and—”
“I’ll tell you what’s wrong,” Frakus said, jabbing a finger in her face. “We’ve got crap on the ice. Loads of crap. Let me tell you something, Angel… ”
She didn’t like his gestures or the way he used her name, and unsnapped the safety strap on her holster.
Frakus leaned in, his warm breath steaming her face. “Geese are not birds. They’re pests. I want them off of my ice.”
Angela refused to back down. “That may be, Mr. Frakus, but those ‘pests’are migratory and therefore protected by law. You make any attempt to remove them, and I’ll charge you with a felony violation under the Migratory Bird Treaty Act.”
Frakus’s face reddened, making him look like a malfunctioning stoplight. He whirled on Eric. “How about you, Linenger? Do you understand the ramifications of what you’re doing?”
Eric nodded. “I’m pretty sure.”
“Then perhaps you could explain them to your friend.”
Eric scrunched his face, looking doubtful. “I don’t know her very well, but I’d have to say she doesn’t seem like much of a listener.”
Frakus scowled. “Well I know someone who is. Be prepared to get your marching orders.”
Angela wondered whom he planned on calling. Kramner? He was the only one with overriding power, and he would back her. He had to. The law was clear.
“Go to it,” she said. “Do whatever you’ve got to do.”
Eric moved out of Frakus’s line of vision and made a slashing motion across his throat in the universal sign for ‘cut.’ Did he know something she didn’t?
Frakus narrowed his eyes at Angela, as though sensing her anxiety. “Mark my words, Ranger—”
“Special Agent,” she corrected. She dug in her pocket and came up with a card. She handed it to him.
He swiped his thumb across the U.S. Fish and Wildlife emblem, studied the card, then looked up.
“You’ve got fifteen minutes, Agent Dimato,” Frakus said.“You got that?” He looked at Eric. “Fifteen minutes! After that, my boys are scraping ice.”
Angela’s hand gripped the butt of her gun, but Eric grabbed her elbow.
“We got it,” he said.
“Stupid jackass,” she muttered as Eric hustled her down the path toward the boat ramp. “Who the heck does he think he is?”
“Let it go, Angel. We need to use the time wisely.”
She stopped dead in her tracks and jerked her sleeve free of his grasp. “Excuse me? Are you saying he can make good on his threat?”
“Exactly.” Eric’s mouth formed a hard slash. “In fact, I’m one hundred percent sure he can.”
“How?” She pointed toward the lake, the fishing huts with their flapping banners, and the geese. “Those birds are protected.”
“So you would think.” He took up walking again, setting a pace that forced her to crow-hop to keep up. “But trust me, Frakus is calling Kramner, and Kramner will side with him on this one.”
Angela frowned. She and her boss didn’t always see eye to eye, but she knew he was ethical. “Is there some loophole in the law I don’t know about?”
“Ja.” Eric glanced down at her. “You’re not going to like it.”
“Try me.”
“Every year, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service issues permits to the USDA, the U.S. Department of—”
“Agriculture. I know what it stands for.”
“The permits allow for the depredation of geese in areas with overly large populations.”
She experienced a sinking feeling. She knew about the special permit policy and disagreed with it. In her mind, it was a political concession to keep the urbanites happy. “It doesn’t apply here. You said yourself, Elk Park doesn’t have a resident goose population.”
“Fort Collins and Denver do.”
Angela’s mouth went dry, and she licked her lips. “Your point is?”
“Ever hear of a guy named Gurney Crawford?”
“The name’s familiar.” She tried tapping the vague recollection with no success.
“He was a conservation officer for the Colorado Department of Game and Fish back in the
Learning to Kill: Stories