Authors: Lance Horton
Shadow Dragon (35 page)
There was a light rap on the door. It opened, and Sheriff Greyhawk stepped into the room.
Good thing he didn’t arrive about two minutes ago
, Kyle thought.
The sheriff greeted them with a nod and then looked to Carrie. “How are you?” he asked.
“Okay, I guess,” she replied.
Not one for small talk, the sheriff just nodded and turned to Kyle. “Hank Gullickson with the Forest Service called me this morning,” he said quietly. “He told me an unidentified helicopter was flying down Hungry Horse Reservoir just after dark last night.”
“Do you think there’s any significance to it?” Kyle asked.
“It’s suspicious. It was blacked-out and flying fast at low altitude. Hank tried to radio them but got no response. He said it was big, probably military. He thought it might be a Blackhawk.”
“Has anyone tried to verify this?” Kyle asked.
“I informed Agent Marasco, but he didn’t seem concerned about it,” the sheriff replied. The tone of his voice made it clear he didn’t agree with Marasco.
“I’ll call SAC Geddes and let her know,” Kyle said. “We’ll see what she wants to do.”
Carrie kicked the sheets off her legs and got out of the bed. Holding the back of her hospital gown closed, she stepped over to the small closet by the bathroom.
“What are you doing?” Kyle asked.
“I’m getting dressed. Don’t you see? This is our chance to get the proof we need. We’ve forced their hand. They know we’re on to them. That’s why they killed Charlie and came after me. And now they’re trying to retrieve their monster and get rid of it before anyone can prove it exists. Why else would the military be in the area?”
“There could be a lot of reasons,” Kyle replied.
“Yeah, like what?”
“I don’t know,” Kyle said, exasperated. “That’s why I’m calling Seattle.”
“But by then, it will be too late.”
“And just what would you suggest be done differently?” Kyle asked.
“I say we go up there and catch them red-handed.”
“What? Just how do you think you would do that?”
“By getting photos, evidence, eyewitness accounts. I don’t know—something.” She pulled out her suitcase, which had been brought to the hospital by Deputy Johnson, and started digging through it.
“Carrie, you’re not thinking this through,” Kyle said, trying to reason with her. “You can’t just go marching up there, hoping to take a few pictures and solve everything. This thing, if it really exists, has already killed a lot of people. What makes you think the same thing won’t happen to you?” He didn’t want to seem callous, but she was making no sense at all. He looked to the sheriff for support, but the sheriff remained stone-faced.
“Because we know what we’re dealing with,” she replied, pulling out a pair of jeans. “And even if we don’t manage to get pictures of it, at least we can document the military’s involvement in the area. Anything we find will be better than what we’ve got now. I’m not just going to sit here and let them get away with this.”
“Even if you did manage to find out what they’re doing up there, do you really think they would just let you walk out with the proof?” He couldn’t believe he was even arguing with her.
“That’s why we have to be careful,” she replied.
She had said it several times already, but this time, it caused Kyle to stop. “We?” he asked, his brows knitting with suspicion. “What do you mean …
we
?”
Carrie looked at him, a hurt expression on her face. “I just assumed you would go with me. Don’t you care about what they did to Lewis?”
“That’s unfair,” Kyle said. He knew what she was trying to do, and he was determined not to let her guilt him into a foolish decision. “You know I care, but running off into the forest isn’t going to solve anything. Besides, there are agents coming in from Seattle. I can’t just run off like that.”
“So what do you expect me to do? Just sit here while they sweep it all under the rug?” she shouted. “I’m not going to do that. First my grandparents, then Charlie, and now Lewis are all dead because of these people, and I’m not going to let them get away with it!” Her bottom lip trembled as she struggled to keep from breaking down again. Tears filled her eyes as she grabbed her clothes and ran into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.
Kyle sighed, running his hand through his hair in frustration. He knew Carrie was reacting emotionally, but he didn’t know how to stop her. She wasn’t a suspect, so there was no reason to detain her. He couldn’t just ask the sheriff to cuff her to the bed. Nor could he let her go alone. If she persisted in going without him and something were to happen to her, he would never forgive himself.
“What do
you
think?” Kyle asked the sheriff.
“I think she is a very determined young woman,” the sheriff replied stoically.
“No kidding,” Kyle agreed. “But what do you think about her plan?”
“It’s risky, and I don’t think the chance for success is very high. But I agree with her. Something must be done. That’s why I will go with you.”
“You?” Kyle said, shocked by his response. “Why?”
“Because I have seen what this thing has done to the people of the Flathead, and I, too, have reasons for not trusting the government. I think it is better to learn the truth oneself than to have it told to me. Besides, it is obvious that she is going, and you are going to go with her. The two of you would not survive alone. I’m familiar with the area and the dangers involved. If you are to have any chance of success, I must go with you.”
Kyle sat there for a moment, stunned.
Am I that transparent?
he wondered.
Or is the sheriff really that perceptive?
Either way, it didn’t really matter. The sheriff was right. Kyle just hoped he wasn’t that transparent to Carrie.
The bathroom door opened, and Carrie stepped out. “Well?” she asked.
Kyle looked at the sheriff, who nodded his approval. “All right, but the sheriff is coming with us.”
“Oh, thank you,” Carrie said as she hurried across the room and gave him a big hug.
It was nearing dawn, the skies lightening just enough to reveal the mottled, steel-gray clouds hanging low over the valley. The weather forecast called for three to six inches of snow in the valley with accumulations of one to two feet in the mountains. It wasn’t a major concern for Nathan, but it was something to stay aware of. If it snowed enough to shut down the airport, he might be forced to stay a few days longer than he planned—a complication he’d just as soon avoid. He didn’t like staying in town any longer than absolutely necessary. It gave the authorities more time to organize a search, increasing his chances of being caught.
Nathan watched as several more people emerged from the hospital. It was hard to make a positive ID from this distance. He took what looked like an oversized, soft-grip Bic pen from his pocket. He then pulled off the cap, unscrewed the tip, and held it up to his eye. Inside, it was a night-vision monocular with six times magnification. With it, he was able to identify the men as a couple of local cops and an unknown deputy. Following close behind were two other men: Deputy Johnson and FBI Agent Marasco.
“Bingo,” Nathan whispered when he saw the mole.
He watched patiently. They might just be stepping out for a smoke or heading home to catch a few hours of sleep and a shower. Hopefully, they weren’t both on their way to the justice center. The mole would be easier to handle if he were alone. If necessary, he would do them both.
They paused under the porte cochere, talking among themselves and looking out at the overcast skies. Nathan wished he had a shotgun microphone with him, but he had been forced to travel light.
The two cops left while Johnson and Marasco continued to speak with the other deputy. Marasco pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit up. A short while later, the unknown deputy went back in the hospital. Johnson and Marasco began making their way toward the parking lot.
Damn.
It appeared as though they were leaving together.
But when they reached the first row of the parking lot, which had a half-dozen spaces reserved for law enforcement, they split up, Johnson getting into a Flathead County Yukon, Marasco into a black Expedition.
Nathan drove slowly, watching as the two vehicles wove through the lot to the exit onto Highway 93. The vehicles pulled up to the stop sign, the Expedition in front and the Yukon behind. Both vehicles signaled left, toward downtown.
Nathan pulled up to the stop sign a block north. He waited until both vehicles had turned, and checking both directions to make sure it was clear, he turned left as well. A block ahead, the taillights of both vehicles, now beside each other, were just disappearing over the crest of the hill leading down into town.
As he checked his rearview mirror, Nathan signaled with his blinker and then calmly switched lanes and began following the mole.
Sheriff Greyhawk’s Yukon was sitting behind the justice center when Kyle and Carrie returned from the sporting goods store. They had picked up supplies from an extensive list the sheriff had given them, including thermal underwear, snowsuits, gloves, waterproof boots, food, and water. Carrie had also purchased an expensive digital camera with a high-powered, telephoto zoom lens. She had put it all on her credit card, explaining that if they got the evidence they were after, her boss would happily reimburse her in exchange for the story.
The sheriff got out and opened the back gate. Kyle went around back to help the sheriff transfer his gear to the Hummer, while Carrie unloaded the groceries from the backseat. They were taking the H2 because it was unmarked but still equipped for the trip down the reservoir road. The sheriff handed Kyle three large backpacks already partially loaded, three waterproof and hooded sleeping bags, and several pairs of lightweight, plastic and aluminum snowshoes. As Kyle was loading the equipment, his cell phone went off.
He pulled it from his pocket and checked the caller ID. It was the Seattle office. He let it ring. After they had discussed the issue, he and the sheriff had agreed not to tell anyone of their plans, including Deputy Johnson and Agent Marasco. There had already been too many suspicious leaks for them to trust anyone. It had occurred to Kyle that the sheriff could be the one who was leaking the information—it would certainly explain why the mole hadn’t been discovered yet—and that his only reason for offering to accompany them was so he could eliminate both of them in the mountains, where they would never be found. Kyle didn’t put much stock in this thought, but he intended to keep a close eye on the sheriff just the same.
He checked his watch. It was probably SAC Geddes calling to ask where he was. The agents from Seattle were due to be arriving at any time now. Marasco was supposed to pick them up from the airport. When they arrived at the hospital, they would find that Kyle along with the sheriff and the only other witness to Lewis’s shooting had disappeared without telling anyone about their intentions—behavior that was certain to cost him his job and any chance of ever working for the FBI again, a thought that bothered him considerably. It was ironic that he was going to get himself fired just when he had decided to stay. In spite of what he had told his mother, he had never really had any intention of resigning and returning to Dallas. He had just been putting her off, telling her what she had wanted to hear, partly out of guilt but mostly because it had been easier than telling her the truth.
The sheriff seemed to sense his indecision. “I will take her. You do not have to go.”
Carrie came around the back of the truck then, arms loaded with bags of food and water, hair blowing across her face. As she walked from the shadow of the raised gate and into the sun, her eyes seemed to light up as she looked at Kyle.
“Yes, I do,” Kyle replied.
“Do what?” Carrie asked.
“Nothing,” Kyle said, taking the groceries from her and stowing them in the back.
Without further comment, the sheriff handed him two long, leather gun cases along with several boxes of ammo.
As Kyle stowed the gun cases, the true gravity of the situation struck him. Not only was he ignoring his superiors, he was placing himself in a situation that could get him killed. But like Carrie, he was determined to see it through. It was the right thing to do.
“Have you ever fired a shotgun?” the sheriff asked Carrie.
“A rifle but not a shotgun,” she replied. “Grandpa Bill used to take me out on the ranch to plink cans from time to time. But it’s been a long time. Why?”
“In case we have to defend ourselves,” Kyle said, looking at her. He wanted to make sure that she also understood the dangers involved in this little excursion of theirs.
“I’m better with a handgun. I got one after my ex—” She suddenly trailed off and looked away.
The sheriff went back to the Yukon and then returned with a small handgun case and several more boxes of ammo.
“What is it?” Carrie asked.
“A Glock 17 9mm,” the sheriff replied.
“I have a Smith & Wesson revolver,” Carrie replied. “It’s a little bit smaller, but I can handle that.”
“Hopefully, it won’t come to that,” Kyle said.
The three climbed into the Hummer. Carrie let Kyle drive.
They pulled out of the parking lot onto Main Street and headed north. As they did, they failed to notice the green Xterra across the park from the courthouse as it pulled away from the curb and turned onto Main behind them.