At about the time Matt Taylor was looking for a course of action, Redfern was taking Paxton Wells into the reservation to make a new offer in person. Wells, wrapped in a somber mood, had apparently decided that the lawyer was hopelessly against him and had given up all efforts to placate the younger man. He sat staring moodily out the window at the flat countryside.
It had finally turned warm. Piles of melting snow were heaped along the side of the road, and there was some flooding.
The tribal chambers were located in a blue brick single-story structure known as the Blue Building. Old Glory and the flag of the Mini Wakan Oyaté fluttered in a crisp wind. Redfern pulled into the parking lot.
“This it?” said Wells, gazing at the open countryside stretching away in all directions.
Redfern knew Wells’s type: Unless he was dealing with those he knew to be his superiors or those in a position to injure him, he wore an air of restrained selfimportance. That attitude was in place now because he perceived the lawyer as no more than a means to an end, a guide to the Sioux equivalent of a CEO. That was, of course, a mistake.
They climbed out of the car, and Redfern led the way inside.
The Blue Building was home to the post office, the Bureau of Indian Affairs, the Indian Health Service, and the tribal offices. Redfern let the tribal secretary know they were there and headed for the chairman’s office.
James Walker would not have been easy to pick out of a crowd. He was less than average height, and might have struck Wells as a man more likely to be at home in a grocery store than in a council hall. There was no hint of authority in his mien or his voice, nor was there a suggestion of the steel that could manifest itself when the need arose. His eyes were dark and friendly, his bearing congenial. Redfern believed Walker’s primary strength lay in his ability to get people to tell him what they really believed, a talent as rare among Native Americans as among the rest of the population.
Walker rose from his desk as they entered and offered his hand to his visitor.
Wells took it, pumped it summarily, commented on how happy he was to have a chance to visit the reservation, and sat down.
The office was decorated with tribal motifs: war bonnets, totems, medicine wheels, and ceremonial pipes. A bookcase and a table supporting a burbling coffee pot flanked the desk. Sunlight flooded the room.
Wells cleared his throat. “Chairman,” he said, “I represent an organization that would like to help the tribe achieve prosperity. Great possibilities are opening before us.”
“Arky tells me,” Walker said, as if Wells had not spoken, “you have an interest in buying some of our land.”
“Yes, sir.” Wells looked like a man trying to appear thoughtful. “Chairman, let me not mince words. The National Energy Institute is a consortium of industrial and banking interests that would like to offer you a great deal of money for the property known as Johnson’s Ridge. A great deal, sir.”
Walker showed no expression. “You wish to buy the property outright?”
“That’s correct. And we are prepared to pay hand-somely.” He smiled. It was a thin smile, and conveyed no warmth. Defensive. Redfern decided that Wells had been one of those kids whom everybody beat up. “Let’s put our cards on the table,” he said.
“By all means.”
“Chairman, it’s doubtful that there is anything of real value on that ridge. You know that. I know that. The government’s been there and they’ve already decided there’s no need for them to be concerned.” Redfern doubted that was true. “So it’s a shot in the dark. But on the off chance there might be something that could be turned to a profit, we are willing to pay for the chance to look. And pay quite well, I might add.”
He produced a blue folder and a leather-covered checkbook and took a gold pen from his pocket. “Why don’t we just settle it now? Say, five million?” He removed the cap from the pen. “You could do quite a bit with that kind of money. Truth is, Chairman, I’d like to come back in a few years to see how the reservation will have changed.”
Walker was able to conceal his surprise at the amount. He glanced at Redfern, who gave him no encouragement. Whatever they offer now, Arky thought, is too little. “A number of corporations,” the chairman said, “have already shown interest. They would like to build hotels up there. And restaurants. Disney wants to build a theme park. I would not wish to sound greedy, Dr. Wells, but five million is small potatoes at this stage.”
Redfern was proud of the chairman.
Wells’s eyebrows went up. “I see,” he said. “And you have firm offers?”
“Oh, yes. They are very generous. And these people only want to lease property. You want to get at the heart of the property’s value. If we were to sell to you, we would have nothing save the cash in hand. Dr. Wells, under the circumstances, that would have to be a lot of cash in hand.”
Wells looked down at his checkbook. “You drive a hard bargain, sir. But I understand your point. And I am authorized to compete. May I ask what you would consider a serious offer?”
Walker closed his eyes briefly. “Why don’t you simply go to your final offer and save us both some time?”
Wells looked uncomfortable. Arky could see the wheels going around.
“Fifty million.” He spoke in a voice the lawyer could barely hear.
“That’s very good,” said Walker. “And the money would be payable…?”
Redfern caught his eye. Don’t do it.
“Ten percent on signing the contract. The balance on the actual deed transfer.” He offered his pen to the chairman. “Do we have an agreement?”
This time Walker was unsuccessful in masking his shock. “You must understand,” he said, “that I cannot make the decision. It will be up to the council.”
“Of course. But Mr. Redfern assures me you have considerable influence. I’m sure that if you are in favor of this action, the council will go along with it.”
Walker tried to look doubtful. But it wasn’t working. Wells smiled, confident the council could not resist so generous an offer. “Arky is inclined to overstate my influence, I think.” Walker glanced over at his lawyer. “I wonder, Dr. Wells, if you would excuse us for a minute.”
“Of course.” Wells threw a quick grin at Redfern. You son of a bitch, it said, you cost me, but let’s see you change his mind. “I’ll be in the other room,” he said. He opened the blue folder, which contained a contract, pushed it toward Walker, and left the office.
The chairman smiled broadly. He could barely contain his pleasure.
“I advise against it,” said Redfern.
“Why not?” Walker beamed. “Why in God’s name should we not take this kind of money?”
“The value isn’t going to go away. Why would they offer so much?”
“It might be worth nothing. We could wind up selling T-shirts over there. Listen, Arky, we don’t need more than fifty million. Do you realize what that could do for us? He’s right, you know. That kind of money could put a lot of logs on front porches. I think we should not get greedy. And I will so advise the council.”
“This is not a man,” said Arky, “who is going to give us anything. He’s offering fifty million because he thinks it’s worth more. Considerably more. Advise the council to seek a second offer. You might be surprised at the result.”
Walker’s delight began to drain away. “You seriously expect me to go before them and recommend against this kind of money? When we could conceivably end up with nothing? Even if I did take a stand against the proposal, they’d sweep me aside.” He took a deep breath. “Give me a real reason. If you have one.”
Arky did not like the position he was in. If things went wrong, he knew who would be hanging out there. “If Wells and his people get hold of it, they’ll treat it exclusively as a source of wealth. Who knows what might get lost?”