Nobody Cares, page 18
“Sorry,” Raines said. “He tried to jerk my camera away when I was uploading to the computer in the break room. I didn’t take kindly to it.”
“So maybe, you can go back with Lt. Kitka to the business office and finish there,” Wyckoff said. “I believe you’ll need his input?”
Raines nodded. Paul half expected him to stick his tongue out at the pilot.
Lanky Purdue was leaning against the table where the food was, watching it all unfold. His pilots were standing around as well. Paul thought they’d been minutes away from a brawl.
“Captain Wyckoff,” Anders said furiously. “What part of national security risk, don’t you understand?”
“Son,” Lanky said. “We aren’t going to take your word for it. You got any proof that this is under a national security blanket? Any evidence why it should be? So far, all we know about you is that you ordered a warning shot at a civilian who was broadcasting a mayday call for a med-evac. Over a populated area. All that does is convince me you’re none too bright. So you tell me, why would we believe you? Trust your word?”
Anders shook off his pilots and opened his mouth to respond.
“Don’t,” Paul said softly. “Just shut up. You pick a fight with Purdue, you’ll leave here on a stretcher. Once you’re healed up, you’ll be lucky if you aren’t demoted before they transfer you out of state. Have some sense, man.”
Adam opened the door to the hangar, and escorted a tall, gray haired man inside. Two other senior officers followed them in.
The pilots straightened and saluted. The grey-haired man saluted back, and then turned to Purdue.
“Lanky, what have you done now?” he asked, and held out his hand.
Lanky laughed, and came to shake the man’s hand. “Commander,” he said. “Welcome to the insane asylum.”
Commander Carlson shook Newsome’s hand, and Newsome introduced him to Wyckoff. Another handshake. The rest of them weren’t introduced. Well if that didn’t put us all in our place, Paul thought amused. He wasn’t unhappy to be ignored. He looked around. Raines was fading back, blending in with Lanky’s pilots. He raised an eyebrow in his direction; Raines shrugged. Should have brought Betsy, he thought again. He liked the young man. Would go drinking with him any time. But damn. He looked around, found Jason Tremont, and gestured toward Raines with his head. Tremont rolled his eyes, but he nodded. He would ride herd on the young man. Paul thought if anyone could, Tremont could.
“All right,” Commander Carlson said, just loud enough for his voice to reach everyone. “Pilots? My pilots, at least. Stand down. I want you to return to your planes, prepare for takeoff and a return to base, but wait for my orders.’
“Sir,” they chorused, and headed toward the door.
Captain Anders started to protest.
“Actually, Captain Anders has some explaining to do,” Lanky said coldly. “Bring him along.”
Paul thought Anders was reconsidering calling attention to himself.
“Fine,” Carlson said. “Anders, join us.” He looked around. “Chief Newsome? Who do you need from your command?”
“I’m outside my jurisdiction,” Newsome said with a shrug. “Captain Wyckoff? It’s your turf.”
Wyckoff looked sour at that. “Lanky? Could you have one of your men go fetch Officer Dixon from the patrol office? Tell him it’s show and tell time.”
Lanky nodded at Adam who disappeared back out the door.
Wyckoff looked around. “Lt. Kitka, you’ll join us. Lanky, we’ll want you there. Rafe, if you would assist Carlos in the business office, I would appreciate it.”
Once inside the break room, Commander Carlson introduced the two men who had accompanied him: Lt. Col. John Dryland, and AMOC director Cal Smith.
“First, Jonas, I have a question for Lt. Col. Dryland, here,” Lanky said. “Your Captain Anders says you authorized him to fire a warning shot at Dace Marshall while she’s flying a med-evac and broadcasting mayday. On my advice that it was an illegal order, the pilot he ordered to take that shot refused to do so. Did you give him that order?”
The room went silent, as Lt. Col. Dryland turned red. “We had been informed that there had been a raid upon a secure COMIT site,” he said stiffly. “And that secure data had been stolen and was in unauthorized hands. That they were then fleeing in a stolen plane. I authorized Captain Anders to use whatever means he thought was necessary — including force — to re-secure that data.”
“Informed by whom?” Commander Carlson asked.
“Captain Petroski. He’s the liaison to the NSF consultant who runs that station,” Dryland said. “He reported in that they’d been attacked.”
“And you didn’t re-evaluate that when you heard Ms. Marshall broadcasting mayday and announcing a med-evac?” Wyckoff asked.
Dryland swallowed, but he didn’t answer.
“Answer him,” Carlson ordered quietly.
“Petroski...,” he started, then stopped. “I should have re-evaluated, Sir,” he said.
Carlson looked at him. “You ordered your pilots into the air based on Captain Petroski’s account with orders to shoot down an unknown plane broadcasting mayday,” he summarized. “Over Wasilla.”
He swallowed again. “Yes, sir,” he said.
“Did you alert anyone else to this crisis?” Carlson asked.
“I informed our intelligence liaison, and the NSA director,” he answered.
“What did they say?”
“They confirmed that the site was used for satellite monitoring and that data received there had the highest of security ratings. They requested we retrieve the data using whatever means we deemed necessary.”
“They did,” Carlson said neutrally. “And did you bump this national security emergency up to your commanding officer?”
“No, sir,” he said. “It happened very quickly. Petroski was quite insistent that there was no time to waste. That we had to recover the computer and its data before it could be handed off to someone else.”
“Originally, the pilot was intending to land at the lake at Native Health,” Lanky said. “You could have easily had security waiting for her there. But you insisted on her landing at the base instead. That alarmed her, and she decided she’d bring them here to Talkeetna where she knows people. So in reality, you spooked her into coming here. This wasn’t her original destination. Did Petroski explain why this thief would head to Native Health?”
“No.”
There was a knock on the door, and Joe Bob Dixon slid inside. He was carrying a laptop, and a miniprojector he used for data presentations.
“Good. Officer Dixon, could you set up and then tell us what you’ve found?” Captain Wyckoff asked.
“Found where?” Commander Carlson asked.
“I asked my officer to examine what was on the hard drive in question,” Wyckoff said. “We had reason to believe that the computer contained evidence of a crime — the kidnapping and abuse of women from Anchorage over the last few years.”
“What? The task force investigation?” Carlson said. “You think there’s evidence for that investigation?”
“The cargo that Candace Marshall arrived here with was nine malnourished women,” Wyckoff said grimly. “And a computer. As Lt. Kitka’s fiancé she has apparently absorbed the need for evidence corroborating the women’s testimony. Although the condition of the women speaks for them. Officer Dixon? When you’re ready.”
“Candace Marshall was able to send out a video clip from the site early this morning,” Joe Bob began. He showed everyone that first clip, and walked them through the events after that. Then he queued up a video. “Be forewarned this is ugly stuff,” he said. “I’ll tell you more about what I found, but first you need to understand what was happening at the NSA collection site.”
He showed them a 30-minute clip.
There was silence. “Director Smith? Can you identify the man in the clip?”
He nodded. “Pete Dawson. He runs that collection site. He built a cabin out there shortly after he returned to the state four years ago. A weekend cabin — he’s out there a lot, I believe.” Smith looked sick.
“How does he get out there?” Joe Bob asked. “He doesn’t own a plane and his pilot’s license isn’t current in the state.”
“His Air Force liaison is Captain Petroski,” Smith said. “He usually flies him out for his routine checks and data retrieval. I assume that he flies him out whenever he goes there.”
“Where are Petroski and Dawson now?” Carlson asked, looking at Dryland.
“Dawson is in the hospital. He was shot,” Dryland said. “Petroski was treated for his injuries, and released.”
Carlson looked at him for a moment, then pulled out his cell and made a call, ordering Petroski be detained, pending his return to base.
“All right,” Carlson said. “I’d like to meet Ms. Marshall and see the women. Where are they?”
“Sir, they are extremely traumatized,” Paul warned. “I’m sure Dace will be glad to speak to you. But the rest are under a doctor’s care. And Dr. Longenbaugh is quite protective of them.”
All the Talkeetna delegation laughed.
“Noted,” Carlson said. “But I want to at least see their condition and talk to Doc.”
Paul noted he called Longenbaugh by Doc, so he figured he knew what he was asking. He nodded and they all loaded up for the half-mile drive. Be easier to walk, Paul thought, but he guessed you couldn’t ask the powerful to trudge alongside the road. Didn’t seem dignified.
On the other hand, he was going to start walking if he had to make any other trips. Too many of these people were getting on his nerves.
And when they got to the clinic Carlos Raines was waiting there. Jason was with him, and when Paul frowned, he just shrugged. Raines was going to get his camera confiscated yet, Paul thought. And not by some wannabe flyboy.
Doc came out and shook Commander Carlson’s hand. He nodded to everyone else. “Bill? They got you out here too?”
“They did,” Carlson said. “I’ve seen some of the video of the women when they were being held captive. I’d like to see them, observation only, unless someone is willing to talk to me. And I’d like to talk to Ms. Marshall.”
Doc mulled that over. “I’ll allow you to come into the ward, and observe quietly for a few minutes,” he said at last. “And only because I am furious and sickened by what has been done to them. I want justice. And fast. Or I’ll be tempted to look for revenge instead.”
Carlson snorted and nodded his head.
Doc looked over the mass of men crowded into his waiting room. “Chief Newsome, Captain Wyckoff. You two may accompany him. Lt. Kitka? Perhaps you’d join Dace and see if she wants to talk to these men, and if so? I think you should be there with her.”
Doc frowned again. “I expect you to be quiet, silent, and sympathetic. Is that clear?”
They all nodded and followed Doc down the hallway to his small wardroom. Paul followed along, even though he hadn’t been on Doc’s list. But Doc might need an enforcer, and he’d be happy to assist the old man. One on one, he’d bet on Doc any day, but this was quite a cluster of powerful men to take on.
The women were huddling together. Although it was obvious that Doc and his nurse had put them in beds after giving them clean clothes, they hadn’t stayed there. Several of them were sitting on the floor between the beds, choosing to be close to each other. And, Paul suspected, they were seeking out an enclosed space, a kennel in fact. The kennels must have become a safe space, he thought. Dawson couldn’t abuse them when they were in there.
The realization made him want to vomit.
Mary Abbott was crouched down with him, he saw. He smiled. Dace had been right to ask her to help.
A woman was pacing. Rage poured off of her. Sarah Itee and Mary Ayek were talking gently with another woman who was in tears. In Yupik, Paul realized. Had the women lost their command of English then? Or had it truly become the language of the oppressor?
Sarah looked up and saw all the men, and she flinched. She sought out Paul’s eyes.
It’s OK, he mouthed.
The pacing woman glared at the men too. “Why are you here?” she demanded.
Paul stepped forward, so she would focus on him. “We are here so that justice will be done,” he answered. “My word on it.”
She stared at him, taking his measure. “Paul Kitka,” she acknowledged. “You trust these men?”
Paul nodded. “I respect them,” he said. “And they are the ones who have the power to see that you get justice for what has been done to you.”
“My name is Naomi,” she said. “I will do whatever you need.”
Paul nodded. “Thank you,” he said.
Doc Longenbaugh looked at Naomi, then at the visitors. “I think that’s enough for today,” he said brusquely. The men obligingly filed out.
Wyckoff looked at Doc. “Can we use your break room to talk? Rather than going back to the hangar?”
Doc counted heads. “You might all fit.”
Paul found Dace. “The bigwigs are here,” he said. “Joe Bob showed them some of the footage on the computer. It’s ugly, uglier than what you sent.”
She closed her eyes before nodding. “I didn’t ask them questions. But Sarah? She’s a mess, Paul. I think I know what he did, but they’re all conflicted. We need mental health therapists ASAP.”
“Let’s bring that up,” he said. “Base Commander Carlson would like you to join them in the break room. You OK with that?”
Dace nodded, and swallowed. Powerful, angry men still scared her. Even if they were on her side. Were they on her side? She took Paul’s hand, and he smiled at her. “It’s OK,” he said.
And she reminded herself she was not alone. Still, it took every ounce of will to take the dozen steps from her room to the break room. To not hyperventilate. To not hold her breath. To not pass out. Or throw up. So many temptations, she thought, laughing at herself a bit. Deep slow breaths. Take it slow, here. She consciously loosened her grip on Paul’s hand, knowing she was clenching it too tight. He stopped outside the door, and gave her a hug, and just held her tightly for a moment. She shuddered.
“Ready?” he asked.
She nodded.
There were too many men in the room she thought, panicking a bit. She hadn’t expected quite so many. And strangers. Her eyes sought out Captain Wyckoff. He smiled at her encouragingly. She nodded. Joe Bob was there, clutching a laptop. She thought about what was on it and shuddered. And Lanky was there. He met her eyes and nodded. She thought he probably understood better than the rest of them. He’d been the one to rescue Mary from a cage once.
She didn’t know the others.
I cannot do this, she thought, and she wanted to turn and run. But she knew better than that. Running from predators was dangerous. They would chase you down. She stood very still.
“Gentlemen, this is my fiancé Candace Marshall. She’s also the office manager for Purdue Flight Services and a pilot. She was kidnapped from our hotel Tuesday night. So she still hasn’t had any real sleep. Let’s keep it short, OK?”
She looked at Paul gratefully. He introduced the men who were sitting around the table, but he ignored the three military types leaning against the wall. She wondered why.
“Ms. Marshall?” Commander Carlson said, “You’ve been through a lot, but I would appreciate it if you could tell us what happened.”
Dace took a deep breath, and swallowed hard. Straightening up, she stood tall, and raised her chin. You just rescued a bunch of abused women, she told herself, you can talk to these people.
She started with the shot being fired in the entryway of the hotel. She told them about the men in the hotel room, and then the Pilot who had taken her out of the hotel and flown her out to the cabin. She described the kennels, how the Predator had killed a woman in front of her. And then she talked about how the women had come together to break out of the kennels, to plan an attack on the Pilot and the Predator.
She’d figured out how to send a video file to Joe Bob, hoping the Pilot and Predator would see it, and come back to an ambush. They did. The women were able to take them down, steal the plane, and leave.
“You intended to go to Native Health,” Carlson said. “Why there?”
“It seemed to be the best place to get help for the women,” she said. “They are all Native Alaskans. And I could call Paul from there, and turn over the computer to him as evidence.”
“But you came here instead,” Carlson said, still sounding sympathetic.
Dace looked at him warily. She wasn’t sure she trusted that sympathy. After all those had been Air Force planes threatening to shoot her down. “Yes,” she said. “I was pretty sure the Pilot and the Predator were connected to the base. I wanted to land where I knew the women would be the top priority. And I trust Doc Longenbaugh to put his patients first. And Lanky would be here. If I couldn’t be sure of getting to Paul, then coming here was the next best option.”
“You defied an order to turn around and fly to the base,” one of the military men leaning against the wall said angrily. “You were told it was a national security issue. And you wouldn’t turn back.”
Dace recognized the voice as the pilot who had been giving the orders. She started to answer, but Paul squeezed her hand, and she ignored him.
“Lt. Anders, you were told to be silent,” Commander Carlson said coldly. “The only reason you are present is because I don’t want you out of my sight. But you will not continue with these outbursts. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir,” he said.
Dace thought he sounded sullen. She wondered how he connected to the Pilot and Predator.
“Lt. Dixon? Could you bring up mug shots of the two suspects so that Ms. Marshall can identify them?” Police Chief Newsome asked.
Dixon did, and Dace peered at the two faces over his shoulder. “That’s the man I call Pilot,” she said, pointing to the man on the left. “And that’s the man I call Predator.”
“Thank you,” Newsome said. “I want to say I am in awe of your courage and your fortitude. Those women owe you a great deal of gratitude for their rescue. But so do the rest of us. There will be a great deal of soul searching among law enforcement about how all this happened under our very nose.”
“So maybe, you can go back with Lt. Kitka to the business office and finish there,” Wyckoff said. “I believe you’ll need his input?”
Raines nodded. Paul half expected him to stick his tongue out at the pilot.
Lanky Purdue was leaning against the table where the food was, watching it all unfold. His pilots were standing around as well. Paul thought they’d been minutes away from a brawl.
“Captain Wyckoff,” Anders said furiously. “What part of national security risk, don’t you understand?”
“Son,” Lanky said. “We aren’t going to take your word for it. You got any proof that this is under a national security blanket? Any evidence why it should be? So far, all we know about you is that you ordered a warning shot at a civilian who was broadcasting a mayday call for a med-evac. Over a populated area. All that does is convince me you’re none too bright. So you tell me, why would we believe you? Trust your word?”
Anders shook off his pilots and opened his mouth to respond.
“Don’t,” Paul said softly. “Just shut up. You pick a fight with Purdue, you’ll leave here on a stretcher. Once you’re healed up, you’ll be lucky if you aren’t demoted before they transfer you out of state. Have some sense, man.”
Adam opened the door to the hangar, and escorted a tall, gray haired man inside. Two other senior officers followed them in.
The pilots straightened and saluted. The grey-haired man saluted back, and then turned to Purdue.
“Lanky, what have you done now?” he asked, and held out his hand.
Lanky laughed, and came to shake the man’s hand. “Commander,” he said. “Welcome to the insane asylum.”
Commander Carlson shook Newsome’s hand, and Newsome introduced him to Wyckoff. Another handshake. The rest of them weren’t introduced. Well if that didn’t put us all in our place, Paul thought amused. He wasn’t unhappy to be ignored. He looked around. Raines was fading back, blending in with Lanky’s pilots. He raised an eyebrow in his direction; Raines shrugged. Should have brought Betsy, he thought again. He liked the young man. Would go drinking with him any time. But damn. He looked around, found Jason Tremont, and gestured toward Raines with his head. Tremont rolled his eyes, but he nodded. He would ride herd on the young man. Paul thought if anyone could, Tremont could.
“All right,” Commander Carlson said, just loud enough for his voice to reach everyone. “Pilots? My pilots, at least. Stand down. I want you to return to your planes, prepare for takeoff and a return to base, but wait for my orders.’
“Sir,” they chorused, and headed toward the door.
Captain Anders started to protest.
“Actually, Captain Anders has some explaining to do,” Lanky said coldly. “Bring him along.”
Paul thought Anders was reconsidering calling attention to himself.
“Fine,” Carlson said. “Anders, join us.” He looked around. “Chief Newsome? Who do you need from your command?”
“I’m outside my jurisdiction,” Newsome said with a shrug. “Captain Wyckoff? It’s your turf.”
Wyckoff looked sour at that. “Lanky? Could you have one of your men go fetch Officer Dixon from the patrol office? Tell him it’s show and tell time.”
Lanky nodded at Adam who disappeared back out the door.
Wyckoff looked around. “Lt. Kitka, you’ll join us. Lanky, we’ll want you there. Rafe, if you would assist Carlos in the business office, I would appreciate it.”
Once inside the break room, Commander Carlson introduced the two men who had accompanied him: Lt. Col. John Dryland, and AMOC director Cal Smith.
“First, Jonas, I have a question for Lt. Col. Dryland, here,” Lanky said. “Your Captain Anders says you authorized him to fire a warning shot at Dace Marshall while she’s flying a med-evac and broadcasting mayday. On my advice that it was an illegal order, the pilot he ordered to take that shot refused to do so. Did you give him that order?”
The room went silent, as Lt. Col. Dryland turned red. “We had been informed that there had been a raid upon a secure COMIT site,” he said stiffly. “And that secure data had been stolen and was in unauthorized hands. That they were then fleeing in a stolen plane. I authorized Captain Anders to use whatever means he thought was necessary — including force — to re-secure that data.”
“Informed by whom?” Commander Carlson asked.
“Captain Petroski. He’s the liaison to the NSF consultant who runs that station,” Dryland said. “He reported in that they’d been attacked.”
“And you didn’t re-evaluate that when you heard Ms. Marshall broadcasting mayday and announcing a med-evac?” Wyckoff asked.
Dryland swallowed, but he didn’t answer.
“Answer him,” Carlson ordered quietly.
“Petroski...,” he started, then stopped. “I should have re-evaluated, Sir,” he said.
Carlson looked at him. “You ordered your pilots into the air based on Captain Petroski’s account with orders to shoot down an unknown plane broadcasting mayday,” he summarized. “Over Wasilla.”
He swallowed again. “Yes, sir,” he said.
“Did you alert anyone else to this crisis?” Carlson asked.
“I informed our intelligence liaison, and the NSA director,” he answered.
“What did they say?”
“They confirmed that the site was used for satellite monitoring and that data received there had the highest of security ratings. They requested we retrieve the data using whatever means we deemed necessary.”
“They did,” Carlson said neutrally. “And did you bump this national security emergency up to your commanding officer?”
“No, sir,” he said. “It happened very quickly. Petroski was quite insistent that there was no time to waste. That we had to recover the computer and its data before it could be handed off to someone else.”
“Originally, the pilot was intending to land at the lake at Native Health,” Lanky said. “You could have easily had security waiting for her there. But you insisted on her landing at the base instead. That alarmed her, and she decided she’d bring them here to Talkeetna where she knows people. So in reality, you spooked her into coming here. This wasn’t her original destination. Did Petroski explain why this thief would head to Native Health?”
“No.”
There was a knock on the door, and Joe Bob Dixon slid inside. He was carrying a laptop, and a miniprojector he used for data presentations.
“Good. Officer Dixon, could you set up and then tell us what you’ve found?” Captain Wyckoff asked.
“Found where?” Commander Carlson asked.
“I asked my officer to examine what was on the hard drive in question,” Wyckoff said. “We had reason to believe that the computer contained evidence of a crime — the kidnapping and abuse of women from Anchorage over the last few years.”
“What? The task force investigation?” Carlson said. “You think there’s evidence for that investigation?”
“The cargo that Candace Marshall arrived here with was nine malnourished women,” Wyckoff said grimly. “And a computer. As Lt. Kitka’s fiancé she has apparently absorbed the need for evidence corroborating the women’s testimony. Although the condition of the women speaks for them. Officer Dixon? When you’re ready.”
“Candace Marshall was able to send out a video clip from the site early this morning,” Joe Bob began. He showed everyone that first clip, and walked them through the events after that. Then he queued up a video. “Be forewarned this is ugly stuff,” he said. “I’ll tell you more about what I found, but first you need to understand what was happening at the NSA collection site.”
He showed them a 30-minute clip.
There was silence. “Director Smith? Can you identify the man in the clip?”
He nodded. “Pete Dawson. He runs that collection site. He built a cabin out there shortly after he returned to the state four years ago. A weekend cabin — he’s out there a lot, I believe.” Smith looked sick.
“How does he get out there?” Joe Bob asked. “He doesn’t own a plane and his pilot’s license isn’t current in the state.”
“His Air Force liaison is Captain Petroski,” Smith said. “He usually flies him out for his routine checks and data retrieval. I assume that he flies him out whenever he goes there.”
“Where are Petroski and Dawson now?” Carlson asked, looking at Dryland.
“Dawson is in the hospital. He was shot,” Dryland said. “Petroski was treated for his injuries, and released.”
Carlson looked at him for a moment, then pulled out his cell and made a call, ordering Petroski be detained, pending his return to base.
“All right,” Carlson said. “I’d like to meet Ms. Marshall and see the women. Where are they?”
“Sir, they are extremely traumatized,” Paul warned. “I’m sure Dace will be glad to speak to you. But the rest are under a doctor’s care. And Dr. Longenbaugh is quite protective of them.”
All the Talkeetna delegation laughed.
“Noted,” Carlson said. “But I want to at least see their condition and talk to Doc.”
Paul noted he called Longenbaugh by Doc, so he figured he knew what he was asking. He nodded and they all loaded up for the half-mile drive. Be easier to walk, Paul thought, but he guessed you couldn’t ask the powerful to trudge alongside the road. Didn’t seem dignified.
On the other hand, he was going to start walking if he had to make any other trips. Too many of these people were getting on his nerves.
And when they got to the clinic Carlos Raines was waiting there. Jason was with him, and when Paul frowned, he just shrugged. Raines was going to get his camera confiscated yet, Paul thought. And not by some wannabe flyboy.
Doc came out and shook Commander Carlson’s hand. He nodded to everyone else. “Bill? They got you out here too?”
“They did,” Carlson said. “I’ve seen some of the video of the women when they were being held captive. I’d like to see them, observation only, unless someone is willing to talk to me. And I’d like to talk to Ms. Marshall.”
Doc mulled that over. “I’ll allow you to come into the ward, and observe quietly for a few minutes,” he said at last. “And only because I am furious and sickened by what has been done to them. I want justice. And fast. Or I’ll be tempted to look for revenge instead.”
Carlson snorted and nodded his head.
Doc looked over the mass of men crowded into his waiting room. “Chief Newsome, Captain Wyckoff. You two may accompany him. Lt. Kitka? Perhaps you’d join Dace and see if she wants to talk to these men, and if so? I think you should be there with her.”
Doc frowned again. “I expect you to be quiet, silent, and sympathetic. Is that clear?”
They all nodded and followed Doc down the hallway to his small wardroom. Paul followed along, even though he hadn’t been on Doc’s list. But Doc might need an enforcer, and he’d be happy to assist the old man. One on one, he’d bet on Doc any day, but this was quite a cluster of powerful men to take on.
The women were huddling together. Although it was obvious that Doc and his nurse had put them in beds after giving them clean clothes, they hadn’t stayed there. Several of them were sitting on the floor between the beds, choosing to be close to each other. And, Paul suspected, they were seeking out an enclosed space, a kennel in fact. The kennels must have become a safe space, he thought. Dawson couldn’t abuse them when they were in there.
The realization made him want to vomit.
Mary Abbott was crouched down with him, he saw. He smiled. Dace had been right to ask her to help.
A woman was pacing. Rage poured off of her. Sarah Itee and Mary Ayek were talking gently with another woman who was in tears. In Yupik, Paul realized. Had the women lost their command of English then? Or had it truly become the language of the oppressor?
Sarah looked up and saw all the men, and she flinched. She sought out Paul’s eyes.
It’s OK, he mouthed.
The pacing woman glared at the men too. “Why are you here?” she demanded.
Paul stepped forward, so she would focus on him. “We are here so that justice will be done,” he answered. “My word on it.”
She stared at him, taking his measure. “Paul Kitka,” she acknowledged. “You trust these men?”
Paul nodded. “I respect them,” he said. “And they are the ones who have the power to see that you get justice for what has been done to you.”
“My name is Naomi,” she said. “I will do whatever you need.”
Paul nodded. “Thank you,” he said.
Doc Longenbaugh looked at Naomi, then at the visitors. “I think that’s enough for today,” he said brusquely. The men obligingly filed out.
Wyckoff looked at Doc. “Can we use your break room to talk? Rather than going back to the hangar?”
Doc counted heads. “You might all fit.”
Paul found Dace. “The bigwigs are here,” he said. “Joe Bob showed them some of the footage on the computer. It’s ugly, uglier than what you sent.”
She closed her eyes before nodding. “I didn’t ask them questions. But Sarah? She’s a mess, Paul. I think I know what he did, but they’re all conflicted. We need mental health therapists ASAP.”
“Let’s bring that up,” he said. “Base Commander Carlson would like you to join them in the break room. You OK with that?”
Dace nodded, and swallowed. Powerful, angry men still scared her. Even if they were on her side. Were they on her side? She took Paul’s hand, and he smiled at her. “It’s OK,” he said.
And she reminded herself she was not alone. Still, it took every ounce of will to take the dozen steps from her room to the break room. To not hyperventilate. To not hold her breath. To not pass out. Or throw up. So many temptations, she thought, laughing at herself a bit. Deep slow breaths. Take it slow, here. She consciously loosened her grip on Paul’s hand, knowing she was clenching it too tight. He stopped outside the door, and gave her a hug, and just held her tightly for a moment. She shuddered.
“Ready?” he asked.
She nodded.
There were too many men in the room she thought, panicking a bit. She hadn’t expected quite so many. And strangers. Her eyes sought out Captain Wyckoff. He smiled at her encouragingly. She nodded. Joe Bob was there, clutching a laptop. She thought about what was on it and shuddered. And Lanky was there. He met her eyes and nodded. She thought he probably understood better than the rest of them. He’d been the one to rescue Mary from a cage once.
She didn’t know the others.
I cannot do this, she thought, and she wanted to turn and run. But she knew better than that. Running from predators was dangerous. They would chase you down. She stood very still.
“Gentlemen, this is my fiancé Candace Marshall. She’s also the office manager for Purdue Flight Services and a pilot. She was kidnapped from our hotel Tuesday night. So she still hasn’t had any real sleep. Let’s keep it short, OK?”
She looked at Paul gratefully. He introduced the men who were sitting around the table, but he ignored the three military types leaning against the wall. She wondered why.
“Ms. Marshall?” Commander Carlson said, “You’ve been through a lot, but I would appreciate it if you could tell us what happened.”
Dace took a deep breath, and swallowed hard. Straightening up, she stood tall, and raised her chin. You just rescued a bunch of abused women, she told herself, you can talk to these people.
She started with the shot being fired in the entryway of the hotel. She told them about the men in the hotel room, and then the Pilot who had taken her out of the hotel and flown her out to the cabin. She described the kennels, how the Predator had killed a woman in front of her. And then she talked about how the women had come together to break out of the kennels, to plan an attack on the Pilot and the Predator.
She’d figured out how to send a video file to Joe Bob, hoping the Pilot and Predator would see it, and come back to an ambush. They did. The women were able to take them down, steal the plane, and leave.
“You intended to go to Native Health,” Carlson said. “Why there?”
“It seemed to be the best place to get help for the women,” she said. “They are all Native Alaskans. And I could call Paul from there, and turn over the computer to him as evidence.”
“But you came here instead,” Carlson said, still sounding sympathetic.
Dace looked at him warily. She wasn’t sure she trusted that sympathy. After all those had been Air Force planes threatening to shoot her down. “Yes,” she said. “I was pretty sure the Pilot and the Predator were connected to the base. I wanted to land where I knew the women would be the top priority. And I trust Doc Longenbaugh to put his patients first. And Lanky would be here. If I couldn’t be sure of getting to Paul, then coming here was the next best option.”
“You defied an order to turn around and fly to the base,” one of the military men leaning against the wall said angrily. “You were told it was a national security issue. And you wouldn’t turn back.”
Dace recognized the voice as the pilot who had been giving the orders. She started to answer, but Paul squeezed her hand, and she ignored him.
“Lt. Anders, you were told to be silent,” Commander Carlson said coldly. “The only reason you are present is because I don’t want you out of my sight. But you will not continue with these outbursts. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir,” he said.
Dace thought he sounded sullen. She wondered how he connected to the Pilot and Predator.
“Lt. Dixon? Could you bring up mug shots of the two suspects so that Ms. Marshall can identify them?” Police Chief Newsome asked.
Dixon did, and Dace peered at the two faces over his shoulder. “That’s the man I call Pilot,” she said, pointing to the man on the left. “And that’s the man I call Predator.”
“Thank you,” Newsome said. “I want to say I am in awe of your courage and your fortitude. Those women owe you a great deal of gratitude for their rescue. But so do the rest of us. There will be a great deal of soul searching among law enforcement about how all this happened under our very nose.”
