Chapter 9

As the days passed the group went about their schedules as normally as possible.

Publicly they all expressed happiness about the forthcoming visit to Good Portage Camp. Though their friends and associates said how great it was to visit family, and were honestly happy for them; the group was, inwardly, heavy-hearted.

Many times over the week preceding the departure, one or another of the group would break down in abject misery.

Two sets of luggage were prepared. One set would be shipped clandestinely, while the other was to remain in the aircraft, to be found with the wreckage.

For the first couple of days Flint racked his mind, trying to think of all the things that needed doing, and then he did them.

"Gramps? Why are you killing yourself? There are others here willing to carry some of the load, just talk to us," said a very worried Amelia telepathically.

"Damn! This is going to take some getting used to! I keep forgetting that you're a telepath ... and that you're not a little girl anymore, Sweetheart. You're right, of course. I'll call the others; we need to meet this evening. We're running out of time and I'm beginning to realize that I can't do it all by myself."

"Gramps! You're doing it again. Have Sara call. After all she really has nothing to do for me except change the dressings and watch that I don't break open my stitches."

That evening all were gathered around the big table.

"Look I called this meeting because I forgot that delegation is one of the first rules of leadership. I know that I said that I was the only one that could do this stuff but I was wrong! I do know what to do, but I don't have to be the one to do it. To that end, we will form teams to finish what needs to be done. We only have five days and there is a lot to do.

"Now do any of you have any questions or are there any problems that have popped up?"

"Yah. People be askin' why we not out fishing dis time? Da season she already here. Wat should we say?"

After a long discussion, it was decided to say that the death of Sam along with the last round of new fishing regulations had put them under. Also, that all of the repairs on the boat, were to ready her for sale.

"Yah! Dat work fer me!" exclaimed Ed with a smile of relief.

"It helps me too," said Flint. "Some people have been asking why I'm using the old Catalina instead of the new plane. Ed, why don't you spread it around that you are interested in buying the old PBY and this trip will be a way for you to check her out?"

"Yah, ok. Sounds goot ta me."

The rest of the planning was done over a big dinner that Emma had insisted on. Ever the pragmatist, she had added all of the leaves of the table to make room beside each person for notepads and pens.

The meeting ran late into the night as needs were assessed and assignments were given.

The most pressing problem was the fact that Dr. Mark was not showing up for work. All looked to Sara for some insight as to how to handle this predicament.

"Shit, I should have thought of this sooner! If he were away normally he would call in to his secretary to have other doctors cover his rounds and such. But it's been days and that is too late.

"How can we fix that?" whispered Amelia—the cut to her larynx still giving her some trouble.

"AMELIA! I told you not to talk!" corrected an angry Sara. "You keep that up and you'll never talk properly again!"

Totally chagrinned, the humbled Amelia nodded her head in surrender.

"Ok, Sara, just tell me what the doctor would have done and be as close as you can in the wording. I will place all of that into the mind of his secretary. It will be her oversight not to have notified everyone. We'll just do it after the others leave.

"Right now, though, I don't want to let on to the others how strong my powers are so don't say anything."

Sara looked piercingly at Amelia for a moment then gave an almost imperceptible nod and turned back toward the rest of the group.

"I will have to think about it some and see what we can do," Sara said.

Once the meeting broke up Sara and Amelia 'put their heads together' and took care of the problem of Dr. Mark's absence.

In town the doctor's secretary awoke with a start! Panicked almost to the point of hysteria she quickly dialed the phone.

"Hello? Dr. Randal?"

"Yes?" said the doctor sleepily.

"This is Rose, Dr. Jackson's secretary. I'm sorry to bother you but I have made a terrible blunder. A terrible blunder! Dr. Mark called me this weekend to say that he would be taking the next two weeks off and that I should notify you and the hospital. Oh doctor I'm so sorry I forgot all about it. We don't have hours on Mondays and ... well..."

Now fully awake the doctor asked, "How many patients are in the hospital?"

"Three at the moment. Two more are expected to register for testing tomorrow. No, I guess that would be this morning."

Sighing deeply Dr. Randal said, "Ok, I'll go in early and check on the ones that are already in the hospital but you have to call the others and tell them to reschedule. I'm stretched too thin to do more than that, except for emergency calls. Oh, and clear his calendar of office visits. I just can't do them. Now let me get some sleep!"

"Yes doctor, but..." answered Rose.

Exasperated the doctor asked, "What now?"

"Um ... should I call the Hospital or will you?"

"You of course! It is YOUR mistake after all, isn't it?"

Shamed even more, the poor woman said softly, "Yes doctor," as she replaced the phone on the cradle and wept for some time. Eventually she calmed, gathered her wits and made the call to the Hospital.

The woman was beside herself. In the thirty years that she had managed various doctors' offices she had never made such a mistake.

"Maybe it is time to retire, like the kids keep telling me. A mistake like this could kill someone! No, the staff at the hospital monitors all of the patients," she said, trying desperately to reassure herself.

The next Sunday an article in the Anchorage Times told of the tragic crash of the Drow Air PBY Catalina with the loss of all on board. The article's focus, however, was the sad loss of the young and promising Dr. Mark Jackson. The other passengers were given little comment.

"Well that's a dead end then?" asked the General.

"It would seem so, Sir."

"Did you check to see that things are as they seem?"

"Yes Sir. There was the proper compliment of bodies and luggage and all was in order, right down to the girl's melted prosthetic leg."

"It just seems too pat. Did you check out the back story?"

"Yes Sir. There was an altercation with some drunks and they caused a car crash resulting in the death of one Sam Utek. His daughter lost her leg in the crash and the family then lost their house. Our subject was also in the car and subsequently spent many months in a coma. Utek was half owner in the fishing vessel Morning Mists with his brother in law, Ed Bergstrom.

"They had sunk a lot of money in the boat but with the death of Utek and the new fishing regulations there was nothing to do but sell out. From what I have been able to piece together, Drow--the Grandfather of our subject--was willing to sell the PBY to Bergstrom on the cheap and help him get established in the airfreight business."

"Why would he want to do that?"

"Looks as though Drow was going to marry the Utek woman, so Bergstrom would have been family."

"So you feel sure that this isn't some elaborate scam?"

"Quite sure, Sir."

"Well damn! The reports on that subject were promising. Oh, well. Let's move on to the next name on the list. Let's see if we can actually find a real telepath. I'm so tired of wasting money on all of these frauds."

Deep in the bush the group exited the plane at the hunt camp. Flint had bought the place when it went belly up. This, though, was no ordinary camp.

The original owner had envisioned a luxurious complex that catered to the very wealthy; but his vision was far bigger than his funding. He had run out of money during a recession.

Because Flint had owned one of the companies that did the air transport of the construction crews and materials, he was in a position to make an offer on the place. The owner took the money and ran.

Over the years Flint had completed the complex with an eye to having a hidey-hole to run to if the need arose.

"Well, the need for this place finally did come to pass, and here we are. But what the hell am I supposed to do with all of these people?" he thought.

He stood next to the plane and gazed up at the compound. The place was more like a small village than a hunt camp.

"Flint? Do we have to carry the luggage all the way up to up to the lodge?" asked Emma. As usual she was the epicenter of all of the activity as she over saw the removal of the gear from the plane.

"No. The caretakers will be here in a couple of minutes."

Emma stopped what she was doing and looked at Flint with concern, "Do they know?"

"Not yet. I saved their lives sometime back and they have sworn some kind of allegiance to me. I don't full understand it all, but I trust them with my life."

"If you say so," said Emma as she returned to the task at hand.

"Ah, here they come now," said Flint as he pointed up the hill. Two Land Rovers were making their way down the road toward them.

The plane would be emptied long before the vehicles arrived. Flint and Ed, therefore, began to button the aircraft up and tie her down.

"I should have put in a hanger a long time ago," muttered Flint. He was worried that some one would see the plane and decide to drop in for a visit. His property sat near the boundary of one of the many National Parks that are scattered through out Alaska and the Rangers were a nosey lot.

"What's that, Boss? Do ya need ta hide that thing?"

"SHIT, JOSEPH! You could give a guy a warning!"

"Hell, Boss, I thought that ya saw the cars."

"I guess I'm just getting old. But to answer your question, yes, I want to hide the plane."

"Ok then. Why don't we back it into the slot in the trees over there and cover her with a tarp," the caretaker said as he pointed half way down the grassy strip to an opening in the trees.

"The way the trees lean over in there the plane will be invisible from above. Then we just pile some brush in front of it. Whatcha think, Boss?"

"Joseph you're a genius! Let's do it! Oh, Ed this is Joseph. Joe this is Ed."

The two men shook hands by way of greeting.

"You two release the tie downs while I get into the cockpit."

Fifteen minutes later, the aircraft was backed into the slot, and was anchored to tree trunks. Another thirty minutes of moving brush, and there was absolutely no sign of the plane.

"Excellent! Now let's go and see if we can get some of your wife's good cooking," said Flint as he slapped Joseph on the shoulder.

"Sounds good ta me," said Joseph.

"Ya! Me, too," agreed Ed.

To their great disappointment, though, the women had them moving baggage and unpacking before they were able to sit down to dinner, though it really didn't take long.

Some days later as they were sitting by the fire quietly staring into the flames Joseph said, "Ya know, Boss? We still have the construction equipment here."

"Yes, I know."

"Well I was thinking, that we could build us an underground hanger. Nothing big, mind ya, but just big enough to hide that plane of yours."

"Really?"

"Oh sure! There's a bunch of material left over from the build. The original owner wanted to put up more buildings and everything is still here in the maintenance yard. In fact, there may even be a prefab hanger over there already."

"Now that's good news!" said Flint.