Midnight Sun

by Rachel Grant

  This told Sienna she probably wasn’t local. Most people here used the term Iñupiat.

  Tourney frowned, probably noticing the same thing, and said, “Can you provide paperwork to prove you legally own it and commissioned its construction?”

  The woman glared at him as she struggled under the weight of the box. “Of course not. I traded with an old carver in Itqaklut for it. I forget his name. Henry, Harry… started with an H. No receipt.”

  “Officer, as I commissioned the construction of that box for my business, I can easily prove it’s mine. I can call an associate in Washington, and she’ll fax the paperwork to you, along with more photos.”

  The woman cursed loudly. “I need to mail this box, now. Today. I’m done with this bullshit.” She turned, still clutching the box, and headed to the shipping counter.

  “I can’t let you do that, ma’am.”

  “This is harassment! I have rights.”

  “Ma’am, why don’t you remove the contents of the box and ship it in a different container? They have cardboard boxes here.”

  “You want me to send my uncle south in cardboard? That’s desecration.”

  Uncle? Hadn’t she said father? “It’s also desecration to steal an ancient shaman’s mask from the tribe,” Sienna said softly.

  “Mask? What mask? You keep mentioning a mask, but I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Ma’am. Just open the box and remove the contents. If somehow you’ve been wronged, and the box belongs to you, it will be returned. Right now, the evidence favors Ms. Aubrey’s claim.”

  The woman stood in the center of the narrow terminal, her lined face pinched with anger. Sienna wondered if she was connected to the Pelligrews or had found the box on the street at the Midnight Sun Festival. Finders keepers didn’t apply with stolen goods, no matter how much the woman wanted to believe that, and she hadn’t made it easy on herself by piling on lies about having commissioned the box.

  “Ma’am, will you open the box? It would solve a lot of problems if you could just show us the mask isn’t inside.”

  “It’s my box. I have rights.”

  From the arrivals side of the terminal, a man in a suit, along with a small entourage, entered the building. He scanned the room, and Sienna nudged Rhys. “Looks like the feds have arrived.”

  One corner of Rhys’s mouth kicked up when he turned and saw the group. “Agent Upton?” he called out.

  The man nodded and approached, the three people with him following a pace behind.

  The woman holding the box said, “Agent?”

  “He’s FBI, ma’am,” Rhys answered with a cunning smile.

  Her eyes widened as the officials neared. She dropped the box and bolted for the exit.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The heavy wooden box cracked open upon hitting the floor, and a mother lode of artifacts spilled out. Tools made of bone, stone, and wood. Awls and adzes, a small maul, projectile points that ranged in size from tiny darts to a large spearhead. An obsidian blade shattered on the hard floor. Given the heft of the stone artifacts, no wonder the box had appeared too heavy to be holding ashes.

  Officer Tourney chased after the fleeing woman, while the FBI agent and his party stayed behind to talk to Rhys. The woman had a sizable head start in the commotion, and Sienna wondered if Tourney would give the chase his all.

  After introductions were completed and the situation explained, FBI Agent Matt Upton turned to her. “Ms. Aubrey, can you identify these artifacts?”

  “It shouldn’t be too hard to match them to the accession numbers the tribe assigned. It looks like most are labeled. My guess is this is an assortment of artifacts the Pelligrew brothers stole before they learned that some artifacts are more valuable than others. With the possible exception of the spearhead and maul, they probably couldn’t get a good price for these items.”

  “You’re certain the box is the one you stored the mask in?”

  “Yes. Absolutely. The mask is probably worth a thousand times what these artifacts would be worth on the black market. The thieves might have ditched the box because it’s so large compared to the mask, which is roughly the size of a human face. While the box”—she gestured to the rectangular container—“is cumbersome. I needed special permission to bring it on my flights as a carry-on because it’s a little too big for a rolling bag.”

  Sienna and Rhys ended up returning with the FBI agent and his crime scene investigators to the tribal storage facility, where a quick check of the inventory numbers proved the artifacts recovered at the airport had indeed been stolen from the tribe.

  The agent’s team set to work on documenting and dismantling the shelf in the back, and to no one’s surprise, they found an opening into the net manufacturer’s shop. A simple phone call and a warrant was issued for the Pelligrew brothers. The charge was artifact theft for now, but odds were money laundering, racketeering, and murder would be added during the course of the investigation. They had much evidence to gather, starting with a full search of the net manufacturing shop to make sure the charges would stick.

  Agent Upton called Archie as a courtesy, but with the hole cut in the wall, they already had a warrant to search his shop.

  Officer Tourney had caught and arrested the woman at the airport, and she revealed she was in town for the Midnight Sun Festival. Early that morning, when she’d stepped outside her motel room to smoke, she’d seen a man in a pickup truck pull up next to the motel’s Dumpster and drop the box inside. Curious as to why someone would discard something so beautiful, she’d fished it out. Discovering it was full of artifacts, she decided to ship it home.

  Her description of the driver fit Doug Pelligrew, and the truck was likely the Pelligrews’ Ford.

  Agent Upton speculated that the Pelligrews were opportunists: they’d seen an opening to steal artifacts and seized it. But they’d started with items they couldn’t unload, and once they learned what collectors would buy, they started cherry-picking the collection. At some point, they’d formed an alliance with Adam Helvig, and the brothers became players in the illicit artifact trade.

  It had all come apart for Helvig when Sienna started asking questions about the mask.

  Sienna and Rhys settled in the storage facility office, going over the catalogue printout, matching items that had been recovered to their log entry, while the federal investigators searched the facility and the net shop. When this task was done, Rhys told her he wanted to take her back to the airport and send her home. He still didn’t know about the flames that had licked at her face, or the cold burn, which she knew in her gut couldn’t be avoided.

  Pain was coming. As was fire. Leaving wouldn’t change a thing.

  Agent Upton appeared in the doorway. “Vaughan, I’ve read your background file. Am I correct in remembering you were an explosive ordnance disposal specialist in the army?”

  Rhys stiffened. “Yes.”

  “I need you to take a look at something. Ms. Aubrey, you need to evacuate the building. Now.”

  “Get in the car,” Rhys said. “Drive to the power plant and wait. I won’t be able to think if I’m worried about you. You have to get out of the blast zone.” Rhys fully intended to ask Agent Upton to handcuff her and drag her away if she refused. She hadn’t told him, but he was certain the mild burn he experienced had been horrible for her.

  Her beautiful eyes were full of fear. “I’m scared, Rhys.”

  “Don’t worry about me, sweetheart.” He waved his hands in front of her. “Check it out, two tours in Iraq, and I still have all my fingers.”

  “I can’t believe you’re joking about this.”

  If she only knew the morbid humor that had gotten his team through those two nightmare tours. Eventually, she’d learn all of his facets, but if they wanted to have a future, right now she needed to leave. He kissed her, hard, then pushed her toward Chuck’s SUV.

  She lifted the handle, then turned and said, “I–I—” Her face took on a determined
look as she straightened her spine and gripped his shirt, pulling him down so she could press a fast kiss to his lips. “I love you,” she said firmly.

  He smiled and felt at least one of the knots in his belly uncoil. “I love you too. Now get the hell out of here.”

  She nodded. “I’ll wait by the power plant. Call my cell as soon as you’re safe.”

  “Will do.”

  In less than a minute, she was a safe distance from the building, and Rhys turned to Agent Upton. “Did you find wire cutters in the net shop?”

  Upton nodded and handed him a canvas bag that clanked with an assortment of tools.

  “Thanks. Let’s see what we’ve got.”

  Sienna turned the car so she could see the building, and threw it in Park, leaving the engine running. Strange to realize that this was the farthest distance she’d been from Rhys since they’d met, and she felt like part of her was missing.

  That must be why she didn’t feel right. Uneasy. Something was off. Images of flames teased the edges of her vision. The flames were coming. The mask would burn. But Jana seemed to be telling her there was nothing she or Rhys could do to stop it.

  She wished the large bay door on the net shop had been rolled up so she could see inside. As it was, all she could see was the windowless, low, gray concrete industrial building. Silent in the late afternoon.

  A scraping sound from behind her made her nerves jump. Probably a critter of some sort, slithering in the muskeg next to the plant. She reached for the switch on the power windows to roll them up.

  Something cold and metal pressed against her temple. “That was a sweet good-bye you said to that asshole lawyer,” a man whispered with a low sneer. “Too bad that’ll be the last time you ever see him, ’cause your lover boy is going to blow up any second.”

  A cold burn flushed her entire body, and her vision dimmed. All she could see were the flames.

  No. No. No.

  “I’d love to stay and watch the fireworks, but I’m afraid we’ve got someplace we need to be. So you, sweetheart, are going to put this car in gear and drive. As long as you do what I say, I won’t blow your brains out.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Rhys stared at the explosive package and swore. It had been planted in the back storage room of the net shop. Buried under old tools and netting material, it had been well disguised. He’d hoped the Pelligrews were closer to the amateur end of the bomb-making spectrum, but clearly, one of the boys had training. Rhys wondered if Nick or Doug had served in Iraq, or if they were Internet taught.

  From the construction, his guess was white supremacist survivalists. It had the signature of boys with time on their hands and a whole lot of hate in their hearts, not the spartan lethal efficiency of insurgents.

  “It’s not on a timer,” he said to the FBI investigators. “It’s a booby trap. You guys should leave. Join Sienna down the hill.”

  Sweat dotted his brow as he studied the lines trailing from the device. Goddamn net manufacturing… The wires disappeared into a jumbled gill net. It was a mess surrounding at least five pounds of C-4 with the detonator wires lost in the netting.

  “Can it be triggered with a cell phone?” Agent Upton asked.

  “Probably.”

  “So it could go off any second?”

  “Yes.”

  To the investigators, Upton said, “Do what Vaughan says. Get out. Wait with Ms. Aubrey.”

  “You need to leave too, Upton,” Rhys said. “Unless you have a bomb suit, get out.”

  “You don’t have one either. Dammit, there is no way in hell we’ll find a bomb squad or robot in this godforsaken tundra.”

  “Well then, it’s a good thing I’m here,” Rhys said, suddenly understanding Jana’s machinations. Had she seen far enough into the future to know explosives would come into play?

  Rhys’s training was seven years out of date, but those tours in Iraq were burned in his brain forever. He had the night sweats he hadn’t yet told Sienna about to prove it.

  “Get out, Upton.”

  “I can’t leave you here. Tell me what to do to help, or we both abandon the building and let it blow.”

  Rhys debated. The building was remote, but everything inside would be destroyed, including—especially—the entire collection of Itqaklut artifacts. The storage facility held both Jana’s and Chuck’s life’s work—preserving their tribe’s cultural heritage. But what were artifacts in comparison to human life—his human life? He didn’t have the right tools. He was out of date in his skills. “Let’s pack it in. Declare the building off-limits. See if a suppression blanket can be brought in, and detonate.”

  Upton nodded. “A reasonable plan. Let’s go.”

  The agent’s cell phone rang, startling Rhys. Damn, two minutes back in ordnance disposal mode, and he was already jumpy as hell.

  Upton answered the phone on speaker. “We’re coming out,” he said, presumably to the team that waited outside.

  “Matt, we’ve got a problem. Ms. Aubrey isn’t here. We saw the vehicle driving away. It looked like there was a man in the backseat. Holding a gun to her head.”

  Rhys bolted for the door to the main bay, his heart pounding. He grabbed the knob, but instinct stopped him in his tracks. A trickle ran up his spine. Déjà vu? A vision from Jana? He wasn’t sure, but he scanned the doorframe, quickly spotting the wire. He turned to Agent Upton. “The door was open before, right? It wasn’t closed until your team left a minute ago.”

  “Yes. Why? What’s wrong?”

  “It’s a collapsing circuit, and closing the door armed the bomb. We can’t open the door without setting it off. We’re trapped in here until I dismantle it.”

  “Where are we going?” Sienna asked, barely able to keep the quiver from her voice.

  “To meet my brother.”

  “Why?”

  “Shut up.”

  His gun still pressed against her temple, and she had to fight the itch to wipe away the sweat that had dripped into her eyebrow. “I don’t see why I should, since you’re just going to kill me anyway.”

  “Figured that out all by yourself, didja? And my brother thought you were stupid.”

  “I’m not the idiot who murdered a guy in a town where the only exit is through the airport. How stupid can you be? You’re stuck with nowhere to hide in a tiny village where it’s easy to freeze to death ten months out of the year.”

  “Well, see there, darling. That’s where your brains fail you. We’ve got a plan. And since it’s your fault we’re in this situation, you’re going to help us.”

  “I will never help you.”

  “You’ll have to, or you’ll die. We’re going to good old Archie Wright. He’s going to pilot us on his boat across the Chukchi Sea and Bering Strait. We’re going to Russia.”

  “That piece-of-crap boat is going to cross the arctic sea?”

  “Don’t let the exterior fool you. That sucker is Archie’s pride and joy. He’s always talking about how sweet the engine is.”

  “You expect a blind man to pilot you to Siberia?”

  “He’s only legally blind. He’s still got some vision, and Archie doesn’t need to see well to operate the controls of a boat he’s been piloting for over sixty years, not when you’re going to be his eyes. You’re going to tell him exactly what’s out there and what the gauges say.”

  “He’ll die before he takes you to Russia.”

  “I know. That’s why we need you. You’re his reason for not dying. He’ll do what we say to save your life. He’ll take us wherever we want to go. He won’t let the boat sink if you’re on board. Folks about town keep saying good old Archie always had a thing for the ladies. Guess we’ll find out if it’s true.”

  Rhys stared at the jumble of wires intermixed with the netting. Slowly he picked out the detonator wires. Four.

  No problem.

  Don’t think about Sienna. You can’t help her if you’re blown to bits.

  He traced one wire with his eyes. That
one was a trap. Clip that one and you die.

  Okay. He wouldn’t do that.

  This was just like Iraq, only better because he wasn’t exposed on a city street, surrounded by assholes who wanted him dead.

  Yeah. This was almost cozy. Inside. Good lighting—Archie had splurged on the daylight fluorescents—probably because it was better for his workers in the dark winter months.

  At the end of the day in Iraq, Rhys had only his team to hang out with, but today, after he ripped off the Pelligrew brothers’ heads and saved Sienna, he’d make love to her for about ten hours, then they’d get on a flight and return to Seattle and begin their lives together.

  But first he had to conquer this motherfucker of a bomb.

  He had it figured out. Knew which lines would detonate it. Now he just had to reach in and snip the wires. And here, unlike Iraq, he wasn’t encumbered by thick gloves.

  This was so much better than the insane old days.

  “I’m cutting,” he told Upton, then positioned the clippers around the first wire. His heart roared in his ears. He’d forgotten that part. Forgotten how the adrenaline felt as it coursed through him while he conducted delicate surgery.

  Steady hands were key. He severed the wire, wiped sweat from his brow with his wrist, then went back for the next wire. And the next. Four cuts and it was done.

  He released the breath he’d been holding, then very gently untangled the massive lump of C-4 from the net that had partially buried it. He pulled out the detonators one by one and wrapped them in a cotton towel he’d set aside for that purpose. They could come in handy.

  He lifted the mound of C-4. Heavy. He’d been right—at least five pounds. It too could come in handy. He put the explosive in the canvas tool bag, picked up the towel full of detonators, and said, “Let’s get the fuck out of here and find Sienna.”