Snow Rising (The Great North Woods Pack Book 4)

by Shawn Underhill

  Merrill shuddered at the sight of the explosion, feeling the shockwave move through him shortly after the sight.

  Jason kept his promise by holding back a smile. After watching the flames for half a minute, he drove to the nearest onramp and took the Maine Turnpike south to Massachusetts.

  “The New York lab should be safe, I hope,” Merrill said. “We deal with nothing more complex than cough medicine there.”

  “Let’s hope,” Jason returned.

  “Perhaps hope is a foolish fancy at this point.”

  “The family is on their way to Virginia. That’s real hope.”

  “Yes,” Merrill said, thinking of the horrendous dollar value presently going up in smoke. “That’s one way to look at it.”

  12

  “Dad,” Janie said. “I think I found something.”

  Joseph Snow heard her as if from a great distance. Hearing her say, “Dad,” again, he stepped back out of his thoughts and felt fully present at his daughter’s side. Turning, he looked to the computer monitor she was fixated on. It displayed a webpage for a personal protection provider.

  “It looks to be a big operation,” she said. “They claim to offer the broadest services on the east coast—everything from trained guard dogs to full-time security teams for prominent clientele. Celebrities, athletes, CEO’s ...”

  “Where are they based?”

  “Maryland. Thirty miles from DC.”

  He leaned closer as Janie scrolled to the mission statement. Beneath a logo of an eagle behind a shield of stars and stripes, its wings outstretched, its talons clasping arrows and olive branches, an impressive list of credentials were claimed. Professional service providers, equipped with advanced training from former military and Secret Service personnel, could be dispatched domestically and abroad within hours. No scenario was too difficult.

  “What do you think?”

  “Interesting,” Joseph said.

  “Obviously the primary contact number doesn’t match the number from Merrill’s phone, but—”

  “I’d be shocked if it did.”

  “This could be the front to the business,” she surmised. “The more shady deals would probably be handled off record.”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  “I just got a feeling the moment I found the page,” Janie said as she looked at him.

  “I’m feeling it as well,” her father confirmed, rising from his office chair. “I think this is our match.”

  Janie looked up at him. “Now what?”

  “I might as well get the answer straight from the horse’s mouth.”

  “Won’t she just lie? That’s if she’ll even speak at all.”

  “If she speaks, I’m sure she’ll lie. But once I mention the name of the outfit, the truth will likely be evident on her face, regardless of her words.”

  ***

  Joseph Snow walked casually in the dark. He watched the sky as he moved down the long driveway, skirting the pastures, past the first barn to the lower one. His quiet entry barely disturbed the animals from their rest.

  As he had walked he’d expected to find young David Wilson still keeping watch from the nearby tree line. Yet as he’d neared the barn, there had been no sign of him. This puzzled him mildly, but not so much as to distract him from his purpose. He hoped that the boy was enjoying the night with the other youngsters, as they rightfully should. It was them—the younger generations—that he labored for, to maintain a space of freedom and security, to preserve their unique way of life in a place that could not be pierced by the outside world.

  Now, nearing the stall which contained Rowan Merrill, he pulled a string to light a bulb overhead. Leaning on the stall door, he looked down at her in the bed of hay and horse blankets. Her eyes were open. He watched her for nearly a minute and only counted two blinks of her eyes in that timespan. Her face was devoid of any expression.

  “My accommodations are lacking,” he finally said. “It must be difficult to rest this way.”

  “Rot in hell,” she rasped quietly, her eyes staring at nothing. Her voice was ruined from screaming.

  “Let’s not be unpleasant,” he returned. “I haven’t come to taunt you, but merely to ask you a few simple questions.”

  No response.

  “Would you like another blanket? Last I checked, the temperature was hovering low in the teens.”

  Nothing.

  “This could be easier on you … if you’d cooperate.”

  Still nothing.

  “Your brother’s lab in Boston,” he began. “According to the news, it was gutted by a fire a couple of hours ago.”

  “Nothing,” she finally spoke.

  Joseph watched her closely. “Nothing what?”

  “That lab is nothing to me,” she answered.

  “I’m betting that the one in Portland is something.”

  “Impossible.”

  “It’s next on my list,” he warned her.

  “No one without a code can enter my building. Even if you set fire to its exterior, the interior structure is reinforced, and the sprinkler systems are the best money can buy.”

  “By chance, are the protection services you’ve enjoyed provided by Global Services out of Maryland?” he asked.

  She blinked. Without turning her head, she looked at him briefly with just her eyes.

  Joseph nodded subtly. “Very well. You recognize the name, at least. That’s a start. Now that we know that much, can you give me the name of your contact at Global?”

  “You have my phone,” she said.

  “Can Global precisely track your phone?”

  “Call them and ask.”

  “Believe me, I’ve considered that,” he told her. “But experience has taught me to be a little more subtle than that. I’d like to know exactly who is on the other end of that number before I dial it.”

  “It’s a horrible feeling,” she said.

  “What’s that?”

  “Having valuable information withheld from you. It’s infuriating, isn’t it?”

  “There are worse feelings,” he replied.

  She glared at him in silence.

  “Who is it?” he asked. “Level with me. A retired Colonel? Former Special Forces? Someone you went to college with?”

  Nothing.

  “How much is known about my family?”

  She scoffed.

  “Tell me,” he pressed. “Talk to me, and I’ll consider improving your present circumstances.”

  She looked at him only with her eyes.

  “I’m not planning to kill you,” he told her honestly. “Believe it or not, Miss Merrill, I honestly don’t enjoy having you here. I don’t enjoy making threats, don’t enjoy having to speak to you, or even having to think about you. Tell me what I need to know, and I’ll see to it that you’re made more comfortable. Then, in time, we’ll see about—”

  “Have I not made myself clear?” she said, now holding her gaze steadily. “I despise you, Mr. Snow. You and all your kind. I hate you for all that you possess and all that you have withheld from me. There is no threat or promise of kindness that could change my mind. If you wish to know about Global, search them out at your own risk. Torture me if you please, like the beast that you truly are. I know what authority requires. I understand leadership and the need to make hard decisions in order to reach necessary ends. The position you are in, I understand. But you I hate.”

  “You forget,” he said. “I did not seek you out.”

  “I forget nothing,” she hissed.

  “You would truly throw away the remainder of your life just to defy me?”

  “As much as I hate it,” she answered, “I would endure any loss as long as I had the comfort of denying you my assistance. My comfort now is to see the expression of helplessness on your face.”

  “So that’s your final answer?”

  She blinked, then broke eye contact.

  Joseph watched her for a moment before turning away and exiting the barn.
Beast, he thought. Not knowing that my brother will soon arrive, she calls me a beast for trying to reason with her. She, with all that hatred in her glare and her voice wrecked from screeching—she calls me a beast.

  He walked slowly to the house, enjoying the crisp air and clear sky. Upon entering the house he saw his wife and daughter standing before the great room TV. The Boston news showed news copter footage courtesy of a Portland, Maine affiliate.

  Janie turned and said, “You won’t believe this.”

  “Try me,” he returned as he looked to the TV. The footage was zoomed in on a large structure fire.

  “People from all over Portland reported hearing a huge explosion from the waterfront.”

  “Ah, let me guess. An old building in a yard full of shipping containers.”

  Janie nodded.

  “Well,” he said. “This changes things.”

  13

  His eyes opened slowly. It was dark. He felt himself slouched down in his camp chair, stiff and cold. The little camp fire had burned down to a small pile of coals, which accounted for being cold. But it was not the cold that had stirred him.

  His phone was vibrating against his leg.

  Standing slowly, his stiff knees protesting, Lars set his rifle against a tree, then retrieved the phone from his cargo pocket. The text message was from the old man.

  Are you awake?

  “I am now,” he though aloud. He tapped the little green phone icon associated with the contact number and waited for the call to connect.

  Joseph answered promptly, saying, “I apologize for the hour.”

  “No trouble,” Lars replied, trying to sound energetic. “What’s new?”

  “It’s been an interesting night, to say the least,” Joseph told him. “I need to speak with you as soon as you can get here.”

  “Five minutes. Ten at most.”

  “Very good.”

  He ended the call and pocketed the phone. After stamping on what was left of the hot coals, smudging them with cool soot, he picked up his rifle and moved through the little trail to McCall’s back yard. He walked mechanically, shivering, his head not working.

  He opened the creaky truck door and placed his rifle on the passenger side as he slid in. Cranking the ignition, the engine turned over slowly, caught, and chugged. The old v-8 sounded something like a diesel, and Lars felt an odd kinship with the tired truck. Both were being set to task in the middle of a cold night. Out of respect, he gave the old rig a minute to warm up before backing out of the driveway.

  On the road, the act of driving seemed to set his mind to working. This feels bad but really it’s good, he thought. Something big must have happened. He didn’t sound angry. Whatever has happened can’t be a disaster. It must be some sort of break. It has to be. Either he wishes to inform me of something big or else wishes to pick my brain some more.

  He laughed quietly. His brain had little information to be harvested. The old man seemed to be overlooking the fact that he was not an intelligence or logistics man, but simply a gunny.

  Turning left onto the long driveway, he let the truck chug along slowly. He wanted an extra minute or so to gather his senses, to appear alert. Though he was not being called to an emergency, he wished to appear at least reasonably lucid as he entered the big farmhouse.

  Moving past the barns, he wondered which one contained the Merrill woman. Hell, he thought. I guess I’m having a better night than somebody. If I’m cold, I’ll bet she’s colder. That’s if she’s not scared witless or else so angry she can’t even think straight. Probably a little of everything. Whatever, it must be bad. Must be real bad. After being a big deal to be treated like a barn animal must really sting.

  He crested the final rise and parked off to one side. He stepped out, leaving his rifle on the seat, then stood there for a moment taking in the open view of the sky. Even with the lights from the house, the sky was a wonder on such a clear, dry night. Perfection.

  The front door of the house opened. Joseph stepped out.

  “Just stargazing,” Lars said as he started toward the house.

  “Perfect night for it,” the old man returned. “Come in and get yourself a cup of coffee. My daughter just made a fresh pot.”

  Stepping in as the old man gestured for him to enter, Lars walked into the unmistakable scent of fresh Dunkin’ Donuts. The fireplace was burning. The house was warm. He saw the old woman who looked so young apart from her hair. She nodded politely. Then he saw the daughter pouring coffee into a big mug—not the little ones from the diner.

  “How do you like it?” she asked.

  “Little hit of sugar and cream. Please.”

  Then he caught sight of the TV. Something was burning somewhere. Whatever it was held less appeal to him than the thought of coffee.

  Then Joseph announced, “Two of the Merrill family’s research labs have burned in the space of a few hours.”

  “Tough day for them,” Lars said, just as Janie came over and handed him the steaming mug. He thanked her and took that first sip that was always the best. Perhaps it was all in his head, but even one sip of the coffee made a difference in his presence of mind.

  “The first one was my doing,” Joseph said. “I sent Paul and Lester to Boston before midnight to burn it.”

  “And the second one?” Lars asked after a second sip of the coffee.

  “Good question.”

  “The Merrill woman has a younger brother,” Evelyn said. “My husband decided to burn his lab as a not-so-subtle message.”

  Now Lars glanced around at all three of the Snows. He was working to stay focused on them and not the coffee. It was clear to him that he was the odd man out. He could see in their faces that they were all in relative agreement about something. Now they had brought him in because they wished to test him, to observe his ability to catch on and keep up. They wanted the point of view of a human. They desired to observe and question his human reactions.

  “What’s your guess?” Joseph asked. “Your gut reaction.”

  He took another sip from the mug and thought, at least they gave me the coffee. At least they let me have that small stimulation before putting me through a workout.

  “The brother,” he answered.

  “Why?”

  “It’s not my only guess,” Lars clarified. “It’s my first guess because … you sent him a message. So, he sent one back.”

  “But why would he do that?” Janie said. “It’s a family business.”

  “You folks have his sister, clearly,” Lars said. “That alone might put a serious scare into a man. Then you identified his lab and burned it. If you’re willing to do that, nothing’s stopping you from going to the sister’s place, poking around and seeing what she’s got there. Probably some sensitive stuff. And then, if you don’t like what you find there, what’s stopping you from going after him personally?”

  “Yes,” Joseph said. “He probably assumes that we’ve killed his sister. By those standards, he may also assume that we’re coming for him next.”

  Lars felt a little shift in his mind. “Do you know if he’s a family man?” he asked.

  “He is. Unlike his sister.”

  “That’s all I need to hear,” Lars said, speaking with complete confidence now for the first time. “He’s thinking of his own household primarily. He torched his sister’s place to cover whatever secrets she had going on there. He answered your message and covered the family’s tracks with one match. Now he probably hopes to distance himself from New England, before you come looking for him personally. Strikes me as someone who doesn’t wanna play ball with you, sir.”

  “That’s my gut feeling,” Joseph said.

  “At a glance, I’d say the tide has turned in your favor. So, what’s the problem?”

  “The problem,” Joseph said. “Interesting choice of words.”

  “I mean, you don’t appear satisfied. Not to me, anyway.”

  “The problem is that I was rather hoping to meet with Raymond
Merrill.”

  “Guessing the feeling ain’t mutual.”

  “Well, if he assumes that I’ve killed his sister, that’s the collective guilty conscience of their family at work.”

  “If I was in his shoes, I’d assume the worst,” Lars said.

  “I can see that. But there’s something else at stake here. Something very valuable.”

  Lars took a long sip of the coffee, then said as he lowered the mug, “The machine. You have the woman’s fancy gadget.”

  “Fancy is putting it mildly,” Joseph said. “What she brought here to show off is a very rudimentary—though impressive—beginning to a technology which is attempting to enter human minds.”

  “If you can enter them, you can manipulate them,” the mercenary said, looking at the old Snow.

  “That’s their hope.”

  “Plus you still have the drone,” Lars added.

  “Safe in your care, I assume.”

  Lars patted his chest pocket as he nodded.

  “It’s a cozy way of life, isn’t it?” remarked Evelyn Snow.

  Lars smirked in response to her sarcasm and said, “I’ve been worried about this drone. Wondering what contractor developed it and might want it back. But this other thing is way bigger.”

  “I could destroy it easy enough,” Joseph said. “But that wouldn’t resolve the entire problem. Who else is aware of its existence? Who but the Merrill’s contributed funds for its years of development? Assuming that Rowan Merrill is dead, who would like to take control of it now and continue its development?”

  Assuming that she’s dead, Lars thought. Not sure I like where this is headed. I am also assumed dead.

  He said aloud, “Only the Merrill’s can answer that.”

  “Correct. And the woman has been completely uncooperative so far,” Joseph said. “I have little faith that she’ll ever be of help. That’s why I was rather hoping her brother would reach out to me before taking such drastic action as burning his sister’s building to the ground.”