RYUHIKO - 09

In a dingy office on the edge of Boulder, Colorado a short, over-weight man sat behind a cluttered desk. He was perspiring profusely and his face belied the excruciating internal conflict he was experiencing. He was looking at a tall, slender man who stood calmly looking out of the widow at the dirty clutter of storage tanks and tanker trucks.

"Look, Mr. Nieman," the tall man said without turning away from the window. "you have hundreds of gallons of sludge out there. You can't afford to pay for disposal. You have no more storage. You're about to go under ... you're going to drown in your own waste."

"I know. I know!" whimpered Trevor Nieman, the man at the desk.  "I've just never done anything like this before, and it seems so . . . . so . . . ." He struggled for the words to describe the disgusting deed that he knew he was going to do.

"You're not going to hurt anyone."  The tall man, who had introduced himself as Larry Stephano, turned and faced Nieman. "Besides they're just a bunch of Indians in the middle of no-where."

"I know. I just . . . ."

"Just what!?" Stephano was getting annoyed. "Just going to lose your business. Just going to lose your big house, mountain lodge, fine cars, reputation . . . .?"

"Okay." Nieman looked down at the checkbook lying on the desk in front of him. He picked up the pen and wrote Larry Stephano a check for fifty thousand dollars.

"Good," Stephano was now all smiles. In fact his grin could have been called scary. "Two tankers. Have them meet my man in Kinnear.  He'll lead them to the dump site."

*  *  *

Several days later an off-duty Shoshone deputy sheriff named Eddie Proudeagle was trekking along a ledge above the Ethete Cutoff southwest of Kinnear, Wyoming.   Looking down on the road he noticed a curious site.  There were two tanker trucks following a pickup up the road past Mule Butte. One didn't usually see trucks on the  cutoff, nevertheless two tankers.  He watched. When they stopped near a small dirty road that lead up to the foot of Mule Butte, the deputy became concerned. He got his radio out of his pack and called dispatch.

Slowly the trucks started up the dirt road. It was difficult.  Lefu watched from the edge of Mule Butte. It had been so easy to get Trevor Nieman to pay him to dump toxic waste into Johnstown Valley from the side of Mule Butte.  Nieman would have dumped his waste in right into the Wind River if Lefu told him. He would have done anything to save his wealth and avoid the embarrassment of bankruptcy. This was a start. Nieman would get caught soon but there were plenty more like him.

The trucks were getting near the turn that would take them to the end of the road and their dump site right up against Mule Butte.  There was a three hundred foot drop into the valley.

While the trucks were moving into place to dump their loads the Sheriff and two deputies were turning south onto Ethete Cutoff and moving fast.   Dispatch had told the Sheriff about Eddie Proudeagle's report.  There was no reason for two tank trucks to be on the cutoff road, nevertheless pulling off on one of the side roads, unless they were up to no good.

As the sheriff sped down Ethete Cutoff the dispatcher had been talking to Eddie Proudeagle and Eddie was walking casually toward the old blue Ford F-150 that was still sitting where the tankers had turned off. The man in the driver's seat watched Eddie in his mirror. He watched more out of curiosity than concern. To him it was just a hiker.

Eddie stepped to the passenger's side when he got close to the vehicle. Eddie noted that the driver was alone. He carefully drew his service revolver that was on his right hip. He kept it out of the driver's view until he pulled open the passenger door and aimed it at the driver.

"Deputy Sheriff. Keep your hands on the wheel where I can see them."

The driver glanced down at a two-way radio lying on the seat.

"No," said the Deputy smiling. "You don't get to warn your buddies that we're coming. I can pull this trigger a lot faster than you can get to that radio. Just sit still and relax."

The Sheriff and three others arrived a few minutes later. The driver was removed from the truck, handcuffed and put in the back of one of the squad cars. Eddie climbed into the backseat of the Sheriff's car and they started up the rough dirt road.

"I'm sure glad you were out here," the Sheriff said smiling at Eddie in his mirror. "Did they have any markings?"

"None that I could see from the ridge."

"Doesn't matter. The only thing up this road is the old abandoned sheep ranch."

The men dumping the tankers couldn't hear the Sheriff's approach with the engines and pumps running. One of the men happened to look up and saw the cars approaching when they were  not quite 100 yards away. He picked up a rifle and shot at the approaching cars. The bullet shattered the Sheriff's window.

"Guess that confirms our assumption they're up to no good," said the Sheriff cutting the steering wheel hard to the left and sliding to a stop. The second squad car followed suit. Another bullet smashed the Sheriff's light bar.

The Sheriff reached into the back seat of his car and got his bullhorn.

"This is Sheriff Weda. There is no way out of here. Throw down your guns and step out with you hands up."

There was a long pause. Suddenly a man stepped out from behind one of the tankers and opened fire with an automatic weapon. That's all it took. It was over in an instant.  One of the deputies returned fire and hit the gunman. The gunman held his finger on the the trigger of his automatic weapon as he fell and sent a hail of high calibre ordinance into the side of the tanker, the control panel and the pipe which was still spewing toxic waste. In a flash, literally, there was an explosion with flames and black smoke rising high into the sky. Within seconds the entire ravine was an inferno and soon the fire had followed back up the dump hose of the second tanker and it exploded.

The heat was so intense that the Sheriff's men climbed into their cars and back away as quickly as they could. Hours later the area was still burning.  A group of volunteer firemen and a brush truck had come to make sure that the fire didn't turn into a raging wildfire.  One of the Sheriff's deputies sat with them drinking coffee.  At the top of the butte above them Lefu also stood watching. He was disappointed. He had really wanted Nieman to make a couple of dumps before something like this happened, and he really wanted at least one load of waste to make it to the Wind River, but he did enjoy the show nevertheless. He so enjoyed it when he caused chaos, death and destruction.  Anyway, Nieman wasn't the only pawn in the game.  

*   *   *

Shinmasa's training was going quite well.  He especially like breathing fire and was getting quite accurate. This, he had thought, would have been great fun if he weren't constantly reminded of the reason for the training.  

Lefu and his stinky servant, Bafu Nama, were noticeably keeping their distance. Shinmasa knew that it wasn't because of Ryuhiko's great power. So what was up?  

While Shinmasa really enjoyed life in the lair - no electricity, no phones, no computers - he had realized his need for a computer and insisted that Moru allow him to bring a generator, computer and satellite dish to the lair.  Since his encounter with Lefu, Shinmasa had been mulling over Lefu's threat. Lefu had said that he wasn't going to kill Ryuhiko because he wanted Ryuhiko to witness the destruction of North America. Even if Lefu was a spirit gone bad, anything he did to destroy the mundane physical world would have to be a physical act.  Faced with that scenario, Shinmasa knew that his computer would be the weapon of choice. Lefu had been brazen enough to announce that he wanted an audience for his deadly act, but he demonstrated self-controlled. He knew that he dare not tell anyone what he was going to do. 

When he wasn't Ryuhiko training to be the dragon king, Shinmasa was either meditating or on his computer. He enjoyed spending time with Moru. The two of them would go out on the ledge above the cirque after dinner and talk. Even though she was a spirit, Shinmasa knew that he was still in love with Mary, Moru's physical manifestation. He loved how she would sit near him, looking up at the sky. They would try to talk about pleasant, mundane things - trees, mountains, rivers, stars - but the conversation always ended up being about Lefu. 

After his meditation, Shinmasa would spend hours on the internet. If the clue to Lefu's plan was anywhere to be found, it had to show up on his computer. With his computer Shinmasa could take the pulse of the world and find anomalies in the normal series of events. He knew that whatever Lefu was up to would make anything from a giant spash to a ripple on the internet surface, and he would see it. He had to see it. If he was to defeat Lefu, it had to be because he used his brain and was one step ahead. If all he had was brute strength, he knew that he was dead, and so was the world.  

Shinmasa had seen the report of the incident at Mule Butte on the internet. It hadn't particular stood out because that type of activity wasn't all that uncommon, but Shinmasa had made a mental note nevertheless. A few weeks later Shinmasa was on his computer in the early morning hours. He sat looking intently at his computer screen. 

"That's it," he said aloud to himself. "That's it!" He flipped thorough several screens. Sitting back in his chair he proclaimed "Lefu, you son-of-a-bitch, I've got you. I know what you're up to and it isn't going to happen on my watch!"