The Zero Game

Viv and I share a glance, but neither of us says a word. Up until this point, I didn’t even think that was an option.

“Just follow signs for The Homestead,” the woman adds. “Won’t take you five minutes. You got business up there?”

“Not until later. That’s why we figured we’d check out Mount Rushmore first,” I explain. “How do we get there?”

It’s a pathetic bluff, but if Janos is as close as I think, we at least need to attempt to hide the trail. As she gives us directions, I pretend to write them down.

When she’s done, I wave good-bye and head for our Suburban. Viv’s right next to me, shaking her head. “Is that on purpose or is it just natural?” she finally asks as we pull out of the parking lot.

“I don’t understand.”

“The charm thing: leaning into the counter… her swooning at the small-town flair…” She stops a moment. “Y’know, who we are now is who we always were and who we’ll always be. Is that how you’ve always been?” she asks.

The Suburban swings wide around a sharp right turn, pinning me against my door, and Viv against the armrest. As we weave our way up the hill, we’re focused on the two-story triangular building that sits on top. Turning the final corner, the trees disappear, the paved road ends, and the ground levels off and turns rocky. Up ahead, a space the size of a football field spreads out in front of us. The ground’s dirt, flanked by some jagged rock outcroppings that circle the entire field and rise about twenty feet in the air. It’s as if they shaved off the top of the mountain and built the flat encampment that’s directly ahead of us.

“So you have any idea what we’re even looking for?” Viv asks, studying the terrain. It’s a fair question – and one I’ve been asking myself since the moment we stepped off the plane.

“I think we’ll know it when we see it,” I tell her.

“But with Matthew… you really think Wendell Mining were the ones who had him killed?”

I continue watching the road in front of me. “All I know is, for the past two years, Wendell has been trying to buy this old middle-of-nowhere gold mine. Last year, they failed. This year, they tried to cut through the red tape by sliding it into the Appropriations bill, which according to Matthew, would’ve never gotten anywhere – that is, until it showed up as the newest item up for bid in our little Showcase Showdown.”

“That doesn’t mean Wendell Mining had him killed.”

“You’re right. But once I started digging around, I find out Wendell not only completely forged at least one of the letters endorsing the transfer, but that this wonderful gold mine they supposedly want doesn’t have enough gold in it to make an anklet for a Barbie doll. Think about that a second. These guys at Wendell have spent the last two years killing themselves for a giant empty hole in the ground, and they’re so anxious to get inside, they’ve already started moving in. Add that to the fact that two of my friends were killed for it and, well… with all the insanity going on, you better believe I want to see this thing for myself.”

As we pull toward the edge of the gravel-covered makeshift parking lot, Viv turns to me and nods. “If you wanna know what the fuss is, you gotta go see the fuss yourself.”

“Who said that, your mom?”

“Fortune cookie,” Viv whispers.

At the center of the field is the teepee-shaped building with the word Homestead painted across the side. Closer to us, the parking lot is filled with at least a dozen other cars, and off to the left, three double-wide construction trailers are busy with guys in overalls going in and out, while two separate dump trucks back up toward the building. According to Matthew’s report, the place is supposed to be abandoned and empty. Instead, we’re staring at a beehive.

Viv motions to the side of the building, where another man in overalls is using a mud-covered forklift to unload a huge piece of computer equipment from the back of an eighteen-wheeler. Compared to the muddy forklift, the brand-new computer stands out like a Mack truck on a golf course.

“Why do you need a computer system to dig a giant hole in the ground?” Viv asks.

I nod in agreement, studying the front entrance to the triangular building. “That’s the hundred-thousand-dollar question, isn’t-”

There’s a sharp tap as a knuckle raps against my driver’s-side window. I turn and spot a man with the filthiest construction hat I’ve ever seen. He puts on a smile; I hesitantly roll down the window.

“Hiya,” he says, waving with his clipboard. “You guys here from Wendell?”

34

“SO WE’RE DONE?” Trish asked, sitting back in her chair in the House Interior Committee’s hearing room.

“As long as you have nothing else,” Dinah said, shuffling the thick stack of loose pages together and drumming them into a neat pile on the long oval conference table. She wasn’t thrilled to be stepping in for Matthew, but as she told her other office mates, the job still had to be done.