“He means nerve gas,” Captain Maroak said.
“If we run and try to hide, they will only hunt us down like dogs and kill us,” Dan-e-wåk said.
“Then we must ku-li-gaaw.” Frank Luke raised a closed fist and stood. “If we win, they’ll leave us alone.”
“My unit’s preparing defensive positions as we speak. But it’d help if I knew the direction of attack.”
“There’s no escape, we have to ku-li-gaaw.”
“We can evacuate the village and ku-li-gaaw.” A grim smile crossed Maroak’s face.
Sable shrugged. Kanashig was lucky enough to have an Alaska Army National Guard unit, as did many Athabascan, Yupik, and Inuit villages throughout the state. The Army was definitely in for a fight. The village could protect itself if needed. Maroak was commander of the 57th Heavy Armored Attack Company. His unit had recently returned from its annual training, winning top honors. If there were a ku-li-gaaw, the Tlingits would win, but at what cost?
“Let’s prepare, not ku-li-gaaw amongst ourselves,” Kukākínok said. “We need to make the decision together and not the council.”
“Aado-ch sásahèiyee, kei jeeylatsó—whoever wishes for this raise your hand—if you believe we should ku-li-gaaw.” Kukākínok looked over the crowd. The members raised their hands, including the head table.
“All opposed, same,” he said. Not a single hand was raised. “Motion carried unanimously—we fight.”
Kukākínok turned to Maroak. “We place our lives in your hands.”
“The Alaska State Troopers will help you any way we can,” Sable said.
The light dimmed in the room as the sun went behind the clouds.
Chapter 27
The evening was darkly overcast, leaving everything in shadow. Sable moved along the tree line until he was parallel with the hovercraft hangers and then knelt by a tree. Masters crouched by him and surveyed the area. With his night vision goggles, Sable followed the silhouette of the guard. “I only see one.”
“You want me to take him out with a tranquilizer dart?” Masters breathed heavily.
“Not unless we have to, and only if there’s a confrontation.”
“Ready?”
“Let’s time the guard’s rounds and make sure there’s no one else around.” Sable checked his watch. God, he hated doing police work this way.
“He went around again.”
“Let’s go.” Sable stood. “Cover me.”
Sable drew his tranquilizer gun, hunched, and dashed across the open area. This door didn’t have a control pad. He took out his pick gun, inserted it in the lock, and squeezed the trigger twice. He opened the door, which yielded a soft click, motioned for Masters to follow, and slipped inside.
“I’m glad you’re on our side, Sable.” Masters’ voice was barely audible as he stepped inside the building. “You’d make a great cat burglar.”
“My uncle taught me.” Sable saw Masters’ grin through the opening in the ski mask.
“Damn, what is this?” He pulled the door closed. “The seventh fleet?”
“There’s another three buildings full of these.” Sable pointed to the Gemini. “There she is.” Dim safety lights marked the doors and spread their halo into the darkness. Dark shapes of hovercraft melted into the nothingness.
“This project’s got the bucks. I’d love to see the entire complex.”
“I don’t think Dean’s going to give us a free tour.”
Sable crept toward the craft while doing a slow scan from side to side with his weapon. A small silhouette launched itself from a stack of boxes. Sable caught the flicker out of the corner of his eye and he turned, fired, and stepped aside. The gun had given a small whisper and the figure crumpled in mid-flight, falling to the ground with a soft thud. “Watch cat.”
“You’re joking.”
“Pet, maybe.” Sable stooped, extracted the dart and continued moving. “Definitely dead.”
“Too high a dosage?”
“You got it.” Sable stopped at Dean’s hovercraft and made one last, visual sweep of the area. “Keep watch. Hopefully, this won’t take me too long.”
Masters took a kneeling position and brought his pistol to the ready.
Sable scrambled quietly up a ladder and checked the door handle. He found it unlocked and pulled it open, plunked himself into the seat and took off the night vision goggles. Pulling his penlight, he flashed on the dash. Sable hit the switch for the GPS. Nothing happened. He scanned the instrument panel and hit the accessory switch and the panel illuminated. Before this mission, he had read as much as he could find on the new electronics. As he examined the system, Sable discovered it was tied to an autopilot that had a recorder printer. Guessing, he punched several of the buttons on the recorder. The LCD flashed, “Ready for programming.” He hit several other keys and the display said, “Select program.” He hit “1” and the GPS rattled off positions in latitude and longitude. He hit the print button and a strip of paper spat out from under the machine with a rasping sound.
“How’s it going?” Masters hissed.
“I’m in the system and may have what I need,” Sable whispered. After running through several more programs, he collected, folded, and stuffed the papers into his breast pocket.
As Sable stepped from the Hovercraft, the warehouse lights came on, blinding him.
“Shit, shit.” Masters pulled the night vision goggles off.
“Glad you could come to our reception party, Corporal Sable.” The voice was familiar to him. “It is you, isn’t it?”
Sable shielded his eyes.
“We found evidence of the last break in and General Dean thought you’d be back.” Four men in battle dress uniforms carrying M16s surrounded Major Johnson. They were closely spaced. Masters held his dart gun at forty five degrees.
Several options passed through Sable’s mind. With a flying leap kick he could take out two of the guards.
“Come on down and join us,” Johnson said. “It looks like you and your partner are going to spend time behind bars.”
Sable coughed and changed the sound of his voice. “Who is Sable?”
“Tell your friend to drop his toy.”
“I’ll be down in a second.” Sable measured the distance, braced himself on the cab of the hovercraft and launched himself toward his targets. A rifle fired and he felt the heat of the wind across his cheek. He spun in midair, aligning his targets. He saw Masters drop roll and fire the darts, each followed by a wisp of air. Sable slammed into two of the soldiers, sending them and their rifles flying. As he landed, he somersaulted into a combat stance, but found it hard to maintain as pain shot up his shins and hamstrings. Johnson pulled his pistol, but Sable pushed off with his arms and extended his leg in a sweep for Johnson’s leg. He connected, and Johnson fell to the ground, his legs and arms akimbo.
Now unarmed, Johnson hitched up his pants and took a military-style karate stance. “You’ll never get out of here alive and if you do, there are another fifteen men outside.”
“Then I’d better get busy.” Sable, his hand a blur, drew his gun and fired. The dart hit the major in the neck. Then Sable shot the other two soldiers.
“I thought I was going to see a good fight.” Masters stood and brushed himself off.
“Why do something the hard way?”
“If we really are surrounded, how do we get out?”
“Simple.” Sable motioned to the Gemini. “We’ll take her out for a test spin.”
“Through the metal door?” Masters pointed to it.
“Use the control panel.”
“It’s coded.”
“Be innovative.”
Masters hit the panel with his pistol, brushed debris away, made a determination, ripped out a couple of wires and tied them together. The warehouse door rolled up.
Sable scrambled up the side of the Gemini and into the captain’s chair. He reached under the dash and jerked down the ignition wires. As he crossed them, the dash lights c
ame on. He hit the ignition switches for the lift fans. Sable started to hit the switches for the main engines when he saw a joystick and toggles marked “machine guns.” He hit them and a targeting screen popped on the windshield. Grabbing the stick, he moved it and crosshairs tracked across the screen.
“Ready.” Masters slid into the passenger’s seat. “Do you think we’ll make it?”
“Sure.” Sable patted the stick and fired up the mains. “This thing’s really loaded.”
“I hope so.”
“Here goes nothing.” Sable turned on the spotlights, pushed the throttle forward and the hovercraft leaped out of the building. A barrage of bullets glanced off the Gemini, creating a staccato of taps on the metal hull. Sable dropped the cross hairs to above ground level, turned the wheel and pulled the trigger on the joystick. As the craft spun, the machine guns laid down a lead wall and the lights put out a blinding beam. When Sable brought back to center, he touched the throttle and the craft sped across the clearing to the road. A hail of bullets thudded off the aluminum as they sped down the road.
“Can we keep her?” Masters yelled over the roar of the engine, as he patted the dash.
“I’d love to, but I’m not ready to spend twenty years in the slammer,” Sable yelled back.
“I think it’s time we visit your friends and get them out of the state,” Masters said. “I have a good idea. Let’s leave this where it can be found.”
“Go for it.”
Chapter 28
Where’s Major Johnson?” Dean slid into the chair at the head of the table and scanned the table. The agents and soldiers lining each side of the conference table either shrugged or looked at each other as though the person next to them had the answer. The long table gave the semblance of a corporate board meeting.
“I have a present for you,” Chapman said and placed a folder in front of Dean. “We’ve got Nelson’s body, and all the reports indicate Sable’s dead. I saw the bonfire.”
“That’s what you said about him before.”
“A miscalculation, but this time I saw him get into his cruiser. He went up in a fireball.”
“He’d better have.” Dean took a sip from a water glass. “Now, let’s get down to business. We’re still on schedule with the village.”
“Right on time, but we might want to reconsider the option.” Chapman moved to the briefing chart. “No one’s dying.”
“So?”
“So, Kincaid’s not infected or he was never there.”
“Oh, he’s been there. How do you explain how Nelson got the truck, how the newspaper got the story, and how George, McNeal, and Stone got involved?” Dean tapped his new pen on the table. He looked at it. His favorite pen gone—damn. Where had he misplaced it? He twirled the new one between his fingers.
“I still haven’t figured it out, but he’s not there now. My men have been watching the clinic and Stone’s and George’s houses. Nothing.”
“The villagers don’t suspect anything?”
“Since we’re using Gammas, not even an Indian from the old west could detect them.”
“Good.” Dean stroked his chin in contemplation. “Well, where are they?”
“Gone to ground.”
“Then, it should be easy for you and your men to find them.”
“Alaska’s one-fifth of the area of the United States and most of its wilderness.”
“So?”
“Kincaid’s file shows he’s an avid sportsman—hunting, canoeing, fishing and mountain climbing. He can live in the wilderness for years. And of course, his friends are Indians. They live off the land.”
“He has to meet someone or stop for gas sometime.”
“The area’s bigger than the State of Texas.”
“Then bring in more men.”
“The SECDEF only gave me twenty agents.”
“Then Wheeler’s soldiers’ll help.”
Chapman picked up a pointer and recited a litany of items his men needed to cover. “Kincaid’s file shows he has close bonds with relatives and friends.”
“Phone taps?” Dean asked.
“We have most of his friends and relatives under surveillance and tapped. If he contacts any of them, we have him.”
“Kincaid’s intelligent, he wouldn’t do it,” an agent down the table said.
“You’re prepared to take him down when you catch him?”
“Of course, dead or alive.”
“Whichever. He’d make a good test subject. He won’t go willingly. So don’t get near him. He’s deadly at karate.”
“A .44 Mag is deadlier,” Chapman said.
“Right.”
“And most of my men have served in Special Forces, but he hasn’t.”
Strickland strode into the room, waving a sheaf of papers. “We found them.”
“Kincaid?”
“I think so. McNeal’s summer cabin is four miles from the village.”
Dean growled. “Send in some agents.”
“Already taken care of.”
Chapter 29
“Hopefully they won’t shoot us,” Masters said as they approached a one-story log cabin reminiscent of a miner’s. Sable brought the Blazer to a stop next to an old all-black El Camino he recognized as Jon’s. As he stepped from the vehicle, he waved the gas masks in the air. “Do we need these?” From a distance, Bill looked somehow younger.
“Well the doctor says she doesn’t think we’re contagious.” Bill lowered what looked like an old .30-30 Winchester.
As they started up the dirt path, Sable stopped and scanned the forest. In the back of his mind, something didn’t feel right.
Bill met them halfway down a dirt path with his rifle held across his chest. “Can’t be too careful.” He hefted the rifle.
“I’ll come peacefully,” Sable said as he lifted his arms in mock surrender.
“You should give up, especially after the trick you played on me.”
“What the heck happened to you?” Sable stepped through the door and stopped. He stared at Jon, Becky, Lee and Bill. None looked a day over twenty. Sable had thought he was prepared for this, but he wasn’t.
“We’ve all had a significant life-changing event thanks to the experiments,” Bill said. “But it was a tough road: fevers, convulsions, death, and life.”
Sable wasn’t sure if Bill was kidding.
After exchanging greetings, Jon gestured for them to take a seat. Sable covered their activities minus a few illegal ones.
“We were having a late night snack before you so rudely interrupted us.” Becky rose.
“I’m in time,” Sable said.
“Would you like some blueberry pie?”
Masters and Sable nodded.
“So the village is going to fight,” Jon said. “Good. I hope you have suggestions for a battle plan for us. We need to protect Bill.”
Jon was seated with Becky and holding her hand and Bill held Lee’s hand. Sable tried not to smile. Apparently, relationships had changed.
“Since the Army is after you, I suggest you get lost in Canada.” Masters hunched over the table.
“I agree, but split up.” Sable forked a slice of pie and savored the sweet tart taste.
“I disagree. I believe it’d be safer for you if I went to Canada alone.” Bill took a sip of coffee which looked like it was cold.
“We should separate and you and Lee should team up.” Jon lifted a forkful of pie.
“Jon’s right. The Army and the DIS will be looking for a single man, not a couple,” Sable said.
“You and Becky?” Bill looked at Jon.
“We’ll stay at the village,” Becky said. “I don’t think this is going to be a bloodless battle. Both sides will need medical help.
“Sable, can’t you find Bill a place to hide—like Glennallen?”
“No. Canada makes sense. Dean would be crazy to go there. It’d cause an international incident.” Sable splayed his fingers and examined them.
Hell. What
can I really tell them? Tomorrow troopers, villagers, and even my friend might die. Can I and Masters handle a problem this large?
“How long do you think we should lay low?” Becky twirled her fork between her fingers between bites.
“At least a couple of months. We should have Dean in jail by tomorrow. After we find his wife’s body. But I hate to say it—the Feds won’t leave it there.”
Masters turned to Bill and Lee. “Before you leave, you’ll need new identities. And I can help. I know someone who can set us up with the best—driver’s licenses, passports, Social Security cards.”
“Let me get this straight—” Sable’s voice trailed off.
“I busted the guy so I know what he can do.” Masters took out his pad and wrote a name and phone number.
“How long will it take?” Jon took another bite of pie.
“Not more than a couple hours.”
“Our biggest problem is money. My money was in the pack Red took.” Bill’s voice cracked. “And if I know the Feds, all my assets have been frozen.”
“It’s only a guess, but I’ll bet none of us can access our accounts. We’re broke,” Becky said.
“Dean can’t act that fast,” Lee said.
“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Sable said.
“I agree,” Masters said.
“Now, it’s my turn,” Jon said. “We can gain access and bury the transactions so far under paperwork and electronic codes it’ll take them years to unravel the red tape.”
“You?” Bill asked.
“No.”
“It pays to have relatives running the bank.” Lee smirked and leaned back in her chair. “I forgot Uncle Ned.”
“Kān-ētlŭūt—tongue of fire—will transfer your money through offshore accounts.”
“If my clairvoyant powers come back, I could hit it big at gambling in Dawson,” Bill said.
“That’s a big if,” Becky said. “You outgrew them, remember?”
“I lost them in a battle with a bad case of the German Measles. Besides, it could provide us with a small nest egg.”
“Or not. Isn’t it taking a risk?” Lee asked.
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