The Akamina-Kishinina, with Waterton Lakes Park to the immediate east, in Alberta, and Glacier National Park to the immediate south, in Montana, formed the crown of the continent. Here one could find a combination of biological, geological, and climatic factors that occurred nowhere else in North America. The three parks were home to the densest grizzly bear population on the continent. Together they formed a UNESCO World Heritage site, at the narrowest point of the Rocky Mountains. High and spacious alpine ridges, deep secluded valleys, and windswept passes provided terrain for the large grizzly population, as well as an abundance of goats, caribou, and big horn sheep. The trails and passes of the Akamina-Kishinina were used for millennia by aboriginal tribes to travel from the Flathead Basin to the Great Plains. The area was so isolated that fewer than 100 individuals made the Flathead-to-Waterton trek each year, and only a few hundred people braved the one-day bike tours. Because of the fragile ecosystem and international importance of the area, no motorized transportation of any sort was permitted in the park.
The mountains here were as unique as the wildlife, and the park featured the highest peaks in the Clark Range of the Rockies. Mount Starvation and Mount King Edward measured at 9,301 feet and 9,186 feet, respectively. The Akamina-Kishinina also protected some of the oldest mineral formations in the Canadian Rockies. Most of the rocks were varieties of limestone, deposited on the shallow floor and tidal flats of an ancient ocean that had existed there 1.5 billion years earlier. Nunatuk, an ancient rock formation in the center of the park, thrust its peaks sharply upward, soaring in jagged cliffs straight up for more than 2,000 feet.
In the early Twentieth Century, the area was explored by geologists, and a number of mines were started and then abandoned. A number of test oil drilling sites had also been created and deserted. There were numerous coal deposits in the area, and several attempts had been made to commercially extract coal, but these attempts were discontinued when larger, more commercially viable coal deposits were found to the west, in the Kootenay Valley — an area more accessible to railways.
Indy knew the history of the area, and now took note of the terrain and the homes as the Bluebird cruised southeast, approaching the park. Ramshackle trailers, mostly run-down and in various states of disrepair, were the predominant architecture. Most of these places were owned, he knew, by various constituents of the Hallett/Lestage clan. Behind the southernmost trailers rose a high granite flat-topped ridge that the locals referred to as Boundary Peak. A few miles before they hit the park border itself, Indy noticed an overgrown driveway that had seen recent traffic, given the tire marks through the grass. He wondered if that was Leon’s place.
The Bluebird Bus, engulfed in a cloud of diesel smoke, finally shuddered to a halt at a turnabout in front of the park gateway itself.
“The bus stops here, everybody,” said Dennis, who appeared to be in a relaxed and jovial frame of mind. “No motorized traffic permitted in the park. We have some maps here about trails you can take. Suggest you go uphill till about 2:30 or so, and then turn around. The bus leaves at 4:30.” He led the tourists out of the bus and started to undo the bungee cords that held the mountain bikes to the sides of the vehicle. Indy smiled to himself as he watched Dennis struggling to do the job one-handed, the other hand busy scratching various parts of his anatomy.
When he thought that Dennis was fully preoccupied with other matters, which seemed to be the case most of the time, he scooted behind the bus and took one of the bicycles. He headed down the road, back toward the Flathead Valley, instead of going up into the Akamina-Kishinina. The sky was overcast, but it was warm and pleasant. Indy caught himself relishing the spectacular scenery. Not a bad way to spend a day, he thought.
It didn’t take him long to arrive at the overgrown trail that led to what he suspected was Leon’s home. He had with him one of the high-resolution 11.2 megapixel Sony Cybershot cameras that were kept at the Heather Street complex. He already had pictures of the side of the bus, featuring the lengthy name of the corporation, which he would use to conduct other searches when he got back to his Dell. He had a picture of its license plate. He had a few pictures of Dennis, one of which showed him smoking his extra large fattie.
Now he took a few shots of the driveway, with the granite walls of Boundary Peak rising less than half a mile beyond. Inhaling deeply, he started to walk down the narrow lane. He had done undercover work for more than a decade, and had 25 years of service with the Force. Walking into a potential criminal’s driveway was really nothing new. He looked around, clearing his mind and concentrating on finding anything that might strengthen his case. There were fresh tire marks, probably from a pickup truck. He took a few photographs of them, then kept walking. He had walked close to two miles, and was almost at the vertical walls of Boundary Peak, when the trail opened into a small grassy area, with an older mobile home standing forlornly in the center. There were no signs of habitation; no smoke from the chimney, no barking dog, and no vehicle in the driveway, although he could see a couple up on blocks behind the small home. His heart rate sped up, and his blood pressure increased. Was this the place where it all happened? Slowly he walked right up to the mobile home, snapping a few more pictures on his approach. There appeared to be a large blue Harley parked in the living room. He saw now that there was an old Ford pickup parked behind the trailer. The road continued on past the trailer, heading, judging from the bearing of the sun, due south. He snapped some pictures of the rear of the home, and then a few more of the trail leading past it. There were further fresh tire marks in the grass, indicating the passage of a vehicle, probably in the past 24 hours. He was about to move forward when he heard a chilling “click” behind him.
“Right there, bastard. Hold it right there. Turn slowly or you’re toast,” came a voice from behind him.
17
The TTIC control room had an eerie glow about it after hours. George had created a screen saver for the Atlas Screen that randomly illuminated different countries, with light fading in and out, cycling through a random pattern. The large 101’s at the front of the room were displaying current network news feeds. The 101 closest to Turbee was playing an Elmer Fudd cartoon. The large workstations surrounding the Atlas Screen were empty. Here and there a screen or an on/off switch on a computer glowed. It was 1:30AM. Turbee was the only inhabitant in the large room. He was hunched over, mumbling to himself. He had adopted a few of the digital screens from surrounding workstations and now had, in total, seven flat panel displays in front of him — one 30 inch, three at 21 inches, and three 19 inchers. All showed windows of scrolling numbers. Complex formulae were splashed across the largest screen. He was attempting to find correlations in dozens of databases, mostly databases that contained electronic information relating to the residents of Pakistan.
THE “WEST” was often guilty of smugness, and an arrogant certainty that their system functioned better than any other, and that their way of life was better and more sophisticated than anyone else’s. The popularly held misconception in the Western world was that Pakistan was a desert-bound Third World country, with more camels than people. Nothing could have been further from the truth. Other than some lawless areas to the northwest and adjacent to the Karakorum Highway, Pakistan could actually be classified as a country with considerable sophistication. While there were poverty-ridden areas and shantytowns, there were also numerous universities within its borders and a high literacy rate. Pakistan had shared in its neighbor India’s recent computer hardware and software revolution. America’s Silicon Valley jobs were not only exported to Mumbai, but also to Karachi. Most citizens had debit cards. Electronic banking was comfortably entrenched in the country. There was a well-developed cellular network, and in the larger cities everyone seemed to possess a cell phone. Water and power were commodities parceled out by computer. Foreign exchange was reconciled electronically. Wages were automatically deposited into bank accounts by all but the smallest of companies. Pakistan even possessed nuclear weaponry.