Page 119 of The 9th Man

Then he saw it.

A notation for an old mining facility.

He smiled.

It was like Daniels was sending him an invitation.

Perhaps he was?

He found his radio. “Bravo Three, start your approach on the ground.”

59

LUKE HOPPED OFF THE ROCK LEDGE INTO THIGH-DEEP SNOW. HEstill carried the pack, shotgun, and Beretta. As agreed he and Jillian had separated to make themselves harder targets, then they’d each begun their trudge toward the mining camp’s closest building, an equipment hut, by the looks of it, whose back walls had collapsed.

Beyond was Ishawooa Camp proper, a collection of structures linked by enclosed walkways. According to the infographic on their map the bigger structures, which dated back to the original 1847 camp, consisted of the ore house, where raw material was stored, and the waterwheel-powered mill building, where ore was processed and separated. Yet another pair of walkways connected the ore house to a lodgepole bunkhouse set against the meadow’s southern slope and a mine entrance set into the northern slope. Interspersed amid the main buildings were dozens of freestanding shacks added, he assumed, to accommodate a once expanding workforce. All told the camp occupied roughly three acres and had been overhauled and modernized through the decades until closing twenty years ago. A rat’s nest like this was an attacker’s worst nightmare. You’d be constantly looking over your shoulders.

Perfect.

Everything was in surprisingly good condition given its age. Life would have been brutal here, especially the winters. But he knew that the lure of gold was so strong that thousands of men and women had endured conditions worse than this to find it. The isolation, unrelenting cold, and backbreaking work must have been soul crushing.

And all just to be rich.

Jillian approached from his right and came close, cradling her shotgun. He motioned and they took it slow and steady, partially for fear of losing sight of each other in the billowing snow and partially because they knew quick movements were easier for watchful eyes to spot.

Something moved ahead.

He raised a fist.

Jillian went still and sat on her haunches, leaving only her head and shoulders visible. He crouched too. A snowshoe hare bounded into view and just as quickly disappeared into the gloom.

False alarm.

They reached the rear wall of the equipment shed where the listing roof formed an alcove of sorts. Luke’s thighs were on fire.

“I need more time on the treadmill,” he said.

“My own conditioning is pathetic,” she added. “What do you think, if they were here wouldn’t they have already sprung the trap?”

“Maybe Talley’s going to wait for us to get comfortable before tightening the noose.”

“Then let’s not get comfortable.”

He agreed.

Talley had surely studied a map and narrowed the places where’d they run to. His boss, Rowland, had to be concerned with what Eckstein possessed. Surely the same had been true for Simmons, which explained why the house was burned to ashes. Now Eckstein’s smoldered. But they had the two flash drives, the movie reel, photos. The whole damn enchilada.

So what was NAI 31621?

Good question.

Would the evidence they’d thus far gathered even scratch Rowland’s paint? Would they be labeled conspiracy crackpots, armed with nothing more than ludicrous diagrams and tales about a phantom mistake? And Eckstein’s movie? Credible? Or just something for the trolls to tear apart, frame by frame? He washed those thoughts from his brain and refocused on their current circumstances.

Talley would find them soon enough.

“Let’s check things out,” he said.

They separated again, each circling the shed so they could approach the headframe from different angles. Off to his right a huge mound came into view. Not a natural formation, he decided, but rather a tailings pile left behind long ago by the miners. He wondered how much of the terrain they’d passed was actually tailings that had settled into the earth over the years since the gold rush ended here. The closer he drew into the camp the thinner the snow became until he was moving through powder no deeper than his ankles. So sheltered was this keyhole meadow that snow was mounting here half as quickly as it was out in the open. Jillian reached the headframe a few seconds before him. She gave him a nod then ducked through an opening.

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