long career in government, he was on the brink of retirement, a prospect for which he was distinctly unprepared. A series of ex-wives had decimated his savings, and he currently lived in a studio apartment across town from the mini-mansion his last wife had pried away in the divorce settlement. To make things worse, he’d grown accustomed to hobnobbing with the wealthy targets of his agency’s investigations. It was a spectacularly blatant conflict of interest, but Hitchcock’s uncle was a sitting US senator, which made him bulletproof. The fact that he’d taken all the advantages life had offered him and ended up with nothing more than a dinky apartment and a modest government pension was a testament to the man’s complete and utter mediocrity.
Jackery recognized a mark when he saw one. This poor schmuck was ripe for the plucking. He was also in a position with the power to carry out Jackery’s plan. The current administration may have had the EPA in its crosshairs, but so had every Republican since Reagan, and somehow it always managed to survive. Bureaucracy was like a weed; once it got established, it was almost impossible to eradicate.
Jackery decided to divert his flight to the city housing Hitchcock’s office and go to work on the man right away. He had Marcy call Hitchcock’s assistant and arrange an impromptu dinner. He told her to lay it on thick about how her employer had long been a fan of Hitchcock and would very much appreciate the chance to meet. She was to apologize for the short notice and tell the assistant a car would be waiting for her boss.
Meanwhile, Jackery had his chef prepare a gourmet dinner in the jet’s fully equipped kitchen. By the time they landed and taxied to the private terminal, Hitchcock was arriving in the car Marcy had arranged to pick him up. Jackery met him at the top of the gangway, personally welcoming him on board.
“Ryan,” he said. “May I call you Ryan?”
“Sure,” said Hitchcock, staring around wide-eyed at the luxury in front of him. He was a pudgy man, hair thinning and going to gray. His features were utterly nondescript. Close your eyes, and you’d have trouble recalling how he looked. In a different world, he’d have made the perfect spy. In this one, he was a mediocre civil servant seething with bitterness and envy. He was putty in Jackery’s hands.
Jackery spent dinner flattering Hitchcock and dropping tidbits from the man’s life that Marcy’s research had uncovered.
“You were the lead investigator on that fracking case about five years back, right?” he said.
“That was a tricky one,” said Hitchcock.
“Ultimately, you decided not to take action, overruling your staff.”
“They were overzealous. It’s an occupational hazard. Fortunately, I was there to see the big picture. Business isn’t the enemy. You have to balance the economic needs of the community against the still-unproven risks of technology.”
“That’s exactly the kind of real-world perspective I’m always looking for. As you may know, I keep an informal board of trusted advisers on retainer. People I can turn to for wisdom and perspective.”
This “board” was a fiction Jackery had come up with on the spot. One glance at Hitchcock told him it had produced the desired effect. Jackery could see the dollar signs flash in the man’s eyes. All that remained was to make the ask.
“In fact,” he said, “if you don’t mind, I’d like to offer you a retainer today so I can get your advice on a project I’m spearheading. A public service initiative to transform a blighted region into a model community. It’s proceeding smoothly except for one tiny hiccup. There are some stubborn landowners who don’t share the vision.
“I see,” said Hitchcock, stuffing his face.
“I’ve tried to help them, but they’re in complete denial. They refuse to accept that their properties are in fact uninhabitable. They’re literally saturated with toxic mold. Not only are they unlivable, they’re actually poisoning the current residents.”
“Do you have written reports of this mold I could glance over?”
“Not offhand. But I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”
“I see,” said Hitchcock.
“I’ve tried to help the owners by offering them frankly overgenerous sums, but they just won’t see reason. I’m afraid there’s nothing left to be done but for the government to step in and condemn these properties before people start getting sick and dying.”
Hitchcock paused, his fork halfway to his mouth. The dollar signs in his eyes began growing, adding zeros as a porcine smile came to his face. Jackery let the moment breathe, knowing the man would do the work of selling himself. It didn’t take long.
“Exactly what sort of retainer are we talking about?”
#
The first sign Barb had that something big was going down came in the form of a call from Danita.
“The van life kids packed up and left,” she said. “They said a new sponsor offered them more money to go to South America.”
“One guess who that new sponsor is.”
“Yeah,” said Danita. “I’m kind of surprised he waited so long.”
“It’s just another example of how the cheap bastard hates to part with a dime he doesn’t have to.”
“That must mean he’s got something brewing that makes it worth buying them off.”
“I’m afraid you’re right.”
“Any idea what it could be?”
“Not yet. But I’m sure we’ll know soon.”
The second sign came when the phone call abruptly cut out. Barb checked her cell. There were no bars. She left the RV and walked to the house. When Maria welcomed her inside, they checked the landline and discovered it was dead, too.
“What’s going on?” said Maria.
“Jackery’s making his next move.”
“How bad do you think it will be?”
“Bad enough that he wants to cut off contact with the outside world.”
“What do we do?”
“Hold tight and keep our heads down until we see just how big it’s going to be.”
#
What Jackery’s helicopter landed in the Park-N-Shop lot., the sheriff was there to meet him.
“Peter,” he said.
“David. Did you sever communications?”
“Yes. But I still think it’s a bad idea. You can’t cut off an entire county without inviting outside attention.”
“Your continued lack of trust wounds me.” Jackery shook his head. “In fact, I believe we can no longer continue our arrangement.”
“What are you saying?”
“You clearly don’t have the stomach for what comes next. It’s time for you to retire, David. You put in your years of public service. It’s time to turn over the reins to someone who’s ready and able to do what needs to be done.”
The sheriff heard a noise behind him. Susan and another deputy stepped up to either side of him.
“I’ll be taking your badge, David,” she said.
He stood frozen in shock as she unpinned it from his chest.
“You—you can’t do that,” he said, regaining his voice. “I was duly elected.”
“Your service has been most appreciated,” said Jackery. “But now you’ve tendered your resignation, and your second in command has graciously stepped up to fill out your term.”
“Don’t worry, David,” said Susan. “I’ve insisted that you not be taken into protective custody. Instead, you’ll be allowed to stay in the break room.” She stuck out her hand. “I’m going to need your weapon now.”
The sheriff looked back-and-forth between his deputies and Jackery. Finding no hint of mercy on any face, he let his shoulders slump as he unholstered his sidearm.
“Are you really sure you want this on your conscience?” he said to Susan.
“I’m a woman in one of the most brutally sexist fields there is,” she said, almost gently. “Conscience is something I dispensed with long ago.”