Clarence was no old blubber-chewing windbag, Austin deduced. He was sorry he had been in such a rush to avoid meeting him. “If you don’t mind, we’d very much like to hear your story,” he said.
Grandpa Tinook noisily scooped up the last of his stew, put the bowls in the sink, and sat down again. He squinted as if the memory were hard to recall, but when he started to talk it was clear he had spun this tale before.
“One day many years ago I was out hunting. There was some good trout and salmon fishing, fox to trap, and herds of caribou. I always got something. I had this little aluminum skiff and a fine motor. Got me around pretty good. It was too far to come home after the hunt, so I used to stay over a couple of nights at the old airfield.”
Austin glanced at Zavala. Alaska is dotted with airfields hardly worth the name.
“Where was this airfield?” he asked.
“Up north a ways. Left over from the Big War. They used to ferry planes to Russia and used it as a stopoff. Blimps there used to look for subs. Not much left. There was a hut where I could light a fire and keep warm and dry. I could store game and smoke it there ’til it was time to come home.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Oh, fifty years ago or so. My memory ain’t what it used to be. I remember when they said I had to stop going there, though.”
“They?”
The old man nodded. “For months I never seen anybody. Then one day two men come by in a plane just as I’m cooking up some trout. Hard-lookin’ white men. They flash their badges, say they’re with the government and want to know what I’m doing. I give them some fish, and they’re a lot nicer. They say there’s going to be a big secret at the base and I can’t come there anymore. But they will buy any fresh meat and fish I can get them. One of them gave me that gun you saw so I could shoot game. I took them lots of game and fish, never to the base, though. I’d meet them halfway.”
“Did you see any planes?”
“Sure, lots coming and going. Once I was hunting and I heard one that sounded like a hundred rushing rivers. Big as this whole village and crazy shape.”
“What kind of shape?”
He went to the wall and took down a harpoon. Touching the sharp metal point with his finger, he said, “Something like this.”
Austin’s gaze was unwavering. “How long did you hunt game for these men?”
“ ’Bout six months, I think. One day they showed up, said they didn’t need any more. They told me to stay away from the airfield. Didn’t want me to step on a mine. Said I could keep the rifle. They left in a big hurry.”
Zavala said, “We’ve been looking for an old airfield supposed to be on a piece of land that looked like an eagle’s nose, but we can’t find it.”
“Oh, sure, this place used to be like that. Things have changed from ice and wind. In the summer the water comes in from rivers and floods the land. Doesn’t look the same as it did back then. You got a map?”
Kurt pulled the map from his jacket and unfolded it.
Grandpa Tinook’s thick finger came down on a section of coast under the pencil shading. “Right here,” he said.
“We must have flown right over it,” Zavala said.
“Tell me,” Austin said, “those men, did they give you their names?”
“Sure, Hewy and Dewy, they said.”
Zavala chuckled. “I suppose Lewy was busy.”
The old man shrugged. “I read Donald Duck when I shipped out on merchant ships out of Anchorage. They figured I musta ate whale blubber all my life. I let them think that.”
“It was probably a good thing that you did.”
“Like I said, they were hard men, although we became pretty good friends. I went back to the old base after the war. I think they just said that about the mines to scare me off. Felt like something had been poisoned and left to rot.” He paused thoughtfully. “Maybe you can tell me. One thing I always wondered. What was the big secret? We weren’t fighting the Japanese. The war was over.”
“Some men can’t live without war,” Austin replied. “If they don’t have one they find another.”
“Sounds crazy to me, but what do I know? Well, that was years ago. Why do you men want to go to that old place?”
For once Austin was at a loss for words. He could have said how important it was to find an odd substance named anasazium before Gogstad got its hands on it and made worldwide mischief. But he suspected his real reasons were more visceral. The story of Buzz Martin’s father had smoldered in him and offended his sense of right and wrong.