Page 56 of Craving Sin (Touch of Evil 13)

Fortunately, there was no rain in the forecast that could dampen the rescue efforts.

Several LED work lights and high-intensity floodlights were arranged around a small perimeter. Although their use would be brief due to the limited hours of darkness during this season, the bright light assisted in illuminating a portable table where individuals were scrutinizing multiple maps.

The person he was searching for wasn’t amidst the commotion.

The sight ahead was a structured frenzy, with groups of uniformed personnel gathered around maps, while gear was being meticulously sorted and checked. Graham identified the familiar motions of a rescue operation.

On his drive in from the main road to the clearing, Graham had passed a roadblock where state troopers were turning away news vans and curious locals. A female trooper with a stern expression had waved him through only after he had identified himself and shown his ID.

The media containment was necessary. The last thing a complex rescue needed was for reporters to trample the area and broadcast speculation that more agents had been killed today.

Graham spotted the Forest Service rangers clad in olive green uniforms, Alaska State Troopers in blue, and members of the Alaska Mountain Rescue Group wearing their recognizable red jackets. A team from the technical rescue unit of the National Park Service was also present. Among the crowd were FBI agents, who didn’t require the iconic yellow letters to make their presence known.

He shifted his gaze from cluster to cluster, searching for a particular lanky frame and perpetual beanie. If anyone had reliable information on Brook's situation, it would be Bit. The kid's ability to gather information surpassed that of anyone Graham had the privilege of working with throughout his military career, and that was saying something.

After a second scan confirmed that Bit wasn't among the planning groups, Graham approached an FBI agent who stood slightly apart, talking on his cell phone. The man ended his call just as Graham reached him.

“I'm looking for Bit Nowacki,” Graham stated, doing his best to keep his voice level despite the urgency thrumming through his veins. “From S&E Investigations.”

“The tech guy? With the grey beanie?” The agent pointed across the field to where a few black SUVs were parked at an angle. “Over there. He's been working in his vehicle since I arrived.”

Graham nodded his thanks before striding across the trampled grass of the clearing. His heavy boots, hastily pulled on during the flight, compressed the soft ground beneath him. Fortunately, he still had his original bag packed from yesterday.

The private jet had afforded him the convenience of landing at a small airstrip, located thirty miles from the mountain, instead of losing valuable time dealing with commercial connections. He received Bit's message about this afternoon's events while in the air.

Graham had been in situations like this one before. He understood that the Alaska Mountain Rescue Group would be the primary coordinators, working alongside the FBI. They would bring in specialists from the National Cave Rescue Commission, as well.

Ice caves presented unique challenges.

The explosion had complicated things exponentially, and structural integrity would be their first concern. Rescuers would need to determine if additional collapses were likely, and they would work with glaciologists to map potential routes and identify hazards.

An assessment team with specialized equipment would need to be sent in, but only if another entrance could be found. From Bit’s message, there was one on the other side of the mountain. Ground-penetrating radar would be needed to map the cave system, thermal imaging to detect body heat, and acoustic devices to listen for survivors.

Brook was a survivor.

Graham wouldn’t contemplate any other scenario.

Only after the situation was assessed would they send in the actual rescue team, equipped with ice climbing gear, medical supplies, and communication equipment designed to function in the depths of the glacier.

But all of that would take time.Hours, possibly days.

That was time that Brook and the others might not have. As Graham neared Bit's SUV, he clenched his jaw at the thought. The driver's door was ajar, and the interior light illuminated the young man’s slumped figure. So engrossed in the content on his laptop, he failed to notice Graham coming closer.

“Bit.”

No response.

Bit's fingers continued to enter commands on the keyboard, his oblong face bathed in the blue glow of the screen. An energy drink was in the center console beside him, and crumpled candy wrappers littered the passenger seat.

“Bit,” Graham repeated, louder this time.

Bit's head snapped up, his eyes wide and bloodshot. Recognition flooded his face, followed immediately by a relief so profound it transformed his features. He quickly set the laptop aside on the dashboard. What he did next left Graham speechless.

“General.” Bit’s voice cracked slightly as he scrambled out of the vehicle. “Am I glad to see you.”

Bit wrapped his long arms around Graham's torso in a tight embrace.

The unexpected physical contact froze him momentarily.

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