Alice 1 (4 page)

They were impressed, and by the end of the day
Molly was almost as good as me.

Surprise! Skinny Santa came by and told us to
pack for 2 or 3 days. We’re going treasure hunting in Colorado.

CHAPTER 7

We flew San Francisco to Denver to Leadville and
arrived mid-morning. Rented a van, bought a shovel and crowbar, and
spent the rest of the day walking around the old mining town.

I toured the fancy Victorian where Baby Doe
lived with her husband Horace Tabor, the Silver King. When the
price of silver crashed he lost all his money, his fancy mansion in
Denver, the Victorian in Leadville, and died. She spent the rest of
her days living in a shack out at Tabor’s old silver mine. He swore
one day the Matchless Mine would see riches once again. It
didn’t.

Ashara, long curls flying, came running
around a corner, gave me a kiss, slapped an envelope in my hand,
and ran away. How did she get from Sausalito to Leadville, and why
me? Inside was an old photograph of Baby Doe in rags, standing by
the shack at the Matchless Mine. She had been so rich, so
beautiful.

BABY DOE TABOR

And as I looked at that sad photograph, I
flashed to an old Indian woman. I don’t know where the flashes come
from or why.

KANTI

Kanti is sitting by a worn out canvas tent
making a pair of snowshoes. She was the ghost singer for the
Blackfoot before the tribe was herded onto the Reservation.
Sometimes she hums a love song and remembers the days of long ago,
camped along the Swiftcurrent with Khoo-ii.

She was posing for a white man. He didn’t
promise to pay much, and didn’t even give her that. Just laughed,
got on his horse, and started to ride away. She sang the Song of
the Sta’au, and the horse stumbled. The lying bastard fell and
broke his neck.

____________________

That evening we headed West over Tennessee Pass,
down the winding road to a long, narrow valley. Half-way down the
valley there were a couple of old, broken down cabins on the South
side of the road. We drove behind one and cut the lights.

“Ok, we’re looking for a metal box, around 4 by
12 by 12. It’s probably hidden inside the walls or under the
floorboards in one of the cabins. Alice, Johnny and I will search
this cabin. Maggie, Molly and Linda go do the other.”

Half the roof was gone so light from the moon
was good enough. We went around the walls of the room then back and
forth across the floor. Ah, something under the floor boards. Nah,
just a bunch of nails. Heard a car and froze. The highway patrol
didn’t even slow down.

Maggie came over from the other cabin. They
think they found it. Used the crowbar on a floorboard, and there it
was. No lock but the lid was rusted so Santa had to pull hard to
open it, and a few sheets of paper scattered on the floor. They
were filled with names and addresses.

“Yeah, this is it. Put the floorboard back and
let’s get out of here.” Well in the movies this is when bad guys
show up with grins and guns. Nope.

Santa answered a few questions on the way back
to Carmel. Camp Hale was in the long valley back in the 50’s, home
to the 10th Mountain Division. They trained Special Forces and
airborne troops in mountain and cold weather warfare. The two
cabins were a nice perk for Army generals who wanted a few days
relief from the heavy grind of leadership. They landed on the camp
airstrip and were taken over to the cabins across the road, nicely
isolated from the rest of the camp.

The cabins were of course generously stocked
with food, hunting and fishing equipment, and lots of booze. There
were rumors pretty girls were available on request. General Reed
hid the box in the cabin right before the camp closed and the 10th
moved to Fort Drum.

Santa did not tell us what was so valuable
about the names and addresses, and was gone a couple of days.

____________________

Santa and I had a little talk when he came back.
I love him to death but don’t fly blind like this. I need to know
more about what I’m getting suckered into. He agreed and we all met
for lunch on the veranda.

“A couple of weeks ago the Pentagon learned
General Reed, back in the late 50’s, had the names and addresses of
our spies in Czechoslovakia and East Germany and was planning to
sell them to the Soviets. He died before he could do that. The
lists could still cause trouble because old spies can be
blackmailed, prosecuted, and they and their families killed for
revenge.

“So when the Army heard about the lists they
went to visit a couple of General Reed’s daughters. One of them
remembered that just before he died, he went to Camp Hale with a
bunch of papers in a metal box. The army sent out a search team but
found nothing. They called us because we have an excellent
reputation for finding things.

“And you need to know about the Vigilantes. As
you can guess from the name, they use the Gift to right the wrongs
of the world. They work out of a small village on the southern edge
of Glacier National Park just outside the Blackfoot Indian
Reservation, so we call them the Glacier Gang. Sometimes we don’t
get along too well because we consider them wild-west gunslingers
and they consider us fat, lazy drones wasting our gift on trifles.
We try to keep on decent terms because we don’t want to find out
what a war between us would be like. Good enough, Alice?”

“Yeah, at least for now. Thanks.”

“And I have an announcement. The Glacier Gang
has asked for help on a mission. They’ve never done that before.
Alice, would you come with me to Glacier? You’ll be my lie
detector.”

“Sure, as long as I get a tour. I’ve heard
Glacier National Park is incredibly beautiful and wanted to go for
a long time.”

“Good. Pack for 3 or 4 days. We leave tomorrow,
six in the morning.”

“Any other questions? Johnny?”

“Do people we work for know about Shadow
hands?”

“No. They just consider us very competent,
except for Karla. He’s an old friend and works out of UC Berkeley.
I’m pretty sure Karla is CIA.”

CHAPTER 8

Skinny Santa and I flew from San Francisco to
Denver to Great Falls. Arrived mid-afternoon, rented a car, and
drove to East Glacier.

The Glacier Gang live in what used to be an old
hunting camp, with ten or so cottages surrounding a large, main
lodge. All natural wood, with weathered brown and grey cedar
shingles on the roof and sides.

David, a handsome young man, opened the door and
led down a corridor to a large room with a high ceiling and big
stone fireplace. Brightly colored blankets here and there, pictures
of the old west on the wall, and sculptures of cowboys and Indians
scattered around. David said they’re all Russell and Remington
originals, and the blankets are Navajo. Whatever else these weird
people are, they are not poor.

Ruth and Betty were so open with their emotions
and gave me big hugs. Doris is maybe in her early 50’s and appears
to be the leader. Her hug was warm enough, but was obviously
checking me out. The two guys shook hands, no hugs. Ralph’s maybe
in his 60’s, a bit stand-offish, suspicious even. Probably their
lie detector. I liked David as soon as I looked into his eyes when
he opened the door. It’s been a while, and I’m not much for
solo.

“Where’s Stephen?” Santa asked.

“He died a month ago,” Doris answered. “We
buried him down by the creek, beneath the giant Ponderosa he loved.
We miss him.

“Thank you for coming. You’ve been invited for
two reasons. One, to help out on a little mission. More
importantly, I want our two groups to get to know each other
better. There have been problems between us over the years, maybe
even bad feelings. I regret that.”

“I regret that as well, Doris. You and I have
always gotten along and from the bottom of my heart I hope that
continues. There are so few of us. What a shame we can’t be
friends, visit sometimes, and support each other.” Everybody
nodded.

“Ok, here’s the deal. There’s a bunch of
cyber-thieves in Cut Bank preying on the elderly. My mother was one
of their victims. You and I are very good fire starters and around
nine tomorrow evening we’re going to fry their computers. Their
offices are on the ground floor of a two-story, commercial building
on the edge of town. No night watchman, and cops go home early in
Cut Bank. Alice and David will be lookouts.”

“I’m in. How about it, Alice?”

“Sure, as long as I get to see Glacier.”

“That will be no problem,” Doris said. “David
knows the park very well, and I’m sure will want to share his love
with you. Ok, we leave for Cut Bank tomorrow evening around six.
This evening we have reservations for dinner at the East Glacier
Lodge. Hungry?”

I think I get the big view. Doris figures
getting David and me involved is a good way to get a friendship
going between our groups. Good thinking. He doesn’t look all that
experienced so I’ll play innocent. Then shock the hell out of
him.

Well no. Hell isn’t really what I have in
mind.

On the way to the lodge David gave the history.
It’s one of the large, magnificent hotels railroads build in
National Parks throughout the West at the beginning of the 20th
century to encourage people to ride the rails. In Glacier one is at
Lake McDonald, one here at East Glacier, and the grandest of them
all at Many Glacier. They’re Swiss Style, built by the Great
Northern around 1913.

Well, this one is grand enough for me. A flower
lined promenade starts at the railway station and ends at a large
4-story, u-shaped building, framed by high mountains. The inside is
as rustic and beautiful as the outside, and I can see why the
Blackfoot call it the Big Tree Lodge.

Click
East Glacier Lodge
, and take a look.

CHAPTER 9

The next morning I got up early and walked over
to the kitchen. Brrr! Northern Montana in August is colder than
Hell. Odd phrase. Might put the fear of damnation into a few
Eskimos.

I hope Ruth and Betty are there so I can get a
little girl talk. Nope, but Ralph is sitting at a table by the
window. I’ll do my innocent, dumb dance. He watched as I walked
over and got my coffee. His eyes are kind of weird. Not crazy
weird, more like he’s having a deep conversation with himself.

He looked me over though, so he’s still alive.
No leer or anything, just what guys do. The poor dears can’t help
it, they’re hardwired. Some women say they hate being looked at. Oh
yeah, sure! And of course they never look at guys.

Bunch of uptight, prissy hypocrites!

“Good morning Ralph, do you mind if I join you?
Where are Ruth and Betty?”

“They should be along soon, they sleep in
sometimes.” He took a sip of coffee and leaned over.

“How do you feel about tonight?”

“Should be easy. You must go on a lot of
missions.”

“Yeah, I used to. Not anymore.”

“Why not?”

He paused a moment. “I’m beginning to wonder if
we did more harm than good.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Do you know about unintended consequences?”

“No. What are they?”

“Why are you lying?”

“Because I don’t know you, and I’ve found it’s
best to play dumb female at first. It works great most of the time,
but not with handsome, super-sensitive guys like you.” He
laughed.

“Ok, let’s reboot as they say in the computer
trade. Just before you came I was sitting here drinking my coffee,
and wondering if even the missions we thought turned out well may
have had bad unintended consequences. We were so full of ourselves,
so self-righteousness.”

Is this going to be a philosophical dissertation
or an appeal for forgiveness? I’m not much for either. Thank God
Ruth and Betty came in, but then felt bad when Ralph got up and
left. Like I had let him down.