“That’s a lot of money at stake.”
“It is, but let’s be clear, it’s not just about the money.” Moss leaned back against the workstation. “Or being able to run your air conditioners twenty-four hours a day and drive around gas guzzlers. We’re not just talking lower gas prices anymore. The real number that matters is the percentage. The percentage of domestic to imported oil. That’s what we’re really doing here, Mr. Hauck. What’s really at stake. It’s about independence. The independence from the Middle East. Economically and politically. Trust me, Mr. Hauck, what we’re doing here is a lot deeper than simply pleasing our shareholders. We’re talking foreign policy, and national security.”
National security … The battle for hearts and minds, just like in Iraq and Afghanistan. That’s how Alpha fit in, Hauck began to see. Shifting the battlefield. The new football fields, fancy parks. Town centers. Inform. Persuade. Influence. As lethal as if they’d sent in the Special Forces commandos to take out a bad actor in the night.
The last thing you wanted was for anyone to get in the way.
“So what do you think?” Moss’s smile had returned. “Impressive …?”
It was clear to Hauck he was getting the tour designed to push him off why he was here. Moss had already been alerted about him. Before Hauck even showed up today. “Very.”
It was Moss himself who had said it: I was using the word environment far more broadly …
What the hell had Trey Watkins’s father done?
On the drive back, Moss’s conversation grew more personal. Who was Hauck up here with? What else he’d done with his time? How long was he planning on staying? They got back to the RMM lot. Moss asked where Hauck had parked and drove him over to his car.
“Sorry I couldn’t have been more helpful on the Robertson thing. Hope you enjoyed the tour, though.”
“Thanks. It was very interesting.” They shook hands and Hauck stepped out.
“Next time through,” Moss said, “I’d like you to meet Mr. Stafford, our regional general manager.”
“Maybe that can be arranged,” Hauck said, watching Moss’s expression slide. “I’m not sure I’m leaving so soon.”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Dani was going stir-crazy. Growing worried, too. He had left around ten and it was already after three. She’d called. She sat around watching Oprah and Ellen. She called again.
Finally he knocked on her door.
“I was worried. I didn’t know what happened to you,” she said, shifting on her bed, her arms around a pillow, the TV on. “You left for RMM at ten. That was over four hours ago.”
“I got waylaid,” he sheepishly replied.
“Waylaid?”
“I went to see Hannah.”
“Lucky you.”
“Hannah’s a well, Dani,” he said, noting her perturbed expression. “It’s where those trucks we saw on the road were heading the other day. And I found out a few things you might want to know. The first is, those tankers we almost ran into weren’t filled with oil after all.”
“What were they for then?”
“Water. Lots of water.”
“Okay. And what’s so great about that?”
“Water is how they get the oil out. They—”
“Fracking. I get it, Uncle Ty. I think I told you that when we drove up. I know the process.”
“Dani, look around … What’s the one thing you don’t see around here? The place is in the middle of a two-year drought. And RMM needs thousands and thousands of gallons of water. So where do you think it comes from?”
She nodded. “Those trucks coming up from the river …”
“That facility we thought was a well, well, it isn’t. It’s a pumping station. For water. They’re literally draining the river. And they might well be dumping it back in once they’re through with it. You want your potatoes irrigated with fracking wastewater?”
She shook her head. “No, not really.”
“Neither would I. I’m starting to see how Alpha fits in to all this.” Hauck sank into a chair across from her. “Their job is to eliminate any organized or lingering opposition before the oil companies come in and do their thing. They come up with a strategy, just like they did in the war: persuading the local population, buying any resistance off. E.g. the fancy football fields, health centers, and municipal buildings. And maybe turn the screws on anyone else.”
“I thought they handled issues relating to the environment,” Dani said.
“It is the environment. They’re just using the word a lot more liberally. Meaning anyone—a town council, a building ordinance, or even a stubborn individual who is standing in their way, or maybe stirring up trouble …”
“Trey’s father.” Dani nodded, starting to get the picture.
“I think I’d like to pay him another visit, if your friend Allie is still there.”
“I think she’s heading back tomorrow.”
“Up for it?” Hauck winked.
“I’m up for anything that gets me out of this dump you made me hang out in all day.” She wheeled around and put her feet into her sneakers. “You know you could have called. After what happened on the road, when I didn’t hear back for all this time, I was worried. That wasn’t nice.”
“You’re right.” Hauck tossed her her Whitewater Adventure sweat shirt, which was flung over the chair. “Won’t happen again. My bad.”
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
They drove back out to the farm, sure that Trey was killed for some action aimed against his father. They got there at around 4:30, hoping to catch Watkins at the end of the day.
This time, there were only a few cars in front of the house and a few hands milling around. They knocked on the front door. Trey’s mother, Marie, a warm, but no-frills-looking woman in her fifties with graying hair and no makeup, opened it, and let them in.
“Mrs. Watkins …” Hauck said.