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touch with them by radio phone. Two factions control the rebel camp. Their spiritual leader is Moses John. He had the vision which led to this, and erected the tepee and Sundance circle for spirit quests. The whole area is sacred to Gitxsan, But Totem Lake also has Picture Rock. The rock's carved with symbols from before whites arrived and an image of the first British ship."
    "Is Moses John Gitxsan?"
    "No," said George. "He—like me—is Plains Cree. That's why there's trust. My hunting the predators from the Residential Schools and taking down Gunter Schreck in the Africa case helps."
    "What's the sundance doing out here?" asked Spann. "Didn't it originate on the Western Plains to celebrate the return of bison herds?"
    "Since 1973 the sundance has spread through other native cultures. Here on the West Coast it celebrates the return of salmon and self-sacrifice."
    "Nothing remains pure, eh?" said Spann. "The Force was a white male organization—until you and I crashed its ranks."
    "You said two groups," Dodd cut in.
    "The other faction in the camp is a doomsday cult. Ruby Ridge. Waco. Same mentality. Their leader took the name Grizzly. He's American. The rumor is he shot a FBI agent at the second Battle of Wounded Knee in 1973. The cu lt links the sundance to surviv alists. They think the world is headed for an apocalypse in the year 2000. The ones to survive will be those who embrace the Great Law and live off sacred land. Everyone else is owned by the New World Order: an octopus conspiracy of big business, government, and the police out to create a workforce of slaves and defang all opposition. Those who don't stand up for their rights will go to the slaughter as in Nazi Germany."
    "Volatile stuff," said Spann.
    "I think Moses John has outlived his usefulness to Grizzly. I suspect the doomsday cult wants to be rid of him. Does the sundance embrace the spirit of nature or cataclysmic doom?"
    "What'd you say to John?"
    "No one's been killed in the standoff so far. They have my word we'll be fair if they come out peacefully, and give up whoever shot the headless man frozen in the ice. He said he didn't know what I was talking about. I said it would show good faith if they let us remove the body, and he spoke to you."
    "Let's go," said Spann.
    George turned to Dodd. "The body's waiting at Zulu base. Follow the road two klicks west from the lake. In the woods. On the left. You'll see it."
    The snowmobiles parted at right angles, going west and north, Spann seated motorcycle-style behind George. They followed the plane skids back across the lake, the snow drifting around them from gusts of cross wind, and tumbling thicker and thicker as they advanced. The roar of the engine was a blasphemy to Nature, personified in every aspect of the Great Lone Land. Then suddenly over Ghost Keeper's shoulder she saw the ghosts, two snowmen on the northern shore. As the snowmobile came to a halt twenty feet from land, they shook the flakes from their clothes to reveal themselves.
    Two native men.
    One with a gun.
    The gunman was dressed in combat fatigues. Over top was a sweatshirt emblazoned with a portrait of Almighty Voice, the Plains Cree blown to death by cannons during a showdown with the Mounted in 1897. His lower face was masked by a kerchief in Haida patterns worn like a Wild West outlaw under a blue beret. His rifle was a surplus Lee Enfield No. 1, World War II vintage with a ten-shot magazine of .303 British cartridges. Spann pegged Voice as one of Grizzly's men.
    Spiritual leader Moses John bared his pride to the sky, long black hair in two braids woven with beads and feathers. Over an antique breastplate of wampum shells, his great-grandfather's winter robe draped to the snow. Wary eyes watched as George turned the snowmobile about so it faced south, and left the motor idling with Spann in the saddle for a quick getaway. In one mitt the holy man gripped an eagle feather.
    Trudging through the drift, George met John at the