The Denali Deception

by Ernest Dempsey

  Sean sat up on the couch and looked at the Band-Aid on his wrist. Jack had taken the IV out a few days before, and ever since Sean had been drinking fluids normally and switched to pills for the pain in his chest.

  He'd recovered faster than expected and was even getting up to move around a bit. There wasn't much to do in the cabin except for reading old books Jack kept on a shelf near the fireplace. Sean thumbed through a few of the pages once, but the story didn't hold his attention.

  On the third day after Sean had awoken in the cabin, Jack went into town to get some supplies his unexpected guest requested. The host had planned on doing it the previous day, but blustery conditions brought in another round of snow that kept the old doctor at home for another day.

  When the weather subsided, he ventured out in his old truck and disappeared down the trail.

  Sean watched until the tail lights disappeared before he got to work testing out his muscle strength. He knew Jack wouldn't approve and would likely tell him to take it easy for the next few weeks, but Sean didn't have that kind of time. Someone had tried to kill him, which meant he was onto something. What it was, he didn't know for sure, but he intended to find out.

  He eased himself down to the floor and propped his weight up on his hands and knees. He tried to lower his chest to do a push-up, but the pain on the right side of his chest was too much, and he crumpled to the wooden floorboards in a heap.

  His lungs rose and fell as he gasped for air. He'd only been in the cabin for four or five days—according to Jack—but he'd weakened significantly.

  "Maybe I'll start with the legs and work up to the arms and chest," he said to himself.

  He pushed his weight off the floor and stood next to the smoldering fireplace. He put his arms out in front of him and bent his knees until they were hovering over the tops of his feet. Then he stood up, completing one squat rep. He let out a sigh and repeated the process until he'd done ten reps.

  A bead of sweat rolled down the side of his head. The cabin was surprisingly warm seeing that the world outside was covered in snow and ice.

  He wiped his forehead and noticed the logs stacked by the fireplace. Outside, a larger stack of uncut wood was piled by the back door. A shiny axe leaned up against the logs.

  Sean raised an eyebrow.

  Two minutes later, he was standing in a foot of snow next to the cabin, chopping wood in Jack's pajamas and his shoes. The swinging motion didn't hurt much. It was more of an irritation than a hindering pain. He split a log in half, then set one piece back up on its end and cut it in half, repeating the process several times until he'd worked up a sweat. His heart pounded in his chest from the exertion.

  "That wasn't so bad," he said.

  He heard a car coming down the trail.

  He hurriedly put the axe back where he got it and rushed back inside, careful to stamp the snow off his shoes and clean himself off before getting back into his makeshift bed on the couch.

  Jack's truck rumbled to a stop, and the engine cut off a moment later. Sean heard the door slam shut, the footsteps coming up to the door, and then Jack appeared in the doorway. He closed the door behind him and set a few bags of groceries on the little round table in the corner of the kitchen.

  "Looks like someone's been up and about," Jack said, staring at his patient with a condemning glare.

  Sean did his best to look innocent, but the older man wasn't fooled.

  "I was getting antsy," Sean said. "And besides, I'm feeling much better."

  "Yeah, I've heard that from patients before. Know what we call that in the medical field?"

  "Noncompliance?"

  "Oh, seems we have a know-it-all in our midst," Jack said with a shake of the head. "No one wants to listen to the doctor. Everyone knows better than me."

  "I didn't do much," Sean said. "Just a little exercise to build up my strength."

  Jack made his way into the kitchen carrying a carton of milk and a container of butter. "I don't care what you do, son. I took the bullets out of you. If you want to go hurting yourself or putting more bullets in, that's your business. Can't say I'll be there next time, though."

  "Hopefully, I won't need it."

  Jack closed the refrigerator door and took his coat off. He hung it on the chair and lumbered over to the small pile of wood next to the fireplace. He placed another log on the fire and stoked it with the iron leaning against the wall.

  "I see you split some wood out back. Hardly what I'd call easy exercise."

  Sean said nothing. He didn't have to defend himself to this guy, even though the man had saved his life. The sooner Sean could get back to civilization and figure out what was going on, the better.

  "No need to thank me for the chopped wood," he said.

  Jack kept his eyes on the fire. "Good, because I wasn't going to."

  Sean grinned at the response. He liked the old guy. Part of him wanted to know the full story about why Jack was out here on his own, but a little voice in Sean's head told him to let sleeping dogs lie.

  "I made your phone call," Jack said, standing up straight again. He turned and faced Sean, who sat up a little straighter on the sofa.

  "And?"

  "And...the people at Axis said they'd never heard of you. They claimed they'd never heard the name Sean Wyatt before. And that security clearance number you gave me didn't check out either. Did you give me a wrong number or something?"

  Sean's heart rate jumped. Had he heard Jack correctly? No one at Axis knew his name? That couldn't be right.

  "I'm sorry; you said they don't know me?"

  "Yeah. They said they'd never heard of you."

  "And you spoke to Emily Starks?"

  Jack nodded and eased into his recliner near the fireplace. "Yep. Seemed like a nice gal. Kind of direct, to the point, but not rude. Claimed she had no idea who I was talking about."

  Sean shimmied to the edge of the seat cushion. This is worse than I thought. Axis has been compromised.

  "What about the other number? Did you call Tommy Schultz?"

  "Yeah, but all I got was his voice mail. Left a message that he had a friend who needed to let him know he was okay. Thought it might be better if I didn't give specifics in case someone else was listening to the call."

  Sean's eyes narrowed. "Why would you think that?"

  Jack took a pocket knife out of his jeans and picked up a piece of wood he'd left on the chair's arm. He whittled away at the wood for a second before answering.

  "Son, I've seen a lot of crazy things in my life. I once had a man come into the ER with a kitchen knife sticking out of his forehead. Darned thing split right down the middle of his brain. He was fully conscious, too. One of the strangest things I've ever seen. We ended up getting the knife out. He survived and went on to live a normal life. I've seen it all. So when I see someone who has pissed in a hornet's nest, I know it."

  Sean ignored the metaphor, although he thought it a good one. His host was insinuating something Sean hadn't considered. Were he at both full strength and 100 percent mental faculties, he likely would have thought of it as well.

  The men he fought in the clearing, the ones who were going to execute him, obviously worked for the government. That meant they'd be watching all Sean's friends, monitoring any contacts that were made. No doubt, if they were watching Tommy's phones and email, they would have noted a call coming in from the remote region of New York—the same region where Sean had been abducted.

  His mind raced. If the government was watching Tommy's communications, his friend could be in danger. He had to get to Atlanta, and fast.

  He stood up and wavered for a second, dizzy from the sudden movement. "Where are my clothes?" he asked.

  "Over there, on the table. I went ahead and washed them for you. Although your shirt and coat are ruined. I took the liberty of getting you a new jacket, and you can have one of my T-shirts."

  Sean stalked over to the kitchen table and picked up his pants.

  Jack acted like he
wasn't paying any attention to his guest, but he could see Sean out of the corner of his eye.

  "What's got you in a tizzy?" Jack asked.

  "I...I have to get back to Atlanta. My friends could be in danger. If what you're telling me is true, the men that came after me might go for them next."

  "Of course what I'm telling you is true." Jack turned to face Sean. "Look, Son, I know you want to get back home and help out your friends, but whoever wants you dead is a real power player. Who was it that you said sent you here in the first place?"

  Sean swallowed back the lump that rose in his throat. "The president."

  "Right. And do you trust him?"

  "He and I have been friends for a long time, Jack. John Dawkins may be a politician, but I trust him."

  "Fine. You trust your president. That doesn't change the fact that you need to lay low for a while and recover. It will be a while before you will be back to normal physical condition, whatever that is for you."

  More thoughts flooded Sean's brain as he slipped out of the pajamas and back into his jeans.

  If Emily had disavowed knowledge of Sean's existence, that could mean whoever was behind all this had gotten to her.

  He shook off the notion. He and Emily went back a long time. They'd worked together as partners when he first joined Axis. She'd begged him to stay on when she got promoted to director. If there was anyone Sean could trust in the government, it was Emily Starks.

  If she was acting oddly, that could mean only one thing.

  "Jack, do you have any money sitting around that I could borrow? I'll only need enough to get me back to Atlanta."

  Jack nodded. "Sure. There's a cigar box on the counter. That's where I keep my cash. Should be a few hundred dollars in there. Take whatever you need."

  "Are you sure? I don't want to put you out."

  "Son, you strike me as a man who is going to do what he wants to do. There's nothing I can do to stop it, so I may as well help expedite your journey. I just hope the final stop isn't a grave like the one I pulled you out of the other day."

  Sean stepped over to the cigar box on the counter and pried it open. As Jack said, there were folded twenty-dollar bills stacked inside. He took a hundred and closed the lid. "This should get me back," he said. "I'll return the money to you when I get all this worked out."

  "It's no big deal. I have plenty of money. Just do what you have to do. A fella like you shouldn't have any problem getting a new debit card and cash from your bank."

  "Yeah, that's just what I'm worried about," Sean said in a distant tone. "I think I've been burned."

  Chapter 5

  Atlanta, Georgia

  Tommy stared at the check for a moment and then looked up at the waiter.

  "I'm sorry, sir," the waiter said. "This card was declined, too. Do you have another one you'd like to try?"

  "No...I...those are the only ones I have."

  June looked across the table at him with sympathetic eyes. "It's okay," she said, fishing a gold credit card out of her black leather clutch. "I got this one." She handed the waiter the card and the check. "Run it on this one."

  Tommy ran his fingers through his hair. "I am so sorry. There must be some kind of mistake."

  "Sweetie, it's okay," she said. "I don't mind paying. I have money, too, you know."

  "I know, but it's embarrassing."

  "It's fine. Like you said, the bank must have just made a mistake."

  Three banks, he thought. It wasn't the first time something like that had happened with one of his cards. It was the first time, however, it had happened with multiple cards. That fact set off an alarm in his head.

  "I appreciate you picking up the tab," he said, pushing the growing panic to the back of his mind. "I can pay you back."

  "Honey, really, it's okay. You know I make decent money, right?"

  Tommy knew.

  June was a research scientist in Germany. During her time in the field, she'd worked for a pharmaceutical company for several years before switching employment to the university. They didn't pay as well as the previous job, but she'd made enough in pharmaceuticals to support her lifestyle for a long time. Plus, the university job paid pretty well, too.

  "Thank you," he said.

  "It's fine. Seriously, don't worry about it." She glanced at her watch, and her eyes widened. "Shoot, I have to go. Early flight back tomorrow. Need to get some rest."

  Tommy sighed. He was glad to have been able to spend the last two weeks with her. He'd never met anyone quite like June. She was smart, successful, respected by her peers, and she was beautiful. On top of all that, she was secretly tough, trained in self-defense and able to hold her own in a fight.

  She was the perfect woman for Tommy, which only served to ravage his anxiety with the constant barrage of Don't screw it up; don't screw it up on repeat in his mind.

  He'd hired a personal trainer to help him get in better shape in spite of June telling him she loved him just the way he was. The results had been astounding and helped his self-confidence. He was stronger and fitter than ever before. Still, decades of insecurity caused him to worry about losing the woman of his dreams.

  He pushed those thoughts aside and smiled at her. He reached across the table and took her soft hand in his. "I wish you didn't have to go. These last few weeks have been so good."

  She returned the smile and tilted her head to the side. A strand of blonde hair broke loose from the tight ponytail and hung down by her ear. "I know. I wish I didn't have to leave, too. But we'll see each other again next month. You're still planning on coming over, right?"

  His head rocked up and down. "Yeah. Already got my ticket."

  "See? It won't be that bad. Time will fly by, and before you know it we'll be sitting on the Italian coast sipping espresso and eating pizza."

  "That sounds amazing. Just the two of us, relaxing at a cafe overlooking the Mediterranean...that might be as close to heaven as I can get in this life."

  The two stared at each other for another long moment before they got up and left the table. Outside, a winter rain shower had come through downtown, soaking the streets and sidewalks. By the time Tommy and June were outside, the rain was gone and a cold wind was blowing through the city.

  "Rain followed by freezing wind," Tommy said. "Welcome to winter in the South."

  "Yeah," she said, looking around at the downtown buildings. "It's a shame there's no snow. I bet the city is beautiful under a blanket of white powder."

  "When we get it, it's rarely powder. More like slush. Although, we do get a good snow every now and then.”

  The two walked down the sidewalk and made a right. They went two more blocks until they arrived at June's hotel. At the door, they stopped and faced each other again.

  "So..." Tommy said.

  "So..." June echoed.

  "I guess this is goodbye for now."

  "I guess so."

  He wanted to walk her to her room, to ask to stay the night, but he didn't. Tommy had remained a gentleman during their relationship. He wasn't going to change course now.

  "Call me when you get back to Germany, okay?" he said.

  "Of course."

  He leaned closer and wrapped his hand around her lower back, embracing her tight as their lips locked.

  "Be careful."

  Her face scrunched into a smile. "Careful? You're the one who runs all around the world getting shot at. I just sit in a lab."

  He bit his lower lip. "Point taken."

  "I'll see you in a few weeks," she said and walked through the automatic sliding glass doors.

  He watched until she disappeared around the corner inside before turning to walk away. His car was just across the street, and he looked both ways to make sure there was no traffic before trotting over to his parking space.

  June had spent the last few weeks in a guest room at Tommy's place in the Virginia Highlands area of Atlanta, but with her early flight the next day, she'd wanted to stay in a hotel on her last n
ight so she could be a little closer to the airport.

  He looked back at the hotel as he opened his car door, lingering for a moment to savor the feel of her lips, the smell of her perfume.

  The sound of footsteps from nearby brought him back to the moment. He turned and saw a man walking alone in a black trench coat, typing something on his phone as he made his way down the sidewalk. He seemed oblivious to Tommy's presence.

  Tommy swung his car door open farther and was about to get in when a voice stopped him.

  "Mr. Schultz?"

  Tommy spun around and saw a man in a dark green tactical jacket with black cargo pants.

  "Yes. And you are?"

  The man held up his wallet, displaying his government identification to Tommy.

  "Kyle Sherman. I work for the federal government. We'd like to ask you some questions about your friend, Sean Wyatt."

  Tommy's eyebrows cinched as he frowned. "Sean? What about him?"

  Tommy sensed another man approaching from behind him and another one from his left. He was being hemmed in.

  "Am I under arrest or something?"

  "No," the man said, pushing out his bottom lip for a second. "We'd just like to ask you a few questions. That's all. You are free to go whenever you like."

  Tommy's pulse quickened. He glanced to his left at a guy who'd stopped next to his car. He didn't have to turn around to know the other person had positioned himself a few feet behind him.

  "What's this about?"

  Kyle put his wallet back into one of his pockets and crossed his arms. "Mr. Schultz, we have reason to believe that your friend is engaging in treason. We think he might be working with the Russians on something big. We were hoping you could help us put together a better profile on him so we know what we're dealing with."

  Tommy chuckled. "The Russians? I thought the Cold War ended a long time ago."

  "As I'm sure you're aware, tensions have been growing between them and us lately. Now it seems that your friend is working with them."

  "Sean? Russians? No way. Seriously, zero chance that's what's going on."

  Kyle reached into his jacket and pulled out a photo. He held it out so Tommy could see it.