was strictly against regulations: he didn’t wear the full belt with cuffs and reloaders and holster, but just the pistol in a light-weight breakaway holster on the belt of his trousers.
Cowboy, Anna thought. The gun was just for show.
She’d wondered why Pilcher never called him on his boots, why Lucas Vega hadn’t made him adhere to the defensive equipment standards. Then Christina, who worked as a part-time secretary in the main NPS office in Houghton, told her why the brass treated Scotty with kid gloves. When typing the minutes of the last Equal Opportunity meeting, Chris had discovered Scotty was suing ISRO for not giving him Pilcher’s position when he’d applied for it. He accused the park of discriminating against him because of his age.
The way he saw it, the fact that he refused to learn the long-range navigation device all the Bertrams were equipped with, and had let his scuba-diving license lapse was mere detail.
Anna smiled. She knew altogether too much about Scotty Butkus. It was handy having someone on the inside.
“Morning, Scotty,” she said, shading her eyes to look up at him.
“Morning. Lieu day?”
She nodded. He looked awful. His face was gray and puffy and his eyes were bloodshot. The skin on his neck hung loose. He looked like a man who was drinking heavily, sleeping poorly, and was badly hung over. Anna doubted he had eaten his wife. In the shape he was in he probably couldn’t keep vanilla yogurt down, much less a woman.
“Where’s Donna?” Anna asked. “I haven’t seen her around this trip. She missed Denny’s party.”
“God damn him!” Scotty exploded. Anna was so startled by his outburst she twitched the last swallow of coffee onto her trouser leg. “That son of a bitch ask you to nose around? Tell him to look after his own goddam wife for a change.”
“No,” Anna said calmly. “Denny didn’t send me. I was just making polite conversation. Why? What would Denny want to know he couldn’t ask you himself?”
Scotty chose not to answer for a minute. He jumped into the Cisco with surprising agility. Anna could see she’d underestimated his physical abilities. He was killing himself with booze and cigarettes but he had kept his strength. His upper body looked powerful, the arms hard-muscled.
He busied himself checking the fuel levels, the lines, and a few other things that didn’t need checking. Anna sensed he was itching to gossip, to vent what was evidently a long-standing gripe. She watched in silence.
“The s.o.b. was pestering Donna. She put a flea in his ear, by God.” He smiled a crooked, inward smile that Anna could’ve sworn he’d learned from watching Randolph Scott movies. “That little gal he married on the rebound is in for a hell of a life hitched to that bastard.”
“Is that why Donna didn’t come to the reception?” Anna persisted.
Suddenly Scotty looked wily, his eyes narrowing in an almost cartoon fashion. Suspicious, Anna thought, but it could’ve just been the hangover biting down. “Donna’s gone back to the mainland. Her sister, Roberta, has a ruptured disk. Donna’s looking after the kids till she gets on her feet again.” He turned the key and the Cisco responded with a rattling lawn mower noise. Anna got up and untied his lines for him. “See ya,” he said as she dropped them over the side. Without a backward look, he motored out toward the main channel.
Anna picked up her Styrofoam cup. It was time to find out a little more about Donna Butkus. Anna had entered on duty May 3, six days before the early staff had moved to the island. The Butkuses had followed a week or so later. Secreted away on Amygdaloid, she had missed Lucas Vega’s getting-to-know-you potluck. Almost everything she knew about her fellow islanders she’d learned secondhand through Christina’s letters. As a secretary at the headquarters in Houghton, Chris was in on everything.
Anna carried her cup back to the Administration Building.
The architect
Cowboy, Anna thought. The gun was just for show.
She’d wondered why Pilcher never called him on his boots, why Lucas Vega hadn’t made him adhere to the defensive equipment standards. Then Christina, who worked as a part-time secretary in the main NPS office in Houghton, told her why the brass treated Scotty with kid gloves. When typing the minutes of the last Equal Opportunity meeting, Chris had discovered Scotty was suing ISRO for not giving him Pilcher’s position when he’d applied for it. He accused the park of discriminating against him because of his age.
The way he saw it, the fact that he refused to learn the long-range navigation device all the Bertrams were equipped with, and had let his scuba-diving license lapse was mere detail.
Anna smiled. She knew altogether too much about Scotty Butkus. It was handy having someone on the inside.
“Morning, Scotty,” she said, shading her eyes to look up at him.
“Morning. Lieu day?”
She nodded. He looked awful. His face was gray and puffy and his eyes were bloodshot. The skin on his neck hung loose. He looked like a man who was drinking heavily, sleeping poorly, and was badly hung over. Anna doubted he had eaten his wife. In the shape he was in he probably couldn’t keep vanilla yogurt down, much less a woman.
“Where’s Donna?” Anna asked. “I haven’t seen her around this trip. She missed Denny’s party.”
“God damn him!” Scotty exploded. Anna was so startled by his outburst she twitched the last swallow of coffee onto her trouser leg. “That son of a bitch ask you to nose around? Tell him to look after his own goddam wife for a change.”
“No,” Anna said calmly. “Denny didn’t send me. I was just making polite conversation. Why? What would Denny want to know he couldn’t ask you himself?”
Scotty chose not to answer for a minute. He jumped into the Cisco with surprising agility. Anna could see she’d underestimated his physical abilities. He was killing himself with booze and cigarettes but he had kept his strength. His upper body looked powerful, the arms hard-muscled.
He busied himself checking the fuel levels, the lines, and a few other things that didn’t need checking. Anna sensed he was itching to gossip, to vent what was evidently a long-standing gripe. She watched in silence.
“The s.o.b. was pestering Donna. She put a flea in his ear, by God.” He smiled a crooked, inward smile that Anna could’ve sworn he’d learned from watching Randolph Scott movies. “That little gal he married on the rebound is in for a hell of a life hitched to that bastard.”
“Is that why Donna didn’t come to the reception?” Anna persisted.
Suddenly Scotty looked wily, his eyes narrowing in an almost cartoon fashion. Suspicious, Anna thought, but it could’ve just been the hangover biting down. “Donna’s gone back to the mainland. Her sister, Roberta, has a ruptured disk. Donna’s looking after the kids till she gets on her feet again.” He turned the key and the Cisco responded with a rattling lawn mower noise. Anna got up and untied his lines for him. “See ya,” he said as she dropped them over the side. Without a backward look, he motored out toward the main channel.
Anna picked up her Styrofoam cup. It was time to find out a little more about Donna Butkus. Anna had entered on duty May 3, six days before the early staff had moved to the island. The Butkuses had followed a week or so later. Secreted away on Amygdaloid, she had missed Lucas Vega’s getting-to-know-you potluck. Almost everything she knew about her fellow islanders she’d learned secondhand through Christina’s letters. As a secretary at the headquarters in Houghton, Chris was in on everything.
Anna carried her cup back to the Administration Building.
The architect
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