Cold Snow: A Legal Thriller (24 page)

"You never cared about Alex when he was alive. Why should you care now?"

And he left, leaving the king of Woodsbrook to resume his mysterious counting work, red-faced and fuming.

CHAPTER 17

Thirty Miles Out

Alex was standing in a dark tunnel, drawing hard, sharp breaths. He looked toward the end and saw a glimmer of light, and set off running towards it. It slowly drew closer and closer, and he felt his spirit lift as he neared it. He reached his hand out toward it, desperate to touch it, until a hand reached out and seized him by the throat--

The tunnel disappeared, and he was standing in a deserted village as a heavy snow was falling. As quickly as he arrived he was wrenched away again, and sat up rapidly, drenched in sweat and staring around the darkened room.

He took several deep breaths and slowly took stock of his surroundings. He was in the motel in Porcupine, Manitoba. He looked around warily and forced himself to remember that he had just had a bad dream. It was hard to believe, though; the feeling when the hand had grabbed him was too real.

Anthony was snoring in the other bed and Sarah was slumbering serenely on the couch. He glanced at the clock on the table beside his bed. 3:41 AM--and he knew he would have no chance of getting to sleep again soon. He lay there for a while, staring at the ceiling, listening to Anthony murmur in his sleep, and considering the journey that lay ahead of them the next day. Finally deciding that he could stand it no longer, Alex pushed the blanket back and rolled into a sitting position on the side of the bed. He had been sleeping in a t-shirt and jeans, and he reached out for the heavy wool-lined coat he had left on the floor. Groping in the darkness he found his shoes on the floor and kicked them on. A walk through the streets of Porcupine, he reasoned, would be perfect to tire him out again.

He took the old-fashioned key to the room from the table, tiptoed across the carpet, and closed the door silently. An ancient memory was suddenly awakened in his mind, and the face of his infant sister Lauren flashed through his mind's eye. He sighed, and remembered what a docile and kind baby she had been. He hoped he didn't grow up like her parents.

It was odd, he thought, as he crossed the hallway, how long he had gone without remembering his home in Woodsbrook. Roland, however, had sent Ordoñez after them--he had killed Jake. Alex found himself wondering where the assassin was now. Had he given up?
No, he can't have. He doesn't seem the type.

The room was on the ground floor, and he reached the lobby easily, crossing and opening the door. As he stepped outside he was struck with a burst of cold. It wasn't snowing, but it looked almost ready to. He set off along the street, watching the northern night and its mysterious beauty.

Up ahead, he saw something strange. A figure, standing alone in the middle of the street, was watching the sky. As Alex observed him he began moving intently toward the exit of the town. Alex, his curiosity piqued, followed at a distance.

As they passed the "Porcupine" sign, Alex considered going back--it was frigidly cold, and this figure didn't seem to be doing anything interesting.

This all changed when Alex saw his face. He turned around to face the town just past the sign, and was illuminated by one of the few lamps set along the street.

It was Hart McGee. His eyes were closed and his face was tranquil; it appeared to Alex that he was sleepwalking. Hart continued walking, along the dirt remains of the Transit. Alex considered following further, but decided against it. Still, he had to wonder if there was more to Hart than met the eyes.

Hart was the last one to the meeting place the next morning. Alex and Anthony were studying the map, and Sarah was staring out into the landscape. A light snow was beginning to fall from the wide, overcast sky, and she was sure that the thirty-mile hike, while arduous, would at least be vividly scenic.

Hart arrived fifteen minutes after they had agreed, wearing his own heavy coat.

"Hart!" Alex said. "Where were you? We were about to leave without you!"

"Sorry!" Hart said defensively. "I overslept." This Alex could believe. He had, after all, been sleepwalking.

"Well, okay. You're here now. Who's up for leaving?"

"Oh, yeah," Hart began. "I forgot to ask...I didn't catch your names..."

"Anthony," Anthony said, not taking his eyes off the map.

"I'm Sarah Jones. Sorry about him," Sarah said, shaking Hart's hand. Alex could have sworn he saw her turning red when Hart smiled. "Okay, Anthony," she asked, turning to him. "Which way do we go?"

"Due northwest," he replied, pointing at the horizon. "That'll take us through the Porcupine Mountains, toward Duck Mountain. Around there is where we meet the train. It's actually the middle of the park but apparently whoever runs the place let them build a railroad through there."

"Thanks, Anthony," Sarah said, smiling. "What would we do without you?"

Anthony's face suddenly hardened. "Yeah," he said stonily, "I think it's time somebody around here considered that question."

Alex stared at him. "What are you getting at?"

Anthony rounded on Alex. "What I'm getting at," he said viciously, "is that I think you should start treating me with a bit more respect! Without my navigation you'd be stuck in Ridge City. Without my finger on the trigger of that rifle you'd all be buried next to Jake!"

"You shut up about him!" Alex shouted.

"
What have you done
!?," Anthony shouted back. "What have you done except get us shot at and led into traps!?"

"
Quiet
!" somebody shouted; looking around, they realized it was Hart. His softened face had returned to the hard stare he'd worn during his fight with Alex. "I don't know who Jake is or what happened in Ridge City, but I do know that if I'd known you two would be bickering the whole time, I never would have agreed to come."

Alex and Anthony were shocked by this outburst; Alex looked over at Sarah, who, to his disgust, and one unidentified feeling, was gazing admiringly at Hart.

"Now, look." Hart went on. "I have an idea to solve this. We split up into two teams. Each of us takes one pack of supplies. One team takes the two pistols, the others get the rifle. We each walk the route, and the first to arrive at the town we're aiming for is the winner. Got it?"

They all considered it for a moment. Finally, Alex said, "That's not a bad idea. If I win...none of you will question my leadership anymore. I did start this outfit."

"Okay, but if I win, and I will..." Anthony pondered. "You will respect me as your equal...and you'll let me have cigarettes."

"Deal," Alex said. "I'll go with Hart and we'll take the rifle. You go with Sarah and take the pistols. If anything bad happens, if we get lost or..." he did not speak to the elephant in the room, "fire a few shots from the gun. It'll travel far around here, and we'll come and find you."

Everybody nodded in understanding.

"See?" Alex said to Anthony. "I told you bringing him was a good idea."

"I do not understand, Ordoñez, why you insist on driving with the roof off this car. It is barbaric when it's this cold."

"Welcome to Manitoba, Francois. You're here. Get used to it. Because I don't know how long this is going to take."

Francois Levache sighed, and returned to gazing out at the passing landscape. "Remind me never to ride in your car, ever again. As a matter of fact, remind me to never to pick up your slack again."

Ordoñez gritted his teeth in frustration and bent low over the wheel. "I don't think you'll have much to worry about there."

"So," Levache said, turning to face Ordoñez. "I have been meaning to ask. Could you give me a scouting report? What has the past situation been with this particular target?"

Ordoñez made an angry noise halfway between a grunt and a sigh, and drew a deep breath. "I was contracted by an entrepreneur in New York--"

"New York City?"

"Upstate. And please don't interrupt me. He told me to retrieve his runaway son who was fleeing along the interstate, and that he represented a sizable investment, so I must return him alive."

"Did he elaborate?"

"No! And don't interrupt! It's not Moose Killer policy to interrogate clients."

"I apologize. Go on."

"Thank you. Now, I initially formulated an elaborate plan to use his friends to lure this kid, Alex Orson is his name, to me."

Levache rolled his eyes. Whereas Ordoñez often described his plans as "elaborate" most of the rest of the Moose Killer force preferred the term "unnecessarily convoluted".

Ordoñez continued. "While tracking him I committed three murders on Potard's orders, skillfully accusing the target. I would then follow him, capture his companions, and force them to stand trial. I studied him enough to learn that his nature would bring him to rescue them, at which point I could have him arrested too and kidnap him out of the jail."

Levache was slightly confused. "I do not see how that could go wrong."

"He escaped," Ordoñez said succinctly, scowling. "Two of his companions got away with him, the third died."

"Hmm," Levache said, in deep thought, "I think I understand why you need help with this. Anybody who can escape from the clutches of the police and MK simultaneously is not your average target. What do you plan to do?"

"I'm glad you asked, Francois. First of all we find a small village called Porcupine at the end of this highway. Second, we track Orson and his companions across the wilderness. If we can catch up to them, we kill them all."

"That does not seem too difficult."

"However, if we fail to catch up to them before they reach Duck Mountain, and we probably will as they have a head start, I have a hunch that they will be catching the Trans-Shield Express."

"So, we follow them aboard?"

Ordoñez grinned. "Exactly! And take them down!"

"There's just one more thing that bothers me, Ordoñez."

"What is that?"

"You were told by your client to bring his son alive. Now you tell me you plan to kill him. Are you not acting in direct violation of this entrepreneur's wishes?"

Ordoñez watched the road for several seconds before speaking. "I was given higher orders."

"What do you mean? Is it possible for...upper management to override client's wishes?"

"Not usually. But this is much more important than most. And after I kill the son...I'm going to kill the father."

"Okay," Alex said, staring across the wide landscape. "Do we all know the route?"

"Northwest," Sarah said, following Alex's gaze.

"Towards Duck Mountain," Anthony added, pointing toward a large summit across the vista.

"Got it," Hart adjusted the straps on his backpack. He was holding the automatic rifle across his chest. "Let's go."

They all hesitated for a moment before stepping off the road

--it seemed at the time like a very rash thing to do. Eventually, however, they managed it, and set off into the forest, toward the mountains. Eventually, they reached a fork in the clear path: Alex and Hart went left while Anthony and Sarah went to the right.

Alex and Hart walked in silence for what felt like around three hours, but which could have been any amount of time.
After all,
Alex thought,
out here, who cares what time it is?

It was definitely beautiful enough to take his mind off anything else. The landscape rolled up and down, and all around them grassy hills flourished, covered with stately aspens. The mountains, capped with snow, loomed in the distance, and they often had to take off their shoes and wade across small ponds or creeks. Above it all, the sky was overpoweringly wide and grey, giving a desolate and magnificent feel to everything around them. It was now misting off and on, and the familiar fog was creeping in around them again.

After a long time, Alex was completely wiped out. It was too overcast for him to know for sure but it seemed as though the sun was sinking in the west. On an ordinary highway he could have made fifteen miles by now, but as they often had to pause to make sure they were headed in the right direction, or double back to get on an easier path, or trudge up steep hills, they hadn't been able to make good time.

Alex found himself wondering where Anthony and Sarah were, whether or not they were winning. He found himself worrying that something bad could have happened to them, in which case it would be his fault due to his and Anthony's petty competition. He found himself wishing he had gone with Sarah, although he didn't really know why. He found himself wondering what time it was.

He spoke the first words he had said to Hart since they left. There are those who will aggressively vocalize their appreciation of a land's beauty, and those who understand that words cannot capture it.

"Do you think we should stop?"

Hart, however, did not answer. He appeared to be staring at something on a ridge across from the wooded creek they were currently standing at. Alex walked to stand next to him, attempting to see what Hart was seeing.