the demand for ore declined and the mines began to close one by one, leaving a population without recourse. The men were miners, bred from generations of miners, and the work they’d prepared for all their lives had vanished, with nothing at all promising on the horizon. A lot of people simply left, and life went out of the towns. Aurora had gone through this. When Cork was a teenager, after the Vermilion One closed, the town struggled to redefine itself. Iron Lake and the proximity of the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness helped. The town began to court and to cater to the tourist trade and slowly reshaped itself around the heart of that new economy. Other towns didn’t fare as well and stood nearly deserted in the shadow of the great red mountains of ore tailings.
Cork closed the book and stared out the window. He could see the rugged, forested hills of the North Country stretching away like a beautiful, turbulent sea. With all his heart, he loved that place, which had been his home for most of his life. Although he couldn’t see the protesters beyond the trees that walled off the Vermilion One complex, his heart was with them. He told himself that what he was doing wasn’t about helping the mine become a nuclear waste dump. It wasabout ensuring the safety of the people who worked there, people he knew, and so was a different issue. Still, a part of him felt like a traitor.
He heard footfalls in the hallway, and Lou Haddad walked in, carrying a briefcase, which he set on the conference table and opened. He slid from it a single schematic, very old looking, drawn on material that had the feel of canvas.
“What did you find?” Cork asked, joining him.
Haddad said, “This is a map for Level One. This”—he put his finger on a tunnel outlined on the page—“is the Vermilion Drift, the first of the excavations dug when the mine went underground, in 1900. Everything looks normal until you get here.” His finger followed the lines of the tunnel drawing until it came to a place where the solid lines ended and were replaced with dotted lines.
“Why the change in how the lines are drawn?”
“Officially, the Vermilion Drift was closed back in the early part of the last century. A cave-in. The dotted lines show where the tunnel used to run.”
“So the tunnel’s blocked?”
“That’s what the map says, but I’ve been thinking about that. Some of the underground mines had real problems with cave-ins, but not Vermilion One. The rock here is simply too stable, one of the reasons for the DOE’s interest. And something else isn’t right, this drift beyond the cave-in. According to the schematic, it takes a sharp turn and heads east.”
“So?”
“The ore deposit runs the other way.”
“So the drift goes away from the iron?”
“That’s what the map shows.”
“You don’t buy it?”
“Not for a minute. Take a look at this, right here.” Haddad tapped the paper at a point a short distance beyond where the tunnel veered east. “That’s where the Iron Lake Reservation begins. The ore deposit runs directly under reservation land, I’d stake my reputation on it.”
“What are you saying?”
“I think that, in those early years, they mined ore that didn’t belong to them.”
“How could they get away with it?”
“Probably just went about it quietly.”
“And when they were finished, they sealed the tunnel to hide what they’d done, claimed there’d been a cave-in, and altered the maps?”
“That’s my speculation.”
“This extension doesn’t appear on any of the more recent schematics?”
Haddad shook his head. “When the last survey was done, just before the mine shut down, the tunnel had been sealed for years.”
“Sealed how?” Cork asked.
“Timbered off. Which would explain why the newer maps simply show the tunnel ending. As far as anyone knew, it did.”
“But maybe it doesn’t?”
Haddad straightened up. “Let’s go see.”
On his way to Vermilion One,
Cork closed the book and stared out the window. He could see the rugged, forested hills of the North Country stretching away like a beautiful, turbulent sea. With all his heart, he loved that place, which had been his home for most of his life. Although he couldn’t see the protesters beyond the trees that walled off the Vermilion One complex, his heart was with them. He told himself that what he was doing wasn’t about helping the mine become a nuclear waste dump. It wasabout ensuring the safety of the people who worked there, people he knew, and so was a different issue. Still, a part of him felt like a traitor.
He heard footfalls in the hallway, and Lou Haddad walked in, carrying a briefcase, which he set on the conference table and opened. He slid from it a single schematic, very old looking, drawn on material that had the feel of canvas.
“What did you find?” Cork asked, joining him.
Haddad said, “This is a map for Level One. This”—he put his finger on a tunnel outlined on the page—“is the Vermilion Drift, the first of the excavations dug when the mine went underground, in 1900. Everything looks normal until you get here.” His finger followed the lines of the tunnel drawing until it came to a place where the solid lines ended and were replaced with dotted lines.
“Why the change in how the lines are drawn?”
“Officially, the Vermilion Drift was closed back in the early part of the last century. A cave-in. The dotted lines show where the tunnel used to run.”
“So the tunnel’s blocked?”
“That’s what the map says, but I’ve been thinking about that. Some of the underground mines had real problems with cave-ins, but not Vermilion One. The rock here is simply too stable, one of the reasons for the DOE’s interest. And something else isn’t right, this drift beyond the cave-in. According to the schematic, it takes a sharp turn and heads east.”
“So?”
“The ore deposit runs the other way.”
“So the drift goes away from the iron?”
“That’s what the map shows.”
“You don’t buy it?”
“Not for a minute. Take a look at this, right here.” Haddad tapped the paper at a point a short distance beyond where the tunnel veered east. “That’s where the Iron Lake Reservation begins. The ore deposit runs directly under reservation land, I’d stake my reputation on it.”
“What are you saying?”
“I think that, in those early years, they mined ore that didn’t belong to them.”
“How could they get away with it?”
“Probably just went about it quietly.”
“And when they were finished, they sealed the tunnel to hide what they’d done, claimed there’d been a cave-in, and altered the maps?”
“That’s my speculation.”
“This extension doesn’t appear on any of the more recent schematics?”
Haddad shook his head. “When the last survey was done, just before the mine shut down, the tunnel had been sealed for years.”
“Sealed how?” Cork asked.
“Timbered off. Which would explain why the newer maps simply show the tunnel ending. As far as anyone knew, it did.”
“But maybe it doesn’t?”
Haddad straightened up. “Let’s go see.”
On his way to Vermilion One,
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