MacGyver shook his head at Fraser's revelation. Family could be hard.
"Guess that explains how your suspect knew about what John Patrick was lookin' for out here."
"Yes, it does," Fraser said. He pulled the jasper out of his pocket and looked at it. "I hate seeing greed tear brothers apart. John Patrick's brother was so very angry that although he and his confederate had the map, there was nothing out here that he could dig up and recognize as a diamond."
"Were they going to keep digging?" MacGyver asked.
"It seems for a while at least. I believe they intended to set me to work at that. I should be thankful that neither of them were particularly well inclined toward mornings, or my escape would have been noticed a lot sooner."
"We can't have a whole lot of time before they figure out you're gone. They're going to have to get after you."
"Yes. They only have one rifle, but if either of them is a decent shot we could still be in difficulties," Fraser said.
It struck MacGyver as slightly funny that after all the trouble that Fraser had trusting him in the first place, now that the trust was established, Fraser was utterly taking it for granted that they were functioning as a team. It made some things easier. It was definitely better than sharp-eyed suspicion from the Canadian. There was no way he was going to voice the words on the tip of his tongue: "What do you mean, we?"
"We're only a couple of miles away from the station," MacGyver said. "If we can pick up our pace and cut across toward the shore we should be fine."
In most buildings, the giant geodesic dome that housed the station's radar antenna would have been the most striking feature, standing out against the stark arctic beach and wine-dark sea like the scouting craft of an alien invasion. There was absolutely no question that the globe, elevated well above the ground, was eye catching. Both men stopped involuntarily when the glimmering shape appeared on the horizon before it.
Behind the geodesic dome, looming even larger and more imposing, were two White Alice communication towers, silhouetted black against the bright light of mid morning. Scaffolding showed at the edges, lacy compared to the sheer, rigid solidity of the antennae. At the right angle, it was possible to see that the towers were built in massive curves, not the sheer monolithic rectangles that they appeared from front on.
If the morning had started with a sense of peace and calm, the DEW Line facility was a concrete reminder to MacGyver of the fragility of any such peace; the constant readiness for war the world stood at, his own role and burdens dropping back onto his shoulders. This facility stood as a symbol of the obliterating forces held by both the United States and the Soviet Union, the threat of a nuclear end to everything.
Fraser shook his head and said quietly, "Your political masters must be relieved that Trudeau and his ideas are a thing of the past."
"How about you?" MacGyver challenged. "You agree with what he said about America?"
"That the United States is more of a threat to Canada than the Soviets?" Fraser tilted his head to one side. "No. I wouldn't say that. I would say that any government that thinks that a problem can be solved by building a bigger arsenal is a threat to the entirety of the human race. Trudeau was dangerously naive if he didn't see that that applied just as much to the Soviets as to your government."
"We can definitely agree on that," MacGyver said.
"Indeed," Fraser concurred. "At any rate, this is not the time for me to be behaving as an ungracious host in our country."
"This'd be a good time to head on in and make ourselves known to the skeleton staff. See if what they've got by way of first aid and I could really do with something hot to drink to get warmed up." MacGyver said.
"And if nothing else, the presence of giant antennae is reassuring on the radio messaging front," Fraser said.
A narrow road crossed the course the two men were on. It led around to what was evidently the entry way to the facility. A hundred yards along it, the men ran across a cheery green road sign proclaiming the goat trail to be Dew Line Road. It was an odd sign of non-militarized civilization in a landscape split between sheer wildness, land and sea, and the technological hallmarks of a century filled with conflict.
The facility was protected by a surprisingly fragile chain link fence. For the decades during which it had been most active, human guards had been the main line of defense. In place of human guards a series of cameras mounted at the fence posts now watched the men approach.
Fraser wasted no time walking up to the nearest camera and waving cheerfully. It was an unorthodox way of getting onto a military facility. Mac shook his head and stepped forward so the camera could see him too. It didn't look like today was going to be the day the young Mountie learned caution. After a few minutes a vehicle appeared from behind one of the buildings and drove toward them.
The vehicle was odd and old, looking like a refugee from the sixties with a long rounded body like a cross between a VW bus and a submarine. It had four wheels on each side and a round window over each of the wheels. The driver's door opened and a middle aged man in an immaculate USAF uniform bearing a Sergeant's insignia stepped out.
MacGyver took in the man with interest. His rank seemed low for his age, assuming that he was career military. Given his age, that seemed probable. And here he was in the middle of nowhere, the only person they'd seen evidence of on this nearly-decommissioned base. The rifle in his hands was a matter of no surprise, but it did prompt both Fraser and MacGyver to raise their hands in a show of passivity and harmlessness.
"This is an United States Military Base. State your business," the Sergeant said in a voice that sounded rusty from lack of exercise.
"Constable Benton Fraser, RCMP, at your service." Fraser said, reaching for his hat to remove it respectfully and wincing minutely at its absence. "And this is Mister MacGyver. He has business in this vicinity for your DXS." Fraser leaned in toward the wire fence almost confidentially as he said that. "As for me, I have business in the pursuit and apprehension of suspects in a crime, but Mister MacGyver has persuaded me of the necessity of seeking your hospitality and facilities in contacting, well, back-up."
The Sergeant stepped toward them, gesturing with his rifle for them to approach the gate. His face was unreadable.
"I'll have to see your papers. What crime are you investigating, Constable?"
He swung the gate open wide enough for Fraser to hand through his badge and MacGyver his passport and DXS identification.
"The assault of a man near Old Crow earlier this week."
"Kind of far to follow someone. Are you sure you're in pursuit of the right suspect?" the Sergeant asked with a look of sharp suspicion.
"Quite sure. If I had not been confident, I have since encountered the suspect at close range," Fraser made a wry face. "Furthermore, the suspects were not sanguine about the possibility of apprehension and were in pursuit of us in their turn, so if you could be so kind as to accommodate us?"
The Sergeant handed back the documents without taking his rifle off the two men. "Everything does seem to be in order. You'd better get in here."
"Thank you Sergeant- I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name," Fraser said politely as the Sergeant opened the gate wide enough to allow them onto the facility and then locked it closed behind them.
"Gosset," the Sergeant said as he herded them toward the transport vehicle. The interior was just as ancient and dilapidated as the exterior. There was plenty of room to sit on benches along the sides though, and MacGyver sat down and stretched his legs out. It was good to be off his feet. It was also nice not to have a rifle pointed at him.
"Sorry about the ride," Sergeant Gosset said. "We're on skeleton crew and all the modern vehicles have already been moved. Actually the other man who should be here right now to help me finish with the decommissioning activities just got flown out two days ago for a medical emergency. Bad place to be sick."
MacGyver and Fraser shared a glance. Even armed, even having seen their papers, it was a big risk for Sergeant Gosset to allow them onto the base while he was alone. It was the sort of thing that he'd almost certainly face discipline for, even if they were both grateful for his decision. Maybe it accounted for his failure to rise through the ranks, that he was too credulous. Or maybe there was something else to it. After all, nothing had been going smoothly.
It was a short drive over rough ground to the wooden buildings that made up the main working and residence area of the base. The buildings were completely unadorned, grey and grim with age, raised on bases to allow airflow under them. Between some of the buildings were elevated, closed-in walkways built on the same unadorned rectangular model. It reminded MacGyver of one of the many reasons he was not cut out to be a military man. There was no real word for it, in contrast with the sheer man-made spectacle of the dome and the massive curved radio tower, and the overwhelming natural beauty all around, no word for the huddled grey blocks of buildings except 'soulless.'
There was a sound of machinery, a dull hum that picked up the closer they got to the buildings. Sergeant Gosset drove up into an elevated building. It was obviously what used to be the motor pool, but equally obvious was how near to desertion it was. There was one other of the strange vehicle they rode in, except apparently rigged for winter with a tread over the wheels and skis in the front. Other than that, a snowmobile that had seen better days.
"If you'll head this way," Sergeant Gosset was still showing some major attachment to his rifle as he indicated one of the elevated walk ways. "I'll inform your superiors of your need for backup," he promised Fraser. "You can rest in one of the mens' quarters."
"Oh, that's not necessary." Fraser said.
"I'm afraid it is," Gosset said. "You have to understand that ID or no, I can't have two civilians, one a foreign national, wandering around here."
He was polite but firm as he confiscated Mac's pack and shut them into a bunk room. It was musty and there were no blankets on the bare mattresses. There was a window letting light in, and a communal bathroom at one end of the room, but no other amenities.
MacGyver didn't wait for Gosset's footsteps to die away before trying the door.
"Locked." he said.
"Hmm," said Fraser.
"Hmm?"
"Hmm!" Fraser reiterated. "I'm at a loss for how to proceed. Usually if incarcerated against my will I'd have no compunction in escaping," his brow furrowed, and he worked the door-handle himself as if to ascertain how easy escape would be.
"Right now we might as well sit tight," MacGyver said. "Nothing much to do 'til Gosset calls in back-up." But he felt the uneasiness that was apparent in Fraser's demeanour.
