Restless in the Grave

by Dana Stabenow

  On their east was the wide expanse of the Nushugak River, its leaden surface on a cold boil into Bristol Bay. It had to be ten times as wide as the Kanuyaq at this point, and much deeper. The Kanuyaq’s mouth was braided with islands and sandbars built from glacial silt, splitting the Kanuyaq’s current into diffuse streams. The mouth of the Nushugak by comparison was like a fire hose, steep sides concentrating the collected outflows of all the upriver creeks and streams into a single determined cataract. It was low because it was winter, but Kate could see previous high-water marks on the opposite bank. All rivers were entities deserving of respect. This one, Kate suspected, was a monster to be feared.

  There was a small settlement of some kind on the opposite shore, impossible to tell at this distance if it was inhabited or abandoned. A long level area spoke of the possibility of an airstrip, but then wherever there were or had been people in Alaska, there was an airstrip.

  The remains of the road to the air force base were very clear. The taiga took a long time to recover from the traffic of man. The same held true for muskeg, and farther north, tundra. So long as the permafrost beneath remained insulated from seasonal changes of temperatures, all was well, but strip any thickness of that protective layer away and the permafrost would melt, resulting in wounds that were not easily or quickly healed. Kate remembered flying to the North Slope five years before and looking down from the airplane to see the long straight tracks of the Cat trains of the fifties and sixties, left behind by teams of geologists looking for mineral deposits, the laying of communications lines, survey crews headed for the site of the proposed Rampart Dam, yet another of Edward Teller’s less-than-bright and thankfully tabled ideas. The remnants of all those trails had been a sobering reminder of just how sensitive the arctic landscape was.

  Kate grinned to herself. She also remembered the old fart who had said, “For a thousand years it was a frozen wasteland. Now all of a sudden it’s the goddamn delicate tundra.”

  She followed the track into the thick brush with her eyes. The trees and shrubs were mostly free of snow, although the ground was still covered with a thick layer that had melted over time into a frozen rind. She squinted at the horizon. It looked clear all the way to Unimak Pass and likely to remain so. Tonight the moon was half full, which was good and bad. She wanted to be able to see where she was going, but she didn’t want to be seen getting there.

  She pulled out her cell and looked at the time. It was right at noon. She had to be at work in four hours. There was time for a little more reconnaissance.

  She climbed on the four-wheeler and restarted the engine. She raised an eyebrow at Mutt. “You coming?”

  Mutt leaped up to the back in one graceful jump, nipped Kate’s shoulder, and took up station with a mouthful of jacket.

  What was left of the road between Newenham and the onetime air base had been crisscrossed by many vehicles intersecting it at many angles on their way into and out of the thick underbrush. ATVs large and small, snow machines of every persuasion, Kate even saw the parallel tracks of cross-country skis. Near enough to the creek she’d just vaulted was a large frozen pond with clear signs of a hockey game, the marks of blades dug in deep and the giveaway of drops of blood sprinkled across the ice. It would seem that the land between Newenham and Eagle Air constituted a recreational area for the local population. Again, this was good in that who would look for her among so many. Again, it was bad in that there would be that many more witnesses for a night raid.

  As she drew nearer the air base she looked for signs of the crash that had killed Finn Grant, but the investigation and the subsequent cleanup in December had been prompt and thorough. She’d already checked and there had been two major storms since then, too. Off the end of the air base’s north–south runway she found what might have been a flattened area on top of a hillock, but that was all.

  From this perspective, the air base appeared to have been constructed on an immense gravel pad that pushed it ten feet up in elevation. She climbed up on the apron north of the hangar where Chouinard had parked the Cessna the day before, pulled up at the side, and walked around to the front. The hangar door was cracked and she applied her eyeball and saw that McGuire’s jet was parked inside.

  Wouldn’t do to let the movie star’s feet get cold on takeoff.

  She passed on to the office. “Stay,” she said to Mutt, and went in.

  Chouinard had not exaggerated. The reception area was lush, with bamboo flooring polished to a rich sheen (Kate wouldn’t have known it for what it was if Iris Meganack hadn’t made such a big deal out of her new kitchen floor), some kind of textured silk wallpaper in a subdued ivory, a sleek teak desk facing the door with a telephone that looked straight out of The Jetsons sitting on it and nothing else. Behind it sat the young woman, Tasha Anayuk, who had attended the arrival of Gabriel McGuire and Co. the day before. She was wearing her Eagle Air uniform. “Yes? May I help you?” she said.

  Kate peeked beneath the desk. And her Eagle Air four-inch heels. Jesus. “Hi,” Kate said with an ingratiating smile. “We met yesterday, I was a passenger with Wy Chouinard.”

  Tasha’s expression of professional politeness eased into a more natural giggly breathlessness. “Sure! I remember.” She gave a rapturous sigh. “You were here when Gabe came.” It sounded like Tasha was reporting the Second Coming.

  “Uh-huh,” Kate said. “I’ve been four-wheeling around town this afternoon and I guess I kind of overshot. I know this is private property, but—” She dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper “—I wonder if I could use the bathroom?”

  She made a rueful face, and Tasha laughed. “Sure!” she said again, pointing. “It’s right over there.”

  When Kate came out again, Tina Grant was standing next to Tasha’s desk.

  “Oh,” Kate said, trying to look surprised. After all, she wasn’t supposed to know anything about her landlady. “Hi, Tina.”

  “Hello, Kate. What are you doing out here?”

  Kate waved an airy hand. “Exploring. It’s such a nice day, so warm for this time of year, I didn’t want to be stuck inside.” She put on an anxious look. “I hope you don’t mind my taking the ATV off road?”

  Tina almost smiled, although Kate wouldn’t have seen it if she hadn’t been observing closely. “It’s what they’re built for,” she said.

  Kate made a show of looking around. “This is really something,” she said. “We stopped here yesterday on the way from Togiak, but I didn’t get a chance to see the inside.”

  Tina responded to the unspoken prompt. “Would you like a tour?”

  “Oh no, I don’t mean to intrude.”

  “We’re not that busy at the moment,” Tina said, and beckoned Kate to follow her.

  It turned out that Chouinard had grossly understated the luxurious appointments of Eagle Air Fixed Base of Operations. No expense had been spared, from the thick carpet underfoot to the designer comforters on the beds. Kate copped a surreptitious feel of one of the mattresses. It felt like $3,600 worth of mattress, all right.

  The ready room was full of overstuffed leather furniture, a wall-mounted television screen the size of a wooden pallet, and at the end of the tour Tina even gave Kate a slice of crème brûlée cheesecake, served on a white bone china saucer with the Eagle Air logo in the center and what Kate was pretty sure was a real silver fork, also with the Eagle Air logo on the handle.

  The pie was terrific, and she said so. “Glad you enjoyed it,” Tina said, and seemed to sigh. Kate raised her eyebrows slightly, in an inquiry polite enough either to ignore or respond to.

  She did not have high hopes, but surprisingly, Tina chose the latter. “We’ve got a lot of it on hand, and we need to get rid of it before it spoils.”

  Kate grinned. “I’ll be happy to choke down any or all of it before it goes off.”

  In answer, Tina opened the refrigerator door. It was stuffed with luxury comestibles, not least among which were three entire cheesecakes.

  “
Wow,” Kate said. “Wealth beyond dreams of avarice.”

  “Yes,” Tina said wearily, “my husband believed you could never have too much of a good thing. I tried to stop delivery but the gourmet food company in Anchorage said he’d paid through the end of March, so it just keeps coming until the money runs out. I’ve been giving most of it away in Newenham.”

  Kate waited hopefully.

  Tina waved a hand. “This was his big idea. You know what an FBO is?”

  Kate thought it best to dissimulate. “Ah, sort of an airport?”

  Tina nodded. “Only for private planes.” A pause. “Finn had a lot of big dreams.”

  “‘Had’?” Kate said delicately.

  Without a change of expression, Tina said, “He died last month.”

  “Oh,” Kate said. “I’m sorry.”

  Tina looked at her with a little more attention than she had before. “You must have heard about it. Bill’s is better than Google for getting the news out.”

  “How did he die?”

  “He went down in his Super Cub.”

  “Oh,” Kate said, “I think I did hear people saying something. I didn’t realize that was your husband. I’m so sorry.”

  Tina’s face was unreadable. “Thanks.”

  Kate, treading carefully, said, “Do they know what caused the crash?”

  “A part came off the engine in flight,” Tina said.

  “Who maintained his plane?”

  “He maintained this one.”

  “Ouch,” Kate said, and saw that Tina appreciated the lack of sentimentality. It encouraged her to probe. “He was alone?”

  Tina nodded. “He was coming to work.” She waved a hand, encompassing Eagle Air FBO’s snazzy surroundings. “He commuted from town daily in the Cub.”

  Kate nodded, letting the silence gather. “You work out here, too?”

  Tina had allowed her head to fall against the back of the black leather couch. Her eyes were closed, which somehow made her look infinitely older. “Me?” she said without opening her eyes. “No. I mean, I do now, of course, but before I worked at the hangar in Newenham.”

  She didn’t sound grief stricken, only exhausted. “Family business,” Kate said, keeping her voice soft and monotone, as inoffensive and unobtrusive and inconspicuous as she could make it and still be talking out loud.

  Tina sighed. “Yes. We all worked for Finn, one way or another.”

  “Your son,” Kate said. “Oren.”

  “Yes. And my daughter Evelyn.”

  “You’re all pilots?”

  “I used to be. Evelyn still is. Oren, no. Oren works in the office.”

  So all three of them had opportunity if they’d been at work that day, and two of them would certainly know about the nut on that oil filter. But Oren had been raised and worked around planes himself, and if he had an ounce of curiosity, he could very well have known about it as well. “Wow,” Kate said. “Are you all mechanics, like your husband?”

  “Evelyn is.”

  Kate took a chance. “Is Evelyn the daughter in the photograph? The soldier?”

  Tina’s eyes opened at that. “No,” she said, sitting up. “That was my other daughter, Irene.”

  “Oh,” Kate said, and wondered if she should risk it. It was her job to prod the sore spots, but she didn’t want to alienate Tina, at least not until she absolutely had to. “I’m sorry. You said ‘was’?”

  Tina took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She looked up to meet Kate’s eyes, and Kate wondered if it had been such a good idea to leave Mutt outside. The only thing that kept her in her chair was that Tina’s rage was not directed at her. “She was killed. In Afghanistan.”

  “Oh,” Kate said. “Oh, hell. I am so very sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

  She was almost sincere. Kate had recently had a great deal to do with other members of Alaskan royalty, none of whom had improved on acquaintance. Children of privilege, infused with a sense of entitlement, and she doubted any of them had ever struggled to make the rent. If Oren was dropped into the Park without a babysitter, he wouldn’t last five minutes. The woman sitting across from her might be worn down by recent tragedy, but she was still one of them by birth, and by marriage, if that ersatz Tara in Newenham was any indication. Kate wasn’t so hard-hearted that she didn’t feel some sympathy for Tina’s recent multiple losses, but she would still swing the sledgehammer that brought down the house of Grant if the situation warranted it, and she was beginning to think it did. “I’m so sorry,” she said again.

  “It’s okay.” Tina took another deep breath. “No, it’s not okay, but it’s real, it happened, I have to get used to it.” She smiled, the first time Kate had ever seen her do so, and it was a travesty. “She was killed by a sniper bullet. Some anonymous Taliban guy, they said, shooting at anything in an American uniform.”

  They sat in silence. “Never have understood exactly what we’re supposed to be doing over there,” Tina said at last. “They call it nation building. In her letters home, Irene said there was no nation to be built. Just a bunch of tribes that have been squeezed into the single most inhospitable part of central Asia by surrounding nations, to keep them out of their hair.”

  “How did it happen?”

  “She was a helicopter pilot.”

  “Oh, no,” Kate said.

  Tina shook her head. “Not another crash, no, or not until she was shot out of the air. I read about it online, afterwards. There was a sniper hiding one hill over from what they call a forward operating base, waiting for the next helicopter to land. The next helicopter just happened to be hers. Killed her and five other people.” She shook her head. “And I keep thinking, for what?”

  Her mouth twisted. “Finn didn’t agree, of course. He was ex-army himself, and he was all about duty, honor, country. Well, he said he was.” She smiled again, although this time it was more like a grimace. “It’s why Irene joined. Finn’s approval was the single most important thing in her life.”

  They sat in silence for a few moments. Tina looked at Kate. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. I barely know you.”

  “Sometimes it’s easier to talk to strangers,” Kate said.

  “I guess.” Tina let her head fall back against the couch again. “God, I’m tired.”

  “I can see why,” Kate said. She made a show of standing up and brushing crumbs from her jeans. “You have to be busy. I should get going anyway, I don’t want to be late for work.” She smiled. “I’m a little afraid of Bill.”

  Tina stood up, too. “She’s good people.”

  “I got that,” Kate said. She followed Tina out into the lobby. Tina paused and said, “You’re Native, aren’t you?”

  Alarm bells went off, but Kate nodded. “Aleut.” It was always best when undercover to stick to the truth as much as possible.

  “But not from the village.”

  “Alaska’s largest Native village,” Kate said, by which she meant Anchorage.

  Tina nodded. “I thought so. What brought you to Newenham?”

  Kate grimaced. “It’s a long story. There was this guy.” Also true.

  “When isn’t there,” Tina said. Her gaze lingered on the scar on Kate’s throat.

  Sometimes the scar had its uses.

  Kate fussed with the zipper of her jacket until she saw Tina go through a door behind Tasha’s desk. There was a brief glimpse of filing cabinets and a paper-covered desk before it closed.

  Bingo.

  She spent the journey back to Newenham with the pleasant taste of crème brûlée cheesecake on her tongue and an even stronger itch to know why Tina had been so glad to get five hundred in cash for the apartment over the garage.

  And if getting tossed into a chest freezer had anything to do with it.

  Fourteen

  JANUARY 19

  Newenham

  Kate walked into Bill’s Bar and Grill at 3:59 P.M., doffed her coat, and waded in. It had been a long time since she’d worked regular hour
s. It had the charm of novelty.

  Bill’s was much more crowded this evening, with people standing around with their drinks in their hands waiting for an empty chair or booth. The music was loud and nonstop, and people were dancing anywhere they could find a vacant square foot of linoleum. Kate remarked on it during a refill run to the bar and Bill, unloading and reloading Kate’s tray with practiced speed, said, “Yeah, looks like the dividend was pretty good this year.”

  Meaning, Kate soon learned, the annual dividend from the local Native association. The Roadhouse was always crowded after NNA issued a dividend, too, although theirs went out quarterly.

  “Still don’t know why it took them so long to get it to us,” one man muttered into his beer, one of many, it would seem.

  “Sure you do!” Another man slapped him on the back and guffawed. “They have to take their cut first!”

  Kate delivered empties to the bar. “Local Native corporation dividend come out today?”

  Bill nodded. “They made a killing on an 8(a) contract. Some three-way deal with a cell phone provider and the federal government to provide rural access for mobile phones, and then AT&T bought them out.”

  Kate nodded. She was familiar with 8(a) contracts from her time on the Niniltna Native Association board. They’d always seemed to be something of a swindle to her, but it offered a legal advantage to Native-owned corporations in bidding on federal contracts and Alaska Native corporations and associations and tribes had not turned up their noses at the opportunity. “How big was the payout?”

  “About thirty thousand. Per shareholder.”

  Kate pursed her lips in a soundless whistle as Bill loaded her tray. “That ain’t chump change.”

  Bill’s expression was sour. “Yeah, and it’s burning a hole in their pockets. They’re snow-machining and four-wheeling and flying in from Togiak and Manokotak and loading up on groceries and spare parts and new trucks.” She nodded at the room. “And booze.”

  Kate hoisted the tray. “You don’t seem very happy about it. Money in the bank for you.”

  “I can see three TRO violations in the making without turning my head.” Bill gave a gloomy nod. “It’ll be a late night tonight at the bar, and an early morning tomorrow in court.”