“Let me see if Mr. Moss is available. He’s our regional VP of operations. I think this might fall under him. You can wait over there.”
Unlike Alpha, with its cramped waiting area and brochures, Resurgent had a plush, nicely decorated section with a watercolor over the couch, and its annual report displayed prominently on the coffee table. A flat-screen monitor was on the wall, with a video showcasing the company’s activities. Hauck watched for a few minutes, an actor he recognized going through all the precautions the company took in the drilling of its wells, the redundant layers of steel casings the well hole was encased in to protect the surrounding land, and the partnerships it created with the local communities.
“At RMM,” the actor said, “we like to think of ourselves as a tenant in the local community, one that takes pride in it, and leaves it in even better condition than when we arrived …”
Hence the fancy football field and all the government buildings, Hauck said to himself.
“Mr. Hauck.” The receptionist stepped over to him. “Mr. Moss can see you now. Celia will take you back …” She walked him over to another nicely dressed woman, who brought him up a wide staircase and then down a corridor lit by a long glass picture window with a view of the far-off Rockies. “You’re lucky. Mr. Moss just freed up for a few minutes. It’s rare for him to see anyone without an appointment.” Was there anything she could get for him? she asked. Coffee? A soda?
“Thank you,” Hauck said, walking down the long corridor. “I’m fine.”
She dropped him off at a spacious office with wide windows and the same expansive view. “Right in here …”
A middle-aged man in a shirt and tie, the sleeves rolled up, a bit round in the belly, stepped up from behind his desk. “Thanks, Celia. Wendell Moss,” he said, introducing himself with a firm handshake. The kind of reassuring, midwestern demeanor you might expect from someone in a pilot’s uniform stepping out of an airline cockpit.
“Ty Hauck.”
“Yes, I know who you are. We don’t exactly get many celebrities out this way. Especially in our neck of the woods. We once brought in a couple of the Denver Broncos and took them out on-site, kind of a motivational thing. Signed a bunch of autographs for the guys …”
“Well, I’m not sure any of them would exactly treasure mine,” Hauck joked, suspecting that word traveled quickly between Alpha and RMM, and that the conversation about his visit there with McKay had already been had. “Nice of you to carve out a couple of minutes …”
“Not a problem. So what brings you out our way? Surely there’s not much going on here for a man such as you.”
“Your secretary gave you my card?”
“Have it right here. Talon. Security outfit. I’m sure I’ve heard of it.”
“We’re a large, international firm, with interests in several sectors of the security business. Digital protection. Foreign countries. One of the prospective firms we were looking into is called the Alpha Group. You know them?”
“Alpha …” Moss motioned him over to a small, round conference table. “They handle some advance marketing and technical matters for us. The kinds of things that need some massaging long before the first drill bit goes in the ground.”
“Can you tell me exactly what you mean?”
“Oh, site planning and community dynamics. Boring stuff.” Moss waved. “I’m sure they’d be happy to tell you themselves.”
“Actually I already visited there,” Hauck said, certain that Moss already knew. “And they were kind of vague. I think they used the phrase ‘It’s like geology, just not in a lab …’”
“Yes.” He grinned. “I’ve heard that before myself. Let’s just say, they don’t tell us where the oil is, just smooth over the pesky, administrative details of getting us to it. From that point on is where we come in.”
On his credenza Moss had several photos. A pretty, blond wife. A boy and a girl. Playing soccer, biking. A few framed awards and citations hung on the wall.
“Alpha has its roots in the military, doesn’t it?” Hauck volunteered.
Moss looked at him. “Yes. I think it does actually.”
“So how does a U.S. Army PsyOps team solve technical problems for a huge oil and gas company like yours?”
The oilman smiled, the slightest shifting in his gaze. “Well, the short answer to your first question is, there are veterans all over this industry. In RMM as well. Much of what we do involves very challenging and sensitive work, both technically and environmentally, and that kind of training comes in handy.”
“Yeah, I guess it’s not exactly good optics to be sinking drills in the ground uselessly,” Hauck said.
“Or a good use of money. But today, we don’t quite do that. And when I used the word environment I was actually speaking far more broadly. First, for us, we have to identify the deposit. There’s a lot of new science that enables us to pinpoint that much more accurately than in years past. Soil testing. Three-D imaging. Then we have to extract it, in both a cost-effective and environmentally friendly way. Not just for the money or the optics … as you say”—Moss focused on Hauck’s choice of word coolly—“but for our own charter as well. We take our connection to the community very seriously here, Mr. Hauck, I can assure you of that.”
“Yes, I saw the video downstairs.”
“Then you get the picture. There are several advancements in drilling technology going on today you may have heard of. Horizontal drilling. Dynamic fragmentation …”