Jeb Otran owned more than anyone else Dan was ever likely to meet: a million acres of timberland, a dozen sawmills, woodworking facilities, huge electrical power plants, fleets of trucks, banks, and mortgage companies. Nobody really knew what it was all worth. But there was more to Otran than his money. Otran was a regular Horatio Alger- from humble beginnings he'd created a financial empire, pulling himself up by his bootstraps the whole way.
William Hutchin arrived almost immediately. Hutchin was a broad man, wide in the shoulders, girth, the face, and in the span of his hands. His six-foot figure, which was topped with a wild mop of silver-gray hair, combined with his booming voice to give him an imposing manner known to everyone in town. He had been with Otran for much of his ride to the top; his firm had been representing Otran for nearly thirty years. Dan had gradually established a strong personal bond with Otran as Hutchin slowed down his personal activity, involved now only in the more weighty matters. Dan handled all the cases and had the day-to-day contact.
After acknowledging one another, Dan and Hutchin walked into the foyer. Moments later, Otran's gray sedan pulled to the curb and Otran, a sinewy, square-jawed man, joined them.
"Evening, gentlemen," Otran said. "Strange time for a meeting, but it's a strange topic."
Hutchin led them directly to the library, a windowless room whose walls were covered by row upon row of thick law tomes. They sat around a large, polished rosewood conference table, well-lit beneath overhead brass lamps covered with green frosted-glass shades.
Hutchin, much to Dan's surprise, said nothing. Instead, he looked at Otran expectantly. Finally Otran cleared his throat and spoke slowly, thoughtfully, as though there was more to say than could easily be said, making it all the more important that he find just the right words.
''Even though it's the middle of the night, and hush-hush, this is not Watergate. Nothing illegal. But it's about as peculiar as Watergate." He looked at Dan. "I guess we might as well plunge right in. I need someone to deliver a bunch of money to the enviros. A hell of a lot of money."
Dan tried not to look shocked.
"It's not as bad as it sounds." Otran smiled. "It's to fund a campaign to convince the government to purchase the Highlands. It's supposed to lead to a government land purchase. The government won't buy it unless there's imminent peril to the trees and a big uproar. Needless to say, the enviros don't want cutting. They'll create the uproar if we plan to cut." Otran paused. "Are you with me so far?"
"But what does Metco say?" Dan referred to an owner of about one half of the acreage of the Highlands Forest.
"Oh, they've got to be cagey. Officially they plan to cut the trees. Hell, they're processing harvest plans right now. But they're sick to death of the bad publicity. They want to sell their whole four thousand acres to the government, declare the world safe, and go on growing and cutting their trees. In fact, Metco would like to sell to me. As for us, we can't log the land we own next to the Highlands. I get calls from Senator Cansfield weekly, begging me not to log anywhere near the Highlands. Says it should be a buffer for the murrelet bird. Metco would have to go right through us to log the Highlands. The senator begs me not to let them, but I've told her they've got an easement."
''So that's the reason we're giving money to the enviros?"
"Well, then there's Amada. The Japanese at first were dead set against giving any money to the enviros and really didn't seem at all anxious to sell. But when Metco got determined to go ahead and fund the enviros' campaign Amada turned on a dime with no explanation and wanted to be the biggest contributor. That I can't figure. Now they're actually the driving force to give money to the enviros. A full half of the money is theirs and the rest is divided up between ten different timberland owners. But they'd rather we deliver it. The Japanese are very discreet."
"Why would they care what happens to the Highlands?"
"It's three thousand acres of prime old-growth redwood, really the other half of the Highlands Forest. Maybe they worry about their own logging. If you can't grow and cut trees, the land is worthless. It's remote, steep, and they claim they'd like to sell it to the government. I said we ought to hire our own lobbyists, but they say the government never does anything we want. It's better coming from the enviros, and they'll help pay the bill. I hate it. But all the timber owners try to cooperate on this enviro stuff, so I said I'd take care of it. Don't know how much these guys want to give in the end. Plenty the first time, though. Five hundred thousand."
Dan's jaw dropped.
"Are you with me so far?"
Dan nodded. A few minutes ago the world had been simpler. It was the Wildflower Coalitions of the world against industry. Industry was usually right, and he knew which side he was on.
''A long time ago, I became acquainted with Patty McCafferty. She was out to save the world back then-just like now. Wasn't practical then, either. But Patty McCafferty is a woman that will set you to thinking. She used to talk up a storm. Talked about having some poetry in your life." Otran chuckled and shook his head. "You got any poetry in your life?"
"When I meet Poetry, I'll let you know." That got Dan a smile from Otran.
"I hope you find her," Otran said, just a tinge more serious. "Anyway, Patty's hell on this forest and will do just about anything to save it. She wants the government to buy it. And for the moment, that makes us buddies. We just want the whole thing to go away so we can all go back to logging without all the publicity. And damn regulations. People get so excited because these trees are so big and so old. It's like a spotlight on us. Really, I don't think there's any way to appease these nuts. They're never happy. But some of the political types will lay off for a while if they can declare victory. Politicians love to feel like they solved a problem."
This lash-up between McCafferty and industry sounded to Dan like the alliance from hell.
"Now I suppose you don't have to be told that it would be politically embarrassing for us to make a large public donation to Patty McCafferty. Especially me."
Dan and Hutchin laughed out loud. Barroom remarks, sly winks at the pub, blaring horns on the street, screamed epithets, the finger-all these and more would await the timberman who gave solace to the enviros, much less cold, hard cash. The grassroots timber support would never appreciate the subtlety of the politics. They were still producing bumper stickers like: earth first, we'll log the rest of the planets later.
"We want to give some money to her attorneys, but I can't have the money traceable to me or the rest of 'em in any way," Otran said. "And the Japanese, who are putting up half of it…" Otran rolled his eyes. "They'd do that hara-kiri thing if it became public. This is all attorney-client privilege, right?"
Dan nodded.
"Absolutely." Hutchin's big voice filled the room.
"Let me get this straight," Dan said. "You want to give a half million in cash to the same people who participate in demonstrations outside your mills?"
"Yes. Do you think that's a problem?"
"If it gets out, people may think it's bribery-"
"It won't get out," Hutchin cut in. "And it's not against the law to make anonymous donations. I know how you must feel, but sometimes in this life, the whores lie down with the saints."
Dan thought for a moment. ''So it's a no-strings-attached gift to the enviros."
"Yep," Otran said. "And it's mostly Japanese money."
"But how do we know they'll use it like we intend?"
"Let's not worry about that," said Hutchin. "That's Jeb's worry. Our job's to get the money delivered and to do it carefully. Very carefully." He paused before continuing. "You'll be dealing with Maria Fischer. I'm sure you two will become buddies the way things are going."