The Boy Who Stole From the Dead Read Online Free Page B

weapon?”
    “Yeah?”
    “It’s a cheap-looking thing. He said the handle’s a see-through yellow.”
    “Bobby made it himself in shop class in his prior life. That’s not the kind of news that’s going to get him bail.”
    “And they found a black penlight in his pocket.”
    “Like the screwdriver, it never left his possession.”
    “But no shoe.”
    “No shoe.”
    “The question is why he kept those things on him at all times.”
    “No, that’s not the question, Johnny.” Nadia shivered. “The question is how he made it through a night in prison without them.”

CHAPTER 5

    L AUREN GLANCED OUT the window. From the air, the storage and processing plants of the Red Dog Mine resembled the American flag. Long red buildings stretched horizontally, while a cluster of smaller blue ones filled a corner. The mine itself was an open pit. It looked like an amphitheater being carved out of the ground. A dedicated fifty-five mile asphalt road connected the mine to port and barge operations on the Chukchi Sea.
    The prop plane lurched and dropped among the mountains. Lauren was glad she’d skipped lunch. When it landed at the airstrip beside the mine, she darted ahead of the twelve workers commuting from Kotzebue to be the first off the company plane. Outside, the manager of public relations introduced himself as Prince Hall and escorted her to a plain office.
    “This is all spur of the moment, isn’t it?” Hall said. “The home office called this morning to tell me you were coming. They said you’re doing a piece for the Sports Network. I didn’t quite get the context.”
    “We’ve been covering the Iditarod for years,” Lauren said. “But now we’re thinking about adding the Kobuk 440, too.”
    “Why, that’s fantastic.”
    “Since the race starts in Kotzebue, I’m working on a background piece about the local area. The Inupiaq, their culture, their lifestyle. Given you’re one of the biggest private employers in the region—what are we, a hundred miles away?”
    “Less. Only eighty.”
    “Only eighty. You’re even closer than I thought. You’re vital to the local economy. Your track record for environmental responsibility seems beyond reproach. At least from what I’ve read.”
    “And everything you’ve read is true. The Arctic is a national treasure. We’re the world’s largest zinc mine. We hold ourselves to the highest standards where emissions and waste management are concerned. I would love to give you a tour of our facilities and tell you all about it.”
    “That would be great. And perhaps I could meet an employee or two.”
    Lauren suffered through a tour of the mine, zinc processing plant, residences, and even the cafeteria. She pretended to care about the difference between drill and blast mining, and grinding and sulphide flotation methods. She even studied an ISO 14001 environmental certification report. It was torture.
    “You mentioned meeting an employee or two,” Hall said, when he was done with his dog and pony show. “I thought you might enjoy meeting one of our plant managers. She’s a woman, like yourself.”
    “That sounds interesting, but I had someone else in mind. You have a musher on staff who placed third in the Kobuk 440 five years ago.”
    “Really? I didn’t know that. I was rotated in from Anchorage eighteen months ago. What’s his name?”
    “Dave Ambrose. He writes a blog on dog sled and snowmobile racing. He’s good. I’d like to get his perspective on a few things. And see if he’s interested in doing some writing online for us. Nothing that would interfere with his career here, of course. Just a hobby.”
    “Let’s see if he’s working today. Workers in the mine work four days on, three days off. On account of the exposure to lead. If he’s in, I’ll ask the supervisor.”
    The laws of probability prevailed. Twenty minutes later, Ambrose walked into a conference room with a gray respirator hanging below his chin, and matching pads strapped to