CHAPTER TWO
GAS UTILITY COMPANY
OFFICE BUILDING
WALTHAM
MASSACHUSETTS
NEXT DAY
IT WAS GOING TO BE TRICKY. Vicki entered the four-story largely glass fronted building that housed the gas utility company Massachusetts offices. She was accompanied by three Greengrove activists dressed conservatively. David Kitteridge led the group. He had supervised a number of their past actions. They were carrying a bulky package wrapped in burlap and held together with heavy-duty twine. Vicki went up to the front desk.
“I have an appointment with Harry Booker,” she told the attendant. Harry was an upper management employee whose name she had found online. She had checked to be sure he’d be in the office today. “No need to call ahead. He’s expecting us.” Would it work? She did her best to look like she could assume the attendant would cooperate. The tailored grey suit, white button down shirt and sensible heels she wore came from a local consignment shop and were intended to create an impression that was about as far as possible from who she really was.
Fortunately, he bought her story and nodded. “Sure.”
“He’s on the second floor. We’ll just take the stairs.”
When the attendant went back to checking the list in front of him, the activists walked nonchalantly to the hallway and then charged up the stairs. They kept going straight to the top floor.
“Hurry,” Vicki said. “They’ll be onto us in no time.”
The door to the roof was unlocked. A blast of fierce wind hit them as they stepped outside. Chris Carter and Timothy Beckham helped David and Vicki undo the twine around the package, and they unfurled a six foot by fourteen-foot piece of canvas. Written across the banner in huge block letters were the words RENEWABLE ENERGY, NOT PIPELINES. They lowered the canvas over the side and taped it securely to the edge of the roof as fast as they could. The tape they used wouldn’t leave a sticky residue making it more of a challenge than it would have been with something adhesive, but Vicki was adamant that they couldn’t cause lasting damage.
“We need to get out of here before we’re discovered,” she said. When David opened the door, he saw security guards headed up the stairs. He backed out again. “Time for plan B.” He took a rope ladder out of his duffle bag. After he attached it to a post at the back of the building he threw it over the edge of the roof. “I’ll go first. You can follow me, Vicki, and then the rest. It won’t be quite long enough so you’ll have to jump a good distance.”
She leaned over the side. Good thing I don’t have a problem with heights, she thought as she looked down the four flights to the ground. Before she could change her mind, she scrambled over the edge and onto the ladder. The rope was rough, but she ignored that and climbed down, then dropped to the ground. When the others reached them, they ran around the building and took up a position across the street. A couple of minutes later a van arrived with a crew from the local NBC TV station. Sam Cho, the cameraman, and Jessica Schwartz, the reporter, came over to Vicki. Sam had broad shoulders capable of carrying the enormous bag that held his camera and other equipment. His long hair was tied in a ponytail that kept it from getting in the way. Jessica wore a black suit with wide lapels and had her equally black hair twisted in a knot at the back of her head to prevent the wind from messing it up. She was an old friend of Vicki’s from undergrad days and happy to do a favor.
“Thanks for letting us know what you had in mind,” she said. ““I had to beg to get them to let us do this. Handy that I have a relative with influence at the station. Boy, this is going to be one very irate gas company.” With that she held out a mic so that Vicki could be heard.
Maybe she didn’t have a problem with heights, but public speaking had always terrified her, and her knees were knocking. Her face was so flushed that she was afraid she would appear beet red on camera. She knew it was the most common phobia, but she wasn’t going to let that shut her up, so she took a deep breath and said, “Massachusetts can stop the gas industry in its tracks. Pipeline taxes have been approved in the other states, and compressor stations have been built. So far, the industry hasn’t been able to get through us to export terminals in Canada. Nor could they finance expansion by having us pay for their pipelines.” She paused to take an even deeper breath. “They should honor their promise to fix the massive gas leaks, not focus on constructing more pipelines in Massachusetts. The methane they release is more dangerous than our carbon dioxide emissions,” After taking a third calming breath she added, “We need public pressure on the utilities, the Governor and the Legislature.”
They could see employees trying to remove the banner as she spoke, but Sam had already caught it on camera and was now filming the men struggling with the windswept canvas that kept getting away from them.
Several men in uniforms who appeared to be security guards came out of the building. Vicki figured she had said enough, but she threw in one last comment. “Bottom line. We don’t want and don’t need new pipelines.” And she rushed off with the Greengrove group. She doubted that they would be arrested, but she couldn’t take a chance. They were a wild card. She had just met David Kitteridge and was impressed. Still, she couldn’t be sure they wouldn’t do something more illegal than they already had.
When she thought about what she said, she realized she’d left out something important. Drat! How could I have been so lame-brained? she berated herself. Even though methane doesn’t last anywhere near as long as carbon dioxide, it’s about 80 times worse than CO2 over a 20-year time frame. Well, I’ll be sure to do better next time, and there will definitely be a next time.