Daniel Ganninger - Icarus Investigations 03 - Snow Cone (8 page)

Then I realized how they did it.  Underneath the white netting
Galveston spoke of earlier, I spotted three large vehicles.  Each had huge, oversized tires; the type perfect for managing this landscape.  On airplanes they were called tundra tires and enabled pilots to land on uneven terrain.  The difference was these were gigantic, and each vehicle had six tires with a large cab above.  They were further disguised by a tall wall of ice and snow that hid the black color of the tires.  Someone was taking extraordinary measures to keep things hidden.

“Joe has to see this.  Maybe he can shed some light on what they may be doing,” I announced.

“It will have to wait until tomorrow.  I don’t like the looks of the clouds rolling in.  The weather can change here in an instant, and we aren’t prepared for an overnight,” Sally informed us.

We didn’t question her and gathered our things.  The temperature was already beginning to drop, and as we reached the base of the small mountain we had just climbed, a light snow began to fall mixed with freezing bits of rain.

We drudged back to our base camp and made it inside the cabin just as the wind began to pick up.  My hands and feet were frozen, and my parka was soaked.  Galveston, nor I, had packed the proper rain gear for the hike, and now we were paying the price.  We needed to swallow our pride and rely on Sally and Joe for their expertise.  It was humbling to realize that Galveston and I didn’t know everything.

We all huddled by the heater, and I felt the circulation returning to my hands.  Joe informed me, much to my chagrin, that this was nothing.  The temperatures and weather changes were often much worse and changed much more quickly.  In an instant, one could find themselves in whiteout conditions after standing in perfectly clear skies only moments before. 

They were words I took seriously, because soon, we were going to be challenged.

-Chapter 15-

Joe was disturbed at what we had found, and he wanted to see the operation for himself.  He had been out
with mining expeditions before and was confident he could shed some light on what these men were up to.

That night we slept hard
, and by morning the clouds had receded again and the sun shone brightly.  It was our perfect opportunity to get a better and closer look at who we believed had been harassing Joe.

The four of us hiked back to the mountain perch where the covert camp lay.  Sally located an easier route for us to take this time and even a way we could get a closer, more personal, view of the camp.

Joe got his first look and was in awe at the sight.  He spent a few minutes looking through the binoculars before handing them to Galveston.

“It’s not a mining camp,” he stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Really?  How can you tell?”  Galveston asked, surprised at his statement.

“They don’t run mining camps like this.  At least not the ones I’ve been on.  You don’t put your camp away from the mine.  It’s not cost-effective.  And I don’t see any backup machinery.  Plus ther
e’s an absence of dirt.”

“Come again?” I was more than confused at his summary.

“The snow and ice is pristine.  In a big operation, the place would look like someone had painted it with a black and brown brush.  The snow would be dirty, and the ice would be dirty.  There would be machinery running through the camp.  They are extremely active places.”

“Then what do we have here?”
Galveston inquired.

“What you have here is an exploration camp.  They are looking for something.”

“Uranium?” I asked. 

“I don’t think so,” Joe said shaking his head.  “Companies don’t usually have an operation this size in the initial phases of discovery for uranium.  And there
’s no reason to cover everything.  There is reason to tread lightly on the environment but not to camouflage it.”

Joe was doing the investigating more than us at this point.  I pulled
Galveston away for a sidebar.

“I think we better start doing our job.  Joe will figure this out before us,” I joked.

“You read my mind.  We need to get closer.” 

I noted the time, and it was near the time we had been at this spot the previous day.  The camp seemed deserted. 
Galveston examined it with the binoculars.

“I’m not getting any movement around the buildings,”
Galveston informed us.  “I think it’s time to poke around.”

“Do you think that’s wise?” Joe questioned.

“If we want to have a better idea what is going on, it’s something we have to do,” Galveston informed him.  “We’ll hug that side of the mountain.” Galveston pointed to an area where there was a ravine we could traverse to stay concealed.

“Do you think that way is safe, Sally?”

Sally’s ears perked up, and she seemed elated to be involved in the planning.  She answered in a business-like manner and pointed out the safest and easiest route to the bottom.

Galveston
and I took off our packs and left them with Joe and Sally, just in case we needed to make a hasty escape.

We hiked down the ravine and stopped on a small hill of ice and snow just above one of the portable buildings.  We still had not detected any movement, but that didn’t mean there weren’t people, and possibly angry people, in the camp.

The building was lit on the inside and had just a few windows.  I scurried down the slippery slope as Galveston followed behind me.  I put my back against the building’s wall and waited for Galveston to join me.

The window was slightly higher than our height, so
Galveston gave me a boost so I could sneak a peek at what was inside. 

This particular building contained bunk beds, one on each side, in a row of eight.  We moved to the next building and found a small workshop.  The last building sat away from the others, and we crawled toward it to stay out of sight from the road that led out of the camp.  This building was slightly smaller than the others.

This time I gave Galveston a boost so he could see inside.  He pulled himself farther up to the window to get a better look and then looked down at me as I grunted from trying to hold his weight.

“Having fun?” he whispered.

I motioned with my eyes for him to look in the window.  In my opinion, it was an inopportune time for a joke. 

Galveston
peered inside, and just as he did, we heard a door slam.  I dropped Galveston to the ground, and he fell on top of me.  We jumped to our feet and pressed our backs against the wall. 

Galveston
knelt down and looked around the corner of the building.  A man, dressed in a white parka with white pants and shoes, came out of what looked like a makeshift latrine.  The man stopped for a second to adjust himself before walking down the icy road.

We both
breathed a collective sigh of relief, as I was sure Sally and Joe were doing back up on the slope. 

“This building has papers and maps. There has to be information that can tell us what this operation is about.  We need to take a look,”
Galveston informed me.

“So you’re volunteering to go in?” I shot back.

“Rock, paper, scissors, then?”

“Alright,” I said, perturbed at our childishness.

I quickly won the round and would be the lookout.

“Best two of three,”
Galveston attempted to say.

“No.  Now go,” I whispered, pushing him with my hand.

Galveston took a deep breath and disappeared around the corner.  I heard a door open, but since I couldn’t see in the window, I had no idea where Galveston was or what he was up to.

Not four minutes later
, he returned.  He came around the corner breathing heavily, carrying what looked like a mass of polar bear fur.

“What the hell is that?”

“Two parkas and two pants.”

“What, did you get cold?”

“They’re for later.  I have a plan, and you’re really not going to like it.”

“Great, but I want to get out of here. We can discuss your plan later.”

I turned and didn’t give him the chance to counter my statement. 

We moved rapidly back up the mountain, and I turned around halfway up to see if my colleague was following. 
Galveston must have tired from carrying the heavy coats and pants because he had put them on his head.  He looked like a strange version of Grizzly Adams, the mountain man.  I rolled my eyes and continued on, being callous not to offer him some assistance. 

When we were about forty yards away from Joe and Sally, I heard an echo of an engine from below.  I turned to see the men from the camp returning. 
Galveston threw me one of the white coats, and I put it over my head to cover the dark blue of my parka as we crawled the rest of the way to the top.

Sally and Joe greeted us, and they were both clearly nervous.  They had been watching the men come up the road before we had heard them.  We scrambled out of sight and set ourselves at a secure point to watch the men enter the buildings below.

I motioned for Sally to lead us out, and she skillfully negotiated our path back to the cabin.  On the way, I gathered enough strength to ask Galveston why he stole the coats and pants.  I had a good feeling of his reasoning, and I didn’t like it.

He confirmed my suspicion of what he was thinking. 
Galveston figured the next best step was to infiltrate the operation at its source—where the men were going.  It was a ridiculous plan, but Galveston had a way of spinning things that made it sound like a walk in the park. 

We had counted enough men to actually make the plan feasible, and we believed we could slide in without notice.  I thought about the plan the rest of the way back to the cabin and decided it could really work—if the weather was on our side.

We needed a day that was going to be the type of day we hated.   It would need to be cold, windy, and otherwise terrible.  That type of day would help us get in and out without being recognized.  It would also allow us to slip out if things took a turn for the worst.

Joe checked the weather forecast and determined that tomorrow was going to be another clear day, but the following morning was forecast to be what we wanted; overcast, cold, and freezing rain.  It sounded wonderful to be out in an environment I had no experience in, walking into a situation where men had guns, and unsure of the people who were running the operation.  It was all in a day’s work.

The next day we traveled back up the mountain with Sally as Joe continued on with his research.  It was becoming obvious that Tony had tipped the men off during Joe’s previous trip, and since Tony didn’t believe Joe was currently in Greenland, no one had bothered us.

We surveyed the movements again of the men in and out of the camp.  They left promptly at nine in the morning and returned at three.  These were usually the times that the weather was at its best, so we assumed they had planned their work according to this time table.

As the day pressed on, we passed the time with mindless talk.  Galveston was beginning to warm-up to Sally and didn’t attempt to bury his head in the snow when she would go off on one of her talkative tangents.

The next morning we awoke to a gray, foggy mess.  The forecast had proved correct.  This would be our chance to find out where these men were going.

-Chapter 16-

Sally had to work a little harder this time to get us up the mountain.  The terrain in the night had become much more difficult to traverse and without her knowledge of this area we would have been lost in an instant.  The fog was trapped in the valley and by the time we got to our point where we had first seen the men, we could see nothing below.  We would be going in blind.

“What’s our plan?” I asked, growing nervous at the thought of going down through the fog.

“I don’t know.  If we go down, we might never be able to find our way up,” Galveston answered.  I noticed the concern in his voice.

“I can get you down there,” Sally announced.

“I don’t think so.  It’s too dangerous.  We have no idea who we’re dealing with,” replied Galveston.

“I’ll stay out of sight.  You need me,” she said rather commandingly.

I looked at Galveston.  Sally had the adventurer spirit, and I almost offered her my spot in our little expedition.  I could tell this was all terribly exciting for her.

“Do we have a choice?” I asked
Galveston.

“Not unless you want to turn back now.  This might be our only chance.”

“Alright, Sally.  But only far enough where you can still see us,” I told her.

“And to show us the way out,”
Galveston added.

“Cool,” was her response.  She didn’t realize this wasn’t supposed to be fun, and she would soon get a taste of why it wasn’t.

The time was nearing nine in the morning, and if our calculations were correct, and they seldom were, the men would be passing in line with their vehicles soon.

Sally began the trek down the mountainside, carefully leading us around and over the giant ice crevasses of the glacier we were now on.  It was a relatively quick hike, and we stopped as soon as we got below the fog.  We adjusted our white coats and pants since
Galveston didn’t have the courtesy to get us the right sizes.

The men from the camp had to walk and drive their vehicles around the base of the mountain, so we expected them to be a little late, especially on a day like today.  But they were right on time.

“They have a very procedural operation,” remarked Galveston, noting their succinctness.

“That makes me nervous.  That means someone is pushing them on a tight work schedule.  Let’s hope the snow keeps up,” I replied.

“Okay, Sally, do you see that rock outcropping?  That’s where we’ll start from, and that’s where we’ll return.”  Galveston pointed to a group of rocks that resembled a clenched fist jutting from the landscape.

“Gotcha.  I’ll stay here and look for you at that point.”

“We’ll be gone no more than three hours.  If we’re not back by then, you need to get back to Joe and then find the authorities—whoever that may be out here.”

“Okay, three hours,” Sally said rather breathlessly, her excitement bubbling over.

“I don’t think they could be going more than a mile or so.  They would all be driving if it was more,” Galveston concluded.

“Well, good luck,” Sally responded and gave each of us a hug.

“Uh, thanks,” was all Galveston could respond with.

I smiled at Sally and turned to head down the ice as
Galveston followed me. 

“She’s getting to you, isn’t she?” I asked him.

“I have to admit, she’s wore me down.  I’m beginning to not mind her endless exuberance.  I even don’t mind her talking so much.  It’s rather refreshing to not have to talk to you.”

“I knew you couldn’t go a whole day without insulting me.”

“I’ve been trying, but Sally is usually talking to me, so I haven’t had the chance.”

I let out a laugh as we continued down the ice flow.

As we neared the bottom, we could see the white clad men shuffling past with the occasional vehicle in-between.  We took up a spot out of sight and awaited our moment to insert ourselves into the convoy. 

At last, a group of men with shovels appeared and strolled past our position with no one following. 
Galveston motioned for me to follow.  The men were now fifty yards ahead of us in a group of twenty or so, and luckily they were not walking as a group.  Galveston and I slowly began to walk toward them.

The men appeared to just be common workers, and they trudged along following the person in front of them.  We kept back with our heads down and followed them as they went to wherever they were going.

We were now out of sight of our extraction point—the large, rock outcropping.  We followed for another half an hour before turning away from the mountain and where the glacier was located.

There, through the fog, we got a glimpse of what we came to see and where these men were going to work.

“Holy crap,” I said rather loudly.

In the distance we could make out groups of men digging through the ice and snow, dotting the landscape like ants.  There must have been five or six groups of four men, each group huddled around a different hole.  Just beyond them were two portable drilling rigs, attached to trucks with huge, oversized tires.  It was a sight to behold.

“What the hell is going on here,” Galveston said in awe.

“This doesn’t look like an exploration team; it looks like a mining team,” I replied.

“Sure seem a terrible way to try to mine for something.  Look at that,” he said, pointing at a truck with a satellite dish perched on top.  “That’s the one we have to check out.”

“It’s awfully close,” I responded nervously.

“Just walk with purpose.  There are too many men around to care, and the weather is right where we want it.”

I nodded my head and followed his lead.  Instead of trying to be covert, we walked straight at the vehicle.  As
Galveston had predicted, no one even noticed.  My heart pounded as we got to within ten feet of the truck.  Galveston quickened his pace and reached the truck before me.  He surveyed the area as I came up behind him and flattened myself against the side of the white truck.

“I’ve got gunmen, three o’clock,” he told me.

I looked straight ahead.  “Where?  I don’t see them.”

“Look to your right,” he said, perturbed.  “We really need to go over that.  Straight ahead is twelve o’clock, to your right is three,” he whispered condescendingly.

“You can teach me later,” I replied, annoyed at his response.  “I see them.  What is this? Who needs people with guns?  Is this for gold or something?”

“I watched those gold shows, and they don’t go about it like this.”

“And a satellite dish?  I’m starting to get a bit freaked out.”

“Maybe they don’t want to miss their soap operas.  I don’t know.  I’m as confused as you are.” 
Galveston peeked under the truck.  “I see two more gunmen there.  These are the guys that have been harassing Joe, that’s for sure.”

Galveston
and I were unsure of what to do next.  This wasn’t what we had expected to find, but then again, we weren’t sure what we would find.

“I say let’s get a look in this truck, and then let’s get the hell out of here,”
Galveston instructed me with hastiness that I hadn’t heard in a while.

“And how do you propose to do that?”

“I’ll knock on the door.  Remember ding-dong-ditch?”

“Yeah, you knock and then run, and then you sit and watch the poor schmuck get all irate that someone knocked on his door.  I may have done that once or twice.”

“That’s what we’re going to do.  If we get an answer, then we’re outta here, if not, we’re going in.  I know it’s a really stupid plan, but it’s all I got.”

“Doing stupid things, that is our motto,” I answered.

“You hide under the truck and I’ll knock.  Hopefully, I’ll meet you here.”

“Wait, this is too stupid, even for us,” I tried to whisper to him, but between the wind whistling and the hood covering my face, he didn’t hear me—not that he would have listened anyway. 
Galveston was already gone.

I crouched under the truck, which was easy to do since it sat a good seven feet off the ground.  I didn’t hear the knocks, but
Galveston reappeared and slid under the truck next to me.

We waited anxiously for what would happen as we kept an eye out for the gunmen.  A minute passed and no response came from the door.

“You know what that means,” Galveston asked with wide eyes.

“That was an incredibly stupid idea?” I retorted.

“Yes, that’s true, but it also means we can get in.  Let’s go.  Remember, look like you’re supposed to be here,” he reminded me.

I grunted in response, and we stood up and tried to walk like we had reason to be going in the truck.  We got to the back and went up three steps to the door. 
Galveston slowly opened it and felt a rush of warm air.  As he pushed it farther open, I prayed there was truly no one inside.

Galveston
looked in quickly and luckily saw nothing.  He slipped through the door and I followed.  Inside the truck, along the sides, sat humming computer equipment with a small workstation at the back of the truck.

I immediately went to the workstation and began to examine what was on the desk. 
Galveston joined me after he had checked over the computer equipment and got the names of the machinery.  He made a mental note of what they looked like and their names so he could convey what he saw to Alex.

There were a few papers on the workstation, mostly notes with random numbers.  As I shuffled through them I saw an item that piqued my interest—a map.  I reached deep in my pocket, pulled out my cell phone, and snapped a few pictures of it as well as the rest of the truck.  The map didn’t make sense to us, but it was something we could get Joe to examine later.  Maybe he knew what they were after.

Galveston poked me in the back.  “Look at this.”

He gave me a piece of paper that had been under the map.  The contents of the paper were nothing exciting.  It just looked like an inventory list for food and supplies.

“Not that,” he said, moving a finger from the writing on the page to words scrolled at the top.  “This.”

His finger pointed to words that read—
Project: Broken Arrow
.

“I’ve heard of that before, but I just can’t place it,” I told him.

“Me too.  I can’t remember where, though.”

“I think we’ve found enough.”  I snapped a few more pictures and began to walk toward the door.

“This is the tough part.  Let’s go out and head to the truck at your nine o’clock,” Galveston instructed once again.

“Yes, my left, got it.”

“Very good,” he said with a smile, “I think you’re getting it.  Remember walk with purpose.”

Galveston
went out first and opened the door without hesitation.  He was a pro at acting like he was supposed to be somewhere when he was not.  I followed again and tried to mimic his moves.  I closed the door and stepped off the truck.  Galveston was almost to the other truck when I made a big mistake—I looked back.