is—dumping toxic waste is just one of a host of serious environmental crimes taking place out there.”
Tom listened, asking the occasional question, as Kara told him how the whistleblower went to work for Northrup three years ago and had noticed immediately that strange things were happening. Emissions data he’d recorded during the day were altered between shifts. Oils and solvents recorded as having been disposed of at a toxic-waste facility were warehoused in leaking drums—and then magically disappeared. And the primary air-pollution-control system on their main building hadn’t been operational since before he’d gone to work for the plant, despite data in the company’s state reports that claimed the system was fully operational and sucking up millions of pounds of pollutants each year. As the plant paid the state by the pound for emissions, Northrup’s lie could be saving the company hundreds of thousands of dollars each year.
Tom frowned thoughtfully from beneath his mane of hair and matching bushy eyebrows. “Does he have an ax to grind with management?”
Kara had already thought of this. The first rule of dealing with a whistleblower: find out if he or she has reason to get back at the company.
“He says his record is clean except for a workmen’s comp claim last year, which he disputed and won with the union’s help. Of course, he could be lying. We have no way to know for certain unless we ask Northrup, but then we’d be giving him away.”
“Any record on Northrup?”
“I’m putting together an open-records request on them as soon as we finish. I’ll have that out before I leave today. If the health department or the EPA has anything on file for them, I’ll find it.”
As soon as the state government received her request for public documents, the folks at the health department would legally have three days in which to respond. Not that the state government always complied. But that’s what lawyers and courts were for.
“Request any health studies done in the area. Maybe there’s a cancer or asthma cluster in the areas surrounding the plant.”
“Already on it. Can you think of anyplace else I can look?”
Tom’s hazel eyes bored into hers. “You could always go out to the plant, but, of course, you’d be trespassing.”
Kara nodded. “I’ll see what I can arrange.”
“I CAN ’ T believe I agreed to this.” Kara drove Holly’s car down the highway toward the Northrup plant and glanced at her watch. She hadn’t been able to drive her own car because of the Colorado Press Association license plate. “You shouldn’t be here. This isn’t a game.”
“Hey, you can’t have all the fun.” Holly sat in the passenger seat dressed in a long black wrap skirt and a red silk blouse, looking as excited as a child on her way to the zoo.
“I wouldn’t call committing felony trespass ‘fun.’ ”
“You can’t fool me, Kara. You live for this stuff.”
Kara couldn’t deny the rush of adrenaline was exhilarating, but she wouldn’t give Holly the satisfaction. “You get to interview rock stars, movie stars, reality TV stars. You don’t think cozying up to Bono after the U2 concert at Red Rocks qualifies as fun?”
“Oh, sure. But there’s no risk in that. No risk, no glory. How is this supposed to work again?”
Kara spotted the Northrup gate down the highway ahead of them, pulled off the road, and braked to a stop. “In two minutes, I’m supposed to drive through that gate and follow the water truck that will be waiting there. I’m supposed to follow at a distance as the truck passes through the razor wire and the security checkpoint. Where the truck turns left, I’m supposed to turn right. If I keep following that road, he says I’ll come to a little wooden shed. Off in the trees past the shed is where they’re dumping the drums. I’ll shoot some photos, get proof of my own, and then we’ll head back out the way we came.”
Holly clapped her hands
Tom listened, asking the occasional question, as Kara told him how the whistleblower went to work for Northrup three years ago and had noticed immediately that strange things were happening. Emissions data he’d recorded during the day were altered between shifts. Oils and solvents recorded as having been disposed of at a toxic-waste facility were warehoused in leaking drums—and then magically disappeared. And the primary air-pollution-control system on their main building hadn’t been operational since before he’d gone to work for the plant, despite data in the company’s state reports that claimed the system was fully operational and sucking up millions of pounds of pollutants each year. As the plant paid the state by the pound for emissions, Northrup’s lie could be saving the company hundreds of thousands of dollars each year.
Tom frowned thoughtfully from beneath his mane of hair and matching bushy eyebrows. “Does he have an ax to grind with management?”
Kara had already thought of this. The first rule of dealing with a whistleblower: find out if he or she has reason to get back at the company.
“He says his record is clean except for a workmen’s comp claim last year, which he disputed and won with the union’s help. Of course, he could be lying. We have no way to know for certain unless we ask Northrup, but then we’d be giving him away.”
“Any record on Northrup?”
“I’m putting together an open-records request on them as soon as we finish. I’ll have that out before I leave today. If the health department or the EPA has anything on file for them, I’ll find it.”
As soon as the state government received her request for public documents, the folks at the health department would legally have three days in which to respond. Not that the state government always complied. But that’s what lawyers and courts were for.
“Request any health studies done in the area. Maybe there’s a cancer or asthma cluster in the areas surrounding the plant.”
“Already on it. Can you think of anyplace else I can look?”
Tom’s hazel eyes bored into hers. “You could always go out to the plant, but, of course, you’d be trespassing.”
Kara nodded. “I’ll see what I can arrange.”
“I CAN ’ T believe I agreed to this.” Kara drove Holly’s car down the highway toward the Northrup plant and glanced at her watch. She hadn’t been able to drive her own car because of the Colorado Press Association license plate. “You shouldn’t be here. This isn’t a game.”
“Hey, you can’t have all the fun.” Holly sat in the passenger seat dressed in a long black wrap skirt and a red silk blouse, looking as excited as a child on her way to the zoo.
“I wouldn’t call committing felony trespass ‘fun.’ ”
“You can’t fool me, Kara. You live for this stuff.”
Kara couldn’t deny the rush of adrenaline was exhilarating, but she wouldn’t give Holly the satisfaction. “You get to interview rock stars, movie stars, reality TV stars. You don’t think cozying up to Bono after the U2 concert at Red Rocks qualifies as fun?”
“Oh, sure. But there’s no risk in that. No risk, no glory. How is this supposed to work again?”
Kara spotted the Northrup gate down the highway ahead of them, pulled off the road, and braked to a stop. “In two minutes, I’m supposed to drive through that gate and follow the water truck that will be waiting there. I’m supposed to follow at a distance as the truck passes through the razor wire and the security checkpoint. Where the truck turns left, I’m supposed to turn right. If I keep following that road, he says I’ll come to a little wooden shed. Off in the trees past the shed is where they’re dumping the drums. I’ll shoot some photos, get proof of my own, and then we’ll head back out the way we came.”
Holly clapped her hands
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