Chapter Thirty-Three #2
That brow furrows again, more, and he says, carefully, “I don’t understand.”
“You have been personally spying on our town. You persuaded one of our residents to break into our town manager’s office for information. Or maybe for blackmail fodder.”
“I did what?”
“You had an affair with one of our women. An ongoing affair, it seems.”
He laughs. The sound is so unexpected, I startle before finding my glare.
“If you’re going to pretend you’d never sneak around the forest to gain information—” I begin.
“Of course I would, if that were part of my mandate. What I would not do is seduce a woman for it. A man maybe, but a woman?” He tips the glasses up, letting me look into his eyes. “Even I have limits.”
“The woman described you to a tee.” I take out my notepad and read Muriel’s words aloud. Then I look at him. “Are you telling me you have someone else in town who matches that description? Someone else whose movements aren’t tracked?”
“No, which means I am being framed, and I believe I know by whom.”
The answer hits before he speaks. Who else wouldn’t be chipped? Rutherford. The same man who just grumbled to us about Rogers disappearing all the time, especially in the early mornings … when someone was meeting with Muriel.
There’s just one problem with that scenario.
“We heard the spy talking,” I say. “We didn’t get to him on time, but that voice didn’t have an English accent.”
His brows lift, as if he’s shocked that I figured out he was referring to Rutherford.
“Is Rutherford English?” I press. “And when did he arrive at your camp? He talked as if he’d just gotten in.”
“He has been here for several weeks. As for the accent, it seems legitimate. However, shortly after he arrived, we caught a couple of the guards imitating him. Goofing around. He did the same back, imitating their accent, and said that if they were going to mock his, they’d best get better at it. His American accent was perfect.”
“And the English one would be a dead giveaway to our resident.”
“Yes.” Rogers straightens. “I do appreciate you bringing this to my attention. I apologize for the trespass, and I assure you, it will be dealt with. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”
“You really think that’s going to work?” Dalton says. “We don’t trust you to do shit.”
“I can assure you—”
“Fuck your assurances. We’ve had enough of them. You know you have us over a barrel here. We can’t just pick up and leave. So you keep giving ‘assurances’ and when you break them, it was all a terrible mistake, and you will do better.”
“We have done better. We instituted boundaries. We improved employee tracking. Yes, I will admit to the implants, as it proves we are doing our due diligence. Our guards know their movements are being monitored.”
“And the employees don’t, but that doesn’t matter because they gave up those rights when they were incarcerated.”
His lips press into a thin line. “I do not know the specifics of our employees’ backgrounds.”
“Yeah, you’re just the middleman. You have no idea what’s happening here. You just do your job, and if that includes murdering your own employees…” Dalton shrugs. “They were criminals, right? Who cares.”
“If you are referring to Mr. Day, we did not kill him. That was his partner-in-crime, the guard—”
“Yeah, yeah. We actually don’t believe that story, but we don’t care. We’re talking about Mr. Hansen.”
“Mr. Hansen is gone.”
“We know. Dead and buried. Like you said, ‘he’s no longer with us.’”
Rogers shakes his head. “Mr. Hansen left on a recent exchange. Two employees departed and two arrived.”
“We didn’t hear a plane.”
“Because you never do. Unlike you, we don’t fly in this far.”
“So Mr. Hansen is alive?”
“Presumably.”
“Huh. Well, then who’s the guy we dug up? The corpse in cold storage.”
Silence. It stretches far too long.
“You have Mr. Hansen’s body?”
“That’s what I said.”
I clear my throat. “One adult male with three tattoos under his hair, along with the chip. I can describe him and the tattoos.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Rogers says. “You say you found his buried body?”
He’s not telling us we made a mistake. Not saying that if we found Hansen, it had nothing to do with him. Not bluffing or blustering in his usual condescending way. Nor does he seem shocked.
“Right around here, as a matter of fact,” Dalton says. “Where you seem to be just taking a late-day stroll.”
He turns around. “Show me the spot.”
“To prove it?” Dalton says. “If you want that, we’ve got his fucking corpse.”
“I would like to see where he was buried.”
We take him to the place and roll back the sod. He says nothing. Only examines it and then pokes around the clearing.
“Looking for more?” I ask.
The question seems to genuinely startle him. Then he finds his composure and decides not to answer.
“You didn’t see Hansen get on the plane, did you,” I say.
“Mr. Rutherford is in charge of employee exchange.”
“So he shows up, makes the exchange, and then leaves. Only this time, he didn’t leave.”
“He has been here for a few weeks. I was notified.” He looks at me. “Whatever happened to Mr. Hansen, it was, as they say, above my pay grade. I presumed everyone who leaves departs safely.”
“But you’re discouraged from witnessing their departure. And you’ve begun to find that suspicious. That’s why you were out here. You heard—or overheard—something.”
He doesn’t answer.
“Did Hansen cause trouble at camp?” I ask.
“No.”
“So the problem is that he raped and murdered a senator’s daughter,” I say.
Rogers looks up sharply.
“I’m sure most miners go home,” I continue.
“It’d be too suspicious otherwise. That allows this to operate as a seemingly legitimate operation.
Well, not legitimate. But most go home. Yet, every now and then, they bring someone who won’t be missed.
Someone who can disappear quietly. Someone that people with very deep pockets will pay to see disappear. ”
“As I said, I know nothing of specifics.”
“Generalizations, then?”
His lips compress. “Not about murder.”
“But the operation in general? Executions for hire can’t be the sole purpose of your camp. Nor is gold. Oh, I’m sure you’re digging up actual gold and probably other minerals. That’s what makes it seem legit to the convicts, keeps them believing they’re mining up north.”
“I do not know the specif—” He stops himself before I can ask for generalizations. “I know there are multiple levels of investment in the project. It’s very complicated.”
“I’m sure it is. Probably kickbacks for employing convicts.
Investors who think there’s gold-rush-level profits to be had.
Plus the executions for hire. What you’re taking from the ground is just gravy, enough to cover supplies, maybe pay your convicts a very small salary to keep them happy.
The real money comes from everything else. ”
“I am not at liberty—”
“Yeah, yeah,” Dalton cuts in. “We don’t need you to confirm it. But if you care about your liberty, you might want to cooperate. You have your investors. We have ours. Ours can get your ass out of this mess. Yours…” He shrugs. “Well, I think we all know how yours would get your ass out of it.”
“Remember those hikers?” I say.
He blinks at the change of subject. “Yes, of course.”
“One’s dead,” I say. “Strangled. The other has been on the run from someone who seems to consider her a loose end.”
He frowns. “That would have nothing to do with us. We were concerned, of course. But whatever you might think of our operation, we are not murdering hikers.”
“You’re not,” I say.
“Were they more than hikers?” he asks.
“Actually, no. But our dead man happened to be looking in this direction from up on that mountainside.” I point. “Someone spotted him. Someone who was likely burying Hansen’s body at the time. Did they think he saw too much? Or did they think he was a spy?” I shrug. “He’s dead. That’s all I know.”
“Leave this with me—”
“Back to your colleague. What did Rutherford say when you first told him about us?”
“Nothing. He already knew there was a settlement in the area. I had reported that to our employer.”
“And how did they react when you first told them about us?”
“It did not come as a surprise. Clearly their initial visits—when they were surveying the future site—told them you were here.”
“So they weren’t surprised. Were they concerned?”
“No.” The word comes clipped with annoyance. “They completely failed to understand the significance and the danger of being so close to another settlement.”
“Oh?”
He straightens. “I told them I thought it was a serious concern, and they told me it was not.”
“Did they ask you to find out what we were doing out here?”
“No. They said they already knew.”