And then, there was that smile. Full-lipped, white-toothed, dimpled even at rest, it had been described as incandescent by one besotted journalist, and it lit up the newspapers, the magazine covers, and any room she walked into.
Including the Niniltna Native Association board room. She didn't suffer from shyness, either. "How nice to meet you," she said, walking around the table to shake hands. Either Harvey had rehearsed her or she was very good with names, because she addressed them all faultlessly and without hesitation.
"I hear they call you Old Sam," she said with an up-from-under flutter of eyelashes. "I can't think why."
"Mrs. Shugak," she said, holding one of Auntie Joy's hands in both of hers. "It's an honor to meet one of Ekaterina Shugak's closest friends, and one of the founding members of the Niniltna Native Association. I'm looking forward to working with you."
"Demetri," she said, pulling Demetri to his feet and giving him a warm hug. "Great to see you again."
"You, too." Demetri hugged her back and sat down again, avoiding everyone's eyes.
"Demetri took me and a bunch of friends of mine from Outside hunting up in the Quilak foothills a couple of years back." She smiled down at him. "My, that was a good time."
Demetri Totemoff, fifty-five, had been born in Anchorage to Park rats who had moved away. He had moved to the Park after two tours in Vietnam. Married with three children, he was a big game guide with a high-end lodge back in the Quilaks on a salmon- and trout-rich stream, in close proximity to bears black and brown and within an easy hike of all the moose and caribou a great white hunter could possibly want. The lodge, a rustic affair with hot and cold running water, one-bedroom suites, a full bar, maid service, and a live-in gourmet chef during the fishing and hunting seasons, had become so well known among business executives, the Hollywood elite, and the jet set that nowadays it ran full on word of mouth alone. While not as pro-development as Harvey, unlike Auntie Joy Demetri was not averse to commerce, especially when it might make him a buck or two. On the other hand, he wouldn't take kindly to any development that might affect the raw, rough, wilderness experience of his guests, either. Of everyone on the board, Demetri had the best grasp of numbers. If it looked like the mine would make him more money, bottom line, than his lodge, he'd be for it. The opposite, the opposite. Self-interest was a wonderful thing, and at least it made him predictable.
Macleod walked around Demetri, trailing a hand across his shoulders, and increased the wattage of her smile to where it was almost blinding. "And of course the legendary Kate Shugak."
Old Sam's responding smile had been wicked and appraising, Auntie Joy's handshake had been brief, the tips of Demetri's ears were red, and Harvey looked like a proud, lecherous parent. Kate found herself very much on her guard. She leaned forward as if to get to her feet, caught sight of Auntie Joy's stony visage, and only just stopped herself in time. She hated being loomed over but since Macleod was at least five ten in her stockings and the heels of her boots added two inches more, and Kate was only five feet nothing, she would have had to look up anyway. She accepted Macleod's hand from a seated position and said, "I don't know about legendary."
"I do," Macleod said. Her grip was firm and strong and lasted just long enough. "Mandy says hi, by the way."
"And you know Mandy," Kate said. Mandy Baker, expatriate Boston Brahmin and champion dog musher, lived on the second homestead over from Kate's, and was one of Kate's closest friends.
Macleod grinned. "I think everybody in Alaska has cheered her out of the chute on Fourth Avenue at least once."
"Talia," Harvey said, reasserting his control of the situation, "joined us today at my invitation to tell us a little bit about the Suulutaq Mine."
There was instant attitude from around the table, beginning with Auntie Joy's continued imitation of Washington on Mount Rushmore. Hard for an old Native woman to look like a dead white guy, but Auntie Joy managed it. Old Sam leaned back in his chair, propping his knee on the edge of the table, and linked his hands behind his head, but the carefree pose couldn't hide his attentive-ness or his tension. Demetri closed his eyes and shook his head very slightly.
"Really," Kate said. There was a lot going on here that she didn't understand. Kate never enjoyed feeling ignorant, unsure, and out of control. "Listen, Ms. Macleod-"
"Talia, please."
"Okay, Talia," Kate said. "No offense, but while I'm prepared to acknowledge that you can ski and shoot my ass off, what do you know about gold mines?"
There was the barest perceptible glimmer of emotion from Auntie Joy. Old Sam laughed outright. Demetri pretended to be invisible. Harvey sucked in his breath but before he could protest Macleod said, "Maybe a little more than you do, but only because I've been boning up on them since Global Harvest hired me."
Kate thought about it, and nodded. "What's your interest here?"
Macleod gestured at Harvey. "Like Harvey says, they hired me to liaise with the Park. It's a paycheck. Biathlons don't pay real well."
"Fair enough," Kate said. Auntie Joy had reverted to the Great Stone Face again, and Old Sam was maintaining a watching brief, so no help there. "Okay. Make your pitch."
Macleod shrugged. "I'm not going to bullshit you, Kate, or anyone else in the Park for that matter. Global Harvest is in the gold mining business because they can make money at it. They bid on the leases at Suulutaq because they had a good hunch as to what they'd find there." Macleod pulled a wry face. "I don't think they knew just how much was there, but now that they do, they're in for the long haul. Gold, last time I looked, was a little over nine hundred an ounce and rising. For that kind of money, they're willing to do things right from the get-go."
"Beginning with?"
"Well, just for starters, we'll be taking applications the first of next month for a hundred jobs, to Park residents only, entry level twenty dollars an hour, six-weeks-on, six-weeks-off rotation."
The front two legs of Old Sam's chair hit the floor. "Twenty dollars an hour?"
"A hundred?" Kate said. "That isn't a lot."
"During exploration and development, we expect the mine will employ a minimum of two thousand," Macleod said, and was obviously pleased with the expressions she saw around the table. "When we move into production, the payroll should be around a thousand."
"Twenty dollars an hour?" Old Sam said.
"Time and a half for overtime," Macleod said.
"What kind of jobs?" Kate said.
"So far, we've got one person on the payroll, as caretaker on the site. I'm looking for a second so they can work in rotation. As I'm sure you know, we've got a trailer out there already, a small one serving as a rudimentary office, lab, and bunkhouse. We'll be bringing in more housing shortly. Future jobs will be in drilling and analyzing core samples to define the extent of the mine, and in support of same. Some people will be working with microscopes and test tubes, others will be washing dishes and making beds."
"Twenty dollars an hour?" Old Sam said.
"Anything over eight hours a day, anything over forty hours a week is overtime," Macleod said. "You'll train them?" Kate said.
Macleod nodded. "On the job. And they get paid for it, at the full rate, starting their first day."
"Twenty dollars an hour?" Old Sam said.
"Double time for state and federal holidays," Macleod said.
"Where will they live?" Kate said.
"They live where they work, on site. Right now, there are four trailers sitting in Ahtna, three fifty-man sleepers and one for offices. And that's just the beginning."