jg.thepelicanbrief-第44部分

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　　〃When　did　you　leave　New　Orleans？〃
　　
　　〃Monday　night。　I　took　a　cab　to　Baton　Rouge；　and　that　would　have　been　easy　to　follow。　I　flew　to　Chicago；　where　I　bought　four　tickets　to　four　different　cities；　including　Boise；　where　my　mother　lives。　I　jumped　on　the　plane　to　La　Guardia　at　the　last　moment。　I　don't　think　anyone　followed。〃
　　
　　〃You're　safe。〃
　　
　　〃Maybe　for　the　moment。　We'll　both　be　hunted　when　this　story　is　published。　Assuming　it's　published。〃　
　　
　　Gray　rattled　his　ice　and　studied　her。　〃Depends　on　what　you　tell　me。　And　it　depends　on　how　much　can　be　verified　from　other　sources。〃
　　
　　〃The　verification　is　up　to　you。　I'll　tell　you　what　I　know；　and　from　there　you're　on　your　own。〃
　　
　　〃Okay。　When　do　we　start　talking？〃
　　
　　〃After　dinner。　I'd　rather　do　it　on　a　full　stomach。　You're　in　no　hurry；　are　you？〃
　　
　　〃Of　course　not。　I've　got　all　night；　and　all　day　tomorrow；　and　the　next　day　and　the　next。　I　mean；　you're　talking　about　the　biggest　story　in　twenty　years；　so　I'll　hang　around　as　long　as　you'll　talk　to　me。〃　
　　
　　Darby　smiled　and　looked　away。　Exactly　a　week　ago；　she　and　Thomas　were　waiting　for　dinner　in　the　bar　at　Mouton's。　He　was　wearing　a　black　silk　blazer；　denim　shirt；　red　paisley　tie　and　heavily　starched　khakis。　Shoes；　but　no　socks。　The　shirt　was　unbuttoned　and　the　tie　was　loose。　They　had　talked　about　the　Virgin　Islands　and　Thanksgiving　and　Gavin　Verheek　while　they　waited　on　a　table。　He　was　drinking　fast；　and　that　was　not　unusual。　He　got　drunk　later；　and　it　saved　her　life。　
　　
　　She　had　lived　a　year　in　the　past　seven　days；　and　she　was　having　a　real　conversation　with　a　live　person　who　did　not　wish　her　dead。　She　crossed　her　feet　on　the　coffee　table。　It　was　not　unfortable　having　him　here　in　her　room。　She　relaxed。　His　face　said；　〃Trust　me。〃　And　why　not？　Whom　else　could　she　trust？
　　
　　〃What　are　you　thinking　about？〃　he　asked。
　　
　　〃It's　been　a　long　week。　Seven　days　ago　I　was　just　another　law　student　busting　my　tail　to　get　to　the　top。　Now　look　at　me。〃　
　　
　　He　was　looking　at　her。　Trying　to　be　cool；　not　like　a　gawking　sophomore；　but　he　was　looking。　The　hair　was　dark　and　very　short；　and　quite　stylish；　but　he　liked　the　long　version　in　yesterday's　fax。
　　
　　〃Tell　me　about　Thomas　Callahan；〃　he　said。
　　
　　〃Why？〃
　　
　　〃I　don't　know。　He's　part　of　the　story；　isn't　he？〃
　　
　　〃Yeah。　I'll　get　to　it　later。〃
　　
　　〃Fine。　Your　mother　lives　in　Boise？〃
　　
　　〃Yes；　but　she　knows　nothing。　Where's　your　mother？〃
　　
　　〃Short　Hills；　New　Jersey；〃　he　answered　with　a　smile。　He　crunched　on　an　ice　cube　and　waited　for　her。　She　was　thinking。
　　
　　〃What　do　you　like　about　New　York？〃　she　asked。
　　
　　〃The　airport。　It's　the　quickest　way　out。〃
　　
　　〃Thomas　and　I　were　here　in　the　summer。　It's　hotter　than　New　Orleans。〃　
　　
　　Suddenly；　Grantham　realized　she　was　not　just　a　hot　little　coed；　but　a　widow　in　mourning。　The　poor　lady　was　suffering。　She　had　not　been　checking　out　his　hair　or　his　clothes　or　his　eyes。　She　was　in　pain。　Dammit！
　　
　　〃I'm　very　sorry　about　Thomas；〃　he　said。　〃I　won't　ask　about　him　again。〃　
　　
　　She　smiled　but　said　nothing。　
　　
　　There　was　a　loud　knock。　Darby　jerked　her　feet　off　the　table；　and　glared　at　the　door。　Then　she　breathed　deeply。　It　was　the　food。
　　
　　〃I'll　get　it；〃　Gray　said。　〃Just　relax。〃　
　　
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　　FOR　CENTURIES；　a　quiet　but　mammoth　battle　of　nature　raged　without　interference　along　the　coastline　of　what　would　bee　Louisiana。　It　was　a　battle　for　territory。　No　humans　were　involved　until　recent　years。　From　the　south；　the　ocean　pushed　inland　with　its　tides　and　winds　and　floods。　From　the　north；　the　Mississippi　River　hauled　down　an　inexhaustible　supply　of　freshwater　and　sediment；　and　fed　the　marshes　with　the　soil　they　needed　to　vegetate　and　thrive。　The　saltwater　from　the　Gulf　eroded　the　coastline　and　burned　the　freshwater　marshes　by　killing　the　grasses　that　held　them　together。　The　river　responded　by　draining　half　the　continent　and　depositing　its　soil　in　lower　Louisiana。　It　slowly　built　a　long　succession　of　sedimentary　deltas；　each　of　which　in　turn　eventually　blocked　the　river's　path　and　forced　it　to　change　course　yet　again。　The　lush　wetlands　were　built　by　the　deltas。　
　　
　　It　was　an　epic　struggle　of　give…and…take；　with　the　forces　of　nature　firmly　in　control。　With　the　constant　replenishment　from　the　mighty　river；　the　deltas　not　only　held　their　own　against　the　Gulf；　but　expanded。　
　　
　　The　marshlands　were　a　marvel　of　natural　evolution。　Using　the　rich　sediment　as　food；　they　grew　into　a　green　paradise　of　cypress　and　oak　and　dense　patches　of　pickerelweed　and　bulrush　and　cattails。　The　water　was　filled　with　crawfish；　shrimp；　oysters；　red　snappers；　flounder；　pompano；　bream；　crabs；　and　alligators。　
　　
　　The　coastal　plain　was　a　sanctuary　for　wildlife。　Hundreds　of　species　of　migratory　birds　came　to　roost。　
　　
　　The　wetlands　were　vast　and　limitless；　rich　and　abundant。　
　　
　　Then　oil　was　discovered　there　in　1930；　and　the　rape　was　on。　The　oil　panies　dredged　ten　thousand　miles　of　canals　to　get　to　the　riches。　They　crisscrossed　the　fragile　delta　with　a　slashing　array　of　neat　little　ditches。　They　sliced　the　marshes　to　ribbons。　
　　
　　They　drilled；　found　oil；　then　dredged　like　maniacs　to　get　to　it。　Their　canals　were　perfect　conduits　for　the　Gulf　and　its　saltwater；　which　ate　away　at　the　marshes。　
　　
　　Since　oil　was　found；　tens　of　thousands　of　acres　of　wetlands　have　been　devoured　by　the　ocean。　Sixty　square　miles　of　Louisiana　vanishes　every　year。　Every　fourteen　minutes；　another　acre　disappears　under　water。　
　　
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　　IN　1979；　AN　OIL　PANY　punched　a　hole　deep　in　Terrebonne　Parish　and　hit　oil。　It　was　a　routine　day　on　just　another　rig；　but　it　was　not　a　routine　hit。　There　was　a　lot　of　oil。　They　drilled　again　an　eighth　of　a　mile　away；　and　hit　another　big　one。　They　backed　off　a　mile；　drilled；　and　hit　an　even　bigger　one。　Three　miles　away；　they　struck　gold　again。　
　　
　　The　oil　pany　capped　the　wells　and　pondered　the　situation；　which　had　all　the　markings　of　a　major　new　field。　
　　
　　The　oil　pany　was　owned　by　Victor　Mattiece；　a　Cajun　from　Lafayette　who'd　made　and　lost　several　fortunes　drilling　for　oil　in　south　Louisiana。　In　1979；　he　happened　to　be　wealthy；　and　more　importantly；　he　had　access　to　other　people's　money。　He　was　quickly　convinced　he　had　just　tapped　a　major　reserve。　He　began　buying　land　around　the　capped　wells。　
　　
　　Secrets　are　crucial　but　hard　to　keep　in　the　oilfields。　And　Mattiece　knew　if　he　threw　around　too　much　money；　there　would　soon　be　a　mad　rush　of　drilling　around　his　new　gold　mine。　A　man　of　infinite　patience　and　planning；　he　looked　at　the　big　picture　and　said　no　to　the　quick　buck。　He　decided　he　would　have　it　all。　He　huddled　with　his　lawyers　and　other　advisers；　and　devised　a　plan　to　methodically　buy　the　surrounding　land　under　a　myriad　of　corporate　names。　They　formed　new　panies；　used　some　of　his　old　ones；　purchased　all　or　portions　of　struggling　firms；　and　went　about　the　business　of　acquiring　acreage。　
　　
　　Those　in　the　business　knew　Mattiece；　and　knew　he　had　money　and　could　get　more。　Mattiece　knew　they　knew；　so　he　quietly　unleashed　two　dozen　faceless　entities　upon　the　landowners　of　Terrebonne　Parish。　It　worked　without　a　major　hitch。　
　　
　　The　plan　was　to　consolidate　territory；　then　dredge　yet　another　channel　through　the　hapless　and　beleaguered　marshlands　so　that　the　men　and　their　equipment　could　get　to　the　rigs　and　the　oil　could　be　brought　out　with　haste。　The　canal　would　be　thirty…five　miles　long　and　twice　as　wide　as　the　others。　There　would　be　a　lot　of　traffic。　
　　
　　Because　Mattiece　had　money；　he　was　a　popular　man　with　the　politicians　and　bureaucrats。　He　played　their　game　skillfully。　He　sprinkled　money　around　where　needed。　He　loved　politics；　but　hated　publicity。　He　was　paranoid　and　reclusive。　
　　
　　As　the　land　acquisition　sailed　smoothly　along；　Mattiece　suddenly　found　himself　short　of　cash。　The　industry　turned　downward　in　the　early　eighties；　and　his　other　rigs　stopped　pumping。　He　needed　big　money；　and　he　wanted　partners　adept　at　putting　it　up　and　remaining　silent　about　it。　So　he　stayed　away　from　Texas。　He　went　overseas　and　found　some　Arabs　who　studied　his　maps　and　believed　his　estimate　of　a　mammoth　reserve　of　crude　and　natural　gas。　They　bought　a　piece　of　the　action；　and　Mattiece　had　plenty　of　cash　again。　
　　
　　He　did　the　sprinkling　act；　and　obtained　official　permission　to　gouge　his　way　through　the　delicate　marshes　and　cypress　swamps。　The　pieces　were　falling　majestically　into　place；　and　Victor　Mattiece　could　smell　a　billion　dollars。　Maybe　two　or　three。　
　　
　　Then　an　odd　thing　happened。　A　lawsuit　was　filed　to　stop　the　dredging　and　drilling。　The　plaintiff　was　an　obscure　environmental　outfit　known　simply　as　Green　Fund。　
　　
　　The　lawsuit　was　unexpected　because　for　fifty　years　Louisiana　had　allowed　itself　to　be　devoured　and　polluted　by　oil　panies　and　people　like　Victor　Mattiece。　It　had　been　a　trade…off。　The　oil　business　employed　many　and　paid　well。　The　oil　and　gas　taxes　collected　in　Baton　Rouge　paid　the　salaries　of　state　employees。　
　　
　　The　small　bayou　villag