Dark Justice (9 page)

“I’ve been asked to represent George Zakin. As his attorney.”

The sheriff pushed his hat back. “You’re representing Zakin? I thought Bruce Bailey drew that short straw.”

“Bruce has agreed to step down, since he’s never tried anything more serious than a drunk and disorderly. Although technically, he will serve as local counsel.”

“Does Judge Pickens know about this?”

“He will as soon as he reads my entry of appearance and application for admission
pro hac vice
.”

Allen slid out of his chair, shaking his head. “Mister, it’s not for me to tell a stranger what to do. But I think you’re asking for a whole passel of trouble.”

Ben nodded. “Story of my life.”

“Mind you, I’ve got no problem with wanting to protect the environment. But those Green Rage people think it’s acceptable to break the law. What’s worse, they like to plant bombs. I had to go off to some special bomb school in L.A. just to get educated enough to deal with these characters.” Allen fingered the rim of his hat. “I don’t care nothing about their politics. But if they break the law, they’re criminals. Period.”

Ben could see he was unlikely to find much sympathy here. “Can I see my client?”

“Suit yourself. I got him in a private cell in the back.” He undipped his ring of keys from his belt. “Follow me.”

It had been bothering Ben all night. He had never been good with names, but George Zakin was so distinctive, he knew it couldn’t be a coincidence. He’d heard the name before. Unfortunately, he couldn’t for the life of him remember where.

Until he saw the man’s face.

“George Zakin,” Ben said, thinking aloud. “Zak. Of course.” He stepped into the cell and waited until the sheriff had closed the door behind him. “I represented you back in Tulsa. The chimp case. How long ago?”

“Been a good many years, counselor.” Zak grinned. “Maureen told me you were coming.”

“Six years,” Ben murmured, still thinking backwards. “Six years if it was a day.”

Zak’s long black hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Looked as if it hadn’t been washed in many moons. He had a scruffy beard that masked a rough complexion. His blue jeans had holes in at least three places. “You were just getting started back then.”

Ben nodded his head, remembering. “I was. I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“Maybe not. But you got me off.”

“You were up for first-degree murder that time, too.”

“Yup. Strange world, ain’t it?” He laughed softly. “I ’bout blew a gasket when Maureen told me who she’d lined up to handle the case. Who’da thunk?” He motioned, inviting Ben to the lower bunk, the only place to sit. “And look how far you’ve come. Now you’re the experienced defense attorney. And a writer to boot.”

“You’ve come a long way yourself,” Ben said. “From animal rights to environmental … activism.”

“Both worthy causes,” Zak said firmly. “But I realized that the forests are the emergency cause at this juncture in history. You may have heard—I had a bit of a falling-out with Clayton Langdell and the rest of the gang in the animal rights group.”

“I hadn’t.”

“But it worked out for the best. This is where I belong.”

“In jail?”

He laughed. “No, I mean with Green Rage. These are the people who know what’s really happening to the world. And they aren’t afraid to do something about it.”

Ben overlooked the last bit. Green Rage’s tendency to “do something about it” was the part he was trying to forget. “How long have you been with the group?”

“More than three years now.”

“And you’re the leader?”

“Of the local chapter.” Zak shrugged. “What can I say? I was born to lead.”

“There must be more to it.”

“I had a lot of experience from the chimp raids and whatnot that Green Rage found invaluable. Believe me, after figuring out how to break into some of those high-security research labs, spiking trees and putting sugar in Mr. Ranger’s gas tank is a cinch.” He leaned forward eagerly. “So you’re going to take my case?”

“Only if you want me to. This isn’t a mandatory assignment. You have the right to pick your own attorney. If you don’t want me, just say the word and I’m out the door.”

“What, are you kidding? Before, I was headed for trial with some nerd who couldn’t beat a traffic ticket. Now I’m with my old buddy, the lawyer with a proven track record. This is a dream come true.”

“Still, it could focus the prosecution on your prior arrest—”

“Ben, I was looking at doing twenty, thirty years in the state pen, easy. Maybe even the death penalty. Until now. I know what you can do. I’ve seen you do it.”

“All right, then.” Ben pulled out a legal pad and tried to make himself comfortable. “Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

Zak spread out expansively on the other end of the cot. “I gather you know about Green Rage—what we’re doing and why.”

“I’ve got the general idea. The immediate goal is to prevent the clear-cutting of the Crescent National Forest.”

“Right. The federal government and the Forest Service already sold us out. Green Rage is the last line of defense. We’ve been busting our chops trying to come up with some way to stop the destruction.”

“Monkeywrenching?”

“You bet. Whenever and however we can. Tree spiking. Road blockades. Sugar in the carburetor. We’ve also tried to come up with a legal solution.”

“Like what?”

“Well, the only way we could get an injunction would be if we found some endangered species that’s indigenous to the forest—a species that would be threatened by the clear-cutting. You know, a snail darter or spotted owl or something.”

“But you couldn’t find a conveniently endangered species.”

“Right. And frankly, given the current political climate, I’m not sure a snail darter would be enough to do the trick. There’s too damn much money to be made out there. We need something sexy.”

“Like the largest cedar tree in North America?”

“Exactly. We kept hearing rumors about the damn thing from campers and hunters, but we never could find it. And we heard other rumors that were even more exciting.”

“Such as?”

Zak grinned. Ben remembered that he could be incredibly charismatic when he wanted to be. “Bigfoot.”

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not. Haven’t you read the newspaper articles?”

“I don’t read those kinds of newspapers.”

“Some of them have been in legitimate papers. There’ve been several sightings in the last few months. People come down out of the forest and swear they’ve seen a huge hairy manlike beast walking—or running—upright in the forest.”

“That’s preposterous.”

“That’s what I thought at first. But the stories just kept coming.”

“Crackpots.”

Zak laughed. “I gather you’re not a student of cryptozoology.”

“I don’t even know what it is.”

“Cryptozoology. The study of legendary or imaginary animals, and specifically the determination of whether they actually exist.”

“If Bigfoot existed, he’d be in a zoo by now.”

“Says you. Did you know the mountain gorilla was believed to be a mythical animal—till it was discovered and photographed by explorers? And that wasn’t until the early twentieth century.”

“Nonetheless, no one with half a brain is going to believe there’s really a Bigfoot. Much less a federal court.”

“Granted, we would need a lot of proof. But you’re wrong to assume that no one sensible would believe it possible. A scientific team working out of Mount Hood has spent three years and more than half a million bucks searching for Sasquatch.”

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not. It’s called the Bigfoot Research Project. Fellow named Peter Byrne ran the whole thing. Using grant money from Boston’s Academy of Applied Science. They rigged the forests with underground sensors that would detect the movements of any large creatures.”

“So did they find any Bigfoots? Or should that be Bigfeet?”

Zak smirked. “No, they didn’t. But their operation has given this whole Sasquatch thing a great deal more credibility.”

“And this interested Green Rage?”

“You’d better believe it.” Zak leaned forward, gesticulating energetically with his hands, like a storyteller spinning yarns over a campfire. “Forget the snail darter. If we could prove the forest was the habitat of Sasquatch, those loggers wouldn’t stand a chance in court.”

Ben’s eyes narrowed. “I’m beginning to get the picture. You faked the Bigfoot sightings. You dressed up in a costume and ran around some drunken fishermen or something.”

“Ben, Ben, Ben. I didn’t dress up in any costume. When did you become so cynical? This isn’t the Ben Kincaid I knew back in Tulsa.”

“It isn’t?”

“Hell, no. Back then, you were—well, if anything, a bit on the naive side.

People used to joke about it, down at the courthouse. Seemed like you’d fall for anything.” He folded his arms. “But at the moment I’m detecting a distinct lack of acceptance. What happened to you?”

“Everybody grows up,” Ben murmured. “I’ve had some … distinctly eye-opening experiences since you saw me last. But let’s get back to your story.”

“Right. So anyway, we were looking for this tree, we were looking for Sasquatch. And we were trying to buy ourselves time with the usual monkey-wrenching tactics.”

“Like planting lethal spikes in trees marked for cutting?”

Zak frowned. “We never spiked trees without telling the loggers.”

“I know you’ve blown up equipment.”

“What of it? Those goddamned loggers have blown up people.
People
!” He pushed himself off the bunk and began pacing in an agitated circle. “Do you know who Judi Bari is?”

Ben shook his head.

“She used to lead Earth First! She was making real strides, stopping the clear-cutting of the coast redwoods. First, the loggers ran her off the road and threatened to beat her up—while she had her little girl in the car. Then they put a bomb in her car. Blew up right beneath her. Thousands of nails were projected into her body at hundred-plus velocities. She didn’t die—although at the time she wished she had—but she’ll be crippled for life.”

“If she was attacked, I’m sure the law enforcement people will—”

“Are you joking? They never even investigated. They said she must have planted the bomb herself.”

“
What
?”

“You heard me. The FBI accused her of making the bomb herself. Said she left it in her car by mistake or it exploded prematurely. They never investigated other possibilities, even though she had just been assaulted a few weeks before.”

“Still—that must be an extreme case.”

“She’s not the only one. Leroy Jackson, a militant Navajo who fought to save a sacred forest of ponderosas in the Chuska Mountains, was found dead under his pickup. Ranchers tried to push conservationist Dick Carter over a cliff in Utah. Jeff Eliott’s logging-town home was burned to the ground after he joined Earth First! A bulldozer operator in Siskiyou National Forest buried five blockaders in dirt. A truck driver ran over Dave Foreman, another former leader of Earth First! Buzz Youens, an opponent of logging in the Apache National Forest, disappeared after threats on his life by loggers. His decaying body was found a year later—handcuffed to a tree. He’d been shot.”

Ben stuttered. “I—hadn’t heard.”

“Of course you hadn’t. They don’t want you to hear. Face it, Ben, the news media are controlled by the big business interests that pay their bills. Every time we walk into Magic Valley, we think, ‘Is this the time? Is this when the loggers get us like they did Judi? Is this the time I get blown up or beaten or burned alive?’ ”

“I think we’re wandering a bit from our subject.”

“I just want you to understand what we’re up against. They have the strength, the resources. The money. And the cold-blooded willingness to use them to protect their precious bottom line.” His face twisted up with disgust. “We’re kids on the playground next to those butchers.”

“Nonetheless, you have participated in illegal activities.”

“Yeah, me and Gandhi. For a good cause. I believe what Thoreau said: ‘Let your life be a counter friction to stop the machine.’ And,” Zak added, “I’ve never hurt anybody.”

“Then you didn’t—”

Zak looked directly into Ben’s eyes. “Didn’t kill that logger? Of course I didn’t. Did you think I did?”

“I—” Ben coughed. “Well, I couldn’t be sure until …”

“Ben, listen to me. I didn’t kill Gardiner. I didn’t bomb that tree cutter. I don’t know what happened out there.”

Ben listened to Zak’s words and stared deeply into his eyes. He wanted to believe him. He wanted the relief, the absolution that would come from knowing this man he had put back on the streets had not committed murder. But that assurance was not coming easily.

He continued questioning. “Why do the police think you did it?”

“I’m the obvious suspect. And police love obvious suspects.”

That part was true enough. “Why did they think of you?”

“I’m the leader of Green Rage. Green Rage is the group they most want to get rid of. Therefore, cut off the head—”

“There must be something more.”

Zak hesitated. “I—have worked with bombs before. I know a fair amount about them. In fact, I have—” He drew in his breath. “Well, I might as well come out with it. I have a felony conviction. Conspiracy to make a destructive device.”

Ben pressed his hand against his brow. “Oh, God.”

“It was all trumped up. We were going to blow some tree cutters, that’s all.”

Ben stood. “So when some poor logger was killed in a tree-cutter explosion—”

Zak tilted his head. “You got it. Obvious suspect.”

Ben frowned. He had been reluctant to take this case in the first place, and he was already beginning to regret it. “Did you know this logger?” He checked his notes. “Dwayne Gardiner?”

There was a moment of silence before Zak answered. Was it hesitation or was he just catching his breath? “No, I didn’t know him. Why should I? I don’t hang out with loggers.”

“Do you have an alibi? For the time of the murder?”

Zak shook his head. “I was in the forest. Searching for that tree. Or Bigfoot.”

“There’s no one who can vouch for you?”