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 spinning plane came to rest at a drunken angle. Zavala had the wind knocked out of him but managed to kill the engine.
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.'
Austin came over and examined a metal post covered by a few inches of water. Metal gleamed brightly where the top was sheared off and copper electrical wires dangled out.
'Congratulations,' Austin said. 'I think you found a landing beacon.'
'The unerring Zavala homing instinct never fails,' Joe said as if he had hit the landing light on purpose. He expanded his search and within minutes located another light. This one had the glass lens and bulb socket still intact.
Austin surveyed their surroundings and tried to get his bearings. It was easy to see why the remote spot was picked for a secret airstrip. The terrain was naturally as flat as an aircraft carrier and would have needed little grading. He looked toward the hills where the sun sparkled off a lacework of streams that pooled into the lake that hid the strip.
They unloaded the plane, slung their packs over their shoulders, and waded toward the hills less than a quarter of a mile distant. Although they wore boots that kept their feet dry, the water sloshed onto their waterproof Gore- Tex pants, and they were glad the temperature was in the fifties. The water became shallower and turned into spongy bog, then they were crunching on permafrost as they made their way through patches of buttercup, wild crocus, and poppies. They spotted more landing lights, all leading in a line toward the hills. At one point they stopped and looked off at a huge flock of eiders floating over the marsh like a dark plume of smoke. With the unearthly quiet they could have been on the surface of another planet.
Continuing their hike they came to the foot of an escarpment that angled sharply up from the ground. The elongated hill was round at the top and shaped vaguely like a loaf of Italian bread. Patches of black rock splotched with lichens and moss were visible through the thick vegetation that covered much of the hill. Austin thought it peculiar that the mound stood by it self, isolated from the nearest hills by several hundred yards. He mentioned his observation to Zavala.
'Notice how the land here is flat except for this bump?'
'If I were a geologist I might be able to make something of it.'
'I was thinking more of the landing lights. They lead right to the face of this hill.'
He stared at an exposed section for a moment, then put his face inches away and ran his fingers over the shiny surface. Using the large blade on his Swiss Army knife he poked at the rock and chipped off a thin piece about as big as his palm. He examined the material, then grinned and handed it to Zavala.
'Paint,' Zavala said with wonder. He ran his hand over the shiny area exposed by Austin's knife. 'Sheetmetal and bolts. Someone went to a lot of trouble to keep this thing hidden.'
Austin took several steps back and raised his eyes to the top of the mound. 'I remember Clarence Tinook saying something about an old blimp base. Maybe there's a dirigible hangar under this stuff.'
'That makes sense and goes with our theory that they used an existing base. The next question is how we get inside.'
'Try saying 'open sesame' and hope for the best.'
Zavala stood back and bellowed the famous command from Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves. When nothing happened he tried again in Spanish, also to no avail.
'You know any more magic words?' he asked Austin.
'You just exhausted my entire repertoire,' Kurt said with a shrug.
They walked around behind the hangar. Sticking out of the permafrost were the foundations of several small buildings that could have been Quonset huts. A dump area revealed piles of rusty tin cans and broken glass, but no entrance to the mound presented itself.
It was Zavala who stumbled, literally, on the entrance.
Austin was walking several steps ahead of his partner when he heard a yell. He turned quickly. Joe had vanished as if the earth had swallowed him up. Confirming this possibility, Zavala's disembodied voice, swearing in the tongue of his ancestors, issued eerily from the ground. Austin carefully back tracked and found Zavala in a cellar hole that had been covered over by vegetation. Austin had walked right by the hole without seeing it.
'Are you okay?' Austin called out.
More mutterings. 'Yeah, the brush that covered this damned hole cushioned my fall. C'mon down. There's a short set of stairs.'
Austin joined Zavala at the bottom of the hole, which was about eight feet deep. Joe was standing in front of a partially open door of heavily riveted steel.
'Don't tell me,' Austin grunted. 'The unerring Zavala homing instinct.'
'What else?' Zavala said.
Austin pulled a small but powerful halogen light from his pack. The door noisily opened with some persuasion from his shoulder. He stepped inside with Zavala close behind. A blast of cold and fetid air hit them in the face as if they were standing in front of an air conditioner for a mausoleum. The beam of light showed a corridor whose concrete walls and ceiling were inadequate insulation against permafrost and seemed to amplify the cold. Pulling their jacket collars tight around their necks, they started along the corridor.
