“Lots of shops,” Wilson said. “Good Native clothing.”
“Yeah, I was in every one of them. Funny I didn’t see you.”
“I guess we missed each other.” Wilson let the curtain fall and pulled out a straight backed chair. He sat there apparently quite at ease, relaxed, smiling. Nothing in his appearance accounted for Malinche’s almost certain knowledge that he could spring to life in an instant, a snake striking. This wasn’t a man who frequented local shops and looked at Native clothing.
He rose, stretched and glanced at Joe. “I’ll be going down to the restaurant. You can all join me if you like. And Joe, I hope you’ll join me on the flight back. I hate to fly alone. And maybe you two had better come along, too.”
He left silence behind him. His invitation to Joe had sounded like an order. And his casual invitation to them had the ring of authority. For all his self-effacing manner, he acted as though he expected to be obeyed.
But it wouldn’t work with her. Pasco might have to jump, even Brian, but Wilson had no authority over her. She could do as she pleased. Although the thought of being alone, without Brian, was scarier than she could admit even to herself.
Joe rose, again all smiles and expansiveness. “You two better come on down and have something to eat. And—maybe he’s right. You should leave when we do.”
“Is that an order, Joe?” Brian’s voice was dangerously low.
Pasco hesitated. “Think about it,” he finally said, and turned to follow Wilson out the door.
“So,” Brian said, shutting the door and locking it. “What do you make of that? Wilson was nowhere to be seen for hours—and he could fit the description of one of the strangers Ganook said was hanging around the village.”
“Do you think he was the one who attacked us?” Malinche whispered.
“He certainly could have been. He had the opportunity. But that still leaves that other guy, the one who could have been Carl Bettnor. Or maybe it was neither of them” He shook his head. “I don’t see that we’re a bit closer to finding out what happened to Dimitri. And we’re not likely to, now that we don’t even have the envelope.”
“We don’t need the envelope,” Malinche said. “We have the return address. When we get back to Anchorage, we can try to find out why Dimitri was corresponding with the army.”
“You’re willing to go back to Anchorage now?”
“I don’t see that we can do anything more here. We’ve traced Dimitri’s last few days, and got a man killed in the process. And if Wilson is involved, he’s going back to Anchorage We may as well, too.”
On the face of it, there was no reason her heart should feel so heavy. Dimitri’s trail was cold; they had found out all they could here. But she wouldn’t leave her brother’s death unavenged; someone would pay. She could continue the investigation in Anchorage.
Her spurt of courage, when she had resolved to insist that Brian tell her his feelings, had vanished. He appeared as approachable and receptive as a granite rock. If he said nothing it was probably because he felt nothing, and she wasn’t a woman who was interested in a one-way relationship. She knew it was in her nature to love wholeheartedly, give herself entirely, and she would never be happy with a man who couldn’t reciprocate. Or if he did, managed to hide his feelings.
Yet, if she was honest with herself, she knew why she was depressed. Here, in Barrow and in the cave, even on the ice, she had lived life with an intensity she had never known existed. She had known, for a few idyllic hours, love. Love that existed only here when she was living on the edge. When she returned to her normal world, it would vanish. And unless Brian felt as she did, it would never be recovered.
Again she fingered the spot where the gold chain had lain; the lost talisman seemed a symbol of everything else she was losing.
“I still wonder why he took this dragon,” she murmured. “He could have picked up one in any shop.”
“Yeah. You’re more familiar with Dimitri’s work than I am. Can you think of anything at all that was different?”
“No” Slowly, painstakingly, she recreated the dragon in her mind. The same workmanship, the same size, the same dragon details. Yet something nagged at her, hovered around the edge of her mind. Had she looked carefully enough? Had she missed something?
Chapter Twelve
Malinche waited for Brian in her room. He had convinced her that they should follow Pasco and Wilson to the airport to be sure they actually got on the plane. She’d been reluctant to leave Kotzebue. With everything that had happened since leaving Anchorage, she still felt this interlude had been the most wonderful of her life.
And now they must leave; she didn’t know what her relationship to Brian would be, but it would be different.
At his light tap, she opened the door. He stood there, lean and bronzed, gazing at her as though she were a vision that might vanish before his eyes. Was he, too, reluctant to leave this idyllic time behind?
Suddenly, as though unable to control himself, he moved toward her and clasped her in his arms. She came to him in a glad rush. His mouth sought hers, eager and demanding, sending bolts of lightning down every nerve. Warm and sensuous, his mouth captured hers, and she returned his kiss with a passion that shook her to her toes. She clung to him, in the grip of a desire so strong she could hardly stand.
Kicking shut the door, he moved her toward the bed. “Malinche, Malinche…” He murmured her name like a benediction.
She moaned softly. His lips burned against her throat, the skin of her shoulder. Then she felt him move aside her shirt and bare her quivering breast to his seeking mouth. “I want you so much,” he whispered. “Do you want me, Malinche? Say you do. I can’t go back to Anchorage without—without—”
Her quick moves to assist in removing their clothing must have given her answer. They sank together onto the bed, entwined in the ancient movements of love. Nothing existed but the two of them, a man and a woman, in thrall to the elemental life force. All hesitancies, all thoughts, all problems, were swept aside as they crested the summit together.
Later, when their hearts had slowed a bit, he nuzzled her neck. “Heaven couldn’t be any better than this.”
She murmured assent—but was it heaven, or Eden which she feared they were about to leave? Surely now was the time to say he loved her—if he did. Or was this his way of saying goodbye?
STILL LATER, Brian came up to where she waited in the airport lounge. They’d had to wait most of the day for Wilson and Pasco to leave, and it was time to get their own flight underway. His impulse was to pull her to him, shower her with kisses, beg her to stay with him always, but he merely smiled. She pulled at his heart in so many ways—when she smiled, when she frowned, when she laughed—had he ever seen her cry? Yes, when she spoke of her brother, and her pain had torn at his heart. Her down jacket was zipped around her neck, but the hood lay along her back, baring her head which rose like a fragile flower from the fur trim.
He knew now the fragility was deceptive. Arctic flowers appeared delicate and fragile, but they withstood the harsh environment. She was like them—strong, tenacious, enduring.
Perhaps he had been wrong about her. Maybe she could stay the course. Whatever, he loved her and as soon as they got to Anchorage he would tell her so. He reached for her hand.
“Wilson and Pasco are on their way. I’ve serviced my plane. Come along, and we’ll get Pete to check us out.”
In the tower, Pete, a lanky man with a sharp face and dark blond hair caught back from his face in a ponytail, nodded and motioned them to a seat.
“Got a little disturbance coming up, Brian. Can you wait a sec while I check it out?”
“Sure.”
A few minutes later Pete switched off the radio, shaking his head. “There’s a bad storm out there, coming up fast”
“How bad is it?”
“Hard to say. You might stay ahead of it, but a small plane could be in trouble. And it will slow you down, for sure. Unless you’re in a r
eal hurry, I suggest you wait.”
Smiling, Brian turned to Malinche. “How would you like to spend another day or so in beautiful downtown Kotzebue?”
THEY TOSSED THEIR BAGS down in front of the hotel counter, signed the register, and received keys for their room from a bored clerk. Malinche had no intention of staying alone even if Wilson and Pasco were far away. She’d had a midnight intruder before; it might have been Bettnor—or anyone—and they still might be near. Besides, after what had happened earlier between her and Brian, she didn’t want to be more than a heartbeat away from him.
“Wait.” Malinche glanced toward the lobby and paused, hand on the balustrade of the stairs. “Isn’t that Ganook?”
Brian’s gaze followed hers. Huddled in the armchair that he had drawn up close to the fireplace, the wizened little man appeared even smaller than he had in Netta’s cabin. He appeared to be dozing, but at Malinche’s words, his black eyes snapped open, alert as those of a bird of prey.
Leaving her luggage at the foot of the stairs, Malinche started toward him. “I wonder what he’s doing here?” she whispered to Brian. Seen out of his element, among the trappings of civilization, he seemed even more archaic than when they had first seen him in the Eskimo village.
“Hello.” She grasped the frail hand he held out to her in a firm handshake.
“We didn’t expect to see you, Ganook. What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for you.”
His matter-of-fact tone made her blink. “But—we had checked out We should have been on our way to Anchorage. How did you know we’d be back?”
“Birds can’t fly in weather like that.” The old man gestured toward a narrow window. The wind, brisk when they left the airport, now roared around the building, sending shudders through its frame structure and rattling its glass.
“But the storm just started.” It must have taken him an hour at least to get here from the village. “Even radar didn’t pick up the disturbance until a few minutes ago.”
He shrugged, giving her an impatient look. “White man’s magic isn’t the only way to find out what’s going on.”
She felt firmly put in her place. Of course Eskimos hadn’t survived in this harsh climate without becoming experts on predicting weather. She sat cross-legged on the floor beside him. A glance out of the corner of her eye showed Brian leaning one elbow on the driftwood mantel above the fireplace.
The two men presented such a contrast. The one, young, virile, pragmatic, strong; the other, old and shriveled, but with an air of knowledge and mysticism that was powerful in its own way. Here, side by side, they seemed to symbolize the two sides of her nature, pulling against each other.
“You’ve made a long trip for your age,” she said gently, patting the old man’s hand. “Why are you here?”
“I have been thinking about what’s been happening—the evil that has come to our people, the evil I still see hovering around you—and I thought I could be of more help.”
“You’ve thought of something else to tell us?”
Ganook gestured toward a high wingback chair. Its back had been turned to them, half obliterating its occupant, and Malinche had been so surprised to see Ganook that she hadn’t noticed the other man. He had sat stiff and silent as a totem pole. Now he turned and regarded her with dark, opaque eyes. Mistrustful eyes, she decided.
“Come here, Ootek,” Ganook commanded, his voice suddenly strong and clear.
Reluctantly, the other man stood and inched a couple of steps closer. His broad face and sturdy stature indicated he was an Eskimo, but although dressed in Native style, his clothing was somehow different from Ganook’s. Each village, Malinche remembered, had its own minute difference in style.
“Ootek lives in a village just down the coast,” Ganook said. “He came to Kotzebue for the Gathering. He had already gone home, and I asked him to return.”
Ootek grunted and gave the older man a dark look. Asked? Malinche wondered, observing Ootek’s surly manner. Ordered was more likely.
Ganook nodded sternly at Ootek. “Tell them.”
Ootek gazed stubbornly at the floor. Ganook’s voice became gentler. “It’s all right. You’re safe. These two seek the man who killed your friend I know you were afraid to speak before, but this man and woman will help.”
Ootek didn’t look convinced, but he could not withstand the power of the shaman. In a low monotone, Ootek spoke, as though reciting words he had used over and over in his head. “I was at the Gathering. I became friends with Dimitri. I believe I was the last person to see him alive—except his killer, of course.”
Brian gave a low whistle. “Then you’re absolutely sure someone at the Gathering killed him?”
“Of course. They say he lost his way and froze to death. Ridiculous. He knew the ways of the North as well as I do. He hadn’t planned to leave the Gathering. He was very excited. He said he was very close to finding a man for whom he’d been searching for a long time. A dangerous man. A man who had done him great harm. And when I last saw him, I saw the shadow of a man right behind him.”
“Who was behind him? And who was he looking for?”
“I didn’t see enough of the man to recognize him. As for whom he searched—he wasn’t completely sure, although he had a good idea. He was searching for proof, I think. He said this man was evil—he deserved to die.”
“Did you see any strangers around, get even a hint of who might have killed him?” Brian said.
Ootek shrugged. “There are always strangers at the Gathering Reporters. Tourists. Government men trying to find out what we’re talking about. They seem to think we’re dangerous, as though we cared about their warring countries. They’re the same to us. We just want to visit with friends and relatives, keep up our old customs.”
Brian described Carl Bettnor. “Was he one of the strangers?”
“Yes, I remember him. A hard man, like old leather. He seemed very close to Dimitri. He was always talking to him.”
“So, when did you last see Dimitri?”
“He was walking to the sauna. He liked to go late in the evening when it was often uncrowded. I never saw him again, although I waited where we had agreed to meet He never came. I heard that his body was found the next day. An accident, they said. I left for home right away, to escape the evil.”
“We know he was murdered now, but what made you so sure then?”
“I felt it,” Ootek said. “I felt the evil around him, growing stronger each day. He felt it, too, and I know he was afraid, but he had to keep on. He had to find out.” He glanced at Ganook. “I have nothing more to say.”
“You have done well, son.” Ganook struggled up from the chair and placed his frail hand on Ootek’s arm, then turned to Malinche. “I don’t know if any of this helps. Most of it you knew, perhaps not all. Ootek was afraid to talk to you. He thought he might be killed as well. I persuaded him he must tell you everything for the sake of Dimitri and Charlie. Be on guard, the air still smells of evil.” He shrugged deeper into his parka. “We will go now.”
“But the storm is still fierce.” Malinche raised her voice slightly to be heard above the sounds of force and fury still assaulting the building. “Why don’t you stay until this passes over?”
Ootek and Ganook gave her an identical, amused glance, and walked toward the door. A minute later they were lost to sight in the storm.
“Will they be all right?” she whispered to Brian.
“They wouldn’t have left if they didn’t know what they were doing,” he said. “A storm that would stop a plane in the air might not stop ground travel. Let’s go up to the room. We need to think about what they told us. We know who saw him last, but I’m not sure how much good that will do us.”
In the room, she instinctively turned to him, placing her cheek against the hard muscles of his chest. His heartbeat was strong, even through the clothing, giving her a feeling of comfort—and something much more unsettling. He kissed her thoroughly, then sank int
o a chair and pulled her onto his lap.
“Back again,” he said softly.
She knew he was remembering, as she was, the ecstasy they had felt in this room. “Maybe something wants us to stay,” she murmured.
“The Universe trying to tell us something?” he teased. “You sound as weird as that old shaman. I didn’t want to fly back in a storm, and from the sounds of it, I was right.”
Startled by a raucous sound, she glanced out the window and shivered. The force of the wind had sent a dozen tin cans rattling down the street. “How long do you think this weather will last?”
“Hard to tell. Perhaps we should have asked Ganook. Shamans seem to be able to foretell the weather. What the heck,” he said, giving her a sly glance, “maybe he even conjured it up.”
She smiled wanly at his little joke. He was trying to lighten her somber mood. He didn’t share that age-old belief in the mystical that she was fighting hard to overcome. And she shivered at the conviction in the old man’s voice when he spoke of evil.
“Well,” Brian said, placing a kiss on the back of her neck, “we’re doubly sure now that Bettnor was involved. Someone met Dimitri at the sauna. But was it Bettnor, or someone else? Was Bettnor there to kill Dimitri, or to keep an eye on him, maybe even protect him if he actually was a spy? Maybe the contact actually killed Stanislof.”
“You’re assuming Dimitri was really a spy,” she said.
“It’s something we have to consider. Or maybe Bettnor just thought he was a spy—we don’t know. And how does Jim Wilson, a man from Universal Oil, fit in? From the description we were given, he must have been there when Charlie was killed. Perhaps he was at the Gathering, too.”
She sighed. “I don’t know. I’m completely confused. I’m just glad Wilson and Pasco are on the plane to Anchorage. And I sure wish I knew where Bettnor was right now.”
Brian’s gut tightened at the note of fear in her voice. Dark shadows of exhaustion circled her eyes. He pulled her tighter, wishing his arms could banish the fear. Her cheekbones were more pronounced than they had been; she had lost weight during the grueling ordeal on the ice.
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