“Feel free to take a seat over there.”
“Thanks.” Hauck went over. The periodicals were all energy related. Oil. Natural gas. There was a stack of company brochures there as well. Hauck picked one up. It showed the same logo as on the wall. The same slogan too: INFORM. CHANGE. INFLUENCE. Influence what?
The brochure described Alpha as a company based out of Denver specializing in the energy field. It talked about “technical and crisis management solutions for today’s critical energy and environmental issues.” It showed a series of corporate executives, both in hard hats and business suits. Out in the field and in company boardrooms. There were photos of oil and gas rigs, rig workers at work, some fancy office buildings, a pretty park, reminding Hauck of the one they’d seen in Templeton. Even an upscale residential community with a golf course, as if all were examples of the happy world Alpha’s efforts were achieving.
Hauck folded the brochure in his pocket.
A man stepped out from the back. He was average height, trim, fit-looking under his white dress shirt, like he lifted weights; mid-thirties, though he had lost most of his reddish hair to a high forehead. “Randy McKay …” he said amiably, reaching out his hand. His grip was firm, businesslike; out of some sales training regimen. Military.
“Ty Hauck,” Hauck replied.
“Janet tells me you’re looking for Mr. Robertson …?”
“Yes. Is he here?”
“I guess she told you John doesn’t always work out of this office. Alpha has dozens of operational sites throughout Weld Country and the Wattenberg field …”
“The Wattenberg field …?”
“That’s where we are now. Right smack in the middle of it. One hundred thousand barrels of oil a day and seven hundred and forty million cubic feet of natural gas from around twenty-two thousand active wells. Not all our clients, of course, but we have multiple projects going on, where John spends most of his time.”
“I see. So what exactly does Mr. Robertson actually do for Alpha, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“I don’t mind at all.” The manger smiled. “Though we don’t normally give out that kind of information on our employees. Why don’t we step in here … Janet, we’re going to be in Conference Room A for a couple of minutes if anyone’s needing me. Shouldn’t be too long.”
“Of course, Mr. McKay …”
The manager led Hauck down a hallway and into an antiseptic room with a polished wood table, a matching credenza; oil rig and mining photographs on the walls. It looked as if the room came straight out of some furniture rental catalog. “We’re not normally so secretive, Mr. Hauck …” McKay motioned him into a seat. “But we do like to know who we’re talking to before we divulge certain information …”
Hauck said, “I wasn’t looking for any information. I just asked what one of your employees does.”
“I understand. And you’re right. Take a seat. Are you in the energy business?” He had a clear-eyed and direct manner. Even when he was diverting a question, he did so with a smile. “Your card says ‘Talon.’”
“I’m not,” Hauck said. “I’m in security.”
“Security? You mean like with wires and alarms?” He smiled again. “Mr. Pettibone, our director of logistics, is out right now, but that sort of thing falls under his expertise.”
“More like firm-to-firm,” Hauck replied. “Or country-to-country.”
“I see. Well, most of what we do is in the energy field. We’re not so well known as some of the bigger oil service brands. I was actually in law enforcement for a while myself, after I got out of the service. Until I got tired of wearing the uniform, if you know what I mean. And where is it you said you know Mr. Robertson from …?”
“I didn’t say I knew him. I just asked what he did.”
“That’s right. You did. Well, Mr. Robertson is what we call a senior coordinator of field projects. But like I said, he’s currently away.”
“Where is he?” Hauck asked, clear-eyed at McKay. “If you don’t mind me asking.”
“In the field.”
Over the years, Hauck had been stonewalled by some of the best, and this guy was giving it his shot. “What exactly are ‘field projects’ for Alpha’?” he asked, his eyes roaming to the pictures of mining and drilling operations on the walls. “Are you guys drillers?”
“Not drillers, exactly. You might say we do field testing, handle certain site management issues that come up.”
“Field testing? You mean like geological?”
“Similar to geological …” McKay nodded. “Just not in a lab.”
“In the field …” Hauck said vaguely.
“That’s right,” McKay said again, that same stony smile. “The field.”
“Your brochure seems to call it ‘crisis management solutions for today’s energy and environmental issues.’”
“Yes, I’m glad you were able to take a look,” the Alpha man said. “You never know who actually reads through these things … But like any solutions-oriented firm, we like to think we take other people’s problems and turn them into opportunities. Newer drilling techniques today come with equally new challenges for communities and local governments. We like to think we make those issues …” He paused as if searching for the right word.
“Go away …”
“Well, not quite ‘go away.’” McKay smiled again. “But at least, become far more livable.”
“Inform. Change. Influence,” Hauck said.
“Now I see you have read up on us,” the Alpha manger said. “And now what I suggest I do is that I take your card here, and when I can get in touch with Mr. Robertson, I’ll make sure he gets it.”
“And when might that be? I was hoping I might get a chance to speak with him face-to-face. I’m only here for a couple of days.”