Nick had intended to get an early start, hoping to have the Val fully uncovered and on its way back to Anchorage by the end of the day. But Wes Erickson made that impossible the moment he insisted on going along.
“I have to stand on the spot where they crashed,” he announced just as Nick, Mike Barlow, and Gordon Hurst were about to leave for the site. “I must say a prayer where that brave pilot stood, saluting me as l flew overhead.” The speech left him breathing through his mouth.
“I’ll need a shot of that,” Tyler, their cameraman said, and began strapping on his backpack.
Nick looked to Alcott for support but the curator just shrugged and concentrated on his coffee mug. Gus looked unconcerned. Kelly was nowhere to be seen.
“Doctor?” Nick said, seeking a second opinion.
Royce blandly replied, “I’ve just given Mr. Erickson a quick physical. For a man his age, he’s in remarkable condition. I see no reason why a walk would harm him.”
Nick couldn’t believe her ears. She wasn’t fooled by the old pilot’s ramrod posture. As far as she was concerned it was pure bravado. His pallid, unshaven cheeks were the true measure of his stamina. What was the woman thinking? Then again, maybe she was right. Maybe exercise was the best tonic. Nick shook her head. The doctor didn’t know what it was like out there.
“It’s a hell of a long hike,” Nick said to Erickson, trying to dissuade him. “Not to mention the return trip.”
“I’d listen to her,” Hurst chimed in. “It’s no picnic.”
Erickson shook his head. “A man my age doesn’t get many second chances.”
Ivins spoke up. “I think we have to remember that all of us here are in Mr. Erickson’s debt. Without him, we wouldn’t know about the Val.”
Nick sighed. Taking him along would slow them up by an hour at least, but Ivins was right. The Val belonged to Erickson more than anyone else.
“At least the weather’s holding,” she said, eyeing the sky, which now had a scattering of high, harmless-looking clouds.
“Holding’s hardly the word,” Ivins responded. “It feels like summer.”
Nick nodded at the Inuit. “What do you think, Gus?”
“Nearly fifty degrees, I’d say. Unusual for this time of year.”
“Will it hold?”
He shrugged. “Yesterday, I would have bet on cold weather by today.”
“We’d better get started, then.”
Gus shook his head. “No can do. Kelly’s out looking for bears and I have to stay with the camp.”
“That’s impossible,” Nick protested. “We can’t afford to waste the time.”
“Do you think that you can you find your way?” Gus asked.
“Of course I can,” Nick said. “I’ve been there twice.”
“Kelly will be mad, but you can get a start. I expect him back any time now. It shouldn’t be hard for me to catch up with you. That old man isn’t going anywhere very fast.”
“If it’s me you’re worried about,” Erickson angrily interjected, “don’t bother. I’ll keep up.”
“Let’s go, then,” she told him.
Twenty minutes later, Erickson had to stop to rest. After that, the intervals between rest stops slipped to ten minutes. Nick kept looking behind her for Gus’s tall form, but he never showed up.
It was nearly noon before they reached the Val. By then the warm weather had done most of the work fix them, melting the wings free of snow and exposing the ruined undercarriage.
The first thing that Nick noticed was that the remaining snow appeared trampled and the body of the gunner was missing.
“Where’s the body?” Hurst muttered.
“Look at the snow, it’s all churned up. There appear to be some drag marks further along the ravine.”
She noticed that Barlow was already examining the sides of the ravine.
“Bears?” Hurst whispered.
Nick nodded, clenching her teeth and wondering if they should turn back. Kelly would be furious.
Erickson didn’t seem to notice. He stepped close to the fuselage and ran his hand over the metal skin.
“Wait, Mister Erickson,” Tyler called out. “Let me get the shot set up.” Erickson obliged.
“Can you just put your hand out, like you did before?” Tyler continued.
Erickson smiled and stroked the plane. “The last time I saw this plane was on the film from my gun camera. This kill made me an ace, you know. They would have killed me if they’d gotten the chance.”
Erickson smiled at Nick. His eves shone. “Thank you for bringing me here, Miss Scott.”
Before she could respond, the two-way radio clipped to her belt crackled to life.
“Nick!” a voice shouted. “Come in!”
“Go ahead,” Nick answered, turning up the volume so everyone could hear.
“This is Alcott. We thought you ought to know that Kelly is missing, lost maybe.”
“How could he get lost in his own park?” she asked, remembering that Gus had said Kelly was out reconnoitering for bears.
“All I know is that Kelly never came back. The Inuit went out looking for him, leaving the rest of us here on our own.” Judging by the rising pitch of his voice, panic was just around the corner.
Nick looked at Hurst, who appeared as perplexed as she felt. What did Alcott expect her to do about the missing ranger?
But since he was her boss, she said, “Would you like us to come back.”
“Gus told us to stay put here. He said he didn’t want anybody else getting lost, especially with bad weather coming.”
Nick jerked her head up, expecting storm clouds, but nothing had changed. What clouds there were looked benevolent enough. Hurst and Barlow looked at one another, mystified.
She said, “What did Gus say we should do?”
“Nothing.”
“Then I think we’d better stay here, don’t you?”
“I thought you ought to know, that’s all,” Alcott said, annoyance creeping into his voice.
“Let us know if anything changes,” Nick said to placate him.
“He said something about spirits, too,” Alcott added. Even through the radio’s crackling static, the curator sounded spooked. “The spirits of the dead are definitely on the move, Gus told us.”
Sure, Nick thought. What better way to keep tourists in line and afraid to wander off than to scare them with ghost stories. When she got back to Washington, she promised herself to research Gus’s so-called Siudleratuin. Probably he was nothing more than the Inuit version of the Bogey Man.
“Don’t worry, Doctor. We’ll be back well before dark,” she radioed.
“On second thought,” he replied, “I think you ought to come back here immediately. There’s safety in numbers.”
“We’ve run into a bit of luck,” she said to case his mind.
“The snow’s melting fast. Because of it, we’ll have the Val folly cleared in two hours, maybe a little less. We can be on our way home soon.”
“The Inuit could be right about the weather,” Alcott responded, “so I insist you bring Mr. Erickson back here to camp before anything happens.”
“Give me that radio,” Hurst said.
Nick hesitated and then handed it to him. He was as eager as she was to continue and Alcott seemed to respect his opinion more.
“Nick’s right, Donald,” Hurst shouted. “We’re almost done here. Besides, Gus and Kelly could come back any minute. Then we’d be making the hike back for nothing.”
“I’m alone, for Christ’s sake.”
“What?”
“Ivins and Doctor Royce went out looking for Gus and Kelly and left me alone.”
“How long have Ivins and Royce been gone?” Hurst asked.
“Ten minutes this time.”
“What do you mean, this time?” Nick said loud enough to be picked up by the radio.
“They were off somewhere when I woke up this morning.”
“Stand by for a minute,” Hurst said, turning to Nick. “What do you think?”
“I think Alcott should have stayed behind his desk in Washington,” she answered.
“That’s not helpful.”
She looked at Barlow, who shrugged and said, “You’re the boss.”
Nick gestured at the cameraman. “What do you say?
“Me?” Tyler shrugged. “Do what you want. I’ll just keep filming.”
Nick stared at the sky again, praying the weather would hold one more day. To Hurst she said, “If it stays this warm, most of our preliminary work will be done for us by tomorrow.”
He looked at the sky and nodded. “I see what you mean. Besides, Alcott is your boss.” He handed her the radio. “We’re on the way, Doctor Alcott,” she transmitted. “How soon will you be here?” Alcott asked.
“It took us two hours to get here this morning.”
She glanced at Erickson, whose ashen face said he needed to rest, not walk. The old pilot forced a smile. “I’ll do my best to keep up, Miss Scott.”
“We’ll keep you informed of our progress,” she told Alcott, hoping that would keep him calm.
“Thank you, Nick,” he answered. “Your father was right about you.”
Christ, Nick thought, Elliot had meddled in her job hunt after all. If she hadn’t been conserving her strength, she’d have raised hell.