Uncharted by Adriana Anders

Chapter 1

Leo opened her door two inches and squinted, blinded by daylight. She dropped her eyes, surprised to see a tiny, wizened old woman standing on her porch.

“We’ve got a problem,” said the woman.

“You the one who’s been bashing at my door?” Leo asked.

“Sure am.”

“Then we do have a problem.”

“Let me in there. I need to talk to you.” The woman put a gnarled hand to the solid pine and pushed. “It’s urgent.”

Leo didn’t give an inch, though she did let the hand holding her weapon at her side drop. Of all the days for the village elder to bust in on her privacy, it had to be today, when she was alone, without her teammates as backup, and exhausted from a night of vomiting. She cast a quick, helpless look outside. “Um, I don’t think that’s a—”

“I’ll give you his location.” The woman’s voice was a low, raw whisper that sliced through Leo’s nausea.

This time when she took in their surroundings, her gaze was razor-sharp, her weakness forgotten. She tightened her hand on the Glock. “Whose location?”

“The man’s. The one you’re out there looking for every day, you and your friends.” The woman’s eyes flicked to Leo’s face before she shoved at the door again. “Let me in.”

This conversation wasn’t one they should have out in the open, even if Leo hadn’t detected anyone lingering in the forest. She stepped back, opening her door wide and visually searching the woman for weapons as she entered. Everyone and her grandma was packing around here—she spotted the telltale bulge at the old woman’s back—literally.

The stranger waddled into the small space, taking in the pine-clad interior as if she’d never seen the inside of the Schink’s Station Lodge’s cabins before. Uninvited, she walked over to the picture window and drew open the curtains, allowing too much light into the darkened room.

For a quiet moment, she stared at the view—sparkling lake ringed by evergreens, the crystal-tipped mountains beyond it as serene and surreal as a painted backdrop. The first time Leo had seen this place, she’d hummed “The Hills Are Alive” for so long, her teammates had threatened to jump out of the bush plane to shut her up.

“Cozy.” The woman settled into the cabin’s single armchair with a sigh. “Daisy did a good job in here.”

“Oh, come on. Are we really gonna talk about interior desi—”

“You look like hell.”

“Well, I was sleeping when you woke me up.”

The nosy old lady looked at the empty trash can by the bed. “You pregnant or something?”

Leo shot her a glare. “Something.” Probably food poisoning, maybe a stomach bug. Either way, it was none of her business.

“You sound stuffy; some yarrow steam’ll unclog you right as—”

“I’m good, thanks.” The woman had dropped her bomb and now she wanted to talk local remedies? “Let’s get back to what you were saying.” Leo couldn’t help adding a “ma’am,” to that. There were some habits she’d never lose.

“We know what you’re doing here. You and your guys. We know who you’re looking for.”

Leo’s pulse kicked into high gear. “I don’t…” Forget it. After her night spent hugging the toilet, she was too weak to keep her reactions under wraps. And this was too important to play dumb. She had taken her teammates out on daily grid searches of the rough terrain surrounding Schink’s Station, Alaska, for the past week and a half, and they hadn’t located a damned thing. If this woman could tell her where to find Campbell Turner—and the virus he’d stolen from Chronos Corp—then she’d take it.

Instead of prevaricating, which was obviously irritating the woman anyway, Leo sank onto her unmade bed, set her shaking elbows on her shaking knees, set her heavy head in her hands, and gave the woman every ounce of her attention. “Tell me where to find him.”

“Promise something first.”

“Listen, lady, I just got to sleep after puking up my guts all night. I don’t even know your name and you’re already making demands.”

“Amka. Everybody calls me Old Amka.” The woman’s prune face folded into what could have been a smile. Or a pained grimace. “For obvious reasons.”

“Okay, Amka. Where can I find him? Where’s Campbell Turner?”

“Turner.” Amka blinked. “Right.” The woman’s lined lips worked for a few seconds, her skin folding and unfolding like an origami swan.

“What?”

“Need you to promise me something. If I give you his…uh, Turner’s location, you’ve got to fly him out. Now. Before—”

“Fly? Now? I can’t fly like this.” Leo massaged her temple with one hand. “I can hardly see straight.”

“You’ve got to.” The woman looked out the window again, and Leo realized with a jolt that she wasn’t admiring the view. She was looking for something, searching the cloudless sky, anxiety in every deeply etched line of her body. “Today.” When their gazes met, the woman’s dark eyes were so desperate, Leo couldn’t look away. “Right now.”

“The last aircraft took off for Anchorage this morning, with my teammates on board,” Leo said, barely breathing. “No planes here.”

“Might have one you can use.” She leaned forward. So did Leo, caught up in this now—not just the excitement of finally catching a break, but the palpable apprehension that the woman exuded. Something was happening. Finally, a lead in their search for Campbell Turner and the virus. “Promise you’ll pull my godson out. Promise me.”

Leo pictured the fifty-three-year-old man she and her team were after, and wondered just how old this woman was. “Campbell Turner’s your godson?”

Amka met her eyes head-on and held them. “He’s the man you want.”

“Why now? Why this very minute? What happened?”

And then, as if conjured by the question, a sound reached Leo’s ears, so familiar and out of place in the wilds of Alaska that it sent shivers skittering across her overheated skin. She stopped abruptly, head tilted. “Hear that?”

Old Amka gave her a funny look before turning to eye the mountains in search of whatever it was she’d heard. A few seconds later, she nodded slowly. “Doesn’t sound like a plane.”

“It’s not. That’s a helicopter,” said Leo, her voice hard, sure. “Thought they weren’t allowed in the park.”

“It’s them.”

Another wave of chills racked her body. “Who? It’s who?”

“People comin’ for him.” Shaking her head, Old Amka stood and hobbled to the window, where her fingers gripped the sill so hard, her umber skin went white at the knuckles. “My cousin called me from Juneau. Now, Janet’s nosy, so she—”

“Cut to the chase.”

Her shoulders slumped. “We’re too late.”

“Too late for what?” Those were twin turboshaft engines approaching. Leo would know that sound anywhere, no matter how out of place. There weren’t all that many reasons for that type of equipment to visit these particular sticks. The only ones allowed were Search and Rescue aircraft, but she doubted that was what headed their way.

Only one entity would send this kind of airpower here right now: Chronos Corporation. One of the biggest pharmaceutical companies in the world.

Earlier in the year, she and her teammates had just barely survived a confrontation with a Chronos-funded team of scientists and mercenaries tasked with stealing and testing a deadly virus found under the ice in Antarctica. What they still didn’t know was what Chronos wanted with the virus, or why the clinical vaccine trials they’d planned to run had been kept secret.

Today, there were but two known samples of that virus—the one that she and her team had rescued from Antarctica and the one stolen a decade earlier by Campbell Turner.

The only certainty in this whole affair was that Chronos would stop at nothing to get ahold of the virus. Now, it was up to her team to get to Turner before the other guys.

“What happened, Amka? I want details.”

From the west, the twin engines droned closer, louder, overwhelming in their intensity, the rhythmic thump of rotors thrumming through Leo’s bones like the vibrating call of a tuning fork. It sent her blood pumping one way and her brain spinning another.

She knew helicopters the way she knew her family, complete with all the love and guilt and dread of those intimate relationships. Right now, her belly flipped with a confusing mix of craving and disquiet.

“A team stopped to refuel at the airfield in Juneau. Janet said they’re clearly paramilitary. Got top-level clearance to fly here. My cousin overheard them talking about coordinates. Exactly where El—” She snapped her mouth shut. “They’ll hunt him down.” Shaking her head, she sank back into the chair, shoulders bowed. “It’s too late. I got here too late.”

Never too late, Leo thought. Not while there’s breath in my body. She hadn’t come all the way to Alaska to give up her search the second the opposition arrived. Her team had worked too hard to stop now. They had a job to do—a virus to retrieve, a corporation to stop. People had already died for this. It had to end.

Leo wouldn’t admit defeat until she’d done everything in her power to keep Chronos Corp from getting its clutches on Campbell Turner and the virus.

But that aircraft sounded awfully close. “Wait. Is he here, in Schink’s Station?” Wouldn’t it be ironic if Turner had been hiding in town this whole time, right under their noses? Instead of wasting days looking for the guy, she and her teammates could be back at base, questioning the man and safeguarding the sample. Leo’s pulse picked up at the possibility.

“No. Why?”

“They’re headed this way.” Letting the excitement in, Leo cocked her head and closed her eyes. “They have to fly over town to get to him?”

“Not at all. No, he’s east of here.” Like a flash, Amka was up and back at the window. “Think they’re landing at the airfield?”

There was no denying it. The helicopters weren’t carrying on to some far-off location. They were here. In Schink’s Station. “Affirmative.” A thrilling shot of adrenaline blasted through Leo, pushing the exhaustion and lightheadedness right out of her system. Too late, my ass. She’d fly to Turner and get him out, right under the Chronos team’s noses. Just like she’d done in Antarctica. It was what she did best after all.

And with enemies as ruthless as Chronos, there was no time to lose.

She yanked her pajamas off and started getting dressed, uncaring that she was naked in front of a stranger.

Amka eyed her. “Gonna need more clothes than that.”

Without hesitating, Leo grabbed extra base layers and wiggled her way into the underwear. “Why’s that?”

“You’ll see.”

“I’ll see.” She snorted. “Great. Just great. Famous last words, right?” Once she’d strapped on her weapons and put on every layer of clothing she could come up with, including her thick parka, she grabbed her flight bag, shoved water and some painkillers inside, and went to the door. “Think I can reach him before they catch up to me?”

“No.” The woman’s smile wasn’t exactly heartening. “But you can try.”

***

It was time to get a taste of civilization, Elias Thorne finally acknowledged as he poured boiling water over the coffee grounds he’d scraped from the bottom of the can.

Clicking his tongue, he set Bo’s bowl on the rough log floor and watched her attack her dried salmon as if she hadn’t eaten the very same thing every evening for the past nine months. If only he could drum up that amount of gusto. For anything. How long had it been since he’d felt real excitement?

Contentment, maybe, but actual enthusiasm? Not just months. Years.

Once the coffee finished dripping, he grabbed the steaming cup and headed out onto the bare-bones front porch, where the simple railing, roof, steps, and chair had all been made with his own two hands.

Admiring his work no longer stirred up so much as a spark of pride. He felt nothing.

With a sigh, he leaned against the railing, sucked in a deep coffee-laced breath, and warmed his hands on the thick, chipped enamel, eyes on the stream far below. The ice had started its spring symphony—a precursor to the massive breakup that would hit any day now—its low, musical crackling as intricate and varied as an orchestra tuning up for the big show.

The sound plucked its way up his vertebrae to sing along every one of his nerves until he thought he’d lose it. He should go down and check the lake, make sure he could cross it before breakup started and he got stuck here for another week at least. He could go around the lake, of course, but that trek took days.

He exhaled and slugged back more of his too-weak, too-hot coffee, craving the burn. Craving anything to interrupt the rhythm of the hours. Months. Years.

Eleven years of this eternal cycle.

The ice popped again, so loud that it echoed off the cliff face. He hadn’t planned on leaving for Schink’s Station today, but with breakup coming earlier every year, he might have to.

Maybe he could go for just a few days. Enough time to grab the supplies he couldn’t make, hunt, trap, gather, or grow. Give him a chance to make sure the world hadn’t blown up, and, if the stars magically aligned, find himself a woman to scratch the itch he couldn’t take care of on his own.

As usual, he ignored that other thing—the thing that was too deep to reach. So deep he barely recognized it as a basic human need.

With a low woof, Bo took off on her usual rounds, sniffing out all kinds of interesting creatures—a couple of ground squirrels that skittered off with angry hisses, an osprey, which rose to higher ground to watch Bo with a dark, fixed eye; and finally, the female northern goshawk he’d been watching for the past few days, her wingspan impressive as she took off with three hard beats, then glided low in search of early spring prey.

No sign of the grizzly whose scat he’d spotted early that morning in the quickly melting snow. Good. He was bone tired. Didn’t feel like dealing with the bear. Or anything else.

The heaviness in his limbs decided him. It was either go now or go nuts on his own.

If he wasn’t already there.

***

Leo leaned against the worn clapboard of the boathouse, keeping an eye out for pursuers while Amka fiddled with the lock. “You sure run fast.”

“For a fat old lady, you mean?” The woman glanced Leo’s way, eyes narrowing on her face. “Lived here my whole life. I know every pothole in Schink’s Station.” She shoved hard, sending the rickety wood door flying open. “Besides, I’m not the one who spent the night upchucking in my room.”

Leo followed her inside, caught sight of the plane, and came to a dead stop. “No freaking way.”

“Shush. Don’t talk like that in front of Dolores.” Amka rushed forward. “She’ll take it personally.”

“Dolores?” Leo eyed the little Piper Cub with distrust. “She’s…beautiful,” for an antique. “But I pictured something a little more substantial than this.” Had they truly just raced to this side of the lake for this? No way could she outpace a helicopter in this aircraft. It would be like trying to beat a Maserati on a tricycle.

“Yeah, well, she’s all we got.” Amka patted the bright yellow fuselage. “I’d go myself if I could see worth a damn.” Leo bet that was true. Though she covered it well, anxiety rolled off Amka in waves. “Airfield’s due west. If you taxi all the way out to the eastern part of the lake, they won’t see you take off. Maybe won’t even hear you.”

Leo was banking on that. She’d need the head start or she and this little tricycle were fried.

Shoving back a wave of residual dizziness, Leo closed the boathouse door. “Could you at least have put the door back on? Or put in some windows?” She took in the floats. “Maybe some tires?”

“Door hinges are rusted. I was gonna fix that, but then I didn’t figure Dolores would be flying anytime soon. And I’m still waiting on the windows I ordered.” Even if she had the parts, there’d be no time to replace them now. Old Amka didn’t have to say it. If Leo didn’t get there before the helicopter, Campbell Turner was a dead man, and the virus would fall into Chronos Corporation’s clutches—again. Amka ran her hands over the plane for a quick last-minute check. “Least there’s a windshield. And hell, if she had tires, we’d have to take off from the airfield.” Which would be a problem. That she and Amka had managed to get down here unseen was a miracle. Getting in the air without attracting notice would be another. “Don’t worry, taking off from water’s a breeze. All you gotta do is take care of my girl and she’ll take care of you.”

“I will,” Leo promised as she threw her bag into the cockpit and jogged to open the boathouse door, revealing the kind of view people lost their heads over. A landscape that made women quit their jobs, leave their lives, and become Wilderness Wives. Perish the thought. She was about as far from a poet as a person could be, but even in her current rush, Alaska stole her breath.

Nestled beside the enormous lake, this tiny settlement was nothing but a lodge and guest cabins, along with a handful of blocky wooden structures that belonged to the few year-round residents, and an airstrip, where the massive Sikorsky S-92 helicopter had touched down less than ten minutes ago. Not a single paved road came within eighty miles of the place. The nearest highway was a hundred and fifty miles away, and it took even the fastest aircraft at least an hour to get to the nearest town—which, like Schink’s Station, was the kind of dot she’d tried to flick off the map before realizing it wasn’t a piece of fly poop.

The newly unfrozen lake’s diamond-smooth center was marred only by the occasional ripple, while the edges were jagged with piled-up remnants of what the locals called breakup. Jagged shards of ice, dark and grimy, rimmed the entire thing, creating a wall along the shore. Around it, the brown and green and white forest appeared deceptively sparse.

Crowning it all were the mountains, bathed in light so bright, it was like a filter had been removed. People lived out there, alone in the wilderness. In the time she’d been here, she’d heard of a handful of men—some with families—who’d claimed a homestead a few decades ago. Others hadn’t even gone the legal route. They’d just…gone. She squinted. How many of them were out there now? Mountain men who’d lost their taste for civilization? She shivered at the idea. Nope.

“Oil and gas are good,” Amka called. “Inspected her a couple days ago, so we just need to warm her up and push her onto the lake.”

Not checking every detail herself made Leo nervous. She cast the woman a look. “You sure? Last thing I need is for one of these cables to give out while I’m up there.”

Amka’s expression told her just how stupid a question that was. “I need you, remember? This is life or death.”

“Right.” Leo stepped onto a float and leaned into the cockpit. “Walk me through start-up.”

Amka pointed and talked and Leo nodded. A bird cawed overhead and while the sound was loud enough to startle her pulse into overdrive, Leo didn’t otherwise react. If the sound wasn’t man-made, she’d ignore it.

In the distance, a low boom signaled a hunk of ice calving from the glacier and smashing into the lake a fraction of a second later. Some aspects of Alaska were painfully slow, inching forward like that glacier cutting through the landscape. Other things, though, moved quicker than blinking. Weather changes, for example, could be as treacherous as an avalanche, as devastating as one of those mudslides that obliterated everything in its path. If the weather turned tonight, she’d be stuck out there. If it turned while she was in the air, it could be much, much worse.

A cold breeze ruffled her collar, making her glad she’d layered up. Hell, even with all these clothes on, flying this thing in the cold would be a trial.

Focus. She was a mess after last night—no sleep, no food in her system. She was weak as a freaking kitten. She sucked in a deep, bracing breath of Alaskan air. There was a freshness to it that dug deep into her lungs, cleaned them out, and made room for more. Beneath the woody, outdoor scent that air freshener companies would never figure out was the comfortingly familiar smell of fuel.

A scan of the horizon showed not a single cloud in the sky. “Clear as a bell out there.”

Old Amka snorted. “Don’t you believe it. Storm’s coming in. Better hurry.”

As if the odds weren’t stacked against her already.

“Get Eli—” Amka coughed and shook her head. “Get my godson out and keep going east. Refuel, then head into Canada.”

Leo narrowed her eyes. Something was off about this—beyond the obvious. “He know I’m on my way?”

“Daisy’s working on it.”

Daisy, her hostess at the Lodge. Geez, was the whole town involved? Had they all been sitting there laughing every time Leo’d flown Von and Ans out to search for Turner?

Shoving back the doubt, she leaned over. “Get in touch with my guys. Don’t stop calling them. Tell ’em to turn around and get right back here, soon as they land.”

“Yep. Like I promised.”

Even with the reassurance, Leo had to make one final attempt herself. She pulled out her sat phone and dialed. Still not working. Had to assume the newcomers were jamming the signal. She typed out a quick message to her teammates—Ans and Von, who’d left for Anchorage that morning, and Eric, Zoe, and Ford, back in San Diego. Only Von was set to return, since Ans had gone to check out a lead in Colorado, but she figured this was big enough to warrant bringing the whole team in.

Got trouble. Second team arrived in SS, target’s coordinates in hand.

She hit send.

Too bad she didn’t have the coordinates. She cast the old woman a dirty look. Nope. Around here, they flew by Visual Flight Rules—especially in the old aircraft. The old lady’s directions ran through her mind on a loop: fly up the river ’bout an hour, take the left fork. Not the little fork. The big one. Wait for the big one. When you get to the big kidney bean lake, you land.

Heading out in borrowed aircraft to grab target. Due east. Will report coordinates asap.

They’d hate that, but she didn’t have more to give them.

Anxious to leave, she stuffed the phone in her bag and nodded to Amka, who pulled on the propeller once, twice… Leo hit the starter and the engine coughed before catching. A flock of birds took off.

So much for stealth.

“Hang on!” Amka climbed over to the open door and poked her head inside. “Promise me, you’ll get my godson out, no matter what you…”

“What?”

“No matter what you find when you get there.”

No matter what I find?Leo’s insides did a little flip. She’d mistake it for another bout of nausea if she didn’t recognize it for what it was: foreboding. “What are you talking about, Amka? What haven’t you told me?”

“I should also mention: you can land on ice with floats, but you need real clean, flat ice. The lake up there’ll do…” Amka’s eyes shifted to the side. “Long as it hasn’t started breaking up yet.”

“And if it has?”

“We’re all screwed.” Without another word, Amka dropped off the float onto the dock and shoved the plane out into the water.