The Denali Deception

by Ernest Dempsey

  One more pull, he thought to himself.

  He gripped it again and leaned back. The rug budged again, but this time two of the bed's legs came free and clacked on the floor.

  Tommy shuddered. He let the rug fall and looked back down the hall.

  "Is everything okay in there?" Janet said. She appeared at the opposing doorway a second later.

  "Yes," Tommy said, red-faced. "Everything's fine."

  She frowned, dubious about his answer. "Why's your face so red all of a sudden?"

  "My face? Oh. Because I just banged my knee on the corner of the bed. I'm terribly sorry."

  He reached down and grabbed his kneecap, feigning injury.

  "Oh, I'm sorry," Janet said.

  "It's okay. I'm such a klutz. I don't think I hurt the bed." He limped out of the bedroom and into the hall. "I'll be fine." He bent the knee and kicked a couple of times like he was testing it.

  "Are you sure? You want me to get some ice or something?" Janet asked.

  Tommy almost felt bad for lying to the nice woman. "No, really, it'll be good. Just have to walk it off. I think I'll head outside and walk around a bit."

  "I'll come with you," Sean said.

  "Oh." Janet seemed disappointed her tour had come to a sudden end.

  "Thank you so much, Janet. I really appreciate you taking the time to show me some of these wonderful antiques you have. It's always great to experience real history like this." Sean passed her an almost flirty smile.

  The grin broke down her defenses completely, and she blushed. "Well, you are so welcome. Come back anytime you like."

  Tommy walked tenderly down the stairs, partly to keep up the act with his knee and partly so he didn't jostle the potentially priceless document in his coat.

  Once they were outside and the front door closed behind them, Tommy picked up the pace, walking briskly back toward the car. He didn't dare turn around for fear of Janet looking out a window and seeing them.

  When they were almost to the car, Sean ticked his head to the side. "Did you find it?" he asked through barely parted lips.

  "I found something," Tommy said.

  "Is it the map?"

  "Don't know. Didn't really have time to open it up and analyze it, you know, with your new girlfriend coming up the stairs and all."

  They hopped into the car, and Sean started the engine. Tommy carefully unzipped his coat as Sean backed the car out of the parking space and steered it out toward the road.

  Tommy pulled the rolled vellum out of the pocket and held it out for Sean to see.

  "Nice," Sean said. "Good work, my friend."

  Tommy breathed a sigh of relief. "Yeah. Now let's see what secrets Mr. Surratt was hiding in his bedroom."

  Chapter 29

  Clinton

  Sean guided the car along the busy county road. Other vehicles filled the oncoming lane as people hurried home after a long day of work. Most of them probably had jobs in Washington, a few on the outskirts in some of the newer corporations that took root during years of prosperity and development.

  The yellow-orange sun blazed just over the horizon, fading rapidly toward the hills and ridges to the west.

  "That looks like a good spot," Sean said, pointing at a pull-off near the river.

  There were picnic tables under huge oak trees, a loading ramp for boats, and a few charcoal grills permanently fixed in the ground.

  "Yeah, that's fine," Tommy said. He still cradled the rolled vellum in his lap.

  Sean pulled off the road and onto the gravel parking area. He left the engine running so they'd still have heat.

  Tommy took the letter they found in the cave and set it on the seat next to his leg. Next, he took out his laptop and placed it on his lap. The computer made for a decent makeshift desk given the circumstances. Then he began peeling back the vellum scroll. Every move he made was full of nauseating trepidation for fear of tearing it or ruining the integrity of the map.

  Tommy spent a full five minutes unrolling since rushing might have meant disaster. As he pressed down the corners of the vellum sheet, the two friends stared in disbelief.

  The document was blank.

  "I don't...I don't understand." Sean said. "Why would they go through the trouble of hiding a blank piece of vellum? Did the ink fade?"

  Tommy shook his head. He felt the heat coming out of the car's vents. "No, it didn't fade. And I'm pretty sure it's still there."

  He held the laptop up close to one of the vents, pinning down the top corners of the map with his fingers.

  "Turn the heat up as hot as you can," Tommy said.

  Sean reached over and twisted the knob. The temperature of the air pouring out of the vents increased immediately.

  The two watched for a moment, waiting for the chemicals in the ink to activate. At first, nothing happened. But as the heat continued to flow and warm the entire document, lines began to appear. Soon, words came to light along with different designs representing mountains, islands, the ocean, and rivers.

  Sean and Tommy stared with wide eyes at the map.

  "You know, I've seen invisible ink before," Tommy said, "but every time I see it appear I am kind of amazed."

  "No kidding," Sean agreed.

  The map depicted a highly detailed map of Alaska, for the time period. Most modern cities there today weren't listed because the drawing had been created before they'd been founded.

  "Now," Tommy said, “let's see if we can find what all the fuss is about."

  He picked up the letter next to his leg and opened it, spreading it over top of the map with the greatest of care. He flattened it as much as possible, pressing firmly while making sure the edges and corners lined up.

  "You got a pencil or a pen in here?" Tommy asked.

  Sean reached into the center console and produced a pen. "You're going to draw on what might be one of the most valuable American artifacts ever found?"

  Tommy snorted. "You got a better idea? We need to mark the location."

  Sean shook his head. "No, just making sure you understood the gravity of what you're about to do."

  "Oh, I understand. Don't think I'm happy about it, either."

  Tommy removed the pen's lid and held it over the letter. He continued to press down on the two sheets, keeping them as flush as possible. Then he took the pen and held it over the hole in the letter. He paused for a second, probably to reconsider what he was about to do. After a moment's hesitation, Tommy pressed the pen through the hole and wiggled it around, making a dot.

  He swallowed and started breathing again. He handed the pen back to Sean like a doctor passing a scalpel to a surgical technician. After another deep breath, Tommy lifted the letter off the map and stared at the new ink spot.

  The dot was located beside two words the two hadn't expected.

  Bolshaya Gora.

  "Russian?" Tommy asked.

  "Looks that way," Sean said, leaning over the center console to get a better look. "It means 'big mountain.'"

  "Denali?" Tommy asked.

  "I think so," Sean said. "Interesting it's in Russian."

  Tommy rolled his shoulders. "Actually, it makes perfect sense. The Russians were the first ones to explore that area, other than the natives, of course."

  "Of course."

  Both men pored over the map, noting all the other way points written in Russian.

  "The guys William Seward sent to Alaska must have brought this map back to him. That means—"

  "Seward didn't just send explorers. He sent thieves to steal this thing," Sean finished the thought for his friend.

  "Possibly. That's assuming he knew someone had this. Seeing it right now, though, sure seems that way." Tommy had another thought. "That means someone in the Confederacy must have discovered this two-part map and taken it."

  "Right. And Andrews' Raiders were sent to recover the piece with the hole in it. You thought you were worried about damaging something valuable. Think about Private Knight writing his letter on tha
t thing. I imagine he wasn't thrilled about it."

  Tommy nodded in agreement. "I wonder what this is," he said, pointing at the dot on the map.

  "Let's look at what we know. It's close to Denali. From the looks of it, I'd say it's situated in the hills surrounding the big mountain. What's in those hills?" Sean asked the question already knowing the answer.

  "Gold?"

  "Yep," Sean said. "At least there used to be."

  Then another thought struck him. "One of the men who came after me said that there was something under the mountain that could produce gold."

  "You mean like alchemy?" Tommy asked.

  Sean snorted a short laugh. "I said those exact words. Yes, just like alchemy."

  Tommy dismissed the idea with a scowl. "Alchemy isn't real. There's been nothing in science to prove that you can turn lead into gold."

  "Maybe it isn't lead they're using. And maybe it isn't alchemy as we understand it."

  "Maybe. There's still a lot we don't know about old, or ancient, technology."

  "Right. And remember, a thousand years ago the Vikings thought thunder and lightning was Thor using his hammer. It may very well be that what these Russians were talking about wasn't gold at all. It might have been something else, and the translation down through the last 150 years got screwed up."

  "Good point," Tommy said. "Either way, you and I both know the only real possibility we have of knowing what's up there is to go see for ourselves."

  Sean sighed. "Yeah, but that's going to be the problem. No way we're getting across the Canadian border. The guys behind all this will have the borders locked down tight. And obviously flying isn't an option. Not even with your private plane."

  "What about sneaking across the border?" Tommy offered.

  "I considered it. Even so, it would take us way too long to get there. Not to mention that getting up there via the roads will be nearly impossible this time of year. Most of the roads will be closed."

  "So, we take a boat. Sail into Anchorage and then make our way out to Denali."

  Sean shook his head again. "Coast Guard. And we would still have the problem of getting across the country. The closest port to our destination would be Seattle. Combining the time it takes to sail with the drive out there, we'd be looking at nearly a week of travel."

  "What do we do, then?"

  Sean didn't have an answer. He tried to think back to a time before he and Tommy had every resource imaginable. Before the private jets, the endless amounts of money, and the connections around the globe, the two friends had managed to get around the country—even the world—with limited resources. Time wasn't a factor back then. If they wanted to drive to Saint Louis for a Braves road game, they could do it without having to worry about anything serious.

  Things weren't like that anymore, and their current predicament posed a very real threat to a number of people.

  He felt his phone start vibrating in his pocket. Sean looked at the screen and saw it was Adriana's burner phone.

  "Hey," he answered. "You okay?"

  "I'm fine. Listen, we figured out why you couldn't get through to Emily or anyone at axis."

  "Oh yeah?"

  "Yes. Someone from the CIA redirected the phone line. We were able to search the camera footage from several video surveillance spots around Axis HQ. One of the cameras got a great shot of the guy who sabotaged the incoming line. It was pretty high tech, too. They rigged it for only certain calls. Since you'd been in Auburn, getting a call from that area code was an easy one to mark. That's why no one else noticed what was going on. They kept getting their normal calls without interruption. Emily sent one of her people up the telephone pole to retrieve it. They're dissecting the device as we speak."

  "Wow. I can't believe I didn't think of that." Sean cursed himself in his mind.

  "No one did...well, until we did. Don't beat yourself up."

  "Thanks. What else did you find?"

  "We spoke to June and the kids," she said. Sean glanced over at Tommy, who looked at him with curiosity in his eyes.

  "I'll explain later," Sean mouthed.

  Adriana went on. "They found some interesting information about who we think might be behind the assassination attempt on Dawkins."

  "Really?"

  "Yep. They tracked a big chunk of money that was put into a fall guy's account. Two accounts, actually, and in two different countries."

  "Fall guy?" Sean knew what the term meant, but he didn't understand the context.

  "Some guy named Kendricks. Cops shot him dead outside the hotel where the assassination attempt took place. One day, he had an account in Nicaragua and another in Costa Rica, both loaded with a ton of money. The next day, the accounts were dry. The kids had a friend who tracked where the funds came from. They were filtered through a number of channels, but eventually the money was traced to a company called Transcorp."

  "Never heard of it."

  "I guess most people haven't unless you're in that sector. It's an energy company. They work under the radar, providing power to a good number of other corporations. They claim to be a green energy sort of deal, but we haven't been able to find anything about their land holdings, solar farms, wind farms, nothing."

  "Sounds like Transcorp likes to keep their operations out of the public eye. Easy enough to do when you're a private company and not publicly traded. No SEC breathing down your neck all the time, fewer things to file."

  "That's not even the most troubling part." She paused for a second. "The majority shareholder is the secretary of state, Kent Foster."

  Sean frowned upon hearing that last piece. He clenched his jaw and stared out at the dark, rippling water. "So, you think Foster is behind all this?"

  "Apparently, he's been pushing Dawkins and Congress to take down the Tennessee Valley Authority for a long time. Foster wants it broken up and sold to private entities."

  "Break up TVA? We have some of the lowest energy costs in the nation."

  "I know. But by breaking it up, Transcorp would have the most to gain. With their green energy initiatives, they'd be lovable to the public and have the money and infrastructure to eventually take over the Eastern Seaboard."

  "How much money?"

  "Right now, they're valued at around ten billion, but they're locked on the West Coast right now. If they can get across the Mississippi, they'll be the primary energy suppliers to the entire country."

  Sean took a moment to let the information sink in. Presidents and vice presidents were under constant financial scrutiny. Most of them put their assets into a blind trust. Dawkins's predecessor kept his money in mutual funds and treasury bonds to keep things on the up-and-up. No one ever really put much thought into the secretary of state's finances. Foster was in the perfect position to make moves that would benefit his company and yet remain largely anonymous through the entire process.

  Another piece to the puzzle popped into Sean's mind, and it brought everything into focus.

  "Foster found out about what I was doing for the president."

  "How?"

  "How did they take down Nixon? There must have been a bug somewhere. When Foster found out I was getting close, he sent his CIA goons after me."

  "And because the president knew too much already, he had to be eliminated as well," Adriana said.

  "Exactly. That either means Foster wants Dawkins out of the way so he can take down TVA, or he doesn't want him to find whatever it is out in Alaska." Sean had another thought. "I can't help but wonder..." His voice trailed off.

  "Wonder what?" she asked.

  "You mentioned that Transcorp doesn't have any wind or solar farms on record."

  "Correct."

  "I'm assuming they don't own any hydroelectric stations either."

  "Usually, assuming isn't the way to go. We both know why, but that is also correct. They don't own any of those."

  "That brings me back to what I was thinking. Is it possible that they're producing their power from something undergroun
d, possibly a geothermal station of some kind?"

  For a brief moment, Adriana didn't answer. Sean didn't expect her to right away. He knew that sort of thing wasn't her area of expertise.

  "I suppose it's possible," she said, finally. "They'd have to run power lines, though. And those lines would have to traverse thousands of miles to get power to the lower forty-eight states."

  "They built an oil pipeline that does that. Running some cables would be easier."

  "Good point," she said. "You want me to have someone look into that?"

  "The power lines? No. I have a feeling they probably kept that under wraps as well. It's also a good bet the lines are underground."

  Another concern came to Sean's mind. "Does Dawkins know about Foster?"

  "I'm on my way back to Washington to warn him."

  "You didn't call?"

  "He's in a secure bunker right now, but he's scheduled to make an appearance tomorrow. All the phone lines going into the White House are jammed. I have to warn him myself."

  He continued staring out the windshield at the river. A little single-prop airplane bounced in the air several miles away. It almost didn't look like it was moving.

  It sounded like Adriana had thought everything through. With Emily working with her, they'd have all the angles covered. Now he needed them to cover one more.

  "I need you to ask Emily for a favor," he said.

  "And that is?"

  "See if she can get a plane for us. Nothing fancy. In fact, the less fancy, the better. We need something that can make it across the country with minimal stops, and we need it at the smallest airport near Clinton, Maryland you can find."

  "Clinton? Is that where you guys are?"

  "We're close to there, yes. Can you do that for me?"

  "Yep. I'll tell her right now. I have to go. Anything else?"

  "No," Sean shook his head. A thin smile stretched across his mouth. "Thank you."

  "You're welcome. Thank you, too."

  "For what?"

  "I'll think of something."

  They ended the call, and Sean realized his friend was staring at him. He suddenly became uncomfortable.