38

CHAUTAUQUA INSTITUTION

Midafternoon Ava took a nap in her green room. Will and his father had coffee in the kitchen.

“So, what next?” Will asked.

“I thought I was the one who asked that question.” His father took a sip of the dark brew.

Will lifted his coffee mug in salute. “I learned from the best, you know.”

“We pick up and go on from here,” Bill stated. “And we find out what’s happened to Sean. As for myself, I’m thinking of a trip to Buffalo. See what answers I can find.”

“You know Drew’s on it.”

His father’s eyes turned steely. “Yes, but Sean’s my son.”

My son. Not the boy. Things indeed had changed.

Will got up to refill his mug with hot brew, and his incoming text message dinged. Sarah again. “You know we have to tell Sarah everything.”

“No,” Bill said fiercely. “Promise me you won’t tell her.”

“But—”

“If Sean is dead, there’s no reason to tell her. What good would it do? It would only wound her. We need to protect her.”

“Sarah isn’t a baby anymore. She deserves to know,” Will countered.

“No, she doesn’t. Promise me you won’t,” he begged. “If Sean is dead, I don’t want the news to change her view of her brother in any way. The knowledge might drive her away from us, from her mother. Ava couldn’t handle any more right now.”

Will at last agreed, but he didn’t like it.

NEW YORK CITY

Sarah was elated. The subpoenas of American Frontier’s interoffice memos, emails, and phone calls had done their job well. DOJ assistants had been neck-deep in paperwork, following the convoluted trails in myriad directions.

Painstaking research of the decision made to drill in the Arctic clearly revealed that many of the scientists and engineers were apprehensive about such a venture in pristine, uncharted waters. Detailed risk percentages—unpredictable and often violent weather, the temperature of the water, freeze and thaw cycles, the ability to get emergency equipment and teams in and out quickly and efficiently, the strength of the steel and other space-age materials used in the platform against potential hurricane wind speeds, calculations about how swiftly a leak could be fixed, etc.—painted a dire picture of the consequences if even the slightest thing went awry.

Sandstrom’s numerous memos to the various scientists and project heads acknowledged that he was aware of the dangers but that to make gains, one had to take risks, and he was willing to do so to benefit Americans. He noted concerns but directed them to proceed on the project. That implicated him directly and personally in the criminal negligence suit, which was one of the goals Sarah had been aiming for. Problem was, the memos also shaved a bit of the edge off the lawsuit, since Sandstrom’s intentions appeared to have always been for others’ benefit—namely the host of Americans who wanted their homes warm in the winter and gas in their cars—not for his own or the company’s financial gain.

It was a masterful PR ploy, Sarah and Darcy had agreed, as if Sandstrom himself or his legal counsel had dictated that wording be in every single correspondence signed by him or coming from his office. That sticking point had made pursuing the full potential of the lawsuit much more difficult. Still, nothing would give Sarah greater pleasure than seeing the smug CEO in prison orange.

He wouldn’t get any kind of maximum sentence, though, since no deaths—human, at least—could be attributed to him. There had been and would be a lot of bad press, which wouldn’t help the stock price or make the board or investors happy. Pictures of dead whales floating in the Arctic waters and other oil-coated sea creatures washing up on shores far from the Arctic Ocean were enough to make Green Justice and any other ecological biodiversity organization angry for a lifetime. But for the public in general, Sarah knew the injured animals would make the worldwide news and rouse only temporary sympathy, until hotter news trumped them or people grew tired of the coverage and turned back to their own problems.

For now, however, Sarah had amassed enough evidence to put Sandstrom away for at least a few years, if the case went their way. Her best estimate was that it would. Judge Anderson wouldn’t go lightly on Sandstrom, per his judgments on prior cases that had similar evidence. For years to come, Sandstrom would be penalized personally, and American Frontier corporately, in order to shell out money to the communities who now had oil coating their shores.

But Sarah knew from Will and her own common sense that Sandstrom didn’t act alone. Frank Stapleton, a key member on the American Frontier board and the longtime CEO of City Capital, the largest financial power center in the Western world, not only had assisted Sandstrom in swaying the board to drill in the Arctic—despite Will’s arguments to the contrary—but had pulled strings behind the scenes in the highest of circles. So had James Loughlin, the senior senator from New York. All it took was a little finagling on both their parts—as well as the promise of a healthy dose of funding from Eric Sandstrom for Loughlin’s next political campaign—to get the tides turned to allow AF to be the first oil company to drill in the Arctic.

Problem was, with both men, Sarah hadn’t been able to uncover anything illegal that they had done in the process. They’d simply called in some favors and completed and filed all the appropriate paperwork. Everything appeared on the up-and-up. With Sandstrom being the largest financial backer for President Rich’s election campaign, the deal had moved through swiftly—far too swiftly for the standard time lapses of checks and balances that American Frontier should have proceeded through before building the platform and commencing the drilling. However, proving the full extent of the negligence was still a problem.

Meanwhile, the president had been smarting from his support of American Frontier. His poll percentages had dipped considerably. But the American public was fickle. When Mark Chalmers announced a press conference and President Rich appeared, saying he had information that he’d just become aware of, the average American was swayed in empathy. After all, the president looked transparent, seemed repentant for blindly supporting what had appeared to be a groundbreaking venture to help drive down oil prices for Americans, and promised full investigations into American Frontier’s efforts in the Arctic.

Sarah rolled her eyes. Full investigations of the oil crisis and the Polar Bear bombing had been going on since the events occurred. Both had kept Sarah and Darcy taking catnaps and eating only fast food when they had the chance to grab it. And drinking coffee—way too much black coffee.

Announcing the news from the presidential podium made President Rich look good, though, and thus increased his ratings. To Americans, it sent two important messages. One, the president himself was actively involved and pushing to bring the perpetrators of the Arctic Circle fiasco to justice. Two, he had initiated the massive search to find the Polar Bear Bomber so that the truth would be revealed. President Rich stated that with the bomber choosing to end his own life and leaving a note as to his reasons and intentions, he had nailed the case against himself and executed justice all in one maneuver.

It was the all-in-one maneuver that bothered Sarah. She and Darcy still hadn’t located any evidence of foul play in the death of the Polar Bear Bomber. As far as the world knew, the crazy eco-terrorist had committed suicide by jumping off a tall building in Times Square. But before he did, he’d written a letter explaining his actions and connections in detail, linking him in a loose way with Green Justice. He’d also ranted about how evil large oil companies were. It was clear as day even to a kindergartener who could connect dots with a crayon.

“Too neat and tidy,” Darcy had declared with a raised brow.

Sarah agreed.

What made it worse for Sarah was that Green Justice had specifically been named in the bomber’s note. Though the DOJ and DHS searches had concurred that the Polar Bear Bomber was not on the Green Justice rosters anywhere, there was still the possibility he’d been there under an assumed name.

Sean had always contributed to Green Justice causes, thus potentially linking the Worthington family to the scandal. He had even been aboard a ship in the Arctic with his Green Justice buddy Kirk Baldwin. With Will openly opposing American Frontier’s Arctic operations and Sean’s GJ connections, as well as his well-documented support of ecological causes, some of her more cynical colleagues were raising questions. It was only their respect for Sarah—her hard work and reputation—that kept the guesses and queries under wraps. Sarah had chosen to shrug them off for now, but they loomed in the back of her mind as an irritant. She was confident neither of her brothers would have anything to do with bombing a building, and they wouldn’t even navigate the circles a homeless eco-terrorist would, but it would be natural for others to draw erroneous conclusions.

Sarah sat up suddenly in her chair. Was Sean the victim of foul play? Was that why he was missing? After all, her brother was a well-known face and befriended everyone he met. He would have been an easy target.

Her heart pounded, and she took deep breaths to calm herself.

No, she told herself, don’t go there. Focus on what you need to do.

That meant a second good look at the recently deceased Polar Bear Bomber. His suicide note had been found in a Brooklyn flat, and his clothes and numerous fingerprints that matched his DNA showed that he had been staying there. Whether legally or illegally, nobody knew. Residents of the Brooklyn building said they hadn’t seen the usual renter coming and going for some time. Those facts technically drew the Polar Bear Bomber case to a close at DHS. Knowing an eco-crazy admitted to bombing the building out of hate for a big oil company had been enough proof to end the official search. There was no one to prosecute.

It was time to give Jon a call to see if he’d uncovered anything recently. The man was relentless in his search for truth, and she was certain he hadn’t given up either.

LANGLEY, VIRGINIA

“They found a body,” his source said.

“Identifiable?” the man demanded.

“Hair and clothing. Matches the description bystanders gave of the man who jumped off the Peace Bridge. Gray sweatshirt, jeans, athletic shoes,” the contact reported. “Well, shoe. One shoe is missing.”

“Where?”

“Lake Ontario.”

“ID search in place?”

“Yes, but the body’s in bad shape. If they can ID, we should have an answer in less than 24 hours. If it’s Sean, I’ll be the only one notified, for now.” There was a pause, then, “How long do you need this to be on the QT if it is him?”

“A minimum of 72 hours.”

“Hmm. I might be able to buy you 48, but it’ll be expensive.”

“Not a problem.”

“Then it’s done. I’ll check in when I know.”