Tommy glanced over at the Russian, who was standing with his hands folded behind his back, doing his best not to pay attention to the two friends. He looked off toward the pale glow in the sky that perpetually hovered over the nation's capital at night.
"I was going to ask you the same thing," Tommy said.
"Honestly, my first instinct is always not to trust someone, especially if they're Russian special forces. But he did save us from those guys." Sean pointed a thumb at the destroyed vehicle with the dead gunmen inside. "His story seems to add up. I don't see the harm in it. Besides, we can always use another gun on our side. There is one thing….”
Sean turned back to the Russian and crossed his arms, eyeing the young man with an analytical glare. “Yuri?”
“Yes.”
“You said you work for the Spetsnaz.”
“That is correct.”
“You must know Ustin Zegrev.”
“Yes. He is my commander.”
“Good guy, Ustin. Great sense of humor. I spent some time drinking vodka with him a few years ago when I was in Moscow.”
Yuri’s head titled slightly to the side and his expression changed to one of puzzlement. “No offense, but you must be thinking of someone else. Ustin doesn’t drink and he’s certainly not a person given to humor. Many of us have wondered if he’s ever cracked a smile in his entire life.”
Sean grinned and lowered his hands. “Yes, I know. He’s kind of a tough pill. Just had to make sure you were telling the truth.”
Ustin’s lips parted. He could appreciate the American’s caution.
Sean turned around and put his hands up. "All aboard," he said. "Grab whatever you need. It's going to be a long flight."
Sean watched as his friend and their new Russian ally climbed the steps onto the plane. He'd have to keep an eye on Yuri. Then he glanced over at the wreckage. No doubt he'd saved their necks. Sean just hoped that wasn't for show.
34
Anchorage, Alaska
"You're sure you can get us there?" Tommy asked.
The gray-haired pilot at the charter desk stared at the map for another second and nodded. "Yeah, I can get you there. It'll cost a little extra since we have to do a snow landing and all, but sure, I've been to that spot a few times." He looked up from the map and eyed the three men standing on the other side of the counter. "You boys looking to do some mountain climbing?"
Sean chuckled and shook his head. "No, sir. Nothing like that. We're looking to do some exploring around the area. Probably be there for a few hours while we walk around."
"That's fine," the pilot said. "I doubt I'll have any other flights for the day, so you fellas can take as long as you like. Just remember that we'll only have a small window of daylight. That's not a problem if you don't mind flying in the dark, but I'd hate for you to get lost out there. Even though this winter hasn't been as cold as most, it's still pretty darn chilly out there. We got reports of temps in the low teens the last few nights. In the day, it warms to a tepid twenty-seven or so." He laughed at his own joke.
"Sounds good," Tommy said.
"Aside from the money, you guys have enough cold weather gear? I know some visitors come out here thinking they have everything they need and then when they get to the wilderness, they experience a cold unlike anything they ever saw back home."
The three had picked up new gear just that morning—heavier coats, snow pants, gloves, boots, and face masks. Sean nodded. "Yes, sir. We've picked up everything we think we'll need."
"Okay," the pilot said. "My name is Rusty. I'll run through my checklist and make sure everything's ready to go. We should be good to take off in the next twenty minutes or so."
"Thanks, Rusty," the three said as the pilot disappeared into an office back and to the left.
After they paid the charter company's manager for the flight, the visitors retired to a side room with chairs and a leather couch. They'd left their bags of cold weather gear in the room so as not to take up space at the counter. They started putting on the equipment even though they figured the plane would have some kind of heat. The reasoning was that they could save time by doing it now instead of later.
Every one of the men was exhausted from their cross-country trip. It had taken them all night to reach the city of Anchorage. That had included one stopover in Seattle to get fuel and something to eat. Sleeping on the plane had been difficult at first—until fatigue took hold.
A little over twenty minutes passed before Rusty reappeared in the doorway wearing a thick overcoat and a cap covering his head and ears. "Ready when you are," he said.
The three stood up, grabbed their things, and followed the pilot out to the red-and-white ski plane.
"You gonna be okay on this thing?" Tommy asked Sean. His eyes gleamed with mischief.
"You know I'll be fine," Sean said.
Yuri looked puzzled. His head went from Sean to Tommy and back. "What does he mean? Are you afraid of flying?"
"No," Sean said as he trudged toward the plane. "I'm afraid of heights, stationary heights like buildings or high cliffs."
"But flying doesn't bother you?"
"No."
"I'm sorry, but that doesn't make much sense."
Tommy's guffaws echoed across the tarmac. "That's what I've been saying for nearly thirty years!"
Sean shook his head and picked up his speed to walk ahead of the other two.
The twin turboprop plane groaned as it climbed into the cold winter sky just outside of Anchorage. The pilot leveled out the aircraft at around three thousand feet, keeping it relatively low over the forests, lakes, streams, and hills as they flew toward the majestic peaks of Denali in the distance.
The sun sat low on the horizon to the west. It hadn't gone much higher during the entire day. Now it was late morning, and in a few hours it would begin its short descent that would once more plunge the frigid land into darkness.
Rusty spoke through the headsets as he flew the plane toward the mountains, talking about the various points of interest along the way and occasionally mentioning historical events that coincided with different landmarks.
"Where'd you boys get that map, anyway?" Rusty asked after a few minutes of radio silence.
Sean and Tommy looked at each other.
Sean answered. "We found it in Maryland," he said, going with straight honesty.
"Looks pretty old."
"We think it is. Probably over a hundred years if we didn't miss our guess."
"Interesting stuff. Is it a miner's map or something?"
Sean wasn't sure why he asked the question in that way. "Miner's map? You mean, did it belong to a miner?"
"Yeah. I've seen a few maps like that from the late 1800s when gold mining really took off up here. Miners always carried maps to make sure they didn't trespass on someone else's claims."
"We actually don't know who it belonged to," Tommy said.
"Well, that area you pointed out is right in the thick of a bunch of abandoned gold mines from the late 1800s. You three best be careful while you're out looking around. And if you get the wise idea to go into one of those old mines, you should think again. They're not safe, especially after being out of use for so long. Most of them are blocked off."
"We'll be careful," Sean said.
He and Tommy were both thinking the same thing: the anomaly they were searching for might be in one of the abandoned mines.
The next forty minutes literally flew by, with Rusty continuing his informative aerial tour of the land.
He banked the plane through treacherous mountain slopes and cut through a narrow passage between two peaks that hiked the blood pressure of the three passengers up significantly.
After flying around the rocky, snow-covered mountains, Rusty found the place he was looking for. There was a long patch of white snow leading up a gradual slope of a hill near the base of the mountains.
"That's where we're going down there," he said, pointing out the window to the right. "The d
ot on your map will be over there, at the foot of that smaller mountain."
The mountain he referred to was only smaller in comparison to the one formerly known as Mount McKinley. The name had been changed back to the Native title of Denali during the previous president's regime. Some opposed the change, but for the most part, the people appreciated the president's attempt to honor Native heritage.
"Any gold mines along that mountain?" Tommy asked. The second the words came out of his mouth, he regretted them. "You know, so we don't stumble into any."
"Just one that I know of. The entrance usually has a good amount of snow over it this time of year. The winter has been so mild up here, though, you might be able to see it."
The pilot looped the plane around one more time to get a better approach angle to the snowfield and then began his descent. He touched down easily in the powder, and the plane quickly decelerated as it coasted down the hill toward the narrow valley between hills and mountain.
The four men stepped out into the packed snow and looked out on the white landscape through their goggles. A blustery wind rolled across the hills and up to the mountain, sending wispy clouds of snow dust sparkling into the air.
"I'll wait for you guys here," Rusty said. "Got a heater I can run for a while. If you're planning on being more than a few hours, I might have to run back to the airport and return to get you later. With how cold it will be around sunset, I'd recommend having all your exploring done before then."
Sean nodded and handed a piece of paper to Rusty.
"What's this?" the pilot asked.
"If we're not back and you don't hear from us within the next two hours, call the number on that paper and tell Emily to send the cavalry to this location."
"Emily? Emily who?"
"Don't worry about that," Sean said. "Just do it."
"Oh. All right."
The pilot didn't understand, but he didn't need to as long as he followed Sean's instructions.
"Not a moment before two hours. Got it?"
Rusty nodded. "Yep. I got it." He looked over to the base of the mountain. "That's where the dot on your map is," he said, pointing a finger. "If the mine isn't covered, you'll be able to see it pretty easily just over the other side of that ridge. I know I told you all not to try going into the mines in this area, but it sounds to me like that's exactly what you're going to do. Just remember, if you get lost in one of those, sit tight. The last thing you want to do is start moving around down there.
Sean nodded. No sense in lying about their intentions anymore. Rusty had a good sense of what was going on here.
"We'll be careful. Thanks, Rusty. Remember, two hours."
Sean, Tommy, and Yuri grabbed their gear bags and trudged off toward the ridge. One thing they noticed after only five minutes of marching through the snow was that things in Alaska were much bigger, which threw off their sense of distance much like being out in the American Southwest desert. It felt like they hadn't even moved, and already the three men were out of breath—the two Americans more so than their young Russian counterpart.
He seemed almost cheery to be hiking through the snow across the frozen landscape.
The white powder crunched under their boots. They'd decided against using snowshoes since the snow wasn't more than a foot deep. It was possible they'd encounter some deeper drifts, but they'd deal with that problem if it arose.
"What's put you in such a good mood?" Tommy asked Yuri as they hit the ten-minute mark. He panted for air in spite of his newfound fitness.
"This reminds me of the time I spent in Siberia. We had to go through a month of training there. I always wondered why that was a requirement since most battles are not fought in frozen wastelands. Now I'm glad I was put through that ordeal."
"I'm still waiting for high school algebra to pay off like that," Sean joked.
Everyone was breathing too hard to laugh, but he liked to think everyone thought it was funny.
They reached the bottom of the valley and started the trek around the base of the mountain, just below the ridge Rusty had pointed out. Twenty minutes had already passed, and while moving had kept the men warm, Sean started growing concerned he should have allowed for more time. Their pilot would only wait for so long before he made the call Sean requested.
Sean looked down at his wrist, pulled back the coat sleeve, and noted the time on his watch.
The wind kept driving against them, more than once nearly knocking the men over as they trudged forward around the bend. Snow flew against their bodies, occasionally finding the cracks in their thermal armor, stinging their skin.
"I feel like we should have tauntauns," Tommy said.
Yuri turned his head and looked at the American with a quizzical expression. Tommy couldn't really see the man's face under the goggles and mask.
"It's from a movie," Tommy explained. After a few seconds, he realized Yuri wasn't going to understand. "Never mind. Let's keep going."
Around the bend, the group stayed close to the slopes to get as much protection from the wind as possible. Up ahead, they saw a point on the hill that was much steeper than the rest of the slopes. Rocks jutted up sharply and then leveled off with the rest of the mountain's grade.
"That the mine Rusty was talking about?" Tommy asked.
"Might be," Sean said over the howling wind. "Only one way to find out."
The three men kept pushing forward until they were less than a hundred feet away from the rocks. From their vantage point, they could see an arched entryway with steel rails coming out. The opening was blocked off by heavy wooden boards and an old sign that read Danger, Keep Out in faded red letters.
"Looks like the mine, all right," Sean said. He noticed the rails and followed them to where they stopped twenty feet outside the mine's entrance. His eyes narrowed, and he scowled under his face coverings.
Sean diverted his path away from the mine and over to the right.
"Where are you going?" Tommy stuck his hands out wide.
Sean didn't answer immediately. He walked past the rails until he could see clearly the oddity he'd noticed. He bent down and pressed a glove into the snow.
"Tire tracks," he said to himself.
The wide troughs had been filled in with fresh snow, but it was clear someone had driven through the area recently. He stood up and followed the shallow tracks until they stopped near the mine's entrance. Sean's instincts suddenly went on full alert. He looked around the area, scanning the hills surrounding them.
"What's wrong?" Tommy asked, joining his friend at the crest near the mine.
"Someone's been here."
"What?" Tommy reached into his coat and pulled out his weapon. "How do you know?" Then he saw the tracks. "Oh."
"Looks like they were here in the last day, maybe twelve hours. Those tracks would be covered if it had been much longer."
"Whoever it was, they appear to be gone now," Yuri said.
"Yeah. Seems that way. Still, keep your eyes peeled. It could be a trap."
Sean and Yuri produced their weapons and held them at their sides, ready in case something or someone appeared.
They climbed the remaining thirty feet up to where the rock leveled off. Luckily for Sean, there were no steep precipices or cliffs. A fall from here would just mean rolling back down the snow-covered hill—annoying, but nothing dangerous. The wind was even calmer at the mine's entrance. Sean pulled up his goggles and stepped closer to the boards. He inspected the planks closely, trying to find a crack big enough to see through. The boards had been pressed tightly together and didn't have more than a few millimeters between each. He wedged his fingers into the side and tried to pull, but he couldn't get the barricade to budge.
"Need the tire iron," Sean said to Tommy.
Tommy set his bag down in the snow and tucked his pistol back into his coat. Sean kept looking out away from the mine, constantly watching for any threat that might sneak up on them.
"Got it," Tommy said, pulling the little iron ro
d from the bag.
Sean took it and moved back over to the barricade.
"You're welcome," Tommy said, zipping his bag.
"Thanks," Sean said. He found a crack big enough for the flat end of the iron to fit and started wiggling it back and forth.
Suddenly, the entire wooden facade started moving. A high-pitched creak from rusty hinges screamed in their ears. The planks weren't a barricade. They were part of a big door. And the door was swinging open. A blast of warm air billowed out of the entrance, washing over the men as they stared into the darkness.
"What's going on?" Yuri asked. He raised his weapon and started looking around frantically.
A motor groaned, pushing the door open from the inside. It swung wide enough to accommodate a mine car on the tracks—even though there were none sitting around at the entrance.
Sean aimed his gun into the tunnel. Dim lights were fixed into the wall, barely lighting the dark shaft. The three moved into the threshold and stared inside. From the row of lights along the wall, they could see the corridor bent gradually to the left about ninety feet in.
Tommy and Yuri lifted their goggles to get a better view into the tunnel.
"Did you hit a button or something?" Tommy asked.
"No."
"Maybe there was a trigger. A laser, perhaps," Yuri offered.
"No. I don't think so. Someone knows we're here."
"That would be correct," a familiar voice said from behind.
Sean, Tommy, and Yuri jerked their heads around, startled.
"Drop your weapons," Porter said with a H&K MP5 hanging from his shoulder. He waved the gun back and forth, making sure the intruders understood they could all be taken out in a matter of seconds. From such a short range, Porter would make quick work of them.
"Drew Porter," Sean said. "I should have known you were behind all this."
Porter raised his goggles, revealing his wicked brown eyes. "Me? Oh, I'm not behind all this. In fact, I'm looking for the same thing you're trying to find. Except I'm not working for the president."
Sean and his comrades were puzzled. "If you're not behind all this, why'd you try to kill me in New York? And what are you doing pointing a gun at us?"
The Sean Wyatt Series Box Set 4 Page 79