Freedom полностью

It wasn’t unusual for big conservation land deals to be kept under wraps until they were finalized, but rare were the deals containing a bombshell on the order of fourteen thousand acres of forest being opened up to MTR. Back in late 2002, when Walter had merely suggested to the local environmental community that the Trust might allow MTR on its warbler preserve, Jocelyn Zorn had alerted every anti-coal reporter in West Virginia. A flurry of negative stories had resulted, and Walter had realized that he simply couldn’t afford to take his full case to the public. The clock was ticking; there was no time for the slow work of educating the public and shaping its opinion. Better to keep his negotiations with Nardone and Blasco secret, better to let Lalitha convince Coyle Mathis and his neighbors to sign nondisclosure agreements, and wait for all the faits to be accomplis. But now the jig was up, now the heavy equipment was moving in. Walter knew he had to get out in front of the story and spin it his way, as a “success story” of science-based reclamation and compassionate relocation. And yet, the more he thought about it now, the more certain he became that the press was going to slaughter him for the MTR thing. He could be tied up for weeks with putting out fires. And meanwhile the clock was also running on his overpopulation initiative, which was all he really cared about now.

After rereading the press release, with deep unease, he checked his e-mail queue one last time and found a new message, from caperville @nytimes.com.

Hello, Mr. Berglund,

My name is Dan Caperville and I’m working on a story about land conservation in Appalachia. I understand the Cerulean Mountain Trust has recently closed a deal for the preservation of a large forested tract in Wyoming Co. WV. I’d love to talk about that with you at your earliest convenience . . .

What the fuck? How did the Times already know about this morning’s signing? Walter was so unready to ponder this e-mail, under present circumstances, that he composed a reply immediately and fired it off before he had time to reconsider:

Dear Mr. Caperville,

Thank you so much for your query! I would love to talk to you about the exciting things the Trust has in the works. As it happens, I’m holding a press conference this coming Monday morning in Washington, announcing a major and very exciting new environmental initiative, which I hope you’ll be able to attend. In consideration of your paper’s stature, I can also send you an early copy of our press release on Sunday evening. If you’re available to speak with me early Monday morning, in advance of the presser, I might be able to arrange that as well.

Looking forward to working with you—

Walter E. Berglund

Executive Director, Cerulean Mountain Trust

He copied everything to Cynthia and Lalitha, with the comment WTF?, and then paced the room in agitation, thinking how welcome a second beer would be right now. (One beer in forty-seven years, and already he felt like an addict.) The right thing to do now was probably to wake Lalitha, drive back to Charleston, catch the first morning flight out, move the press conference up to Friday, and get out in front of the story. But it seemed as if the world, the insane-making velocitous world, was conspiring to deprive him of the only two things he truly wanted now. Having already been deprived of kissing Lalitha, he at least wanted to spend the weekend planning the overpopulation initiative with her and Jessica and Richard, before dealing with the mess in West Virginia.

At ten-thirty, still pacing the room, he was feeling so deprived and anxious and sorry for himself that he called home to Patty. He wanted to get some credit for his fidelity, or maybe he just wanted to dump some anger on a person he loved.

“Oh, hi,” Patty said. “I didn’t expect to hear from you. Is everything OK?”

“Everything’s horrible.”

“I bet! It’s hard to keep saying no when you want to say yes, isn’t it?”

“Oh Jesus don’t start,” he said. “Please, for God’s sake, do not start that tonight.”

“Sorry. I was trying to be sympathetic.”

“I’ve actually got a professional problem on my hands here, Patty. Not just some petty little personal emotional thing, believe it or not. A serious professional difficulty that I could use a bit of reassurance about. Somebody at the meeting this morning leaked something to the press, and I have to try to get out in front on a story I’m not sure I even want to be out in front on, because I was already feeling like I’ve fucked everything up here. Like all I’ve managed to do is release fourteen thousand acres to be blasted into a moonscape, and now the world has to be informed, and I don’t even care about the project anymore.”

“Right, well, actually,” Patty said, “the moonscape stuff does sound sort of awful.”

“Thank you! Thank you for the reassurance!”

“I was just reading an article about it in the Times this morning.”

“Today?”