He had not yet reached an age to stoop, and his step was still swift and sure across the ground. His hands were enormous, dwarfing the large mug cradled in one palm, calloused, chapped, and scarred. His jaw protruded in a very firm chin, his lips were thin, his nose was high-bridged and thinner, and his eyes were dark and piercing. He fixed her with them now. “What can I do for you, Kate?” he said. “I’m guessing this isn’t just a social call.”

Since she liked social bullshit as little as he did, she greeted this opening with relief. “You’d guess right. It’s about Dan O’Brian.”

John had always been hard to read, his expression usually remote and unchanging, as if sometimes he wasn’t really in the room when you were talking to him.

“What about him?”

“Did you hear they’re trying to force him into early retirement?”

“No.” He drank coffee. “I hadn’t heard that.”

“The administration is looking for a change of flavor in their rangers.”

He picked up a cookie and examined it. “I can’t say I disagree with them.”

She smiled. “Come on, John,” she said, relaxing back into her chair. “You’ve got things pretty good right now. You and Demetri are the sole big-game guides licensed to operate in the Park. Between the two of you, you constitute a monopoly. Dan’s happy to keep it that way.”

He didn’t say anything.

Kate plowed on. “Plus, we know him, and he knows us. What if they start making noises about drilling in Iqaluk again?”

“Are they?

“They are in ANWR. I figure if they start punching holes there, they’ll look to start punching them other places, too, and Iqaluk is one of the few places in the state that has already supported a profitable oil field.”

“Fifty years ago.”

“Still. They can make a case that there’s more to find. What happens then? I’ll tell you. They move in all their equipment, and they either find oil or they don’t.