The room was silent for a long moment. David took a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I think we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot here. I didn’t mean to cause trouble. I was just trying to help.”

Thompson smiled, and it was as if he slipped on a mask. His face lost its color, and the hatred that dominated his gaze retreated, hiding behind the hard, gray coldness of his eyes. “This is a very serious problem for the plant. From now on, let me do the talking.”

I know it is, asshole, David thought, but kept it to himself. Thompson’s sudden change kept him off balance.

“David Pierce?” The new voice came from an older man in worn overalls, standing in the doorway. He looked to be in his late fifties. His face was deeply creased from long exposure to extreme weather; these lines seemed to define his features, so that while his eyes seemed to disappear when he smiled, still his face took on a warm and friendly glow. He had a pronounced Maine accent, so that “Pierce” became “Pee-yes,” rolling off his tongue in a heavy drawl.

David found he liked him immediately.

“Did I interrupt somethin’?”

“No, Mr. Pierce was just leaving.”

David stared at Thompson for a long moment, then turned his back on him and walked over to the man in the doorway.

“You must be Hank Babcock.”

“Ayuh. Got my Jeep out front, if you’re all set.”

“Great.” Without looking back, David left the room.

As the door closed behind them, Hank let out a low chuckle. “Tense in there?” “Yes, it was.” David slowly let his fists unclench as they walked down the hall. His footsteps were swallowed by the deep carpeting. Like I wasn’t even here, he thought grimly. Maybe that would be for the best. “Met that guy once last year when I was working for the state. He was looking to buy a hydro dam in Bangor. Never liked him much. Seemed tighter than a whore’s dress. You know what I’m saying?”

David smiled. “I sure do.”

“Anyways, if you don’t mind I’ll change the subject. Don’t mind me, I do that a whole hell of a lot. Now, Mr. Olmstead called me up and told me when you was comin’, and where to meet you. I don’t know much else, but that could be just as well. I got a tendency to run at the mouth a little.” Hank chuckled again. “We better take my Jeep. It gets a little rough out there.”

They walked out the doors and into the cold air. Hank led him down the steps to an off-white, muchabused Jeep Cherokee. Its sides were spotted with brown rust.

“Palomino,” David said.