Free 65 Below by Basil Sands Page A

the rear of the car in a white cloud that stood out against the darkness.
    It was 10:40. The Salt Jacket General Store closed at 11:00. Lonnie needed to get over there if she hoped to talk to Linus about what he had seen. She pushed the close button on the keypad at the gate, and the large metal fence slid itself shut. She lifted her car’s remote control from her jacket pocket and pressed the button with the padlock icon. The lights on the vehicle flashed in response, followed by the audible click of the locks releasing. She opened the cruiser door and climbed in. Lonnie took a deep breath of the warm interior air, gave one last looked around through the windshield, then picked up the radio handset and pressed the talk button.
    “Dispatch, 7-23” she said into the microphone, then released the talk button.
    “7-23, dispatch. Go ahead.”
    “I’m en route to Salt Jacket General Store.”
    “Copy, 7-23 en route to Salt Jacket General Store. Twenty-two forty-two.”
    “7-23 out.”
    “Dispatch out.”
    She put the radio handset back in the clip on the dashboard, then put the car in reverse and pulled a backwards U-turn in the parking area. Once the vehicle faced Johnson Road, she put it in drive and moved out toward the Richardson Highway.
    Ten minutes later Lonnie parked her cruiser in front of the Salt Jacket General Store. She got out of the car, pressing the record button of the digital recorder in her pocket as she moved. Her boots clomped noisily on the hollow wooden step in front of the door. Lonnie opened the door and went inside. The bell jangled the announcement of her entry.
    Linus was leaning into a mop that he dragged from side to side over the floor at the far end of the store aisles. He turned around at the noise.
    “Good evening, officer. You’re just in time. We close in five minutes.”
    “I know, Linus. I’m here on business.” Trooper Wyatt removed her hat.
    He straightened and squinted across the length of the building. “Lonnie?”
    Linus stood the mop against a rack of shelving and moved toward her, wiping his hands on a clean white towel that hung out of his back pocket. “Lonnie Wyatt?” A welcoming smile spread across his face as he drew closer and verified that it really was her.
    “Two members of the Wyatt clan in a single day. We really are lucky. I only just heard you were back. You’d been stationed in Galena until recently, right?”
    “I was,” she replied. “I had put in for Fairbanks last year and finally got it two months ago.”
    “Well, welcome home. It’s kind of weird that you drew patrol out here tonight. We were just talking about you a couple hours ago.”
    “Oh?”
    “Yeah,” He shifted his feet uncomfortably, realizing his mistake too late. “Marcus is back. He’s retired from the Marines.”
    “That’s part of why I am here.” At the mention of his name, her stomach quivered. She found herself trying desperately to maintain a professional demeanor. “I need to talk to the two of you about some customers you had earlier this evening.”
    “You mean the Tangos?” he replied.
    “Tangos?”
    “Tango. It’s what we called them in the Army. T for terrorist.”
    “I see. Could you please tell me what happened, and how they interacted with you and Marcus?” She spoke with a cold voice that was all business. “By the way, I am recording this conversation.”
    “Well, here’s the way I remember it.” He related to her the story of what happened and that Marcus had been able to understand what they said in Albanian.
    Lonnie made a show of listening intently as he spoke. Behind her hard exterior, her thoughts dissolved into a scattered cacophony of memories as images of Marcus again poured into her mind. She barely heard Linus speak. She would have to rely heavily on the recording when she got back to the office.
    “That’s all I have about them,” he said as the narrative ended.
    “Thanks, Linus. Did Cara see them?”
    “No. She was in the back