Page 16 of Smoky Lake

These were subtle things that only an experienced visitor to the Smoky Lake Research Institute would recognize.

Damn it.

Gil scrubbed a hand across the back of his neck. His skin prickled. The idea that someone unauthorized had come in here didn’t sit right with him. This was a place of science and the pursuit of knowledge. Greed and spying and threats had no place here.

Had someone poisoned Victor?

That was the thought that he kept coming back to. What else would bring on such sudden symptoms? When he’d left here, he’d been healthy enough to fill all those water jugs and write this note. When he’d gotten off the plane in Blackbear, he’d been feverish and coughing.

Gil looked at the note again. I planted some greens out back.

What was the point of that? The moose would eat them, and if they didn’t, the snowshoe hares would. If not the hares, the voles or the ermine. Around here, you had to build a fence if you wanted a garden, and no one ever had the time for that.

It’s a message.

With his pulse picking up, he went back outside and stepped around to the back of the house. That was where the generator sat. He didn’t see a need to turn it on, since he had nothing that needed to be refrigerated and there was so much light this time of year. The house didn’t have a “backyard” per se. It was just a clearing filled with stinging nettle and wild raspberry bushes. Where would anyone even put a garden?

But sure enough, Victor had figured out a spot. He’d cleared away some nettles and set up a simple raised bed with short posts at each corner, and one-by-sixes along the sides. Kale and bok choy filled the bed with their lush summer growth.

So far, so ordinary. Gil frowned down at the curly leaves of the kale. Victor had decided to plant a garden. Good for him. There was no message here. What had he been thinking?

One of the kale plants caught his eye because it wasn’t thriving as much as the others. Maybe moose had munched that one, or slugs had attacked it. Or maybe something else had disturbed it.

Gil was just bending down to check it out when the drone of an engine caught his attention. He straightened up and hurried around to the front of the house where he could see what was happening.

A small floatplane was approaching the lake, skimming just above the treetops. The only floatplanes that he knew about operated out of Blackbear. If he’d been able to take one to get here, he would have. It would have been much quicker than hiking through the ravine to old Solomon’s place, borrowing his four-wheeler, camping out for the night, then riding to the head of the lake where the boat awaited. It had taken him half a day and night to get here.

The seaplane skidded gracefully across the surface of the lake, its floats stirring up twin plumes of spray. It rocked back and forth on its own wake as it turned toward the little dock where the Institute’s boat was tied up.

Was someone scheduled to arrive that Gil didn’t know about? The Institute often asked Gil to help shepherd newcomers out to the facility. From guarding diplomats to transporting scientists wasn’t a huge reach.

As far as he knew, no one was supposed to be here until the middle of August, when a mycologist who studied extremophiles was coming to work on his ice worm project.

The floatplane came to a standstill next to the dock. The pilot jumped lightly onto the pontoon, then onto the dock. Gil recognized him as Sam Coburn, a highly capable pilot and all-around good guy. He relaxed, feeling no threat from Sam’s direction.

Sam reached out his hand to help his passenger climb out of the plane. Gil squinted into the sun, noting flowing dark hair and the glint of gold bangles. Could it be? He shaded his eyes and focused on the woman stepping onto the dock.

Ani Devi.

Damn. He’d been struck by her beauty, obviously, but hadn’t picked up much about her character. This woman was resourceful and smart and determined. It would take all of those qualities to figure out exactly where he was, and then to get herself here.

But why exactly had she come?

8

So far, Ani had been very pleased with the men her friends had fallen in love with here in the wilds of Alaska. Charlie’s guy, Nick Perini, had saved her life and helped stop a disaster. Molly’s man, Sam Coburn, hadn’t hesitated to fly her to Blackbear and borrow a friend’s floatplane to bring her here.

Even better, she knew she could trust Sam. If any state troopers or military personnel happened to ask him about her, he’d shield her. Molly would make sure of it.

“When do you want a pickup?” he asked her as he stood, tall and solid, on the dock next to the bobbing plane.

“I don’t know. But I’m sure there’s a way to communicate from this place. I’ll be in touch.”

He made an unhappy face. “I don’t like the sound of that. If I haven’t heard from you in three days, I’ll come check on you. I’m pretty sure Molly will insist on it.”

“That’s fair. Thank you. And thanks for all of this.” She waved a hand at the plane. “Are you sure I can’t pay you more than just the fuel costs?”

“Not a chance.” He smiled at her. “You’re Molly’s friend. And here, take this. I nearly forgot.”

---