Joe hoped so.
He killed the connection and handed Portenson’s headphones back to him. Portenson angrily jammed them on his head, switched to the internal channel, and mouthed, “That was a rotten thing to do.”
Joe didn’t hear it because he hadn’t switched back to channel A.
AFEW MINUTES LATER, Joe could see that Portenson was in an animated conversation with someone. The way the agent nodded and gesticulated, it was obvious he was excited. Even over the engine noise, he heard Portenson say, “That’s what I’m talking about,” and again pump his fist in the air.
Joe looked to Coon, who indicated that Joe should switch back to channel A.
“What’s he so cranked up about?” Joe asked. “Did they locate the Stensons?”
“Not yet.”
“Then what’s the deal?”
Coon’s expression was noncommittal. “Our analysts suggest that the Stensons might have picked Rangeland for a reason, that their stopping there might not be random.”
“Yes?”
“If your theory holds up, that the Stensons are picking targets with large carbon footprints-with the exception of Rawlins and the ranch, where the reason was drugs and money-then Rangeland has quite a big prize.”
“It does?” Then it came to him. North of Rangeland was Esterbrook River Station-a power plant with three cooling towers that emerged from the sprawling high-grass prairie. “The power plant?”
Coon nodded his head and shot a glance toward Portenson to make sure his boss didn’t see them talking.
“I’ve been listening in on the calls,” Coon said, consulting his legal pad where he’d been jotting down notes. “Our guys and gals have been working hard. According to them, the Esterbrook River Station is a 1,650-megawatt power plant fueled by 135 coal cars per day. The coal is from Gillette and it’s shipped down here 24/7. The plant burns 135 train cars of coal-that’s 24,000 tons-a day.”
Joe had seen the coal trains for years parallel to I-25. He’d been oblivious to the fact that they all had a single destination.
Coon said, “The plant provides power to two million people in Wyoming, Montana, the Dakotas, Colorado, Nebraska, Minnesota, and Iowa and feeds two of the three national power grids. But this is what may interest Robert: ERS emits approximately thirteen million metric tons of CO2 per year.”
Joe stared at him.
“Yeah, I said thirteen million metric tons per year. That’s a lot. And that doesn’t include the carbon produced by the coal trains or the coal mines.”
Joe looked out the window. The lights of Rangeland were a creamy wash on the southern horizon. But out across the dark terrain as far as he could see were individual ranch and farmhouses, single pole lights, outbuildings with lights on. If something happened to the power plant, everything would go dark. “So what’s Portenson so happy about?” Joe asked.
Coon waited a few seconds to speak, as if choosing his words carefully. “If the Stensons are going after that plant, it’s domestic terrorism. That’s what the FBI is supposed to be doing these days. It’s Job One. If Portenson can turn around the debacle this morning into stopping a massive act of domestic terrorism-”
Joe finished Coon’s thought: “He can write his ticket out of here to anyplace he wants to go.”
“Right.”
“What if Stenko and Robert just stopped to get gas?”
“Please don’t mention that possibility to my boss right now.”
Joe had been to Rangeland several times. It was a small agricultural town of not quite 4,000 people. It was low in elevation compared to most of the state, which was why there were farms instead of ranches. The terrain was flat and fertile all the way east to the Nebraska border.
As they roared south, Joe again looked down at what made Portenson so energized. The power plant was isolated but lit up like a Christmas display against the dark prairie. The three towers reached high into the sky and were illuminated in the darkness. He could see a train filled with coal heading toward it, and another train just behind the first. This is where it began, he thought. Coal was burned to superheat boilers, which turned river water into steam. The steam turned giant turbines that generated electricity and sent it screaming through transmission lines toward end users in eight states. Most of those users-like Joe-rarely thought about how the electricity got to his home or how it came about. All they-and he-knew was that when they flipped a switch, the light came on. The power came from somewhere, and he was looking at it.
Except when it didn’t.
Joe frowned to himself, said to Coon, “How in the hell could two guys from Chicago sabotage a power plant?”
Coon shrugged, said, “We don’t know. But we’re going to stop them before they do.”
And Joe realized what really made Portenson so happy. Thanks to Joe’s initial theory, the FBI had focused on Robert and the environmental angle. Things had fallen into place. The analysts were not only connecting the crimes, they were anticipating what the Stensons would do next. Coal-fired power plants with massive carbon dioxide emissions were a natural target. It all played out and fit the pattern. And Portenson was in the catbird seat. He’d be able to avert the plot before anything bad happened. He’d get the credit. Even if the Stensons were in Rangeland to buy gas.
The fly in the ointment, Joe thought, was if Stenko or Robert started talking after they were arrested and threw too much doubt on the FBI’s theories. If they denied ever targeting the power plant. Then Joe realized what else worked in Portenson’s favor. He was pretty sure that the Stensons wouldn’t be alive to talk. Not with Robert’s new propensity to try and shoot his way out of every situation and Stenko’s fatal cancer.
Which meant that Joe would need to get to Stenko before Portenson did.
AS THE PILOT negotiated with the Rangeland sheriff on where to land and Coon arranged for vehicles with the police department, Portenson turned in his seat and said to Joe, “You’ve got a call on channel C.”
His stomach knotted as he turned the dial two clicks. Joe thought: Marybeth. Janie Doe has taken a turn for the worse.
Governor Rulon said, “Finding you was not so easy. How is it going?”
“Not great.”
“You don’t have to tell me that. I got a briefing from DCI and between these bad guys you’re chasing and the FBI, there are bodies all over my state from Rawlins to Devils Tower.” He didn’t sound like he was in a good mood.
“It’s been rough,” Joe said. “But we may finally be closing in on them.”
Rulon acted like he didn’t hear Joe. He continued, “Tell Agent Portenson that Wyoming has the smallest population of all the states. He and his minions are doing serious damage on our census count. Those are citizens and voters. I mean they were citizens and voters. At this rate we’ll lose a seat in Congress and our federal funding if he keeps up with all the bodies.”