Alaskan Wolf

by Linda O. Johnston

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Flynn.” Emil had stood at his seat and now glared at the TV scientist.

  “Oh, I don’t—” Mariah began, looking toward Patrick for help to counter this absurdity. But his expression suggested he found it interesting.

  “Look, Mariah,” Jeremy interrupted. “Maybe you should think about working with Flynn. I doubt you’ll get anything but innuendoes and silliness for your article from him, but you know you can’t get any genuine information from me, at least not now.”

  “Then you’re not interested in getting copies of my pictures to draw your own conclusions. I had hopes we’d all cooperate with one another, at least to some extent.”

  A glance passed between Jeremy and Carrie, and then they both looked at Emil, who was seated again.

  “Sorry, Mariah,” he said. “I can’t share information, and that goes for my staff, too.”

  “But not me,” Flynn Shulster piped up with a broad smile.

  “Fine, let’s collaborate.” She forced a smile as she stood up. “Sorry we couldn’t work anything out, Emil. You might find my article very interesting when I’m done with it.” She wasn’t exactly happy with her attempt to get in a final dig and doubted that Emil or his family gave a damn about her irritation.

  She had already ordered a meal, so she sat down at another table. She was gratified when Patrick followed her, less so when Flynn also joined them.

  “Sorry,” she said with a sigh. “I shouldn’t let my frustration show so much. But my nerves are still on edge after what we went through this afternoon.”

  “That does sound like a frightening experience,” Flynn said. “I’d like to interview you both on my show. We’ll do it in a few days, up there on the remaining part of the glacier. In exchange, I’ll have my network send along other wildlife researchers who are willing to talk to you, okay?”

  “As long as I can quote them in my article,” Mariah said.

  “Done.”

  But Patrick’s frustration wasn’t eased by their deal. He could have tried staying at the table with Emil Charteris but doubted he’d be welcome. And since the scientists weren’t answering Mariah’s questions, even with her substantial credentials as a writer, they certainly wouldn’t answer a lowly musher’s, especially because, to retain his cover, his inquiries couldn’t get into much scientific detail.

  As Carrie Thaxton approached the piano player—what was his name? Lemon?—and got him to play a loud rendition of “This Land Is Your Land,” Patrick considered ordering another beer, then decided he shouldn’t allow his frustration to ruin his better judgment.

  Instead, he ate the sandwich he had already ordered and remained quiet. Listening…to nothing of much use to him.

  What a farce of a day. Another bad calving on the glaciers that he’d experienced firsthand, without getting any more information on its cause. And no further leads about what happened to Shaun.

  He’d hoped that his and Mariah’s eyewitness description of this day’s violent calving would at least raise Emil Charteris’s interest enough to get him spouting theories. But that wasn’t to be. So where could Patrick go with this now?

  Most other scientists who’d been here conducting research had left the area, although some had indicated they would return. Sure, he could follow-up with them, but he needed immediacy. And depth.

  And not innuendos about how the U.S. government was doing something to cause the situation that it wanted him to figure out.

  But Flynn Shulster, the only one who appeared cooperative, was tossing out accusations without a shred of evidence. Well, no wonder. He might profess to be a scientist, but he was a showman.

  Patrick identified with Mariah’s frustration. And his was exacerbated by the fact that he, too, wanted answers but couldn’t even let her know they had similar goals.

  He had anticipated that his very special wolfen abilities would have already been of more help. Yet all he could do, at the moment, was to growl deep inside with frustration.

  His mission here was to ask questions, to listen and utilize his other, keener senses. To learn—and to report back. His information was to lead to knowledge that would allow his superiors to determine who to send to fix whatever was going on.

  His underlying skills as a medical doctor were irrelevant here, but he enjoyed the change.

  He’d enjoy it even more once he had succeeded—even if that meant piggybacking on the curious Mariah’s journalistic interrogations.

  She had definitely impressed him with her courage on the ice today. He liked her. Was definitely attracted to her.

  Even though he worried about her endless curiosity—when it appeared aimed toward him, and not solely in the directions that could lead to information he sought.

  Under other circumstances, he might want to get to know her better. A lot better. Especially since she turned him on, even with her defiant scowl as she ate her meal of salmon and salad and discussed what would come next with Flynn.

  But his lust for her could never be satisfied. He didn’t dare get close to any woman while on a mission as vital and covert as this—especially not one who already asked too many questions.

  Well, so what if he remained unsatisfied? He had other plans, at least for tonight.

  He almost grinned when he recognized the song the piano player was banging out now—“Moondance” by Van Morrison. How appropriate.

  Patrick would spend the night back up on the glacier.

  Alone. And changed.

  Chapter 8

  Running on the ice, in the form he loved.

  By choice again this night. But the full moon was coming. Soon. He would shift, then, no matter what he wanted.

  Tonight’s moonlight was invigorating. He could see as well as his human form did in daylight. By scent, he tracked and chased the hares he had seen earlier, for the sheer exhilaration of it.

  But with no one to watch his back, he had drunk less elixir than usual. His time in wolf form was limited.

  And he had work to do.

  He quickly ended his chase. Turned toward what was now the edge of the glacier. Stopped at the new, treacherous, broken rim of the ice.

  Muzzle raised, he sniffed the air and listened.

  The hint of ozone he had inhaled earlier had dissipated.

  No call of orcas or crashes or any other sound besides the lapping of the bay below against the ice, the churning of the sea in the breeze.

  Wait. The sounds. The lapping noise was something soft, yet insidious. Man-made. Was it the answer to what was happening here?

  If not, it was at least a clue.

  And somehow, he needed to figure it out.

  “And you’ve no idea what it was?” demanded Major Drew Connell.

  Patrick had called his commanding officer as soon as he’d returned to his apartment at the dogsled ranch. Which was a while after he’d first heard those noises in the water. He’d gone to a secluded area he’d been to before—one in a grove of barren trees, far enough from glaciers and the road to prevent him from being seen. There, he soon shifted back into human form, then returned to the ranch.

  “No. Even though it resembled water hitting the side of something, I couldn’t tell what it was or where it came from. Or even if that’s what it was.”

  “You have a plan now to ID those noises?”

  “Sure do. I’ll work on it tomorrow.”

  But this wasn’t the way he’d intended it, Patrick thought the next afternoon.

  He had told Wes Dawes he needed part of the day off to help deal with some matters relating to Shaun’s death—which just might be true.

  Then he had come to the small dock area that served Tagoga Bay.

  And had found he wasn’t the only one with the idea of heading out into the waters that day. Mariah was there, too. She’d already chartered the vessel she had been on the first time she had seen a glacier calving here.

  And had spotted him on the ice without knowing there was more to the wolf than a prowling
canine.

  Now they were on Nathan Kugan’s boat together. It had just left the dock to sail toward Tagoga Bay and the glacier park. They both wore the same warm outerwear that they’d been bundled in yesterday, up on the ice. And needed it, since the wind was biting as the boat whipped through the water.

  “So why did you decide to go out on a boat today?” Mariah asked suspiciously. Her hands were stuffed into her pockets, and her face, what was visible of it above her scarf, frowned—without marring its sexy loveliness.

  “Just for fun.” He turned to watch small waves at the motorboat’s side, holding the railing in his gloved hands.

  “Of course,” she responded sarcastically. “You know, Patrick, if you’re following me, or—”

  He interrupted her by laughing—though the idea of following her to someplace quiet and solitary, where they could be alone sent his imagination reeling in directions it shouldn’t go. He controlled it. “No, really,” he said. “I was as surprised about the coincidence as you. Or maybe it’s not such a coincidence. Okay, I’ll level with you. I was freaked out yesterday when that glacier broke apart with us on it. I wanted to take a look from the water, and hiring someone like Nathan to take me seemed like a good idea. I assume you’re here for the same reason, although I figure you’ll write about it, too.”

  She nodded. “That’s pretty much it. Plus, I wanted to see the sea creatures there now. Find out if at least some are okay and get a few photos.”

  The boat started turning into Tagoga Bay, and she stopped speaking as the sheer, icy cliff faces came into view.

  “Breathtaking,” she whispered.

  He looked at her. “Yeah.” Then he grinned as she turned and glared at him. “The glacier park,” he said.

  A short while later, they stopped in the middle of the bay and were soon joined on the deck by Captain Nathan Kugan. Patrick had met the guy before at Fiske’s. Nathan was a relatively short guy, middle-aged or more, with weathered, swarthy skin and a look of the native Aleutians about him.

  “You were at Afalati Glacier when it calved yesterday?” he asked.

  “Yes.” Mariah pointed toward a distant glacier on the port side. “That one, right?”

  Patrick nodded as Nathan said, “Yep. Know what Afalati means in Inupiaq—that’s a language dialect of the Inuit?”

  “No,” Mariah said, and Patrick could see how fascinated the writer had suddenly become. “What?”

  “Governor. If you want, I’ll print you a sheet from the internet that gives the names of this park’s glaciers and their origins.”

  “I’d love it!” Her enthusiasm made Patrick grin—though he knew he shouldn’t let anything about Mariah appeal to him so much. They weren’t enemies, of course, but neither could they be friends…or more.

  Just imagine what she could do to him—and Alpha Force—if she ever learned the truth and decided to write it up for her damned magazine.

  “And another thing,” Nathan said. “By the articles you’ve written for Alaskan Nature, I gather that you’ve been in Alaska for more than a year, so that makes you a Sourdough, but Patrick hasn’t been here for one of our fine winters yet, so he’s considered a Cheechako.”

  Mariah laughed as she made notes, and Patrick couldn’t help grinning at her. “I’ll try to use that in my upcoming article,” she said.

  “So…I’d imagine that fellow is the result of the calving you saw yesterday.” Nathan pointed toward the far starboard side of his boat. The large chunk of ice there was so huge, and so close to the nearest glaciers, that Patrick hadn’t noticed at first that it wasn’t part of them.

  “Could be,” Mariah breathed.

  “Well, damn,” Nathan said. “That’s one of the biggest bergs I’ve seen broken off lately. And what do you want to bet it’ll eventually escape from this bay and get out in the gulf? And endanger not only my boat, but bigger ones like cruise ships and oil tankers. Whatever’s going on here—I don’t like it.”

  “It’s only been a few days since I asked you the last time,” Mariah said, “but do you or any of the other captains have additional ideas about what’s causing this? And, of course, its effects on the local wildlife?”

  “Nothing different from what I told you before,” he said. “Though we’ve seen a lot more dead fish floating on the water.”

  “After our experience yesterday, I’m interested, too.” Patrick took a step closer to the captain. Any bit of additional knowledge he gathered, no matter what the source, could only help fulfill this Alpha Force assignment—and his ideas of where to look for answers certainly needed more stimulation.

  But Nathan’s theories were basically the same old global-warming stuff, nothing helpful to explain the extent and immediacy of the decimation.

  “Can we get any closer to Afalati?” Patrick soon asked.

  “Sure thing.”

  Nathan returned to the bridge of his small ship and they started moving again. When they stopped, the glacier where Patrick and Mariah had been yesterday loomed before them, tall and frigid and imposing.

  And silent. Once their boat’s motors were stopped, Patrick heard nothing beyond normal—breaking of small waves against the craft and ice, calls of distant birds and barks of sea lions.

  Nothing that resembled the quiet lapping noises of last night that had so intrigued and worried him.

  “Beautiful,” Mariah said beside him, “but I don’t see any wildlife either up there or in the water today. Certainly no wolves.” She sounded disappointed, which filled Patrick with all sorts of conflicting emotions. If she only knew…

  “I guess I’ve seen enough for today, Nathan. If Patrick’s ready, could you just take us back to the dock?”

  A while later, Mariah stood in the small, open parking lot near the marina with Patrick. It had been treated with salt, and its surface was slushy, but she enjoyed its view of the mostly empty docks and the rough surface of the wind-tossed water.

  She was impressed that Patrick had offered to pay half the charge for the boat rental. He probably didn’t have much money, as a musher, and she was on a small but handy expense account.

  He had joined her in thanking Nathan for their outing but had remained quiet since their stop at the base of Afalati Glacier.

  “This outing was definitely enjoyable,” she said as they approached his car, “but I’d hoped to learn more about why we experienced such a violent calving yesterday.”

  He shrugged a broad shoulder beneath his jacket and tossed her an ironic smile. “Global warming.” He pulled his right hand from the pocket of his jeans. His car key dangled from it.

  “It’s got to be more than that.” She knew she sounded almost belligerent.

  “Could be. Anyway, see you around, Mariah.” And then he slid into his car.

  He didn’t drive off, though, until she had gotten into her SUV, started the engine, and pulled out of her parking spot—gentlemanly, despite his subliminal message: he had no interest in seeing her later today.

  Which irritated her. She had sensed vibes between them. More. A definite sexual attraction.

  One he had no interest in following up on, notwithstanding what she might want.

  Well, okay. After the way her last relationship had ended, she’d been reluctant to get involved with anyone, so why start now? But she wanted to go back out on the glaciers at least one more time. Maybe it would help to have someone besides Patrick be her guide, for a different perspective.

  In any event, she’d have to go to Great Glaciers Dogsled Ranch to set it up. She would do it that afternoon. She would also ask the Daweses if either had an opinion on the glacier calving, and, more important, what kind of wildlife they typically saw while on the ice these days, and whether it used to be different.

  Wolves, maybe, like the one that had so captured her attention and imagination.

  Toby had been in business for a while. His perspective would be interesting. Possibly even quotable for her article.

  She smiled as she pul
led her vehicle onto the two-lane road toward downtown. At least she had a plan.

  And if she happened to see Patrick there, well, so what?

  Once again, when Mariah arrived at the ranch, a lot of huskies played noisily in the fenced-in yard to the side of the driveway. Not as many as she’d seen there before, though. Some were probably out on dogsled outings.

  She whipped out her camera and took a few photos. Maybe she would do another story, one strictly devoted to dogsledding. That might have a lot of appeal to Alaskan Nature Magazine readers, especially those from the lower forty-eight who had never been out mushing.

  Mariah continued up the driveway toward the main house. No Patrick in her path this time. No one else came out to greet her, either.

  This could be an opportunity. She veered along the side of the driveway, passed by the main house and headed toward the back building that she’d been told contained the employees’ apartments.

  The place where Patrick had found Shaun Bethune’s body.

  Because she was interested in learning the truth, she had agreed with her boss, Harold, and would attempt to find out enough to do an article on it for one of his other publications. This could be a good time to do a little research.

  “Hey,” called a familiar voice from behind her. She turned to see Patrick emerge from the far side of the main house. A large dog followed him—his dog Duke, wasn’t it? Interestingly, they both had eyes in amberlike shades of brown. Well, people were always said to choose dogs that resembled them.

  “Hi,” she called with false cheeriness. Busted. She headed toward him. “I’m here to schedule my next dogsled ride. And I’d also like to talk to one of the Daweses, preferably Toby, about his take on local wildlife.”

  “You didn’t mention either this morning.” Patrick’s tone was mild, but his scowl made her feel defensive. Duke sat down on the icy walk beside him.

  “I didn’t think about either this morning.” Not exactly the truth.

  “Well, you should have called first. Both Toby and Wes are out giving tours. The other guys, too.”