Killer View

49

WHEN WALT’S ATTEMPTS TO REACH GAIL FAILED, HE RESISTED using the power of his office to find her, knowing any such personal use would be held against him. Instead, he sought out his divorce attorney, Jan Wygle, in an attempt to get his daughters returned.

As he sat in the officer’s reception, an NPR report out of Boise caught his attention.

“Today, the state senate’s environmental impact committee will hear public comments on the Semper Group’s management of the Idaho Nuclear Laboratory. Conditions of Semper’s contract with the federal and state governments require semia

The reporter continued the story, reminding listeners of the controversial shipments of overseas nuclear waste to the INL. Said to be for temporary storage, much of the Japanese and Korean low-level waste had been held in drums above ground in central Idaho for nearly a decade. Semper was said to be in negotiations to extend the program by accepting Russian low-level waste. Walt’s ears pricked up when Hillabrand’s name was mentioned. He was to be the committee’s chief witness, testifying at three P.M. A public forum.

He faced a two-hour drive or a thirty-minute flight. His first phone call was not to Nancy, nor to Barge Levy, who he hoped might fly him over to Boise now that his own pilot’s license had been suspended. It was instead to Da

“You want what?” Cutter had asked.

“You heard me right,” Walt answered.

“I don’t know if that’s possible.”

“Find a way,” Walt told the man. “Both our futures may depend upon it.”

WALT ARRIVED AT the statehouse in Boise wearing a crisp, heavily starched uniform, his shoes and belt polished to gleaming, his hardware sparkling. It was three-twenty by the time he slipped through the door of the hearing room, where a dais held five state senators, four men and a woman. The room’s interior was a magnificent throwback to the grand statehouses of the nineteenth century: aged mahogany and walnut panels, a marble floor, and brass chandeliers. Roger Hillabrand sat at a long table, front and center, with his back to the main doors, the fabric of his suit shining. He took no notice of Walt’s entrance.

The same could not be said for James Peavy. The dignified-looking rancher sat on the aisle in the fifth row of bench seating. He wore his trademark Stetson, a blue blazer, and a white oxford. He glowered at Walt. There was no mistaking that look. He shook his head faintly, like a reminder of his prior warning, and his eyes tracked Walt, as he found a seat.

Most of the hearing centered on the proposed expansion of the so-called temporary storage of offshore low-level nuclear waste, and, when the hearing was thrown open to public comment, the room became hostile toward Hillabrand. At last, the chairman relieved Hillabrand by stating that the floor was closed to questions regarding that particular issue, and the room emptied quickly. There were fewer than ten people in attendance when the chairman opened the floor to any other questions for Mr. Hillabrand and Semper’s management of the INL.

An environmentalist beat Walt to the microphone, asking what Hillabrand intended to do about a high fence that was interfering with the winter movements of an established elk herd.

Hillabrand turned around to address the questioner and, in doing so, spotted Walt. There was a pronounced hitch to his movement, like a film having been cut and spliced back together.

A minute later, Walt stood at the aisle microphone and introduced himself to the committee, all of whom he’d met on other occasions. He carried copies of maps, photographs, and a time line of his own investigation to the dais, then offered Hillabrand copies.

The committee chair fingered the documents and then leaned into his microphone. “Sheriff Fleming, Mr. Hillabrand comes here in good faith. He is not on trial.”

“I’m aware of that,” Walt said into the mic.

“This is a hearing. We’re just getting Mr. Hillabrand’s semia

“Yes.”

“If you have a public comment, then-”

“I do, Senator.” Walt turned slightly to address Hillabrand. “The witness is under oath?”

“He volunteered an oath at the start of his report,” the senator answered. “It is by no means binding or legal.”

“Be that as it may, I would hope it counts for something.” He looked directly at the witness. “Mr. Hillabrand, would you please view the photograph labeled ‘B’ and answer this question?” Photo B depicted the aerial view of the massive earthmovers, working alongside one of the newer INL buildings. “Are you aware of any current threats to health, including any spills, leaks, or mishandling of nuclear waste at the INL, recent or not?”

There were not enough people in attendance to throw a murmur around the room, but clearly the question caught everyone on the committee by surprise.

“I will answer the question,” Hillabrand replied confidently. “But, first, I would ask if the committee is aware of your having been detained by INL security just last night, Sheriff, and if this questioning of yours is being done at the hand of politics, in an attempt to salvage the damage last night’s incident will have upon your current reelection campaign?”

“Sheriff?” the chairman asked.

“This has nothing to do with politics, Mr. Chairman.” Walt never took his eyes off Hillabrand, whose bitten-back smile bordered on arrogance. “I have a follow-up question or two, if Mr. Hillabrand only will answer the first.”

The chairman seemed intent to not allow this to be a duel between Walt and Hillabrand. “The committee would like to set the record straight as to your detention. Did this, in fact, take place?”

“It did. Yes, sir. My glider was accidentally blown off course and intercepted by INL security. We were forced to land, questioned by INL security, and later released without charges.”

Hillabrand snorted into the microphone. Without permission from the chairman, he waved the photograph high in the air and said, “Carrying him conveniently over our facility, I see. I feel it important to inform this committee that the existence of this photograph is a violation of federal law and that the viewing of this photograph will likely require investigation.”

The statement surprised Walt. Hillabrand had just thrown Fiona under the bus. Walt had hoped that Fiona’s involvement with Hillabrand might mitigate how seriously he intended to prosecute the photography.

The committee turned in on itself for internal discussion. Indiscernible whispering floated through the room, as the steam radiators popped and clanked. Walt felt desperate to at least get his first question answered, though it now seemed obvious that Hillabrand was willing to lie.

“You said you would answer the question,” Walt reminded.

“I’m unaware of any spills or leaks or any health threats posed by our operations at the INL.”

“Have you or any of your employees,” Walt asked him, “had contact with, or offered payments to, Lon Bernie, James Peavy, or Daniel Cutter in exchange for their silence, their participation in a cover-up concerning contamination of groundwater in the Pahsimeroi Valley?”

This question sent the committee into gasps and further consultation; harsh glances at both Hillabrand and Walt. Someone left the room behind Walt, and, within seconds, a dozen spectators hurried inside, including a few reporters, judging by their busy notepads. The chairman took notice of the arrival of the press, cupped his mouth, and went back to whispering to his panel members.