and as he landed the helicopter lurched. His kneecap felt shattered. The pain sent him rolling across the floor as the chopper tilted up into the dust-filled sky.
Virgil and Joe examined the damage to Frank's knee. His jeans were torn, and a mean-looking gash cut a line down his entire kneecap.
"It's not a bullet wound," Joe said. "You must have smacked your knee on the edge of the chopper as you dove in."
Frank held his leg. "This definitely has not been one of my better days."
"Take it easy," Joe said. "We'll have you fixed up in no time."
Virgil dressed the wound as the pilot headed for a hunting camp in the mountains. "You'll have to keep the leg straight for a couple of days, but it'll be all right," he said.
That night, after dropping off Virgil's friend, they sat around the fire after dinner to talk. Even though the night sky was light, the air was considerably cooler than in the day. The warmth of the flames soothed them.
"I think we've got to jump on this right now," Joe insisted. "Sandy White may think we represent the Network, and he may try to speed up his plans now."
"Well, I'm not going to be much help," Frank said, looking at his outstretched leg. "And you may think I'm crazy, but I don't think the North Slope compound is where the action is."
"What do you mean?" Joe asked.
"Well, for one thing, there were so few men there. My hunch is, White's got another base of operations, and I think it's north of here."
"North? There's only ocean north of here!" Joe exclaimed.
"Well, maybe his troops are on the ocean."
"But why north?"
"It's a matter of buoys," was all Frank offered. Frank shifted, trying to make his leg more comfortable. "It also seems evident to me that he's involved with Hammond at Trans-Yukon. Did you notice how he knew who Doug was?"
"Right," Joe said, remembering. "He didn't ask who Doug was when I mentioned him."
"Well, that's one thing that needs checking out at Prudhoe. I think I'll stay up here. I've got this crazy hunch about a boat or something."
"I was planning to go fishing soon," Virgil said. "Might as well go tomorrow. We can check out the immediate area, and that way Frank can stay off his leg."
"Great!" Frank said. "That's perfect."
"It's perfect, if you'll take me back to Prudhoe," Joe cut in. "There are a lot of ends to tie up there. There's the Hammond - White connection. And was that really Scott we saw? I mean, what would he be doing there? In some lab, after hours?"
"I'll take you," Virgil said. "Better go now. This way I can come back and then get a good start in the morning."
"Fine with me," Joe responded, getting up from the ground.
"Just don't get into trouble," Frank said. "We won't be around to help you out."
"What? Me? Get into trouble?" Joe smiled. "You've got to be kidding. I'm just going to do a little creative snooping, that's all."
"Right." Frank laughed. "Just don't get caught."
"You can always contact the weather pilot at the airport if you want to get in touch with us," Virgil volunteered. "He's a friend of mine, and he flies out over the ocean just about every day."
Joe nodded. "Fine. He's one of the first people I'll check in with."
"Who else do you know in Prudhoe?" Frank asked as Joe hurried to leave. "Wait a minute. Are you going to talk with Cindy?"
"That's for me to know, and you to find out." Joe grinned. "Catch you later."
He climbed into the helicopter. In a matter of minutes the chopper was a speck in the huge northern sky, and Frank was alone by the fire.
He stared into the flames, thinking. An image of buoys in some part of his mind kept insisting that this whole thing had something to do with the ocean.
Frank closed his eyes, trying to concentrate. But the fire and his rough day drugged him. Soon he was dozing. The flicker of the firelight played against his eyelids like a blinking light, like the safety buoys floating back home in Barmet Bay ....
Frank's eyes snapped open as he realized what was nagging him. He'd seen them
Virgil and Joe examined the damage to Frank's knee. His jeans were torn, and a mean-looking gash cut a line down his entire kneecap.
"It's not a bullet wound," Joe said. "You must have smacked your knee on the edge of the chopper as you dove in."
Frank held his leg. "This definitely has not been one of my better days."
"Take it easy," Joe said. "We'll have you fixed up in no time."
Virgil dressed the wound as the pilot headed for a hunting camp in the mountains. "You'll have to keep the leg straight for a couple of days, but it'll be all right," he said.
That night, after dropping off Virgil's friend, they sat around the fire after dinner to talk. Even though the night sky was light, the air was considerably cooler than in the day. The warmth of the flames soothed them.
"I think we've got to jump on this right now," Joe insisted. "Sandy White may think we represent the Network, and he may try to speed up his plans now."
"Well, I'm not going to be much help," Frank said, looking at his outstretched leg. "And you may think I'm crazy, but I don't think the North Slope compound is where the action is."
"What do you mean?" Joe asked.
"Well, for one thing, there were so few men there. My hunch is, White's got another base of operations, and I think it's north of here."
"North? There's only ocean north of here!" Joe exclaimed.
"Well, maybe his troops are on the ocean."
"But why north?"
"It's a matter of buoys," was all Frank offered. Frank shifted, trying to make his leg more comfortable. "It also seems evident to me that he's involved with Hammond at Trans-Yukon. Did you notice how he knew who Doug was?"
"Right," Joe said, remembering. "He didn't ask who Doug was when I mentioned him."
"Well, that's one thing that needs checking out at Prudhoe. I think I'll stay up here. I've got this crazy hunch about a boat or something."
"I was planning to go fishing soon," Virgil said. "Might as well go tomorrow. We can check out the immediate area, and that way Frank can stay off his leg."
"Great!" Frank said. "That's perfect."
"It's perfect, if you'll take me back to Prudhoe," Joe cut in. "There are a lot of ends to tie up there. There's the Hammond - White connection. And was that really Scott we saw? I mean, what would he be doing there? In some lab, after hours?"
"I'll take you," Virgil said. "Better go now. This way I can come back and then get a good start in the morning."
"Fine with me," Joe responded, getting up from the ground.
"Just don't get into trouble," Frank said. "We won't be around to help you out."
"What? Me? Get into trouble?" Joe smiled. "You've got to be kidding. I'm just going to do a little creative snooping, that's all."
"Right." Frank laughed. "Just don't get caught."
"You can always contact the weather pilot at the airport if you want to get in touch with us," Virgil volunteered. "He's a friend of mine, and he flies out over the ocean just about every day."
Joe nodded. "Fine. He's one of the first people I'll check in with."
"Who else do you know in Prudhoe?" Frank asked as Joe hurried to leave. "Wait a minute. Are you going to talk with Cindy?"
"That's for me to know, and you to find out." Joe grinned. "Catch you later."
He climbed into the helicopter. In a matter of minutes the chopper was a speck in the huge northern sky, and Frank was alone by the fire.
He stared into the flames, thinking. An image of buoys in some part of his mind kept insisting that this whole thing had something to do with the ocean.
Frank closed his eyes, trying to concentrate. But the fire and his rough day drugged him. Soon he was dozing. The flicker of the firelight played against his eyelids like a blinking light, like the safety buoys floating back home in Barmet Bay ....
Frank's eyes snapped open as he realized what was nagging him. He'd seen them
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