Nick and Mike Barlow used the bear trail to reach the Val the next morning. Gus had objected at first, giving in only after she’d assured him that by avoiding the long trek through the rocks they’d save enough time to be out of his hair all the quicker. Even so, he’d insisted on accompanying them far enough, he said, to be certain they didn’t run into any bears. Hurst, on the other hand, who Nick had thought would insist on coming too, had instead said, “I’ll leave it in your capable hands.” His lack of interest had made Nick uneasy.
They made the trip without talking. Nick didn’t feel like conversation and she was thankful that Barlow had proved to be the silent type.
Once on site, Nick immediately saw that last night’s freeze, yet to thaw, had left the Val coated with a shimmering glaze. The ice, as thin as it was, magnified a spider web of hairline fractures she hadn’t noticed before. They were concentrated at the point where the wings attached to the fuselage, the area of most stress, as was to be expected after so many years in a deep freeze.
When she pointed them out, Barlow squatted on his heels next to the wing and shook his head. “If we move her, she could fall to pieces on us.”
Nick agreed. It was better to remove the wings now, since they’d have to be detached eventually for the trip back to Washington. The trouble was, they didn’t have the time to start removing rivets.
“She’ll have to be restored anyway,” she said, squatting beside him. “So we’ll have to risk moving her as is.”
“You’re the boss.”
It was also her reputation on the line, and she was about to violate one of Elliot’s Ten Commandments. An artifact is a piece of history. Treat it with reverence and respect and never, never, risk damaging it.
“Let’s fit the sling,” she said, noticing that her breath came out like smoke. She blew a frosty contrail.
Barlow blew smoke for himself. “I guess the Eskimo was right about the weather going south on us.” He nodded at the horizon, where clouds were building rapidly.
“Inuit,” she absentmindedly corrected. “That settles it,” she said, following his gaze. “We don’t have time to do anything fancy.”
Barlow nodded. “We were lucky to have so much good weather. Otherwise, we’d have been chopping through solid ice to reach this baby.” He ran his hand over the forward edge of the wing. Nick crossed her fingers for luck. Then they went to work, fitting the sling into position underneath the dive bomber. The moment they finished she started to shiver. Working had kept her warm, and her mind occupied. Now the plummeting temperature was turning her sweat to ice.
She dug out her radio, blew on her fingers, and punched the transmit button. “This is Nick, over.”
“Ivins here.”
“We’re ready for the pickup.”
“Bad news, I’m afraid,” Ivins said. “I just talked to Anchorage. The chopper can’t make it.”
“The weather?”
“No, mechanical problems. It will take a couple of days to fix it.”
“Did Anchorage give you a weather report?”
“Cloudy, they said. A minor cold front coming through, nothing to worry about.”
Nick felt a surge of relief. A couple of days would give her time to detach the wings. “What does Gus say about the weather?”
“Jesus, isn’t he with you? He and Erickson?”
“Erickson?”
“I know,” Ivins said. “The old man shouldn’t be out in cold like this. Hell, last night, he looked done in.”
Erickson had still been asleep when Nick and Barlow left camp. “And this morning?” she asked.
“I’ll give him credit,” Ivins replied. “He looked chipper enough.”
“And the doctor agreed?”
“Erickson insisted.”
Nick looked at Barlow and shook her head. The bear trail was a much easier route than the trek through the rocks, but it was still a long hike.
“He said he wanted one more look at his Val,” Ivins added, “and the doctor gave her okay.”
“What did Gus say?”
Barlow tapped her on the shoulder. “Speak of the devil.” Gus wasn’t more than fifty yards away. Erickson was beside him.
Nick gave a sigh of relief. “They’ve just arrived,” she reported to Ivins.
“We’ll have a hot meal ready by the time you get back,” Ivins said. “Out.”
Since they now had the time, Nick had hoped to get a start on the wings, but at the mention of hot food she realized just how cold she was. Besides, her fingers were too numb to be trusted to anything as delicate as rivet removal. She stamped her feet, then decided to keep moving and went out to meet them.
“I’m sorry to be such a bother,” Erickson said as soon as she was in range. “But I had to be here one more time. I had to stand where that Japanese pilot saluted me.” He took her arm. “Maybe we could stand there together, Miss Scott?”
“Of course.”
He guided her to a point adjacent to the cockpit, then planted his feet deliberately.
“I’m sorry we couldn’t find him for you,” she said.
“It was a foolish hope on my part. Look at this place. There’s no place to hide, no place to take shelter.”
He sucked a quick breath and tapped gloved fingers against his forehead. “I’m an old fool. He might have gone over the mountain.”
He pointed at the peak looming above them, its saw-toothed granite pinnacle like that of some prehistoric carnivore. According to Gus, Nick remembered, there was only one pass over the Hammersmiths. The chance that a downed Japanese pilot would have discovered such a passage seemed remote, if not impossible.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Erickson said, “but I saw something when I flew over this mountain. Maybe my enemy did too.”
“What?”
“A cabin of some kind. That’s where I would have headed if I’d crashed here. Maybe that’s where we’ll find his body.”
Nick shivered at the thought of trying to make such a journey, probably without food, and with no hope of food once there and therefore no hope of long-term survival.
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” she asked.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything now.” He stared up at the mountain. “What’s the point? I can’t bring back my youth, or the dead.”