Free Dark Justice by William Bernhardt

he suspects?”
    “Naw,” Rick said confidently. “Not a chance. He’s clueless.”
    The two men fell silent. Tess supposed this was her opening. She took a cigarette out of her purse, pressed it to her lips, and tapped Rick lightly on the shoulder. “Do you know if smoking is permitted?”
    He peered at her through the smoke-filled air. “If it isn’t, you’d better run, ’cause this shack must be on fire.”
    She smiled seductively. “Got a light?”
    Rick shook his head. “Sorry. I’m not into self-destruction.”
    She set the cigarette on the counter and leaned closer to him. “What are you into?”
    “Why do you want to know?”
    “Tsk, tsk. Answering a question with a question. That’s a bit defensive.”
    “I’ve learned to be.” He started to turn back to his companion. “If you’ll excuse me.”
    Tess laid her hand on his shoulder and gently brought him back around. “Please don’t. I’m all alone here, I don’t know anyone, and I’d really like some company.”
    Rick’s expression was decidedly unsympathetic.
    “My name is Tess. What’s yours?”
    “Rick. But then, you knew that already, didn’t you?”
    Tess pulled up, startled. “Wha—what do you mean?”
    “You know exactly what I mean. Who sent you?”
    “Sent me? I just—this was the only place open—”
    “Uh-huh. Right. Look, if you’re snooping for information, just ask. Chances are I won’t tell you squat, but at least we’ll save time and you won’t have to demean yourself by pretending to come on to me.”
    Tess pressed her lips together. Some investigative reporter—it hadn’t taken him two seconds to make her. It was time to retrench.
    “Look, I’m sorry,” she said. She cast her eyes downward. “I didn’t know how to approach you. I just … wanted to talk.”
    “On whose behalf?”
    “Just—for me. I wanted to get to know you.”
    “Like I said, if you’ll excuse me—”
    “Please wait.” She held up her hands and put on her most pathetic expression. “I want to help you.” She glanced at his companion. “All of you.”
    Rick let out a guffaw. “I’m sure. Now I’ve heard everything.”
    “It’s true.” She glanced around the bar, as if checking for spies, then lowered her voice. “I know about the Cabal.”
    Rick’s eyebrows formed a broad ridge over his eyes. “What are you babbling about?”
    “You heard me. I know about them. And I think I have information you could use.”
    “And just what is it you think this Cabal is?”
    “The Cabal is a secret organization formed and funded by a consortium of major logging companies. From what I understand, each of the eight largest companies kicked in a million dollars. They hired a man to lead it, a former CIA operative experienced with dirty tricks. His name is Amos Slade.” She paused. “Although those who know him call him the Prince of Darkness.”
    “And what is it you think this so-called Cabal is supposed to do?”
    “The Cabal was formed for one reason and one reason only—to screw the environmental groups, particularly the so-called eco-terrorists like Green Rage.”
    “And why would they want to do that? We haven’t stopped the logging, as any fool can see.”
    “No, but you have made it more expensive. Most analysts estimate that eco-terrorism costs the logging industry about twenty million a year in lost equipment, derailed plans, overtime, and other related costs. I suppose compared with that, the cost of funding the Cabal seemed pretty minor.”
    “So far you haven’t told me anything I don’t already know.”
    “Do you know they’re planning to strike? Strike and strike hard.” Tess tried to keep her eyes locked firmly on his, tried not to give any hint that she had segued from known fact to pure fiction. She had learned about the Cabal, or at least heard rumors about it, during her preliminary research before coming out here. What she didn’t know—had no way of knowing—was what the Cabal planned to do