Blood Trail - C. J. Box [62]
“A name,” Joe said, thinking of the promise he’d made to Nancy Hersig.
“Stella,” Rulon said calmly, “please go tell the press I’ll be out in a moment with a very big announcement.”
Stella nodded dutifully and stood up.
Rulon said, “Let them know we’ve learned that Special Agent Tony Portenson of the FBI withheld information that resulted in the deaths of six people and the shutdown of state and federal lands across Wyoming.”
“You can’t do that!” Portenson shouted. “You’re out of your mind!”
Rulon arched his eyebrows. “This isn’t the first time someone has said that.”
“I’m this far,” Portenson said, pinching his index finger and thumb together, “from breaking this Klamath Moore thing and getting my transfer out of this hellhole. I should have been moved up a year ago, but it didn’t happen. This will absolutely kill me! This might get me sent to Butte, Montana!”
“What’s wrong with Butte?” Joe said. “I like Butte.”
“It’s where bad FBI agents are sent to die,” Portenson whined.
“That’s your choice,” Rulon said, nodding to Stella to go.
“No!” Portenson said.
She hesitated at the door.
“What do you want?” Portenson pleaded with Rulon.
“Access to all your files on the Wolverine investigation and the name of your snitch so Joe can question him,” Rulon said.
“Okay,” Portenson said as if in physical pain. “You’ve got it.”
“What’s my role?” asked Randy Pope, the forgotten man.
“You stay here,” Rulon said. “I want you in your office leading your agency and deflecting the outrage we’re already getting from constituents about the state lands closure. Plus, I don’t want you in a dicey situation where you might run like a rabbit again. That kind of behavior makes me want to puke.”
“You don’t understand,” Pope said, pleading. “The head was in my room . . . this is personal. I have to be involved.”
“No,” Rulon said bluntly.
Pope dropped his head into his hands. Joe was put off and embarrassed by the reaction.
“Okay, then,” Rulon said, gesturing to Stella to open the door.
Joe sat up. “That’s not all.”
Portenson and the governor both looked at him. Stella hesitated, with her manicured hand poised above the door handle.
“No,” Portenson said, his face flushing red. “I know what you’re going to ask, and the answer is: absolutely not. Don’t even ask.”
Joe turned to the governor. “Nate Romanowski knows the area and he has contacts with extremist groups all across the West. I don’t condone it, but he does. He’s got special insight into somebody like Wolverine because, frankly, Wolverine reminds me more than a little bit of Nate. If you want me to continue this investigation, I need his help.”
Portenson continued to shake his head.
“If he was released into your custody,” Rulon said, “do you give me your word you’ll bring him back for his trial when and if this investigation is over?”
Joe swallowed hard. “I’ll do what’s right.”
Portenson hissed, “We can’t release a federal prisoner on Joe Pickett’s word! We can’t release him, period!”
Pope surprised Joe by saying, “I concur. We need all the help we can get.”
Joe said to Portenson, “You charged him with flimsy evidence that hasn’t gotten any better. You’re just hoping something falls into your lap between now and the trial or you know you’re going to lose.”
“We’re building our case!”
“Just like you were building the case against Klamath Moore and Wolverine?” Joe asked.
Rulon stood up. “Stella, tell them I’m coming out with explosive news.”
“No!” Portenson shouted again, his voice cracking. Then: “Okay, okay!” He pointed his finger at Joe. “But if he doesn’t live up to this agreement, I’m going to throw both of them in jail.”
“Agreed,” Rulon said breezily.
Joe wanted to tell the governor he’d perhaps spoken too soon. Although he had some influence over Nate and Nate had promised years before to assist Joe and protect his family, he didn’t own the outlaw falconer. Nate had always gone his own way, used his own methods, lived under his