Die-Off by Kirk Russell Page B

investigation. That was the implication here and it was hard to deal with and not dwell on. It made it hard to concentrate on what he needed to do today.
    He drove north of Sacramento and into the area where Emile Soliatano claimed the illegal hatchery was. It was also the location of a legitimate hatchery that ENTR built as part of their project to restore native species. That’s where Marquez was headed. As Hauser had pointed out, the Department of Fish and Game was among ENTR’s partners. The hatchery manager was waiting for him to arrive and he was close now, eleven miles out.
    He took the cut-off and was looking at the foothills of the Sierras, the foothills in hazy light this morning and the Sierras beyond hidden by clouds. When he made the next turn he was within four miles of the hatchery that ENTR ran as a non-profit research station and that, according to Hauser, gave cover to the pike project.
    Twenty minutes later he was through a painted metal swing gate and driving a narrow paved road through pasture land brown with the fall. The ENTR website described it as a former sheep ranch purchased in a bank sale and given a new life.
    The manager was a biologist named Reid, an easy-going guy glad for the break in his routine and oblivious to the cold wind, wearing a worn camouflage coat over a gray T-shirt. His jeans were stained and he smelled a lot like the fish he was raising.
    ‘Where do you want to start? I don’t do many tours.’
    ‘Anywhere you want to; I’d like to know why ENTR chose this spot and what you look for in a hatchery location.’
    ‘Did you look at the website?’
    ‘I did.’
    ‘So you know we have three in California and two in Oregon and Washington. We’re going to do a third in Washington, and one in both Idaho and Nevada. They want to do even more but I don’t know much about the plans, I’m just a farmer growing fish. Just a minute,’ he said, and looked surprised as he answered his phone.
    Marquez overhead, ‘Yeah, he’s here now,’ and a surprised, ‘What? You’re here. Okay, sure, we’ll wait.’
    ‘This is different,’ he said as he hung up. ‘That was someone who is part of internal security for the company. She’s at the gate and coming in now. She wants to walk with us. Do you mind telling me what’s going on here? I’ve worked for the company eight years and have never met anyone from internal security.’
    They both watched the car drive up and Barbara Jones get out. She was a striking woman, some mix of races, mid thirties, and intending to take charge of this tour. She shook his hand, asked for a card, patted Reid on the back, asking, ‘How’s the fishing?’
    She turned to Marquez.
    ‘Is this your territory? I didn’t see your name with any territory on the Fish and Game website. In fact, I couldn’t find your name anywhere. Would you mind showing me some ID?’
    He did and she apologized and said the company was skittish after the pike incident on the Sacramento River.
    ‘It’s not getting much media coverage but we understand the significance of it, Lieutenant, and we know the fish were raised somewhere. Is that why you’re here?’
    ‘Indirectly. I’m a lieutenant specialist attached to the Special Operations Unit, which is our undercover unit.’
    ‘And probably why I couldn’t find your name.’
    ‘As you guessed, we’re trying to figure out where the pike fingerlings came from. I haven’t worked around hatcheries and this one is close enough to headquarters that I thought I’d come take a look and talk to someone who knows how to grow fish.’
    ‘You’ve got plenty of people in your department who can do that. Your Fisheries Branch is on S Street. You could walk there from your headquarters and Stafford Lehr is there. Who in the state knows more than him?’
    ‘I left Sacramento early before that office opened and I’m headed north so this seemed like a good idea. Where did you drive from? You’ve got an earpiece in your right ear,