Evil Without a Face sj-1

by Jordan Dane

  “How’s your—”

  Jess stopped talking when the aircraft made its final turn, and looked out the window to watch the landing, a glutton for punishment. The plane swung in almost sideways when a strong gust of wind buffeted the fuselage. She gripped her armrest and refrained from comment until the charter landed with a series of bumps that jarred her teeth.

  “Smooth.” She let go of the armrests. “Real smooth.”

  “The landing’s over and no longer a problem.” He cocked his head. “And complaining isn’t allowed.”

  “Who’s complaining? My compliments to the pilot, for cryin’ out loud.” She furrowed her brow. “He didn’t kill us. I’d call that a good flight.”

  The airport terminal was nothing more than a metal Quonset hut that she would have mistaken for a warehouse if not for the wind sock on a flag pole, thrashing in the gusts. A smattering of small planes were tied down outside, with wooden blocks at their wheels, and signs were posted for Frontier Flying Service and a couple of other carriers.

  While Payton took care of offloading the plane and their belongings, she contended with the steady wind and gazed over the horizon, assessing her surroundings. The terrain was mostly flat and boggy, not much more than a wind-battered finger of land surrounded by a turbulent sea.

  And as far as her eye could see, the beachfront was made up of peculiar gravel, stones that looked like large marbles under her boots. She was thankful Payton had insisted she wear sturdy hiking boots, but this type of turf would be difficult to walk for any distance. Her feet sank into the stones and shifted under her weight, making each step a little unstable.

  “Good call on the footwear, Archer,” she muttered, zipping up her jacket against the wind that caused her eyes to water. “So this is the last frontier.”

  Natives of the island had come to check out the newcomers, mostly curious dark-haired children with dimpled round faces and narrow squinting eyes. They had on bright print clothes and colorful smocks under their jackets, and some wore rubber boots to walk the shoreline. The seasoned faces of older Native men and women stared blankly from a distance, their eyes hard to read.

  She felt out of her element as she took a quick look around. No big city noise. No traffic. Nothing familiar. And an odd stillness closed in on her, prickling her skin with a chill—aided by the realization that she’d entered a world so radically different from any she had experienced.

  Even the air had its uniqueness. It carried a salty mist that covered her skin with grit, but the seabirds thrived in it. They shrieked and drifted overhead, suspended in place by the stiff breeze, scavenging the beach and a nearby dump.

  But on the wind, the normal odor from the ocean carried another smell. She tried to identify the stench, focusing on the refuse dump that was filled with an assortment of debris from rusted metal barrels to what looked like massive and decaying driftwood blanching to a dull gray in the sun. In the dying hours of the day, a swell of seabirds hovered over the discarded heap and dive-bombed the rubble, foraging for food in near frenzy.

  What was the attraction?

  “That smell. Is it coming from the dump over there?” she asked Payton when he got within earshot. He shifted his gaze to where she pointed.

  “That’s not your standard dump, exactly,” he said. “Most of that is whale carcasses.”

  “Well, that’s something you don’t see every day on Michigan Avenue.”

  “And the smell is rotting blubber left on the bones,” he added. When she winced, he said, “Don’t worry. The wind will shift and make the odor more tolerable. After a while you won’t even notice it.”

  She stared at the garbage heap again, trying to picture Moby Dick, but gave up. “I’ll never eat sushi again. I swear to God.”

  “Well, you gotta remember these people subsistence hunt off the sea like their ancestors have done for two thousand years. They probably have access to a small grocery, but most of their meat comes without plastic wrap.” He brushed back a strand of her hair that had blown across her cheek. “Since they don’t get much sunlight in the winter, they cache or stockpile their food during the summer, when they have longer hours to hunt and no ice to contend with.”

  “What do they eat—exactly?” she asked. He’d piqued her interest.

  “Berries, roots, and greens from the land, but mostly they fish and hunt for walrus, seal, whale…maybe the occasional reindeer or game bird.”

  A couple of Native kids zipped by them riding an all-terrain vehicle. The ATV was throttled on high and the wheels kicked up a rooster’s tail of gravel as they barreled down a worn path.

  “That looks like fun.” She grinned and watched them drive away.

  “ATVs in summer, snowmobiles in winter. And yeah, they’re fun, but around here they’re a necessity.”

  “Do you know the population of the island?”

  “Not exactly, but I would guess around fifteen hundred people. Mostly Yup’ik, from what I understand.” He took her hand and led her toward the makeshift airplane terminal. “Come on. We’ve got a guy to meet in the office here. Joe set it up.”

  Following him, Jess realized she’d asked her questions for a reason.

  The more she understood about the people who inhabited St. Lawrence, and as she got a better look at the island, the more she wondered if they’d made the right choice to come here. If Globe Harvest steered clear of isolation to better cover their tracks and mask their operational needs, St. Lawrence Island would be the last place on earth they’d want to be.

  She wondered if Payton would eventually come to the same conclusion. And she knew if he did, it would break his heart.

  Although she steeled herself for what might happen, she was suddenly glad to be with him…as his friend. If the search for Nikki ended here, they might never pick up another trail to follow. Even if Alexa suddenly sprouted a heart and called with good news that Globe Harvest had been shut down in some areas of the world, that didn’t mean those bastards would be out of commission for good—or that Nikki’s whereabouts could be traced at all.

  Conceivably, they might never find her—or her body.

  And that would mean no closure for Payton and his sister. They’d be devastated. Before this moment, she hadn’t realized what the trip to St. Lawrence Island meant to him. But now, she had no doubt in her heart that he did.

  Payton knew exactly what this trip meant—and what was at stake for Nikki.

  CHAPTER 28

  “Are you Frank?”

  Payton didn’t wait for an answer. Jess watched him offer his hand to a man in the airstrip office.

  “My name’s Payton Archer.”

  A man wearing an Alaska State Trooper uniform was filling a coffee mug and making himself at home. With her body clock turned upside down by the time change, the coffee smelled good.

  “Yeah, that’d be me.” The man grinned and shook Payton’s hand. “Frank Toyukak out of Nome. Your friend Tanu and me, we go way back. I’ll be happy to help any way I can.”

  Trooper Frank had a distinctive oval face with high cheekbones. His dark skin was weathered by age and marked by laugh lines. His black hair and spindly moustache were peppered with gray, and his eyebrows had a pronounced arch. They made him look as if he had a constant surprised expression on his face. The man had a quiet voice and reserved manner that Jess liked immediately. He looked like a straight shooter.

  Payton introduced her. “This is Jessica Beckett, out of Chicago.”

  “Hey, Frank.”

  “You’re a long way from home,” the man remarked, and shook her hand. “Good to meet you both. You care for coffee? It ain’t Starbucks, but it’s plenty hot.”

  The trooper poured coffee into ceramic mugs, but let them add any cream or sugar. While he played host, he said, “Sorry to hear about your niece. I read the missing person report after Joe called. And he filled me in on this Globe Harvest organization you’re chasing. Do you really think they’re operating here on the island?”

>   “We have reason to believe it’s possible, but I admit it’s a long shot.” Payton took a gulp of coffee and glanced her way, a worried look on his face. “We want to pursue any lead we’ve got. That’s why we’re here. And Joe said you might help.”

  “I’ll do what I can, but it’s a little late in the day to do much now.” The trooper set down his coffee and stepped over to a desk to spread out a topographic map of the island. “Speaking of that, Joe said you might be camping overnight and may not have time to pack. I brought a duffel bag of personal gear and a cache of food and water for a few days if you need it.”

  “Days?” Jess tried to keep the question out of her voice but failed.

  “Ah…thanks, Frank.” Payton shot her a sideways glance. “That’ll help. We appreciate it.” The fact that he’d emphasized the word “we” had not escaped her notice.

  “But if someone is abducting young girls and using St. Lawrence as a base of operation,” the trooper continued, “they’d stand out for sure. Let me give you a map tour of the island. It might speed things up since we’ll lose the light soon. Or maybe you’d prefer I find you a place for the night and we start fresh in the morning. Your call.”

  “No, I’d rather do what we can now,” Payton said, directing his attention to the map.

  “Joe told me you’d say that, so here’s what I know.”

  According to Frank, the island was sparsely populated and mostly inhabited by Natives. The man gave them a run-down using the detailed map. At first Jess suspected there wouldn’t be many places for Globe Harvest to hide their operation, but the trooper shared his thoughts on other activity on the island. If Globe Harvest was there, they could cover up their actions a number of different ways.

  “Two Alaska Native Corporations own St. Lawrence Island and manage the resources. The Natives who live here are considered indigenous shareholders and are allowed to excavate sites for old bones, artifacts, and walrus ivory to barter or sell. We get traffic through here from that too.”

  “I hate to ask this, but isn’t that looting?” Payton asked, raking a hand through his hair. She could tell he expected to get more direction from the trooper, a place to start their search, but the man only gave them more to consider. The island seemed like a haystack with Nikki being a needle.

  “Here they call it subsistence digging for old stuff.” The trooper shrugged. “We also get oil and gas companies sending reps to scout out offshore locations for exploration. What I’m trying to say is, things happen on the island from time to time, but generally I know about it.”

  He gave a broader overview of the terrain and offered his Robinson R-44 Clipper II helicopter for them to see the island firsthand when the time came. After he was done, Payton looked more dejected, but he pressed the trooper for more.

  “No, this can’t be it. There’s gotta be something…” He leaned over the desk, staring at the map in frustration. “In Chicago they’d taken over an old textile factory. The place looked deserted from the outside. Do you have anything like that here?”

  Payton was grasping at straws now. And by the look on his face, he knew it too. From what she had seen, St. Lawrence Island had little that could be construed as a substantial commercial property, but when Frank didn’t answer Payton right away, it gave Jess hope that she was wrong.

  “Well, there is the old Air Force station at Northeast Cape, but it was shut down in the seventies.” The trooper pointed to a section on the map. “As far as I know, no one goes there except…”

  “Except who?” Payton sounded hopeful.

  “More like…except for what,” the Native man corrected. “That facility was mainly a radar site, an Air Force listening post back in the early fifties, but later they abandoned it.” His face grew more somber. “Many of the local Natives used to camp and hunt in that area until they started to get sick. Real sick.”

  “Sick?” she asked. “From what?”

  “Cancer mostly,” the trooper replied. “But other diseases too. Some say from PCB exposure.”

  “That’s awful.” She couldn’t imagine such a thing, getting struck down by disease that might have been brought by outsiders. Life on the island looked hard enough without the added complication.

  “Yeah, many died before they finally figured it out, but it was too little, too late.” Toyukak shrugged. “No one goes there anymore. They know to stay away. The government conducted a clean up program in 2003. They say it’s clear, but we get the occasional air traffic for inspections, soil testing, or remediation efforts. If that land is supposed to be okay, then why do we still have government types flying through? I doubt we’ll see an end to it anytime soon.”

  “Take us there,” Payton insisted, unable to hide his enthusiasm.

  “I told you, it may not be safe. And if this organization is doing anything illegal here on the island, I’d hear about it.”

  Jess knew he wasn’t trying to be difficult. More than likely, Frank was concerned for their safety. Imagining an organization like Globe Harvest operating here was hard to believe, even for her.

  “Would you hear about it? Or would residents mistake any activity for just another government inspection or test and dismiss it?”

  Payton let his question sink in, allowing the trooper to come up with his own conclusions. After a quick minute, the man did.

  “Come on. This may be a wild goose chase, but it’s worth a look. We can be there before the sun goes down, and my helicopter is fueled and ready.” Before the man left the office, he turned to Payton. “Joe said you’d be carrying. Are both of you armed?”

  Payton told him about the weapons Joe had loaned them. Jess missed her Colt Python, but there had been no time to replace the weapons she’d lost to Baker and the Russian. She had Joe’s .45-caliber Glock 21 and wore it under her jacket in a holster. And Payton had his .380 Walther PPK/S. Frank might have understood the need to carry weapons as a precaution, or perhaps Joe had vouched for them. Either way, the trooper didn’t ask for permits or question them further. But he did insist on taking charge.

  “We’re only checking the old radar station for recent activity,” the trooper clarified. “If I see anything suspicious, I’ll call for backup and we’ll wait until help arrives. Are we clear?”

  “Yeah, crystal.” Payton forced a smile, but she couldn’t read his face.

  On the surface, he looked reasonable and in control, but she knew better. If Globe Harvest occupied the radar site and evidence supported that theory, she had no doubt that when it came to saving his niece, Payton Archer would be a hard man to stop.

  She had bet against him once—something she wouldn’t do again.

  An hour later

  In a ravine hidden in a stand of evergreen trees, Alexa looked through binoculars at the quiet setting below her position. Her team of five men was within eyesight and awaiting her order to proceed. She felt their presence more than saw them.

  The sun would be down soon and she’d have the cover of darkness to make her move. Night vision gear and the element of surprise would give her team an advantage. She looked at her watch again. In less than fifteen minutes their sweeping raid would be under way. And once Garrett gave the signal, nothing would stop it.

  An advance team had done an initial assessment of this site and communicated their findings via the device she wore in her ear. Thermal imagers indicated warm bodies were inside. For an abandoned enterprise, the presence of people on the property gave her a warm and fuzzy feeling that their assumptions about Globe Harvest having a location here had merit. Working with trusted locals, the advance team had also acquired a blueprint of the facility, giving them entrances and exits that would be invaluable when the time came.

  Alexa was prepared to proceed when Garrett’s voice came over her earpiece.

  “Inbound aircraft, stand down until further orders. Anybody have a visual on the passengers, call it in.”

  Like a racehorse champing at the bit, Alexa’s adrenaline kicked into high gear. Sh
e hated being forced to stand down now, so close to the launch of the assault, but she understood the need for taking precautions. And an inbound craft could change things significantly.

  “Acknowledged,” she replied.

  She heard the sound of a helicopter but couldn’t see the aircraft through the trees. Nearly ten minutes later, with the sun slipping below the horizon, no one made contact with intel on the new players to the party. If they moved forward with the plan, it would be Garrett’s call.

  “We’ve got nothing on the inbound.”

  She heard disappointment in Garrett’s voice, but she had a job to do.

  “Does that change things?” she asked.

  To keep chatter to a minimum, she didn’t say anything more. Garrett knew her well enough to read between the lines. They had too much riding on this operation, here and at other locations, and he knew it. Timing would be critical. In less than five minutes the maneuver was set to go. Only Garrett could pull the plug on the whole thing, but she hoped he wouldn’t.

  “No. We proceed on schedule…on my order,” he replied.

  All hell was about to break loose, and Alexa hoped no one had to die—except for any Globe Harvest bastard who fought back. She gripped her weapon and gave a hand signal to her men, preparing them to move on her mark. When Garrett gave the order, she wanted to make a good first impression on Globe Harvest.

  Despite her posturing with Garrett—that taking down the organization behind the abductions was vital—she knew what mattered most in an operation like this. She risked her life on the front lines to rescue hostages, a countermeasure that tipped the scales against the necessity of killing. The hostages ranked above everything. Seeing the relief on their faces when they knew their ordeal was over, especially after they’d given up hope, had kept her in the game and able to sleep at night.

  In the end, it was enough for her.

  Nikki remembered how, back in Chicago, she was thrown into a dark room with other girls. She’d been confused and nearly paralyzed with panic, but when she sought comfort and answers from the others, they rejected her. They cowered in the shadows, too afraid to move or speak. Eventually, their silence wore her down. And their fear leached under her skin, infecting her too.