Free Black Sun Descending by Stephen Legault Page A

can I tell you? He’s into uranium. Lives in Page when he’s not prowling around the Arizona Strip looking for glowing rocks.”
    â€œDid Jane go up against him?”
    â€œI guess she would have. I bet that she was pushing hard for the uranium ban. All those little creeks that are getting polluted with radioactive mining waste are draining straight into the Grand Canyon. I bet if we riffle through the rest of these files, we’d find something, or maybe on her computer.”
    â€œWell, the FBI has that .”
    Hayduke scanned the piles of paper. “What’s that pile?” He pointed to a stack that was three inches high.
    â€œImportant, but not a threat.” Silas tapped it.
    Hayduke pulled a letter off the top. “Look, it’s your old friend, Senior Senator for Utah C. Thorn Smith. He’s writing as the Chair of the Senate Committee on Natural Resources.”
    â€œI read it. It’s about a mine approval on the North Rim. Something called Patriot One. In the letter Smith is reminding Jane that the Patriot One was approved before the ban, and that she should stop complaining about it. This was just months before Jane disappeared. You know, Hayduke, if we knew for sure that Jane was fighting for the uranium ban on the North Rim, it would make a lot of sense that she ended up in a uranium mine waste site.”
    â€œWould this do?” Hayduke had gotten up and was standing next to a bulletin board covered in newspaper clippings, memos, news releases, and photos. He pulled the front-page clipping from the Salt Lake Tribune from the board and handed it to Silas.
    â€œConservationists applaud mining ban,” the headline read. Beneath it was a picture of people smiling, shaking hands. The Grand Canyon was in the background.
    â€œDude in the cowboy hat is the Secretary of the Interior,” Hayduke pointed out.
    â€œAnd this is Jane Vaughn,” said Silas, “shaking the Secretary’s hand.”

SILAS PEARSON WAS WOKEN BY a sharp knock on his door.
    â€œHold on,” he croaked.
    The knocking continued.
    He reached for his pants and pulled on a shirt. When he opened the door he saw Special Agent Eugene Nielsen. With him was a Latino man who wore a crisp suit and had a toothpick in his mouth.
    â€œI’m sorry to have woken you,” said Nielsen. Silas was patting down the quills of his hair. “This is Special Agent Manuel Ortiz. He’s with the Flagstaff office of the FBI .”
    Silas was silent for a long moment, regarding the men. “We have some questions for you,” Ortiz said.
    â€œYou want to come in?” Silas looked behind himself at the room. It was small and there was no place to sit.
    â€œThat’s very generous of you, Dr. Pearson,” Ortiz continued. “But we think it would be better if you came to visit us at our offices.”
    IT WAS AGREED that Silas could shower, change, have breakfast, and meet the FBI at ten that morning. He picked up a newspaper from the corner and had a sit-down breakfast at an upscale café on San Francisco Street. There was no sign of Hayduke. The pair had agreed to meet that morning but the young man was nowhere to be seen. Maybe the FBI had found him first and arranged for him to be questioned.
    That thought made Silas think that he should place a call to Ken Hollyoak. When he was finished his breakfast he stepped out of the diner and dialed Ken on his cell.
    â€œYou can’t talk with them,” was Ken’s blunt response.
    â€œWhat do you want me to do?”
    â€œSit tight. Tell them I’ll be there by four and we can talk then.”
    â€œI can handle this. I think Jane Vaughn was on to something that might lead me to Penny, Ken.”
    â€œAmigo, the FBI is not trying to help you find your beautiful wife. They are investigating a murder, and you, my wayward friend, are among their suspects.”
    â€œKen, I’ve got a list of names of people who