What this gives us ispersonalleverage—against Rogers himself. Will it be possible to cull him from the herd? Speak to him separately without overtly threatening his employer?
That’s our plan. After getting the new information, Émilie’s investigator has dug deeper and provided additional ammunition. What we want to do now is negotiate. She’s instructed us on how to make it clear that we are protected by powerful forces. Okay, those forces are Émilie herself, but with her money and clout, it’s not an idle threat. Rogers needs to know that killing us wouldn’t eliminate his problem, any more than killing him would eliminate the danger of the mining operation.
Émilie wants Gretchen brought into Haven’s Rock, and we agree. Not into the town itself, but to the hangar, where she can await a new pick up. If Gretchen agrees, she’ll be flown to Émilie, who will debrief her, which I presume means a combination of subtle bribes and subtler pressure to convince her to go along with the story Émilie concocts.
The reason we want Gretchen here isn’t just for her own good. It’s for Anders and Yolanda. We need them here if things go south. We don’t want themisolatedif things go south.
We summon them back by sat phone and prepare sleeping quarters at the hangar. Once they’ve arrived safely, we head off to visit our friendly neighbor.
Visiting Mr. Rogers isn’t as easy as knocking on his door. Technically, we shouldn’t know where that door is. We’re supposed to leave a message at a designated spot and wait for a response, but we’re sure as hell not doing that.
It’s late afternoon, which means his work crews should still be out. We skirt around the edge of the camp’s turf until we hear voices. Then we call out and tell the guard that we have urgent business with their boss.
We wait, staying just off their territory. There’s always the chance—a good one—that Rogers will blow us off, but relations have been smooth lately, and I suspect he won’t want to upset that by being an ass.
Twenty minutes later, someone appears on the path. It isn’t Rogers, though. It’s the Brit—the man we aren’t supposed to know about.
“Hello,” he says, extending a hand. “Paul Rutherford. I work with…” His lips twitch. “Mr. Rogers, you call him?” He rolls his brown eyes. “My colleague does love his cloak-and-dagger. I’ll grant him anonymity, though, and we’ll keep referring to him by that moniker.”
“I…” I try to look confused. “I’m sorry. We haven’t met you.”
The man—Rutherford—makes a face. “Corporate sent me.I’m one of those types—flown in to check out their operations. Rogers is still here. Or at least he’s supposed to be.” Irritation flutters over his face, quickly masked. “It seems he has stepped out. I was told this meeting was urgent, so I came in his place.”
“Ah,” I say. “Okay. Well, no offense, but it really is something we’d like to discuss with him. It’s not immediately urgent. Just cause for concern on a matter we’ve already been discussing with him.”
“The hikers?” He frowns. “Are they still around? Rogers told me about that.”
“It’s related. Do you know when he’ll be back?”
That annoyance again, though it doesn’t seem directed at us. “I wish I knew. He’s been MIA a few times since I arrived, though it’s usually early in the morning.” He sighs. “I shouldn’t get snippy. I know it isn’t easy, having someone from head office visiting and peering over your shoulder, checking that all the i’s are dotted and t’s are crossed.”
I glance at Dalton, who only shrugs. Then I say to Rutherford, “Can we make an appointment to see him?” I check my watch. “Maybe seven tonight? Here?”
“Certainly. I will convey the message. In the meantime, it was lovely to meet you both.”
Dalton and I don’t talk after we leave Rutherford. We walk in silence until I murmur, “I’d like to check out that clearing again. Where the miner was buried.”
Dalton looks at me.
“I want to see what we can spot from the area. Would they have seen Blake? How well would they have seen him? That sort of thing.”
“Good idea.”
We veer in that direction, and as we draw close, we hear the tramp of footsteps. We stop short, hands dropping to our guns just as Rogers rounds the corner. He’s obviously distracted, so much so that he doesn’t even notice us until Dalton clears his throat. Then his head jerks up, and he blinks before he pulls on his cloak of authority.
“Yes?” he says. “May I help you?”
I look around. “We’re allowed to be here. It’s neutral territory.”
“Of course.” He nods. “Good day then.”
“We actually just left your colleague, Mr. Rutherford.”
The faintest reaction. Almost a flinch. I suspect Rutherford has arrived at a very bad time, while Rogers is busy putting out fires.
Fires Rutherford isn’t supposed to know about?
Spying on our settlement.
