Phantoms

outlined the situation in Snowfield.
    “Good God!” Charlie said. “Jake’s dead, too?”
    “We don’t know for sure that he’s dead. We can hope not. Now listen, Charlie, there are a lot of things we’ve got to do in the next couple of hours, and it would be easier for all of us if we could maintain secrecy until we’ve established our base here and secured the perimeters. Containment , Charlie. That’s the key word. Snowfield has to be sealed off tight, and that’ll be a lot easier to accomplish if we can do it before the newsmen start tramping through the mountains. I know I can count on you to keep your mouth shut, but there are a few of the men…”
    “Don’t worry,” Charlie said. “We can hold it close to the vest for a couple of hours.”
    “All right. First thing I want is twelve more men. Two more on the roadblock at the Snowfield turnoff. Ten here with me. Wherever you can, select single men without families.”
    “It really looks that bad?”
    “It really does. And better select men who don’t have relatives in Snowfield. Another thing: They’ll have to bring, a couple of days’ worth of drinking water and food. I don’t want them consuming anything in Snowfield until we know for sure that the stuff is safe here.”
    “Right.”
    “Every man should bring his sidearm, a riot gun, and tear gas.”
    “Got it.”
    “This’ll leave you short handed, and it’ll get worse when the media people start pouring in. You’ll have to call in some of the auxiliary deputies for directing traffic and crowd control. Now, Charlie, you know this part of the county pretty well—don’t you?”
    “I was born and raised in Pineville.”
    “That’s what I thought. I’ve been looking at the county map, and so far as I can see, there are only two passable routes into Snowfield. First, there’s the highway, which we’ve already blockaded.” He swiveled on his chair and stared at the huge, framed map on the wall.
    “Then there’s an old fire trail that leads about two-thirds of the way up the other side of the mountain. Where the fire trail leaves off, an established wilderness trail seems to pick up. It’s just a footpath from that point, but from the way it looks on the map, it comes out smack-dab at the top of the longest ski-run on this side of the mountain, up here above Snowfield.”
    “Yeah,” Charlie said. “I’ve backpacked through that neck of the woods. It’s officially the Old Mount Greentree Wilderness Trail. Or as we locals used to call it—the Muscle Liniment Highway.”
    “We’ll have to station a couple of men at the bottom of the fire trail and turn back anyone who tries to come in that way.”
    “It would take one hell of a determined reporter to try it.”
    “We can’t take chances. Are you aware of any other route that isn’t on the map?”
    “Nope,” Charlie said. “Otherwise, you’d have to come into Snowfield straight overland, making your own trail every dammed step of the way. That is wilderness out there; it’s not just a playground for weekend campers, by God. No experienced backpacker would try to come overland. That’d be plain stupid.”
    “All right. Something else I need is a phone number from the files. Remember that law enforcement seminar I went to in Chicago… oh… about sixteen months ago. One of the speakers was an army man. Copperfield, I think. General Copperfield.”
    “Sure,” Charlie said. “The Army Medical Corps’ CBW Division.”
    “That’s it.”
    “I think they call Copperfield’s office the Civilian Defense Unit. Hold on.” Charlie was off the line less than a minute. He came back with the number, read it to Bryce. “That’s out in Dugway, Utah. Jesus, do you think this could be something that’d bring those boys running? That’s scary.”
    “Real scary,” Bryce agreed. “A couple of other things. I want you to put a name on the teletype. Timothy Flyte.” Bryce spelled it. “No description. No known address. Find out if he’s wanted anywhere. Check with the FBI, too. Then find out all you can about a Mr. and Mrs. Harold Ordnay of San Francisco.” He gave Charlie the address that had been in the Candleglow Inn’s guest register. “One more thing. When those new men come up here, have them bring some plastic body bags from the county morgue.”
    “How many?”
    “To start with… two hundred.”
    “Uh… two… hundred? ”
    “We might need a great many more than that before we’re through. We