“Isn’t it a little late to worry about bugs? I mean, if there’s anything dangerous over there, we can be reasonably sure that by now it’s over here.”
“We don’t think there’s any real reason to worry, Hank. Our action in this regard is purely precautionary.”
When he was finished, he went back upstairs to his office and opened the bottle of rum he kept stashed in his supply cabinet.
30
Courage is worth nothing if the gods do not help.
This is an NBC News flash.
U.S. Marshals have sealed off Johnson’s Ridge tonight, apparently preparing to seize the property. A group of Native Americans has announced they will not obey a federal court order to leave. We take you first to Michael Pateman at the White House, and then to Carole Jensen at the Sioux reservation near Devil’s Lake, North Dakota.
Jensen was set up inside the tribal chambers in the Blue Building, where she had cornered William Hawk. National coverage. When you worked for the ten o’clock news in Fargo, this was the moment you lived for. She smiled at Hawk and got no reaction.
“One minute,” said her cameraman, adjusting his focus.
“Just be natural, Councilman,” she said. “We’ll start when the red light goes on.”
“Okay.” He wore a cowhide vest, a flannel shirt, and a pair of faded jeans. She guessed he was about sixty, although his face was deeply lined.
The producer again, from Fargo: “Same routine as usual, Carole. Just like you’d do it for us. Except adjust the tag line.”
“Okay,” she said.
They were seconds away. The cameraman gave her five fingers, counted down, and the red lamp blinked on.
“This is Carole Jensen,” she said, “in the tribal chambers at the Devil’s Lake Sioux Reservation. With me tonight is Councilman William Hawk, one of the Sioux leaders. Councilman Hawk, I understand you saw the EPA press conference earlier this evening?”
“Yes, I did, Carole.” His jaw was set, but she could see pain in his eyes. She hoped it translated to the screen. Tragic nobility here.
“How do you respond to Commissioner Kautter’s remarks?”
“The commissioner should be aware there is no danger to anyone. No one has seen anything come through the port. And I’m sure nobody out there takes seriously the story of an invisible man. Or whatever.”
“Councilman, what will you do?”
His expression hardened. “We will not let them steal our land. It belongs to us, and we will defend it.”
“Does that mean by force?”
“If necessary. I hope it will not come to that.”
“You told me earlier that your daughter is on the ridge.”
“That is correct.”
“Will you bring her home?”
“She will stay with her brothers to defend her heritage.” His leathery face was defiant.
“We don’t need you,” said Adam. “You and Max should get out now, while you can.”
“He’s right,” said Max. “We have no business here.”
April looked at him sadly. “I think everybody has business here. We’re too goddamn stupid or lazy or whatever to tackle the job of educating people, so instead we’ll destroy the Roundhouse. It just makes me furious. I’m not going anywhere. My place is here—”
“Can you shoot?” interrupted Adam. “Will you shoot?”
“No,” she said. “I won’t kill anybody. But I’ll be here anyhow.” She knew how disjointed and weak that sounded, and tears came.
“You’ll only be in the way.”
“If you want me out of here,” she told Adam, “you’ll have to throw me over the side.”
Max threw up his hands.
He was trying to begin the complex action of disengaging and heading for his car. Sometimes, he thought, it takes more guts to run than to stay. But he had no intention of throwing his life away for a lost cause. He was still thinking how best to manage it when Andrea joined them.
“There might be another way,” she told Adam. “We could threaten to destroy the port. Take it from them.”
“That’s no good,” he said. “That’s precisely what they want.”
“Maybe not,” said Max. “There’ll be a lot of media attention here tonight. It would be a public-relations nightmare for the administration.”
“It’s a public-relations nightmare,” said Adam, “only if we can broadcast the threat. We have no capability to do that.”
“You mean the Snowhawk is off the air?”
“Yes, she is,” said Andrea. “But I think it would put a lot of pressure on them to stay clear if we could find a way to get to the media.”
“No.” April’s voice took on steel. “You can’t threaten the port. The whole point of staying here is to protect the place.”
“We don’t actually have to destroy anything. It’s a bluff,” Andrea said.
“And that’s exactly how they’ll read it,” said Adam. “They would have to call us on it.” Lights were moving on the access road. “They’d have to.”
A phone rang. They looked at one another. It was coming from the control module. “I thought,” said Max, “the phones were dead.”
They had been standing at the rim of the cut in which the Roundhouse rested. “That’ll be an official call,” said April.
It was Max’s phone. April picked it up, listened, nodded. “Yes,” she said, “he’s here.” She handed it to Max.
“Hello,” he growled.
A female voice asked if he was Mr. Collingwood.
“Yes,” he said.
“Please hold for the president.”
Max froze. He stared at the others, and they stared back. “Who?” April asked, forming the word silently.
Then the familiar clipped voice with its Baltimore accent came on the phone. “Max?”
“Yes, Mr. President.” Eyes went wide all around.
“Max, are you in a place where the others can hear us?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Okay. I know you can put this on a speaker if you want. But it would be better if you didn’t. What I have to say is for you.”
His throat had gone dry. “Mr. President,” he said, “I am very glad to hear from you.”
“And I’m glad to have a chance to talk to you, son. Now listen, things are going to hell in the country. They’re a lot worse than you probably know about. People are losing their jobs, their savings, and God knows where it’s all going to end.”
“Because of the Roundhouse?”
“Because of the Roundhouse. Look, we don’t want to take anything away from the Indians. You know that. The country knows it. But people are scared right now, and we have to get that thing up there under control. We will see that the Indians are taken care of. You have my word. But this thing, it’s like nothing we’ve ever had to deal with before. It’s a national treasure, right? I mean, the Indians didn’t put it there or anything like that. They just happen to own the land.” He paused, possibly to catch his breath, maybe to get his emotions under control. His voice sounded close to breaking.
“I know about the problems, sir.”
“Good. Then you know I have to act. Have to. God help me, Max, the last thing we want to do is to spill blood over this.”
“I think everybody here feels the same way.”
“Of course. Of course.” His voice changed, acquired a tone that suggested they were now in accord. “I know about your father, Max. He served this country damned well.”
“Yes, sir. He did.”
“Now you have a chance.” He paused a beat. “I need your help, son.”