Freedom [174]
Zorn lowered her dull eyes to the muddy ground. “Right. Your species of interest. It’s very pretty.”
“Why don’t we all go somewhere else,” Lalitha said cheerfully, “and sit down and talk about the bigger picture. We’re on your side, you know.”
“No,” Zorn said. “I’m going to stay here for a while. I asked my friend from the Gazette to come up and have a look.”
“Have you been talking to the New York Times, too?” it occurred to Walter to ask.
“Yes. They seemed pretty interested, actually. MTR’s a magic term these days. That’s what you’re doing up there, isn’t it?”
“We’re having a press conference on Monday,” he said. “I’m going to lay out the whole plan. I think, when you hear the details, you’re going to be very excited. We can get you a plane ticket if you want to join us. I’d love to have you there. You and I could even have a little public dialogue, if you want to voice your concerns.”
“In Washington?”
“Yes.”
“Figures.”
“That’s where we’re based.”
“Right. It’s where everything’s based.”
“Jocelyn, we have fifty thousand acres here that will never be touched in any way. The rest of it will be successional within a few years. I think we’ve made some very good decisions.”
“I guess we disagree about that, then.”
“Seriously think about joining us in Washington on Monday. And have your friend at the Gazette give me a call today.” Walter gave Zorn a business card from his wallet. “Tell him we’d love to bring him to Washington, too, if he’s interested.”
From farther up in the hills came a murmur of thunder that sounded like blasting, probably up at Forster Hollow. Zorn put the business card in a pocket of her rain parka. “By the way,” she said, “I’ve been talking to Coyle Mathis. I already know what you’re doing.”
“Coyle Mathis is legally barred from discussing it,” Walter said. “I’m happy to sit down with you and talk about it myself, though.”
“The fact that he’s living in a brand-new five-bedroom ranch house in Whitmanville speaks for itself.”
“That’s a nice house, isn’t it?” Lalitha said. “Much, much nicer than where he was.”
“You might want to pay him a visit and see if he agrees with you about that.”
“Anyway,” Walter said, “you need to move your cars out of the way so we can get through.”
“Hm,” Zorn said, uninterested. “I guess you could call somebody to tow us, if there were cell reception here. Which there isn’t.”
“Oh, come on, Jocelyn.” Walter’s anger was outflanking his barricades against it. “Can we at least be adults about this? Acknowledge that we’re fundamentally on the same side, even if we disagree about our methods?”
“Sorry, no,” she said. “My method is to block the road.”
Not trusting himself to say more, Walter strode up the hill and let Lalitha hurry after him. A flail, the whole morning was becoming a flail. The hard-hatted manager, who looked no older than Jessica, was explaining to the other women, with remarkable courtesy, why they needed to move their cars. “Do you have a radio?” Walter asked him abruptly.
“I’m sorry. Who are you?”
“I’m the director of the Cerulean Mountain Trust. We were expected at the top of the road at six o’clock.”
“Right, sir. I’m afraid that’s going to be a problem if these ladies don’t move their cars.”
“Well, then, how about radioing for somebody to come down and get us?”
“Out of range, unfortunately. These damned hollers are dead zones.”
“OK.” Walter took a deep breath. He could see a pickup parked beyond the gate. “Maybe you can run us up in your truck, then.”
“I’m afraid I’m not authorized to leave the gate area.”
“Well, then, lend it to us.”
“I can’t do that, either, sir. You’re not insured for it on the work site. But if these ladies would just move aside for a sec, you’d be free to proceed in your own vehicle.”
Walter turned to the women, none of whom looked younger than sixty, and smiled in vague supplication. “Please?” he said. “We’re not with a coal company. We’re conservationists.”
“Conservationists my ass!” the oldest one said.
“No, seriously,