Peak Oil (29 page)

“What about Patsy?” Bruce asked.

She fiddled with her hands in her lap. “Patsy and Fitch had an affair, and she became pregnant with his kid, Chris.” Missy looked up and shook her head. “After the birth, Andy took the boy away from her. He said he didn’t want an outsider raising his kid.” Missy pursed her lips. “He paid her a lot of money to keep quiet about the boy and the technology she had developed for him.”

“What technology?” Bruce and Alexa asked in unison.

“The cellular remote monitoring and management units.”

Ryan snorted. “What do the CRMMs have to do with this?”

Missy followed the same procedure—dress, lips, shrug. “Dr. Ryan and Patricia developed the CRMMs as a way to monitor the refinery as well as manage the shutdown process remotely. More than eighty percent of the refineries in America use their technology.”

Ryan’s eyes widened as if realizing something important. “Do you think Fitch will shut down the other refineries on purpose?”

Missy nodded.

“What does that mean?” Alexa asked.

Ryan pushed his glasses up his nose and then started explaining excitedly. “If Fitch were to shut down the refineries in an uncontrolled fashion, they could blow.”

“Causing a nationwide oil shortage,” Lucy Beck chimed in.

Alexa tapped her lip with a finger. “And Fitch’s underground oil would become the most valuable asset in the USA.” She turned to Lucy. “The day David was arrested, when we met with him in his jail cell?”

Lucy Beck nodded uncertainly. “Yes?”

“What did he mean when he said that it was in the color of the water?”

Lucy shrugged. “The groundwater gets a yellow tinge to it when shale oil mixes with it.”

“And that’s how he found out about the underground oil?” Alexa asked.

Lucy Beck nodded. “That’s how he became suspicious. But he wasn’t absolutely certain until Dr. Ryan told him about it.”

Alexa turned to Ryan. “Why?”

Ryan shrugged. “He was a genius. I couldn’t keep the data from him, and he would have figured it out soon enough.” Ryan leaned back in his chair. “And I guess I wanted to come clean.” Ryan pursed his lips pensively and then looked up at Alexa. “This whole business wasn’t worth the killing and bloodshed that Andy has been planning.”

Alexa tapped her lip, deep in thought. She had to figure out a way to stop Anderson Fitch. And she had to find Neil.

They had taken a break, and Dr. Ryan had offered to make them all coffee. Alexa sat alone to the side of the room, mulling over what had been said. Whenever her thoughts drifted to Neil, her heart started hammering in her throat and she had to force herself back to the here and now, back to reality. And at this moment, Andy Fitch was her reality—the evil monster beneath her bed.

She knew that Andy Fitch was morally capable of destroying the majority of the refineries in the country, probably all of them, if he found a way to. He was a “line your pockets and live your dreams” kind of a guy. Money equals power, and in some sick way he thought that by looking after his own, he was giving back to society, and that made everything fine and dandy. His damn ocelots had a kitty litter box the size of a house, for freak’s sake!

After what he had done to her, she knew he lived in his own sick psychopathic world and that he would be able to justify any action as long as it contributed to his state of wellbeing. She wondered if he believed in karma. She snorted, causing a couple of inquiring looks from the men around her.

If Fitch managed to shut down most of the other refineries, and Refatex was the only refinery available, Brent Crude would be shipped here in a hurry. And he would fetch top dollar for his own stash of premium sweet crude waiting to be pilfered from beneath Dabbort Creek.

She guessed not many questions would be asked in the pandemonium that would ensue. If he could ship out his higher grade of oil to refineries that were capable of processing it, he could remove all traces of where it came from within a couple of months. He was a sick bastard, but he wasn’t stupid.

Alexa tapped her upper lip with her index finger and then stood up and took a seat next to Missy. “How do you go about shutting down the refineries?”
 

“You mean the procedure?”

Alexa nodded.

“You send a remote initiation code to a specific cellular number supplied by the Refatex call center. Easy as pie.”

“Can you cancel the shutdown process once it has been initiated?”

The older woman shifted her weight in her chair. “If you have the cancellation codes, yes.”

Alexa nodded slowly. “Who has access to these codes?”

“Refatex. The process is strictly controlled by the supervising staff at the call center.” Missy drummed her fingers on the table. “You phone in to the Refatex Operations call center, and they give you a code to send to the specific number.”
 

“Who else?” Alexa asked.

“Anderson Fitch,” she said with a shrug. “Patricia and Fitch have the master copies.” She pursed her lips. “I met with her a couple of days ago, and she wanted me to take them.”

“Why?”

Missy sighed. “She said she feels like a sitting duck, thinks Fitch is out to get her.”

“She could be right, Pauline.”

Missy nodded slowly, her lips pursed. “Call me Missy, everybody does.”

“And Chris Fitch is Patricia’s son?”
 

Missy nodded.

“The guy with the cowboy hat always hanging around at the inn?” Alexa asked.

Missy nodded again. She didn’t seem to be in a talkative mood anymore.

Alexa removed the drawing of the cowboy beating the young woman that Mary-Lou had made. “Who is this?” she asked and handed the picture to Missy.

Missy’s hand went to her throat. “That’s my daughter, Lily. My husband passed away when she was still a baby.” She glanced up at Alexa and blinked. “Chris Fitch got her pregnant.” She shook her head. “He beat her to death and then tried to kill Mary-Lou.”

Alexa handed her another drawing of a cowboy looking up from below a Stetson with a grin on his face. “Is this Chris Fitch?”
 

Pauline took the picture and nodded. “Yes,” she said and looked at Alexa. “Where did you get this?”
 

“Mary-Lou drew it.”
 

Alexa handed the picture to Bruce. He studied it and his eyes widened. “But this is—”

“Bis Latorre,” Alexa spat as she slammed the table with a fist.
 

Laiveaux grabbed the picture and examined it. “
Merde
, that lying little—”

“Could that be why he joined the League?” Bruce interrupted.

Missy blinked and then sighed, close to tears. “Yes. He was convicted of first-degree murder, open-and-shut case. My daughter was dead, and what did that worthless piece of shit decide to do?”

She looked around, but nobody said anything.

“He ran away. And now the coward’s back, like a dog returning to its own mess.”

Alexa breathed in deeply. She would deal with him when the time came. Her primary objective was to kill Fitch and then find Neil. “Why did they try to kill you, Pauline?”

Pauline looked at her lap. “Bingo nights, I guess.”

“What?” Bruce asked confused.

Pauline closed her eyes as she sighed. She looked like she was going to have a nervous breakdown, her hands trembling in her lap. “Whenever Fitch is in town, we have what we call bingo nights.” Her eyes dropped to her lap. “That’s when I show him all the evidence that I have gathered.”

Alexa frowned. “What evidence?”

Pauline glanced at Alexa and bit her lower lip. “Anything he could use against his enemies.” She lowered her eyes again. “Like the incriminating photos that he had of you,” she whispered.

Alexa eyes widened and she jumped up. “You took those?”

Pauline nodded guiltily. “Fitch knew that you would check the room for bugs, but I could easily get close enough because I had the keys to the adjoining room.” She straightened her dress. “A simple matter of sneaking in and not getting caught.”

Alexa glowered at her, a fiery heat making her face feel warm. Bruce cast her a questioning glance, but she ignored him. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. “What else?”
 

Pauline shrugged. “I told him that you were heading to the refinery. He was waiting for you.” Pauline looked up at Alexa, her face contorted into a tortured grimace. “I’m so sorry, Alexa.”

Alexa glowered.

“He would have killed me and Mary-Lou,” she said, looking at Alexa pleadingly. “You must understand. But Patsy and I decided to come clean, and I didn’t give Fitch any more information.”

“And that is why he decided to get rid of you?” Bruce asked.

Pauline nodded, sniveling. She looked up as she dabbed at the corner of her eye with a Kleenex. “I’m so sorry.”

Bruce tore the rat pack open with his teeth and removed the noodles. The twenty-four hour ration pack contained everything a soldier needed to function at his peak, a total of 3,500 calories of energy.
The packaging is probably tastier than the freeze-dried ingredients it contained
, he thought.

He filled a tin mug with water from a kettle set up in the makeshift kitchen of the mess hall, dumped the contents of the silver packet into the mug, and stirred it with his finger. The days were too sweltering for heated beverages; they never boiled the water through the day. The ingredients went down easier when washed down with liquid, though.

He pulled out a chair and sat down, slurping up the bland ingredients in the mug, trying to coax the floating pieces of flotsam into his mouth without spilling.
 

Alexa had left an hour ago with Missy to have her wounds redressed. He smiled. That’s why he loved her so much. Alexa forgave easily; you simply had to ask.

He looked up as a car squealed to a halt in the parking lot. The driver switched off the engine but didn’t climb out. The warm muffler box ticked as it cooled down, the golden logo of Dabbort Creek Police Department’s insignia shimmering on the car hood.

Deputy Dwight Harvey’s shoulders heaved up and down slowly as he took a couple of deep breaths. He nodded as if in conversation with himself and climbed out.

Bruce watched as Porter intercepted him, bowing his head down as Harvey animatedly explained something to him. Porter turned around and marched to Bruce.

“The deputy would like a word with you,” he said, pointing his thumb over his shoulder. “Something about a murder.”

Bruce nodded and Porter waved the deputy over.
 

Harvey stood in front of him, fanning his blushing face with his hat. “Good day, Major,” he said and blinked twice. His armpits were soaked.

Bruce studied the man. He had no sympathy for him. His daughter had gotten hurt under this man’s watch, in his town, by one of his residents. Bruce nodded curtly.

Harvey pinched the side pleat of his pants and then pulled his collar away with his index finger. “Someone was murdered last night.”

“Who?”

“Patsy McBride, she was a waitress at Mo’s Diner.” Harvey looked like a Bassett hound, his jowls flapping up and down as he spoke.

“Okay,” Bruce said, watching the man intently.

The deputy shifted his weight uncomfortably. “Well, since you are from Interpol, I thought you would be interested.” He wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. “It may be connected to your case.”

Bruce nodded. ”Give me a minute.” He punched a number into his cell and waited. Alexa answered after a couple of rings. “How is she?” Bruce asked.

“Doctor says she’s fine. Second degree burns, but she’s tough as nails.” Alexa had the musical tinkle back in her voice. “Already ordering everyone around and rearranging the reception area,” she reported.
 

Bruce smiled at the thought. “I have Deputy Harvey with me. Apparently a lady called Patsy McBride was murdered last night. She was a waitress at Mo’s Diner.” He looked at Harvey, who nodded, sweat dripping from his chin. The man was dissolving in front of his eyes. “Do you want to check it out?”

“I’ll meet you at the diner in five minutes.”
 

Bruce disconnected the call, stood up, and flung his jacket over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

Alexa kept the rental car idling in front of Mo’s Diner. Deputy Harvey’s patrol car approached, and he switched on the strobe light for a second and waved at her. Bruce was seated next to him.

They waited for a tanker truck to pass, made a U-turn, and drove in an easterly direction to the countryside. Five miles later, the deputy’s car slowed down at a sign that said, “Rio Vista.” He turned left onto a neat tarmac road canopied by trees. They drove for a hundred yards, reached a T-junction, and turned right, driving along the edge of the river. The view was amazing; the river was much wider here, hemmed in by a thick forest of trees on either side.

Harvey indicated that he was turning right into the driveway of a big, three-story country manor. Alexa leaned forward, shaking her head slowly when she saw the place. Patsy must have been getting some really good tips to be able to afford a mansion like this. The property was unfenced, and a large rolling lawn stretched all the way to the back. She followed Harvey’s patrol car to an empty barn at the back of the house, which had enough parking space for half a dozen cars.