‘You said that Seavers Incorporated had somehow managed to lose three hundred million dollars,’ Lopez said to Jarvis. ‘That’s about half of the arbitrary sum that Ethan just mentioned. What if Seavers is involved with the people that are behind this, maybe providing some of the cost of paying them off in order to maintain his mining rights in the area? It’s a quid pro quo; Seavers Incorporated gets to continue making profit from fossil fuels dug from the mountains of Kentucky, while Majestic Twelve or the government or whoever else is behind this continues to keep any kind of novel energy device under wraps, thus keeping control of power generation countrywide.’
Jarvis was nodding slowly as Lopez spoke, assessing the information as the vehicle in which they drove descended off the highway and turned south for a small town just outside the city.
‘It’s not impossible,’ he admitted. ‘But in order to make people completely vanish, you would need something like the FBI’s Witness Protection Scheme in order to give them new lives, new documents, legal papers and so on. It wouldn’t be enough to simply forge them a new life — it would have to be a life that would stand up to scrutiny from local law enforcement, not to mention the fact that if these people have been paid off they suddenly possess large sums of money. The IRS would become suspicious of any such activity in the accounts of people who had been previously modest in their incomes, so that would also have to be addressed. I doubt that a small, albeit powerful cabal like Majestic Twelve would be able to organise all of this and make it happen.’
Ethan nodded.
‘It’s gotta be the FBI,’ he said. ‘They’re the only ones with sufficient expertise to make people disappear completely. The question is, how do we get paperwork from the FBI concerning a program that’s specifically designed to stop anybody from getting paperwork for it?’
‘We don’t,’ Jarvis admitted. ‘We’ll have to do it the old way. People disappear when they want to, but most of them are terrible at it. They take up old hobbies, let slip their identities in conversation, although we have to remember that the people we’re seeking have a good financial reason to stay quiet and they’re not fleeing from anything. They have a lot of money to spend, and it’s my guess that some will be more thrifty than others. We need to find out if there’s anybody in the town of Clearwater that had an unusual hobby, or was perhaps poor in their judgement of how to spend money.’
‘It’s also worth a shot that many of the people involved would not have wanted to leave Missouri,’ Lopez pointed out. ‘They could be convinced to move town, but they may not have wanted to go too far. They may have families, other dependents, people who relied upon them and whom they would not want to be separated from. The FBI might be behind this, but these people aren’t criminals or in fear of their lives from criminal gangs, so it would have been a hard push for the FBI to convince them to break full contact with their nearest and dearest. Silence is all that’s required, on what happened at Clearwater.’
Amber Ryan looked up at her. ‘Red McKenzie.’
‘Who?’
‘He’s a mechanic, spends all his time fixing up old trucks for the loggers,’ Amber explained. ‘His house looked like a junkyard, old rusting chassis on the lawn and stuff like that. He was never happy unless his head was buried under a hood, a total petrol head. He won’t change his ways much and he likely won’t have gone very far.’
Ethan closed the file.
‘It’s the only way, if McKenzie’s a weak link in the disappearances then we can maybe track him down. Why not try pulling a list of recent home purchases within fifty clicks of Clearwater and see if anything pops?’
IX
The quiet, leafy cul — de — sac that Ethan and Lopez drove into was a far cry from the cramped surroundings of Clearwater some fifty miles to the south. Large, modern homes with double garages overlooked perfectly manicured lawns, flawless asphalt roads and spotless sidewalks as Ethan pulled into the curb and switched off the engine.
‘Looks like somebody’s gone up in the world,’ Lopez observed as she climbed out of the vehicle, the sun warm on her face and the sky flecked with a handful of white clouds.
Amber climbed out behind Lopez as Ethan glanced at a photograph of a man named Red McKenzie, or Mac for short. Mac had worked in the town of Clearwater for more than thirty years as an automobile repair man, carving a trade fixing the four — wheel drives of loggers moving in and out of the town. His property in Clearwater had been in a trailer park out back of the town and fairly close to the local bar, presumably so he could stagger his way home with greater ease at night.
Ethan looked up at the five bedroom house before him, complete with double garage and what looked like a brand — new Ford Ranger parked on the drive. The garage was open, as was the hood of the Ford Ranger, and he could hear somebody tinkering with tools as they walked up the drive.
Ethan glanced at Lopez, who understood what Ethan wanted without even so much as a gesture. Lopez walked up one side of the truck as Ethan walked up the other, Amber hanging back out of sight as they approached Mac.
It was possible that Mac was partially deaf, or more likely that he was so engrossed in tinkering beneath the hood of the Ford that he did not notice either Ethan or Lopez moving to stand either side of him. Despite the immaculate house and brand — new vehicle, Mac was dressed in an ancient pair of dungarees smeared with paint, grease and oil, and he was wearing a baseball cap of a similar vintage. His jaw was heavily forested with silvery stubble and there was a faint whiff of cigarettes and alcohol about the guy as Ethan rapped his knuckles on the Ford’s hood.
Mac McKenzie jerked upright and a pair of hazy gray eyes fixed upon Ethan in surprise.
‘Who the hell are you?’ he croaked, one hand tightly gripping a wrench.
‘Take it easy,’ Ethan said as he raised his hands. ‘We’re just here to ask you some questions.’
Mac turned and saw Lopez standing behind him, and his frosty demeanour changed instantly.
‘Well you can ask me any questions you like, honey,’ he said as a toothy yellow grin spread across his features.
‘That’s just as well, because we’ve got a lot of questions to ask,’ Lopez purred in reply. ‘How’s the new house working out?’
McKenzie peered back and forth between Ethan and Lopez, and he replied carefully.
‘Me, I’ve lived here all my life. My Pa and my grandpa both lived just down the road, you can check the census if you like.’
Ethan grinned, McKenzie’s response clearly a patter taught by whoever paid him off.
‘Yeah, we know,’ Ethan replied. ‘The census will show exactly what the people that paid you to come here want it to show, and there will be no record of you or your family ever living in a town called Clearwater.’
McKenzie shrugged vaguely. ‘Clearwater? Don’t recall me ever hearing of a town called that.’
At that moment, Amber strode around from the rear of the Ford Ranger and pointed at McKenzie.
‘The hell you don’t, Mac!’ she snapped furiously. ‘What the hell are you doing here and how did you come by this house?!’
McKenzie’s eyes flew wide as he looked at Amber, and then he struggled to drag a look of confusion across his face.
‘I’m sorry Missy but I don’t know what you’re talking about. Who are you?’
Amber took a single pace forward and Ethan winced as he heard a sharp crack as the girl’s knuckles collided with McKenzie’s jaw and sent him sprawling across the wing of the Ford Ranger.
‘You know damn well who I am and why I’m here!’ Amber almost shouted. ‘Where the hell are my folks?! Who paid you all this money to come and live out here!’