Justin explained and Joe shook his head violently. "Boy's mixed up. No evidence to link me to anything!"
"We'll haul him back to the Fairbanks Detachment—let them sort it out," the sergeant said to Rex. He looked scornfully at Joe. "Frankly, I think the kids are telling it straight."
Rachel said, "We are."
"How much room in that floatplane?" asked Martha.
"Room for all of us," said the sergeant, "and more…if we find any more."
"They're all dead," said Rachel, "eight of them. Ask Joe here, he knows where he put them."
Joe glowered. "She doesn't know what she's talking about."
28
Safe in Fairbanks
"The rain last night finished the wildfire," said Martha, "but there wasn't any place for it to go. That dense patch of forest was fairly isolated. It would've burned itself out."
They were gathered around a blazing campfire, discussing the events of the last few days, and all marveled when Rachel recounted the story of how they survived in the scum-filled pond.
"The fire was a big deal in that little clearing, I'll tell you that," said Janie.
"Of course," said Martha. "I didn't mean to minimize what you three went through."
The teenagers then took turns telling about what had occurred since Rex and Martha's departure for Denali: the home invasion by the fishermen; the eruption and earthquake; the aftershocks and the rescue of Umbriago from the sinking cabin; the missing hunters; Big Bertha's destruction of Ernie; the nights on the trail; the confrontation with Bruno and the arrival of the bull moose; finding Bruno's carcass; and the raft trip down the Yuktapah rapids.
"Good grief!" said Martha. "And to think we were worried about you kids."
Idaho Joe grunted from his position handcuffed to a large iron cauldron. He could attempt an escape, but dragging the heavy burden into the wilderness wouldn't make a lot of sense. "One-sided tales," he said. "These things can all be explained."
"Shut up!" said the trooper sergeant.
Since there was an abundance of provisions and facilities and since no one wished to finish the trek back to Glacier Lake in the dark, the rescue team had decided to spend the night in the Bilboa and Barnes campground. The float plane would wait and would carry everyone safely to Fairbanks sometime tomorrow.
The sergeant glared at Idaho Joe. "You know, don't you, we can bring dogs in here—find those bodies, see how your explanations go then. Why don't you tell us about your connection to J.J. Flack?"
Joe said, "Kids heard wrong. Don't know what they're talking about."
The Yukon men were seated as far away from the others as they could manage without seeming anti-social. They hadn't tried to make verbal or even eye contact with Joe. They decided the contact might be noticed or he might slip up and give them away. They had abandoned all thoughts of using their guns. There were too many arrayed against them now and too much radio contact. Better to wait, get back to Fairbanks International Airport and see what could be done there. They were part of the rescue operation and still trusted by everyone. Who could tell what openings might arise to fulfill the Prophet's will.
Rex examined the hanging bearskins and said, "Looks like the hunters got two of our sows."
Justin nodded. "Didn't pay any attention to the Yuktapah bear-management regulations."
"Didn't think they would," said Rex.
Justin felt a need to defend his special sow. "Big Bertha did what she had to do. Ernie was mistreating her cub. Headquarters should take that into consideration."
Rex didn't answer.
Joe said, "Story about Ernie's a bunch of crap. Didn't happen."
"Shut up," the sergeant said again.
Rex and Martha said goodnight and went to prepare sleeping arrangements in their disabled helicopter. The three back seats could be removed and air mattresses slipped in easily. And if they removed the rear bear screen they had room to add a third air mattress.
Justin decided to join them in the chopper, and the rest of the party began to choose tents and sleeping bags.
The two Yukon men looked at each other with uncertainty. "Still a bad idea to try anything here," said Paul. "Let's wait for Fairbanks."
Timothy nodded.
Seth Lemon, the twins' father, felt pulled apart by the pressures placed on him in recent days, and as he walked alone across the prison yard at Deer Lodge, he tried to sort things out. The Prophet still controlled his life, even behind bars, but Seth was confident the control was appropriate. J.J. Flack spoke for God and was God's human instrument on the planet. Whatever doubts filled Seth's mind were not directed toward the Prophet himself, but toward the men in Alaska who were searching for Rachel and Janie. In all probability they were unnecessarily rough men who might harm the girls and forget that the basic mission was to convince the twins to change their minds and recant their testimony from the previous year. Seth knew the Prophet loved the girls tenderly and hoped to welcome them as his wives as soon as God made it possible. There was no way he would willingly do anything to hurt them. As for the boy, Justin Patrick, he was a different case, and if he called down God's judgment on his own head, so be it. The boy was responsible for much that had befallen the imprisoned elders. No punishment was too strong for him.
Elders Mobly and Biggars and the Prophet himself were waiting under the guard tower toward the front of the yard.
"Welcome, Elder Lemon," said J.J. Flack. "There's news of your daughters. They've been located and they should be in Fairbanks in a day or two.
"Oh, good, good. But I'm still not sure we can get them to recant. They have minds of their own."
"Well one thing for certain," said the Prophet. "We couldn't change their minds until we found out where they were."
"What now?" asked Seth. "Are they okay—have they been hurt?"
"The report says they're doing fine. We'll try to convince them to move to the Whitehorse Temple. The change in environment might help them see the light."
"They won't go."
"Well, we'll try. God works in mysterious ways."
"What about the boy?"
"I don't think he has much of a future."
"Just don't let your people up there get carried away and hurt my girls."
"Kid gloves," said the Prophet, "…like they were hothouse orchids—which in a way they are."
After Seth continued on his way, Elder Biggars said, "Hothouse orchids?"
"Seemed apt," said the Prophet. "My little hothouse orchids."
As the rescue party traversed the hills and valleys on its way to Glacier Lake, Justin strained to catch sight of Big Bertha and Umbriago. But they were nowhere in view, causing him disappointment and yet a measure of satisfaction. He was sad not to see them again, but pleased they might be roaming far from the Yuktapah Preserve, safe from the Park Service's disciplinary action. He was persuaded that Bertha was not a threat to human beings, that her violence against a violent man was appropriate and shouldn't be held against her.
Justin was pleased to see that the troopers weren't giving an inch when it came to Idaho Joe. He was being forced to walk, grumbling all the way, with his hands cuffed behind his back—difficult to be sure, but not impossible and fun to watch. The fat murderer deserved such treatment, and if Justin had his way he would make the journey even more punishing by loading Joe's back with equipment and supplies.
Rex and Martha were light-hearted and hiked with vigor and enthusiasm. Justin had thought they might be upset about the disabled Bell 407, but they hadn't mentioned it at all. The surprise and pleasure of finding their three interns alive and well clearly overwhelmed any negatives—including what they had learned about the activities of the criminal fishermen. Justin half expected the two bear-management rangers to burst into song as they marched.
The state troopers and the volunteers were a study in contrast. The troopers were talkative, encouraging, concerned about the welfare of Justin and the twins; but the volunteers were almost silent, keep
ing to themselves, acting as if the whole rescue operation were somehow an imposition on their time and talents. Strange.
The float plane came into view from the top of the last rise, and the trooper sergeant shouted, "There she floats! Gotta give our boy a gold star for patience. Must've been nerve wracking sitting on that lake. Not the most stable water in the interior."
"De Havilland Twin Otter," said Rex. "You came prepared."
The trooper sergeant nodded. "Didn't know how many were stuck in here. Brought the top of the line. Nineteen passengers—but we've modified her for five more."
When the waiting pilot caught sight of the approaching rescue team he began to maneuver toward the most efficient access point he could find. But it was obvious to Justin that no matter how close to shore the floatplane taxied, they were all going to get wet climbing aboard.
The flight to Fairbanks International was smooth and uneventful. Justin was allowed to sit upfront in the jump seat behind Rex and the pilot, and he asked scores of questions—including "How are we going to land on the runway at Fairbanks with pontoons?"
The pilot laughed. "On the Series 400, the wheels let down through the pontoons. Not to worry."
"Thank God," said Justin. "Thought it might be kinda rough."
29
On the Tarmac
Janie stared out the floatplane's window while they glided through the flight path toward Fairbanks International. She too shared Justin's curiosity regarding how they would be able to put down on pontoons on the cement, but she was too exhausted mentally and physically, to ask anyone how such a landing could be accomplished. She figured the professionals knew what they were doing, and if they didn't, there would be a lot of sparks, and who cared?
As always Rachel was at her side, and Janie reflected on how her faithful sister had kept her word since the first night after Rex and Martha left for Denali. Rachel had promised that she or Justin would always be in sight as long as Janie felt insecure and that Janie would never be left alone. And even in the darkest moment of their adventures, even when drugged into unconsciousness, Rachel had been by her side. Janie rested her head on her sister's shoulder. Maybe soon she would release her from her promise, but not quite yet.
"Coming in," said Rachel. "Be on the ground in a couple of minutes."
Janie mumbled an acknowledgement, but the truth was she was in no rush to deplane. The trip had been restful, and it wouldn't hurt her feelings if it could go on for another hour.
Paul and Timothy sat in the rear of the Twin Otter, across the aisle from the handcuffed Idaho Joe. They still hadn't signaled to him that they'd been sent by the Prophet. There didn't seem any point to it. Joe was in restraints and would be whisked off the plane and taken to the Fairbank's State Troopers' Detachment, and there was little they could do about it. And there was little that Joe could do to help them, even if by some miracle they managed to free him. There was no question their hope for a successful mission lay with the Prophet's men waiting in a warehouse with the mining equipment crates. Joe would have to fend for himself.
The plane rolled to a stop and Joe was shoved forward and out, complaining all the way about his rights and about how there was no evidence linking him to anything. He would sue the State of Alaska, the troopers, and the National Park Service, and he would collect big.
When Joe was gone Rex said to the interns, "Off to the hospital, kids…checkups—couple of days."
All three objected and Rachel said, "We don't need the hospital. Don't you think we've proven how healthy we are? We'd be dead if we weren't healthy."
"Sorry, kids," said Martha, "but Fairbanks Memorial is set up and waiting. This isn't a matter for argument. The park service insists…and Rex and I insist. I'm sure the doctors have all kinds of nice shots lined up for you."
The teenagers made faces and Rachel said, "I'd rather be back in the pond with the mosquitos.
The Yukon men strode purposefully across the tarmac. Paul's expression was hopeful. "Fairbanks Memorial Hospital, eh? Possibilities—all sorts of possibilities. We're not defeated yet." He took a small notebook from his pocket. First stop, find the warehouse where the men are waiting with the mining crates.
It didn't take long, and as they waited at the sliding door for someone to answer their knock, they noticed the Hawker Siddeley HS 748 cargo plane parked not far away.
"There it is," said Timothy. "The Prophet said it would be here. The pilots?"
"Probably at their hotel. They're being paid to wait, but I doubt they're waiting in the plane."
The giant door screeched open and a pair of wary eyes peeked around the edge. "Whatayawant?"
Paul stepped closer. "Are you in charge of the mining equipment?"
The eyes narrowed further. "Who wants to know?"
"A holy man in Deer Lodge."
The door opened several feet wider, and an unshaven weasel-like man appraised his visitors. "Holy?...maybe yes, maybe no, but his money is holy enough for us." He motioned for them to enter the warehouse.
There was a card table set up in the center of the room and a second man looked up from his game of solitaire. He was smaller than his associate, and improbably he also resembled a weasel—but with a touch of rat. "What's this then, Charlie?"
"Two guys who claim to know the holy man."
The card player laughed. "I think we'd all be more holy if we had nine or ten young wives."
Paul frowned and looked around. Six large crates stamped "mining equipment" were lined up across the back of the room. He couldn't see clearly, but he thought that two of them were loosely constructed near their bases, as if to allow air to flow freely.
"My name's Bradshaw," the card player said, "Bo Bradshaw. This here's Charlie, my brother."
"I'm Paul, this is Timothy."
"You're kidding."
Paul winced.
"What're you doing here?" Bo asked. "Did you bring more money from your holy man?"
Timothy spoke for the first time. "You boys from Missoula?"
"Right," said Charlie. "And we're running out of patience…and money. Where's our cargo?"
"Long story," said Paul. "As for the money, we've been told your payment is to be doubled—usual source, whatever that means."
The brothers looked at each other with greedy eyes. "Then, by all means, tell us the long story," said Bo.
Rachel and Janie were not disappointed at being asked to share a hospital room at Fairbanks Memorial. They had always slept together, most years in the same bed. They were therefore content to find they'd been assigned a double room. Twin beds for twins—seemed appropriate. But they told Justin how irked they were that he was given an oversized private room with a couch and armchair next to his oversized hospital bed.
"The staff must think you're a politician," Rachel said.
"Have to be," he said grinning, "to deal with the likes of you two."
The nurses had tested, poked, and probed each of the teenagers, and the doctors had come and gone; and as far as Justin and the girls could tell, they'd been given a clean bill of health.
Justin's Aunt Ruby, their legal guardian, called from Juneau, and they had a happy telephone reunion—laughing, sharing, and reassuring. Ruby wasn't Justin's blood aunt. She had been his uncle's wife, and when his father and uncle were killed in an avalanche, she was the only one left to care for him. For a while she'd lost her critical thinking ability and had dragged her nephew to the Sheba Hill cult in Montana; but she was now fully recovered, newly remarried (her husband's only wife this time), and living happily in a big house in Juneau. When they weren't functioning as interns for Ruby's brother Rex--Justin, Rachel, and Janie lived with her.
"Guess you all will be coming home sooner than planned," Ruby said.
They told her they weren't certain what the park service had in mind for them—maybe a transfer to Denali—or maybe they would be coming back to Juneau. They were sure Rex and Martha would let them know soon.
Later, just before light
s out, the head nurse, her expression a combination of disgust and fear, burst into Justin's room where the girls were plopped on the couch. In the hospital corridors bells and sirens started to sound, and the teenagers jumped to their feet.
"We've got a bomb scare," the nurse said. "We're moving everyone outside till we get the all-clear. Terrorist threat of some kind. Crazy maniacs—hospitals no less! What next…schools? You kids can walk down. We'll roll the others. Maybe you can help us."
"Of course we can help," said Rachel.
"So fat Joe's at the trooper detachment," said Bo Bradshaw, his weasel's face thoughtful. "What was his attitude when they took him away?"
"Defiant," said Paul.
"Good, good," Bo said, nodding. "What was he saying? Can you remember? How defiant was he?"
Timothy said, "He kept yelling they were ignoring his rights, they had no evidence tying him into any of the things we've told you about…Why are you asking about him? We never made contact."
Bo smiled cynically. "Because Idaho Joe would sell all of us out if he thought he could help himself. Our only chance is if he thinks he can beat the rap in court."
Paul said, "He was threatening to sue everybody in town. Very defiant."
"That's good," Bo said again.
The four conspirators then sat down to see what kind of plan they could devise to spirit the girls away from the hospital, drug them, and secure them in the bottom of two of the mining equipment crates. They were operating from totally different motives, Paul and Timothy from belief in the Prophet, and Bo and Charlie from pure greed; but their goal was the same, and they began to flesh out a plan.
"The pilots?" asked Paul.
"Don't know a thing. They think they're waiting for more equipment to arrive for transshipment to Whitehorse."
They schemed for several more hours, and finally Bo said, "I like it. The van, the bomb scare, the heart attack distraction."
RUNAWAY TWINS and RUNAWAY TWINS IN ALASKA: BOXED SET Page 22
