PART FOUR: THE RUNOUT*

John taxies Tracy Four, Tracy Corporation's answer to the latest Eclipse 1200 small jet, into the hangar he's reserved at Valdez Pioneer Field. A rented Hummer is waiting out on the tarmac, courtesy of a few extra twenties to the rental agency, and by the time John finishes running Tracy Four through its post-flight checks, unloads his gear from the jet and reloads it into the Hummer, and drops the driver back at the rental place, it's already nearing two in the afternoon, Alaska time.

He clicks the car's built-in vidphone on and dials through to Dev's private number.

"You actually came," Dev says with a shake of his head as his face solidifies on the screen. "I should never have doubted."

"Got that right, have you learned nothing about me in all these years?" John grins as he pulls onto Richardson Highway. "I've got a couple hours' driving ahead of me. Will you be able to meet me at your place by then?"

Dev looks at his watch, then nods. "I still cannot believe you actually want to climb McKinley."

John raises an eyebrow.

"All right, all right. Denali. You are a stubborn man."

"I am, at that. And yes, I do want to climb. Colonel Hicks told my father there's nothing going on other than your standard array."

"Well, there you have it, then."

"I don't believe him. And neither should you. You saw the same data I did."

Dev sighs and runs a hand through his jet-black wavy hair. "Yes, my friend. It's the only reason I told the Colonel I was taking a week off."

"What excuse?"

"That my sister is in town."

"You don't have a sister!"

"I do now."

"You know, I'm not sure I like being made out to be the girl."

Dev laughs out loud. "Not to mention, if you are my sister, then one of us is adopted. I'm the night to your day, John Tracy."

John winks at his friend. "No kidding. Got a place we can have dinner tonight? On me."

"You rich boys," Dev teases. "Carriage House is probably the best Gakona has to offer."

"Then be ready to hit it when I get there. See you in a few."

"If you insist," Dev says with an exaggerated eyeroll. John smiles as he shuts off the feed.

But his smile fades when his thoughts turn to the climb. He enjoys mountain-climbing, and had even tamed a few mountains here and there in his lifetime – mostly with Dev by his side – but nothing as potentially deadly as Denali. He's confident in his abilities, though, and in the state of the art gear he has with him. And he is a man on a mission.

If there's something anyone who's ever crossed paths with a Tracy knows, it's that once they've made up their minds about something, there really isn't any stopping them.

John is not going to let a mountain be the first thing that does.

The area surrounding HAARP is pretty remote, and John's glad when he finally reaches the little horseshoe road called – as they can only get away with in the wilderness of Alaska – Post Office Driveway. A few decent satellite radio stations have kept him company on the two-hour journey, but he was never one for sitting still for too long if he could keep from it, so stretching his legs sounds like a plan.

He makes his way along a dirt road off the Driveway, goes about a mile and then turns right onto a single-lane dirt road that's tunneled by an overabundance of trees. Gordon would love this, he thinks, the mostly untouched forest surrounding him left as intact as possible by the hunters, fishers, trappers and mushmen – and now the Navy and Air Force contingent – who call Gakona home.

It's a fantastic throwback to decades ago when more of the U.S. was like this. The tiny little log cabin on his left, not more than ten-by-ten in size, passes for the Gakona post office. Parcels of land are measured in multiple acres, not postage-stamp-sized feet. And things are built simply here. Even if they can afford it, the residents see no need for extravagance.

Most of the locals, he remembered Dev telling him soon after moving here, prefer to use local wood and materials to build their homes and outbuildings. Even the transplants who work for HAARP have adjusted to the local ways. It gives the two hundred and seventy-four residents pleasure to welcome someone as long as that someone enjoys fresh animal meat, fresh fish and cuts down only the trees they'll personally use for their homes and fireplaces.

It all looks good, but John is more focused on why he's there, than he is on taking in the natural Alaskan beauty surrounding him. He can't see Denali from here – it's more than five hours away by car – but it's all that's on his mind when he pulls into the driveway of a clapboard bungalow painted brown, with a stone chimney and a new Chevy four-by-four pickup parked out front.

John turns off the Hummer and gets out, groaning as his long legs protest being cooped up for so long. He leans down to touch his toes and stretch his back and hamstrings, then grins as the sound of slow clapping reaches his ears.

"Nice moves," Dev says, letting his screen door slam behind him and coming down the three steps that pretend to be part of a miniature front porch.

"Dev," John greets, wrapping his arms around his friend and slapping him on the back heartily as Dev does the same to him. "Good to see you, man."

"Though perhaps the circumstances are not ideal, I'm happy to see you again as well, John Tracy. Come, meet my girl."

"Girl? Since when did you get a girl?"

"Oh," Dev says nonchalantly with a wave of his hand as he leads the way back to the house, "you know how it is. One look from those pitiful eyes and you cannot say no."

John gives his friend a really weird look, wondering what the hell, as Dev ushers him inside. Where John is immediately attacked by—

"A cat?" he squeaks as a far-too-affectionate animal decides it needs to mark John's shin with its claws, stretching up to greet him.

"Indeed." Dev nods at the long-haired orange tiger-striped feline while John attempts to gently but firmly show the cat its claws are not welcome to perforate the pant leg of his jeans. "Meet Nisha."

"You named her 'night'?"

"She came to my door in the night, woke me from a sound sleep and promptly laid claim to my bed. I thought the name appropriate." Dev smiles as Nisha walks back and forth in a figure eight in and out of the space between John's ankles, curling around the side of his leg and weaving back through again. "She likes you."

John snorts and shakes his head. "Figures. So. Where's this Carriage House place? I'm starving."

"I will only let you take me out to dinner if you promise we spend it catching up with each other and not speaking of HAARP and strange signals."

"But—"

Dev holds up a finger to silence him. "No 'buts,' John. In Gakona, the walls have ears. You never know who is part of the project and who isn't, so nothing at all but two old friends catching up. Understood?"

John nods. "Understood."

"All right. Let me give Nisha her evening meal of fresh tuna, and then we can go."

"Her evening…fresh tuna? That cat eats better than I do!"

"Proof that one does not need to be made of money to live like a queen."

"I will have you know," John protests as he follows Dev and Nisha into the home's small kitchen, "that I have never wanted to live like a queen in any way, shape or form."

Dev laughs so hard he startles Nisha. And John finds out just how fast an Alaskan kitty can climb a six-foot-two man.

He doesn't think it's nearly as funny as Dev seems to.

*Runout: The distance between two points of protection; the distance between a lead climber and the last piece of protection; the fall distance allowed by the distance from the last piece of protection.