Blue Gold

Austin glanced at Zavala. Alaska is dotted with airfields hardly worth the name.

"Where was this airfield?" he asked.

"Up north a ways. Left over from the Big War. They used to ferry planes to Russia and used it as a stopoff. Blimps there used to look for subs. Not much left. There was a hut where I could light a fire and keep warm and dry. I could store game and smoke it there 'til it was time to come home."

"How long ago was that?'7

"Oh, fifty years ago or so. My memory ain't what it used to be. I remember when they said I had to stop going there, though."

''171~y?"

The old man nodded. "For months I never seen anybody. Then one day two men come by in a plane just as I'm cooking up some trout. Hard-lookin' white men. They flash their badges, say they're with the government and want to know what I'm doing. I give them some fish, and they're a lot nicer. They say there's going to be a big secret at the base and I can't come there anymore. But they will buy any fresh meat and fish I can get them. One of them gave me that gun you saw so I could shoot game. I took them lots of game and fish, never to the base, though. I'd meet them halfway."

"Did you see any planes?"

"Sure, lots coming and going. Once I was hunting and I heard one that sounded like a hundred rushing rivers. Big as this whole village and crazy shape."

"What kind of shape?"

He went to the wall and took down a harpoon. Touching the sharp metal point with his finger, he said, "Something like this."

Austin's gaze was unwavering. "How long did you hunt game for these men?"

"'Bout six months, I think. One day they showed up, said they didn't need any more. They told me to stay away from the airfield. Didn't want me to step on a mine. Said I could keep the rifle. They left in a big hurry."

Zavala said, "We've been looking for an old airfield supposed to be on a piece of land that looked like an eagle's nose, but we can't find it."

"Oh, sure, this place used to be like that. Things have changed from ice and wind. In the summer the water comes in from rivers and floods the land. Doesn't look the same as it did back then. You got a map?"

Kurt pulled the map from his jacket and unfolded it.

Grandpa Tinook's thick finger came down on a section of coast under the pencil shading. "Right here," he said.

"We must have flown right over it," Zavala said.

"Tell me," Austin said, "those men, did they give you their names?"

"Sure, Hewy and Dewy, they said."

Zavala chuckled. "I suppose Lewy was busy."

The old man shrugged. "I read Donald Duck when I shipped out on merchant ships out of Anchorage. They figured I musta ate whale blubber all my life. I let them think that."

"It was probably a good thing that you did."

"Like I said, they were hard men, although we became pretty good friends. I went back to the old base after the war. I think they just said that about the mines to scare me off. Felt like something had been poisoned and left to rot." He paused thoughtfully. "Maybe you can tell me. One thing I always wondered. What was the big secret? We weren't fighting the Japanese. The war was over."

"Some men can't live without war," Austin replied. "If they don't have one they find another."

"Sounds crazy to me, but what do I know? Well, that was years ago. Why do you men want to go to that old place?"

For once Austin was at a loss for words. He could have said how important it was to find an odd substance named anasazium before Gogstad got its hands on it and made worldwide mischief. But he suspected his real reasons were more visceral. The story of Buzz Martin's father had smoldered in him and offended his sense of right and wrong.

The best answer he could muster was, "There was a boy once who went to his father's funeral, only his father wasn't dead."

The old man nodded solemnly as if Austin had been the soul of clarity.

Austin's mind was already racing toward the task ahead. "Thank you very much for telling us your story," Kurt said, rising. "And for lunch, too."

"Wait," Clarence said. He perused the wooden figures he'd carved, picked out two, and gave one to each of the NUMA men. "Take these. The bear for strength and the wolf for cu

Austin and Zavala thanked the old man for his generosity.

"Makes me feel better to give you some luck after telling you how to get to that place. You go back to that old base, I got the feeling you're going to need it."

Chapter 30

The Sun's blinding reflection on the mirrored surface of the water had prevented a good look at the Eagle's Beak on the first pass. Only a thin, ragged crescent of tundra could be seen, part of an inundated coastal plain ex tending into a pear-shaped bay. Zavala angled the plane so that the dark outline of General MacArthur's nose was visible under the translucent covering of water. Austin gave Zavala the thumbs up. This is it. The thumb pointed down. Land.

Zavala brought the plane around in a low sweep and flew the length of the peninsula at an altitude of about two hundred feet. The crooked finger of land was more than a mile long and less than half as wide. Blackwater marsh had encroached on its borders and added to the ravages of wind and ice that had distorted its original shape.

"See how close you can get us to those moraines," Austin said, pointing to the low, glacier-carved mounds that began where the peninsula joined the mainland.

Zavala tapped the brim of his NUMA baseball cap. "No sweat. This baby can land on the head of a pin. Stand by for a picture-perfect landing."

Austin had every bit of confidence in his partner's flying ability. Zavala had logged hundreds of hours flying every conceivable type of aircraft. There were times, though, when he had visions of Snoopy pretending his doghouse was a World War I Sopwith Camel. He pushed the thought out of his mind as Zavala circled the strip again, dropped into a long glide, and reduced speed until the plane's floats skimmed the shallow water.

The plane was about to set down smoothly when they heard a loud thump under their feet followed by the tortured sound of metal tearing. The plane snapped around like an amusement park ride. The two men were flung against their seatbelts like rag dolls. The spi

As the propeller spun to a stop Austin felt his head to make sure it was still attached to his shoulders. "If that was picture perfect, I'd hate to see a rough landing. What happened to the head of a pin?"

Zavala adjusted his baseball cap and straightened his reflecting sunglasses on his nose. "Sorry," he said with uncharacteristic humbleness. "They must be making pins bigger than they used to."

Austin shook his head and suggested they inspect the dam age. They climbed out onto the pontoons to be met by the local welcoming committee. A cloud of condor-sized Alaskan mosquitoes thirsting for human blood drove them back into the cockpit. After liberally dousing themselves with Cutter's industrial-strength bug repellent, they ventured out again. They stepped off the plane into about two feet of water and examined the twisted metal around the right-hand float.

"We'll have some 'splaining to do at the plane rental place, but we'll be able to take off," Zavala said. He sloshed back along their landing path. Moments later he bent over and said, "Hey, check this out."