‘There always is,’ Oppenheimer agreed, ‘but at least there’ll be profit, and nobody really cares about a handful of hobos in a pissy little backwater like the New Mexico desert. They’ll be better off with the revenue generated by SkinGen anyway, it’ll bring some light into their miserable lives.’
Wolfe stood, replacing his shades and walking away from the old man. Oppenheimer called after him as he disappeared into the interior of the yacht.
‘This is a good thing. It’s a brighter future for a county that has nothing to export but illegal immigrants and bird flu! They’ll thank us both one day, if there’s any of them left.’
7
Ethan stepped off the United Express Embraer E-170 onto the asphalt of the airport, the sun hot against his skin after the cooler winds of Illinois. Behind him, Lopez shielded her eyes.
‘Like being on vacation,’ she remarked.
Ethan hoped that Lopez was in a better mood now that their travels had brought them into territory that was more like home, even though Guanajuato was actually six hundred miles south of the border. Lopez had rarely gotten this far south since her family had given up on their dreams of a better life in the United States and returned to their homeland.
A uniformed officer approached them, extending a hand to Ethan.
‘Enrico Zamora,’ he said. ‘You must be Ethan Warner.’
Ethan introduced him to Lopez, and then the lieutenant led them out of the airport to a marked Dodge Charger, filling them in on the case and his own disappointments as they drove away.
‘The whole thing was way out of our league, so we passed everything on to the FBI. That’s when this Doug Jarvis guy got involved, and we were all asked to sign non-disclosure agreements. You wanna let me know what the hell that’s all about? Most interesting case in twenty years of service and it’s snatched away from me; we don’t hear a thing about the autopsy and nobody will even tell me who you guys work for.’
‘Standard procedure,’ Ethan said, looking at the barren wilderness of New Mexico flashing by as they drove. ‘Our employers just like to remain discreet. We don’t want a media circus out here.’
Zamora shrugged, and ran the fingers of one hand through his hair.
‘I understand that, but it tweaks ma curiosity a little. What’s so important that you want it kept under wraps?’
‘Maybe you could help us with that,’ Lopez said from the rear seat. ‘We don’t have much to go on, that’s why we’re here. All we have are the social security details of this Hiram Conley and another name, Tyler Willis. What’s the story with them both?’
Zamora seemed to shiver despite the warmth, shifting his shoulders as he drove.
‘I don’t never want to see that man Conley again as long as I live. Came rushing at me out of the woods looking like a living skeleton, all his skin and things hanging in tatters from his arms.’
‘Some kind of disease, maybe?’ Ethan suggested, looking at the distant mountains and wondering if some horrible virus lurked somewhere out there in the lonely deserts.
‘I’ll say.’ Zamora nodded. ‘Looked like he was falling apart where he stood, but the strange thing was that he ran like a man half his age. I was lucky to shoot him before he got me with that goddamn bayonet of his.’
Lopez raised an eyebrow.
‘He charged you with a bayonet?’
‘Ain’t never seen nothin’ like it,’ Zamora said. ‘We had the weapon checked out by the crime lab: the damned thing was an antique. They identified it as a Model 1842 Springfield.69 caliber percussion-lock musket, which was the last of the smooth-bore models made with a thicker barrel. They were rifled sometime after manufacture to take the conically shaped Minie Ball, the same type of bullet found in Hiram Conley, so I was led to believe.’
Ethan glanced back at Lopez before speaking.
‘And the weapon isn’t a remake, or a copy?’
‘Only about six thousand of that specific type were made,’ Zamora said, ‘and modern copies for re-enactment groups are easily spotted. This was the real deal, no doubt about it, weighed ten pounds and was damn near five feet long.’
‘Was it a type used during the Civil War?’ Lopez asked.
‘Sure was.’ Zamora nodded. ‘One of the earliest, although the repeatin’ rifles followed pretty soon after, so I’m told.’
‘Did this guy Conley say anything to you at the scene?’ Ethan asked, looking out across the passing wilderness and imagining what it must have been like for a Union army marching and surviving in such brutal terrain for weeks and months on end.
‘Sure he did, but most of it was kind of garbled. He kept talkin’ about the Union, and the New Mexico Militia, stuff like that. I had the guys check out the references, and there was a New Mexico Militia working out this way during the Civil War, but that was a hundred and fifty years ago. We put it all down to this guy being a fantasist of some kind.’
‘Then how’d he get the uniform and the weapon?’ Lopez asked.
‘I’m not saying they weren’t genuine,’ Zamora admitted. ‘Only that he must have lived out in the Pecos for years, maybe as part of a commune or something. From what we could gather he had little documentation and no fixed abode, so he’s been living rough for years. For all we know there could be others like him out there.’
‘What about this other guy, Tyler Willis?’ Ethan asked.
Zamora waved a hand in the air as if in desperation and then ran it through the tight coils of his hair.
‘Tyler ain’t talking; says he was just hiking in the hills when he was confronted by Hiram Conley, who got in his face and started screaming. Given that Conley opened fire on both Willis and the tourists, I’m inclined to believe him, but…’
‘But you’re not sure,’ Lopez finished the sentence for him.
‘The ranger who was leading the tourists said it was an argument Willis and Conley were having, both of them going at each other. Willis was injured and, as the victim, I can hardly arrest him, but I’m sure there’s something he’s not telling me. Maybe you guys will have more luck.’
‘Where can we find him?’ Ethan inquired.
‘He was in hospital with a shrapnel wound to the shoulder but he discharged himself this morning, claiming he had to get back to work. Turns out he’s a researcher at the laboratories up Los Alamos way, some kind of high-flying scientist or other.’
Ethan had heard of the famous Los Alamos National Laboratories, where some of the most extraordinary discoveries of the last century had been made. The home of the original Manhattan Project, which had culminated in the dawn of the atomic age when the United States had dropped atom bombs on Imperial Japan to bring a close to World War Two, the laboratories concerned themselves now with advanced technologies in all theaters of scientific endeavor.
‘You got any idea what this guy Willis is researching?’ Ethan asked.
‘Beats me.’ Zamora chuckled. ‘Most of what he told me went straight over my head and right out of the park. But it was something to do with medicine.’
Ethan looked at Lopez.
‘We’ll start with him,’ he said. ‘Right now there’s not much else to go on.’
‘What about Hiram Conley’s social security number?’ Lopez asked Zamora. ‘You guys got a town hall down here or something, some way we could backtrack the records?’
‘Town hall would probably have something tucked away some place, and Santa Fe County offices might have records. Trouble is getting anything concrete about this guy. Last I heard he went by several names, and any one of them could be false or real.’