Page 83 of Thunder Pass

Ruth raised her hand to gain their attention, and they all paused. “We don’t need to worry about them anymore,” she announced. “Their time has come and gone. This is our ballroom now. Shall we sing and dance?”

A guard emerged through the crowd, pushing a cart that held a karaoke machine. Ruth grabbed the microphone and started singing. “Love. Love Will Keep Us Together.”

Joy filled the ballroom as the guests boogied down to the sound of her singing, and then other people took their turns, and whether they could sing or not, everyone had fun forevermore and into the everlasting…

Ruth stubbed her toe on something and came out of her fantasy with a jolt. She looked down and saw that she’d tripped over a rusty hinge embedded in the dirt. A hinge—that implied construction by human hands. The cabin must be close by.

A few moments later, there it was.

The cabin was built into the ground, the way the Ahtna used to build their winter shelters. Someone had painstakingly excavated enough dirt to snug in a twelve by twelve foot wooden structure. From three sides, it could barely be seen, except for the smoke stack, which was how she’d spotted it from across the meadow. From the front, the unpainted boards, weathered and gray, blended in with the rest of the forest. No glass windows or metal roofing to catch the light; just moss-covered wood, like the old trapper cabins.

And the view. As she tiptoed around the cabin, looking for signs of occupation, she saw that it offered a sweeping panoramic vista that included every bit of Thunder Pass, from the steep mountainous rise to the north, to the wooded slopes to the south, and the spectacular granite outcropping the rock climbers loved. And yet, from most viewpoints below, the cabin would be nearly impossible to spot. Perfect for spying.

At the northern end of the pass, a flash of white caught her attention. From here, she could see even more of the tents and ATVs and helicopters down there. Maybe she could find some binoculars inside the cabin.

She stepped cautiously toward the front door, which was nothing more than a sheet of thick plywood with hinges, not even a doorknob to be seen.

“Stop right there,” came a low voice behind her. She spun around. Anthony Amundsen stood before her, a gun aimed right at her heart.

40

The headquarters of Luke’s operation turned out to be a white canvas covered Quonset hut tucked behind at the foot of the massive rock outcroppings at the far end of Thunder Pass. This particular one was too challenging for rock climbers, but Gunnar remembered hearing about an expert climber who had attempted it three years ago, and perished in a fall.

Now he wondered just how accidental that fall had been. How long had Luke been operating back here?

And what about the climber who had fallen earlier this summer? Maybe that had been deliberate too, an excuse to close off the pass.

Luke untied him from the ATV, and allowed him to roll himself off it, onto his feet, which were still tied together.

Although his hands were now free, he decided to keep that fact to himself for now.

The Quonset hut was filled with computers, the hum of multiple generators, and a pop-up table covered with a large topographical map. Gunnar couldn’t make out the details on the map, but he imagined it showed all the potential escape routes from Firelight Ridge.

“What if the U.S. government says ‘fuck you, that gold belongs to us and you better get the hell out of our way?’” he asked Luke as he rolled his cramped neck.

“They won’t.” He gave a dismissive chuckle. “They’re not the only government I’m talking to. No one wants this to turn into an international incident.”

“What is it you want them to do?”

Luke weathered face relaxed. “I’m a simple man. I don’t ask for much. All I want is what the U.S. government took from me.”

“You mean when they sent your father to prison for drug trafficking?”

“They stole my future. Norsk Shipping was going to be mine. They broke it apart, confiscated our assets. Sold it all off. I want restitution and an apology.”

“You want the U.S. to apologize to you? Who do you think you are?”

Luke grabbed him by the arm and hauled him across the floor of the tent. “I think I’m the one holding all the cards.”

“You mean, the gold. So why not just set up a mining operation and be wealthy for the rest of your life?”

As the guards watched them impassively, the answer to that clicked. “Dmitri. You’re working with the fucking Russian mob and they want something too.”

“You fool.” They reached their destination, which was an iron ring embedded in the rocky ground, with a chain trailing from it. Luke gestured to a guard, who came toward them. “The Russian mob isn’t involved in this.”

Jesus. That meant…was the Russian government working with Luke? What were they up to? Russians explorers and settlers had reached Alaska decades before the Americans had. Maybe they were trying to use Luke and control of this gold deposit to force some kind of concession from the U.S.?

All of this was way over his head, since politics had always felt very far away from tiny Firelight Ridge. But maybe he’d been wrong about that. Politics had reached the wilderness in a very unexpected way.

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