The Great Sand Fracas of Ames County: A Novel

41. Perpetrators

162 Perpetrators 41 Emerson Evans made record time driving from La Crosse to Link Lake. He was furious about what had happened at the mining site. How could anyone explain why a million-dollar drilling machine had been destroyed by some overzealous opponent of sand mining? And why had Karl Adams failed so miserably in placating the community, in bringing them around to supporting the upcoming mining operation? He needed answers and he needed them right away. His superiors in La Crosse were not happy, especially after receiving reports of how well everything was going in Link Lake and after pouring several thousand dollars into the community. When Evans pulled up to the mining site, he spotted several police cars and yellow tape closing off the entrance to the park. Karl Adams got out of his car when he saw Evans arrive. “What in hell is going on here?” asked Evans, a tall, thin, very intense man. There was no “good morning” or “how are you, Karl?” “I don’t know. Everything was cool until the drilling machine arrived— then all hell broke loose.” “So who blew up our million-dollar drilling machine? They caught the bomber yet?” “No, they haven’t. The sheriff is right over there.” Karl pointed to a police cruiser with Sheriff written on the side. “Talk to him.” “You damn bet I will, but I’m talking to you first. Just what in the hell is going on here? You got any ideas? You’re supposed to have your finger on the pulse of this community.” “I thought everything was under control.” “You thought. You thought! We pay you to know, not to think. So how did it all go down?” Evans was a little less red in the face, and his voice 163 Perpetrators had come down from the near yelling he was doing when he first stepped from his car. “Ever since the deal was struck between Alstage and the Link Lake Village Board, a half dozen or so protestors were marching in front of this park entrance every day. It seemed the locals mostly ignored them. Nobody seemed to know who they were, and everyone assumed they were some wide-eyed liberals from Madison who didn’t have anything better to do.” “I get that part. We have protestors of one kind or another at nearly all of our proposed mine sites. But they usually don’t blow up million-dollar mining machines.” “Nobody has said the protestors blew up the machine.” “Well, who else would? Tell me what else you know.” “Like I said, once people learned that a big machine had arrived, everything changed. Everywhere I went in the community, people were talking again about the mine and the fact that it looked like it was a sure thing that it would open in the park.” “Well, talk doesn’t blow up a machine.” “I realize that, but right after the machine arrived someone defaced the big map of the mine site I put on the bulletin board at the village hall. And then the number of protestors grew to twenty or more.” “Then what?” “Kaboom, was the next what,” Karl said. “It shook the whole town, rattled the windows, and rattled a lot of nerves too. The explosion woke me up.” “The explosion also blew up a million-dollar machine,” Evans said under his breath. “Oh, and then there’s the eagle nest,” Karl said. “Yeah, I remember. Blast blew the eagle nest all to hell and killed some eagles. You told me all that before. What I’m worried about is when those federal Fish and Wildlife people get here and start nosing around. Any feds here yet?” “Not that I know about. I heard the injured eagle is being cared for by an old vegetable farmer who lives just out of town. An old guy who stutters and talks to animals. Met him once. Interesting guy,” said Karl. “Well, that’s great,” Evans said sarcastically. 164 Perpetrators “So what are we going to do about all this?” asked Karl. “You’re supposed to be our man on the ground. Don’t you have an idea?” “Well, I’d suggest we call a community meeting and explain everything that we know—we are the victims here, you know. On the plus side of this mess, blowing up one of our machines and killing some bald eagles...