Primal Threat - Earl Emerson [29]
“Not a one.”
“Well, you know. It’s definitely a crazy time.”
Hugh broke the silence that followed by launching into a long story about his uncle who got a hook caught in his nostril while fly-fishing. Sensing that the tale would go in circles the way his jokes had, the others began interrupting, and soon there were two or three conversations looping across each other. Hugh kept chattering while Jennifer looked on with wary fascination. Though he said nothing and was not outwardly judgmental, Zak knew Giancarlo was uncomfortable with the boasting and the tales of hijinks. Giancarlo came from a deeply religious family where everybody toed the line and family gatherings were of great importance. Zak admired his ability to withhold judgment, because Zak himself was critical of almost everything he disagreed with and wished above all else that he wasn’t. It was one of the qualities he liked most about Nadine: her ability not only to tolerate differing opinions and outlooks, but actually to embrace them.
Stephens and Morse clearly felt more at home with this group than the three firefighters, turning the conversation back to the stock market and investments, dropping numbers and amounts of money, each group trying to impress the other. Morse, Zak knew, had worked his way up from a blue-collar family to his current position as labor negotiator and was proud of it, while Stephens’s parents had been elementary school teachers—though to hear him talk, you’d think they’d been on the board at General Motors.
Zak looked around to make sure Hugh wasn’t getting into trouble and discovered that Jennifer had placed the TV in front of him; he was raptly watching Die Hard 2, mouth agape, cheeks flabby and expressionless. It was uncanny how easily he could alter his appearance. Muldaur was fond of telling his crew that each of them was a bullet in the brain away from being a moron; by becoming Hugh, he’d found a way of illustrating it.
Zak found it interesting that half the time these Jeep guys were bragging about their family money and how much they were going to make in their lifetimes, and the rest of the time they were boasting of indiscretions, many of which were illegal and most of which were unethical. They seemed to be stuck midway in a netherworld between reckless brats and self-satisfied billionaires.
12
August
Trailing a drag chute of dust, the Ford Expedition looked like an official vehicle, and Zak wondered if they weren’t about to be cited for trespassing, maybe even arrested. He wasn’t sure who owned this land, but he knew it held tens of millions of dollars’ worth of timber, and he had a feeling the owners would not be happy at the thought of interlopers starting fires.
Zak was walking toward the bluffs for a better view of the Expedition when he noticed an enormous malamute curled up beside a tree. Without raising its head off its paws, the dog bared his teeth and then lunged at Zak.
The dog was less than a foot from Zak’s face when he was jerked to a halt on the end of a chain. Standing on his hind legs and straining against the chain, the dog was almost as tall as Zak. He could feel the dog’s breath on his eyelashes.
“Dozer! Dozer!” Jennifer Moore said, grabbing the dog by his collar. “Sit. You silly thing.” She turned to Zak. “Don’t mind him. He’s just hot and irritated. Aren’t you, honey!” She began slapping the dog’s hide while he continued to snarl at Zak.
When he got to the side of the mountain, he saw the white Expedition traverse the bridge and head up the mountain on the road the cyclists had used. If it had only been the cyclists, the Expedition would drive right on past without realizing anybody was there, but with all these vehicles and the campfire…there was little chance they would be overlooked.
The Expedition chugged up the steep road and turned directly into the short spur, parking near the campfire. Almost immediately four young women got out. One of them was Nadine Newcastle. Without introductions, the girls spilled into camp. Clearly they all