The Cat Dancers

51

They landed at noon the next day in a clatter of rotor blades, which produced a miniblizzard of blowing snow. The helicopter was a modified army Blackhawk bearing the markings of the state Department of Natural Resources. The crewman got out first, still connected to his intercom umbilical. He stomped around on the thin snowpack for a moment and then gestured for them to come out. Marshall passed the gear bags to the crewman and then jumped out, followed by Cam, Mary Ellen, and the two German shepherds. Cam signaled the dogs to come with him, and then they all backed away from the helo. The crewman climbed back into the side hatch, checked the wheels out of habit for chocks, and then the bird rattled off in a big circle to the east as it climbed, leaving behind a profound silence.

They had landed in a clearing on the top of a pine-covered hill, where the snow was only about six inches deep and solidly crusted. The broad hill sloped down to the west across an open meadow leading to a narrow but vigorous river, beyond which there was a massive ridgeline of snow-covered granite rising almost two thousand feet into the sky. The main ridge ran northeast-southwest for several miles in both directions, but right in front of them was the Chop, a wedge-shaped canyon that looked like God had indeed taken an ax to the ridge. The cut was about two hundred yards wide at the base, widening to almost a half mile at the top of the mountain. The river came rushing out of the cut and then made a ninety-degree left turn to the north and disappeared into a pine forest. The sky above the ridge was a deep blue, and instead of a wind, there was a gentle wave of frigid air rolling down their side of the ridge, smelling of pine and ice.

They set up camp down in a hollow just above the river, three one-man tents for sleeping and a fourth one, which was larger, for the mess tent. Knowing they wouldn’t be packing the gear any distance, Marshall had opted for maximum comfort, even though it would be for only forty-eight hours. They hung the food bags in a nearby tree and then Marshall took them down to the river to show them the way across. The entrance to the Chop was in shadow as the afternoon sun began to settle behind the enormous ridge. The river came out of the canyon with a black vengeance. It slowed as it hit the turn and the deep bare-walled channel it had worn in the rock, then broke into a wide, shallow shoal.

“You can get across right here, which will put you on the north side of the river inside the canyon. The river hugs the south wall at the entrance.”

“How far back does that canyon go?” Cam asked. The shepherds were down at the riverbank, nosing around the rocks.

“About eight miles to the base of that ridge. It widens as it goes back. In the middle, it’s almost half a mile wide and forms a V shape. It narrows again on the Tennessee side, and then widens out again about a thousand feet up. You’ll be climbing the whole time you’re in there, and it’s in relative shadow except at midday.”

Cam studied the rushing waters. “And how exactly do we cross here?”

“Rock to rock,” Marshall said with a grin. Cam had been afraid of that. He knew he could do it, but he didn’t think the dogs could. Marshall sensed the problem.

“You cross, trailing one end of a rope over on this side. We’ll walk our end upstream, just below the bend, tie a dog into a bowline, and then you call him. Once he goes into the water, you pull, and the current will bring him down to you.”

Cam nodded. That ought to work, he thought, although Frack wasn’t really fond of water. Frick, on the other hand, would do anything once. An eagle called to its mate a thousand feet up the rock face of the ridge, and they all took a moment to watch it soar.

“This look like mountain lion country to you?” Cam asked Mary Ellen.

She nodded. “Mountain lion country is synonymous with deer country, and there’ll be deer in that canyon. It’s got water, cover, and browse.”

They stood there looking for a few minutes, taking in the shining granite walls of the ridge, the deepening shadows that were swallowing up the big pines in the canyon, and the muscular roar of the river. Cam wondered if he ought to get going. Again, Marshall seemed to sense his thoughts.

“Let’s go get set up in camp and study some topo maps,” he said. “If your man’s in that canyon, I can show you where he’s likely to make a camp.”

Cam shivered, both from the cold and from the anticipation of going up into that canyon looking for Kenny. He wondered if Kenny was really in there, or maybe up at that other mountain, which was twelve miles north. This could be a total wild-goose chase, and he said as much to Marshall.

“It’ll be a short one, then,” Marshall said. “You two go in at first light, and you have to be back here by about noon, day after tomorrow. Those DNR guys will wait for you until the snow starts, but then they’re outa here. Me, too, for that matter.” He turned to Mary Ellen. “You sure you want to go along on this? Hunting fugitives isn’t exactly in your job description.”

“Kenny’s not really a fugitive,” Cam said. Yet, he thought.

“I’m looking for evidence of a wild mountain lion,” Mary Ellen said. “The lieutenant here has the fugitive problem.”

“I hope you can maintain that distinction,” Marshall told her. “Okay, let’s go get set up. And after that, how ’bout we catch some fresh trout for dinner?”

Cam awoke that night for no apparent reason and touched his watch to see what time it was. It read 1:15. He was completely bundled into his sleeping bag, with one dog on either side of him in the tiny tent. It was definitely a two-dog night. The temperature had dropped like a stone once the sun went down, and he’d been shocked by the cold when they left the mess tent. Fortunately, there was no appreciable wind, but Cam figured it was probably down in the single digits by now. Frick licked the side of his head once when she figured out he was awake. Then her ears popped up. Something was outside.

Cam listened carefully while he groped with his right hand for the . 45 he’d put into the sleeping bag with him. There. A soft crunch of snow-very soft. Frack’s ears were up now, too, but neither dog seemed to be alarmed. Cam frowned in the dark. If it was a bear or some other wild animal, the dogs would be reacting very differently. Marshall? Up for a midnight head call? Mary Ellen, looking for a cuddle? In your dreams, he thought, grinning to himself.

Another soft crunch. Closer. The dogs listened but did not bark.

Cam studied the side of the tent, which was made of a white material. Moonlight was just visible through the square patch of air vent at the front closure. Then the moonlight was blocked out by something large, which suddenly lowered itself down to half its height. The dogs were watching but still didn’t seen upset.

Cam understood. They knew who was out there.

And so did he.

He sat up in the bag, got his arms free, and unzipped the front flaps. Kenny was squatting outside in the moonlight, his face framed in what looked like an Eskimo parka, a grin on his face. He put his finger to his lips and then gestured for Cam to come out. Then he pointed to the dogs, put his palm out, and made the standard “Down and stay” gesture. Cam frowned and shook his head. Kenny did it again. The dogs had to stay behind. Then he stood up to wait for Cam to get suited up.

Ten minutes later, they walked silently into the woods, heading toward the river. Once they were down by the rushing water, they could talk without disturbing the sleeping rangers. Cam had his gun in his parka, but he really wished he had the dogs with him. They had not been happy to be left behind, but they were German shepherds, and discipline trumped, as always.

“Our stealth helo didn’t fool you, huh?” Cam said.

Kenny snorted. “Stealth, my ass. I heard that thing coming when you were still over that ridge back there. Who’s with you?”

Cam told him.

“And she’s dying to see a wild one, isn’t she?” Kenny said.

“I don’t think she believes it,” Cam replied. “They all feel that any wild ones up here are all captive escapees. They don’t count.”

“They’re wrong. But that’s not why you’re here.”

“Nope. I’m here to bring you back in. Let me rephrase: to ask you politely to come back in. They know, Kenny.”

“They don’t know shit and they can’t prove shit, either, Cam,” Kenny said. His eyes glittered in the moonlight. An owl flew over their heads, making pulses in the still mountain air, a movement they could feel but not hear. “All we have to do is go radio-silent for a while, and we’re safe. Phone calls and statistics don’t make a case.”

“We’ll do what we always do, Kenny,” Cam said. “We’ll sift and we’ll sift, and eventually we’ll get a guy in a room. Then we’ll convince him that it’s over and that the other guys are all singing, and then we’ll convince him to make it easy on himself-you know, Club Fed instead of gen pop in the state prison.”

“You don’t know us,” Kenny said. “We’ll do what White Eye taught us to do-hunker down, go into statue mode, close our eyes, zone into the woods, make like a tree. We’ll become invisible right before your eyes. You think if you can break one, he’ll break the rest. Won’t happen.”

“Why, because you chase mountain lions?”

Kenny took a deep breath and looked away for a moment. “It’s not the cat dancing, per se,” he said finally. “It’s the frame of mind that got them to go out there and get a face in the first place. Hard-case cops who’ve had it with a corrupted system. Who would happily kill all the lawyers for thirty miles around them if they thought they could. And you know what, Cam? Some of them think that’s a doable little mission.”

“Your point being?”

“My point being that they won’t talk and they won’t break. They’ve all faced something a whole lot scarier than some fucking wimp-ass prosecutor like Steven Klein. You can’t break this unless somebody rolls, and nobody’s gonna roll.”

The river seemed noisier to Cam than it had earlier. He decided to try another tack. “Okay, if that’s the case, come back in with me. Sit in the chair and show us your stuff.”

Kenny laughed. It was an unpleasant sound. “I just might do that,” he said. “But on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“You come with me for one last dance. Over there. In the Chop.”

“Been there, did that,” Cam said. “With White Eye, remember? He wanted to give me a little demo on woodcraft, and the next thing I knew, I was up a fucking tree, with a goddamned cat climbing up after me. No thanks, Kenny.”

“This time, you go up the tree first and then watch,” Kenny said. “Just watch. That’s what we can do here in the Chop. This is where we trained. The river cuts the thing one-third, two-thirds. You go on the wide side; I’ll be on the other. I know where the den is. I want you to see this, Cam. I want you to understand why you’ll never break us. Then if you still want, I’ll come back in with you.”

“This is nuts, Kenny,” Cam said.

“Yeah, probably. But let me add a sweetener. You come with me. Right now. Leave those civilians back there. And when we’re done, I’ll tell you who did the bombing.”

“You said-”

“I said it wasn’t us. And it wasn’t. But I know who did. You come with me, I’ll tell you. That’s the price of admission. After that, it’s your call. I go in or I don’t. It’s what you really came up here for, isn’t it? I’m handing it to you.”

“How do I know you don’t have your posse up in that canyon? Your guys have tried for me twice already.”

“No, we haven’t, but what good would that do now anyway?” Kenny said. “SBI knows what you know, right? You’ve briefed Bobby Lee?”

“I have. He sent me here.”

“Well, I have the real answer. I’ll tell you, but no one else. Don’t you really want to know?”

“Let’s get something straight, Kenny,” Cam said. “We’re not friends anymore. We’re not colleagues. You were a cop, a very good cop, but you’ve crossed the line. Maybe we can’t prove that, but you and I know it. You’ve become a man-eater, and you’ve developed a taste for it.”

“You let my brother kill himself and you didn’t lift a finger,” Kenny shot back. “You knew perfectly well what he was going to do, and you just-what, walked away? Don’t lecture me about duty and doing the right thing.”

“Okay, I’ll admit it,” Cam said. “I’ve changed my mind about some things as I’ve gotten older. If a guy wants to end it all, then I think that’s his call.”

“Hold that thought, Lieutenant,” Kenny said, a strange look in his eyes. “And come with me.”