by Matthew Dunn
He called to Laith, “You’d be dead by now if the shooter’s still here. I need your help.”
Laith came to the vehicle and helped Will to gently lower Roger down to the road and onto his back. Will stood on top of the car for a moment, breathing heavily and trying to relax his muscles after their supreme effort. Eventually he jumped down and crouched next to Roger. Laith joined him.
Will saw three bullet holes in Roger. “I’m not going to leave him here. He’ll die.”
Laith nodded. “Damn right. But what are we going to do?”
Will looked up the road in the direction of Saranac Lake. It was nearly night, and the distant village was illuminated with artificial light. “Megiddo’s got his own burden in Lana,” he told Laith. He looked at Roger. “Now we have our own burden. But nothing changes.”
Laith nodded. “I’d say we’re about two kilometers away from the village. Switch over every five hundred meters?”
Will agreed. “Roger, you know this is going to hurt a lot, but you also know how this works.”
“Do it,” the CIA team leader muttered between clenched teeth.
Will grabbed one of the man’s arms, swept his other arm under Roger’s back, lifted him to a seated position before hauling him onto his shoulder. He stood looking at Laith. “You take point. Let’s go.”
Laith jogged ahead with his handgun at waist level, pointing directly at the route they were taking. Will ran a few meters behind and tried to keep his feet flat on the snow- and ice-covered ground in order not to bounce and cause Roger any further discomfort beyond what he was already suffering. They ran down the middle of the road toward Saranac. They ran using only moonlight and the faraway glow of the village to guide them. They ran knowing that a man with an assault rifle or a machine gun could cut them in half before they could do anything about it.
Will silently counted every step, and he knew that Laith would be doing the same. He kept his grip tight on Roger and focused on moving. Just as Roger would have done when he carried Will on his shoulder to get him away from Harry’s house. Just as the man they were now hunting would have done when he carried Will on his shoulder out of the inferno within Lace’s residence.
Will counted to five hundred and shouted, “Switch!”
He placed Roger carefully on the ground, pulled out his handgun, and moved ahead of Laith.
He heard Laith moving Roger to hoist him up onto his own shoulder. He heard Laith say, “I’m ready! Go!”
They ran on. Will held his gun ahead of him, his elbows crooked and squeezed together. The forest on both sides of them was now in total darkness, and he made no effort to search for hidden dangers within its blackness. He just looked down the road ahead, looked for oncoming cars, looked for anything that could be a man with a rifle pointed at them.
After a few minutes, they switched over again, and Will ran with his head low and with the deadweight of Roger on his shoulder. He heard him wheeze, occasionally rasp in pain, but he heard no complaints from him.
Soon Laith called “Switch!” and he took possession of Roger. They were now only one kilometer from Saranac Lake.
Snow fell fast through the night air and caked on Will’s face as he took point and ran forward with his handgun. He felt light-headed, exhausted, but single-minded. He cared about nothing other than keeping Roger alive, finding Megiddo, rescuing Lana, punching Megiddo to the ground, pointing his gun at the man, finding out what could be worse than attacking Camp David, and then shooting him in the head. He ran over thicker snow, and his legs felt weak-but he kept running. His feet sometimes slipped and stumbled-but he kept running.
They changed over one last time, and Roger’s weight on Will’s shoulder felt almost unbearable. But Saranac was now very close and easily visible. Will focused on Laith’s back and ran behind him, concentrating on every footfall and ensuring that he just kept up. Every second seemed to last a minute, every lungful of air seemed to be a lungful of ice, every footfall seemed to be a naked step onto a bed of nails.
It seemed an eternity before Laith finally slowed, ran off the road into the edge of the forest, and stopped. Will stood looking at his back for a while before allowing his legs to buckle and send him down to his knees. He gasped for air as he rested Roger on the ground. He rubbed his hand over the man’s face to brush away ice and snow. He asked, “Are you still alive?” and saw Roger give the tiniest of nods. He arched his back to try to ease the searing muscular pain. Laith came over and crouched down next to Will. Both men looked through the trees at the village of Saranac Lake. They were right beside it but remained hidden in the forest’s darkness. They saw a few cars, a few distant pedestrians, and a few buildings and streetlamps, and they heard a few noises of normal human existence.
Laith placed two fingers against Roger’s throat artery and stayed still for a while. He nodded. “He’s not in shock. This freezing weather has probably helped keep him alive and stable. The cold will have slowed the body right down.” He looked at Will. “But it will also ultimately kill him. He’ll be dead in less than two hours unless we can get him some medical care.”
A hand gripped Laith’s fingers. The hand belonged to Roger, who spoke with a strained but firm voice. “I’ll die when I want to, not when you say I will.” He coughed and smiled a little. “Remember, I’m a Navy SEAL. Among other things, we’re used to cold and pain.” He looked serious. “Leave me here. You go into town and find him. Then and only then come back for me.”
Will shook his head. “We’ll take you with us and find medical help. We can leave you there.”
“I have gunshot wounds,” Roger reminded him. “They’ll call the police to have you arrested. You’ll have to run, and then you’ll have no chance of finding Megiddo.”
Will looked at Laith’s expression of uncertainty. Will’s own thoughts were uncertain, too.
Roger released his grip on Laith, grabbed Will’s jacket, and pulled Will’s face close to his own. “Leave me here. The priority is getting Megiddo.”
Will shook his head once more. “For all your strength, you will die, and I can’t let that happen.” Then an idea came to him. “Whatever happens, your role in this mission is now over. If we get you medical help, you’ll be properly cared for, although the police will be notified and you’ll be held in custody while they work out what the hell happened to you. But that doesn’t matter, because in due course you’ll be sprung from custody by Patrick.” He looked at Laith. “How many cops do you think they have in Saranac Lake?”
Laith shrugged. “I can’t be sure, but I’d say three or four at most, and they probably only have two on duty at any one time, outside of emergencies.”
Will nodded. “I’m going to call the Saranac Lake Police Department. I’m going to say that I saw a vehicle on its side on this road about a mile outside the village. Then I’ll hang up.” He looked at Roger. “That should draw most if not all of Saranac’s tiny police contingent out of the village. We’ll use that time to get you into the village, find medical help, leave you there, and go for Megiddo.” He glanced at Laith. “We should have twenty or thirty minutes to scour the town before the cops return to hear about the man with gunshot wounds who’s been dumped at the hospital.” He looked back at Roger. “Say nothing to the doctors or the cops.” He smiled. “It shouldn’t be hard to do, but act like you’re dying.”
Roger nodded slowly, held him close for a while before saying quietly, “It’s been a pleasure working with you, Will.”
Will squeezed his hand. “I’m sure this won’t be the last time we work together. I certainly hope not.”
He patted Roger’s pockets, found the man’s cell phone, and smiled as he said, “It doesn’t matter now if they trace a call from this phone.” He opened the phone, called 911, said that he wished to be redirected to the Saranac Lake Police Department, spoke for a few seconds before saying that he had very bad phone reception and then hung up midsentence. He closed the phone, pulled out the SIM card, snapped it into pieces
, and threw the pieces and the handset into the forest. Then he walked closer to the tree line adjacent to the village and waited. In two minutes he heard a police siren. In three minutes he saw a police four-wheel-drive cruise steadily past him along the road where they had crashed.
He walked quickly to Laith and said, “I’ll carry him. You do the talking.” He looked down at Roger, nodded at the man, and said, “One last journey to make, my friend.”
Laith and Will secreted their handguns. Will lifted Roger onto his shoulder. The three men left the darkness of the forest and entered the village of Saranac Lake.
Forty-Seven
There weren’t many people on the streets, but those who were brave enough to be out in the driving snowfall and the dark looked at the odd trio as they moved carefully through the village. Will examined them all and didn’t care that they were staring at Laith, at him, and at the man he was carrying, but he wondered how much they would care if they knew that the men they were staring at were armed and extremely dangerous. He walked with Laith along a road called Olive Street. It took them into what looked like the center of the village, and it was clear to him that the whole place was a popular tourist destination, because the few people they did see were dressed in winter sports attire. Will knew that Laith would be ignoring them, that he would be looking for someone who looked like a local resident.
Will checked his watch and cursed. Time was running out.
Laith stopped, waved a hand by his waist to signal Will to wait, then walked quickly ahead to a man and woman on the other side of the street. He spoke to the couple for a few seconds, pointed in the direction of Will and the man he was carrying, shook his head, pointed in another direction, and nodded at the couple before leaving them. Will expected Laith to come straight over to him, but instead he stood in the street and looked up and down its length. A car approached him, and Laith walked out into the middle of the street, waving his hands. The car stopped, Laith spoke to the driver, then stepped back as the car sped away. He then repeated the action with another oncoming car containing a solitary male driver. Laith pointed at Will and Roger, gave the driver something from his pocket, and jogged back to Will. “Not good. The nearest hospital is the Adirondack Medical Center, two kilometers away on Route Eighty-Six to the north. But for fifty dollars I managed to persuade the man in the car to take us there. I told him there’s been a hunting accident.”
Will moved quickly to the car. Laith opened the rear door and helped him get Roger into the passenger seat. Will sat next to Roger and held the injured man against him with both arms. Laith jumped into the front passenger seat and began telling the driver all about the hunting accident as he drove along. The driver looked like a clerk or a shopkeeper, and most of what Laith said to him seemed repetitive and unnecessary, but Will knew that Laith was simply minimizing the opportunity for the driver to speak to Will-or to speak at all.
Within a few minutes, they pulled up at the medical center. Laith turned to the driver. “You heading back into the village?”
The driver responded, “For sure.”
Laith nodded. “I’ll give you another fifty dollars if you wait for us and take us back there after we check our friend into this place.”
The driver seemed to hesitate. “How long would I have to wait?”
Laith smiled. “Hardly any time at all.”
The man looked unsure but nodded.
Laith jumped out of the car and helped Will get Roger out. Instead of putting him onto his shoulder, Will lifted Roger into his arms. While Laith stayed by the car, Will walked alone, carrying his precious burden into the small reception area. A solitary woman was sitting behind a counter, but otherwise the area was empty. The woman looked at them and instantly slammed a hand down onto a buzzer. She had clearly called for immediate medical assistance. Will set Roger down on the floor, looked at him, and fought back an overwhelming urge to stay. Roger shook his head and gave the tiniest of smiles. Will nodded at him, smiled, turned, and jogged out of the hospital, ignoring the calls of the woman behind them. Laith slapped the roof of the car just as Will approached the vehicle. Both men got back in, and Laith told the driver they’d been instructed by the hospital to report the incident to the local police in the village.
Within minutes they were back in the heart of the village and on foot. Will checked his watch again. He looked at the police building in front of them and said, “I need you to find out about transportation links out of here. Find out where Megiddo and Lana may now be waiting. But we can’t be seen right here.”
They darted into the darkness and emerged into Woodruff Street, adjacent to a wide, sweeping river. Laith looked up and down the street before walking briskly up to a group of three men. He spoke to them and returned to Will. “Megiddo’s out of luck. There are three public transportation services in the village-the Franklin County Public Transportation bus service, the Greyhound coach service, and the Adirondack Scenic Railway-but they’re all closed right now. The buses will be running in the morning, and the railway is closed for the winter season. There’s also an airport, but it’s seven miles away.”
“Taxis?”
Laith shook his head. “There are a couple of local private firms, but they’ve shut up shop while the weather’s this bad.”
“It’s us who are out of luck,” Will said urgently. “If any of the village transportation services were open, we could hope to pin Megiddo down at one of their locations. Instead”-he looked around-“he could be anywhere here.”
“Maybe he’ll wait until morning and get a bus then.”
“I doubt that. He’s got Lana with him and won’t want to hang about and risk her screaming for help. And if they wait out the night back in the forest, they’ll freeze to death.”
“Maybe he’ll do what we did-pay someone to drive them out of here. Maybe he’ll head to the airport.”
“Maybe, maybe.” Will kicked the snow-covered ground in frustration. “Maybe.” He looked around again and grew calm as a thought came to him. “Maybe he doesn’t know what to do yet.” He looked at Roger. “Just like us. Maybe he’s still on the streets trying to work out what to do.”
Laith nodded. “Neither of us knows the layout of this village.” He looked at the river. “But I’d say this river runs northeast. I’d say that the best we can do is split up. You cover ground on the east of the river. I’ll cross it and cover the west.”
Will agreed and said, “If you see him, don’t engage the man, because he’ll use Lana as a shield. Just stay out of sight and call me.”
Laith sprinted up the street and broke left along another street to cross the river. Will looked around, pulled out his gun from the small of his back, and stashed it in a lower front jacket pocket where he could reach it quickly. He jogged forward before running at a full sprint. He ran left onto Main Street and left again onto River Street, where the icy river beside him immediately widened. His boots crunched on thick snow as he moved over road and pavement and dodged parked vehicles, slow-moving pedestrians, and dim streetlamps. The wind dropped, and snow now fell fast and vertical. As he raced forward, he looked at every man, every woman, every house entrance, every shop facade, and every vehicle interior. He looked at everything but saw nothing that made him want to pull out his gun and shoot.
He moved away from the broad river and headed up Shepard Avenue, crossed onto Clinton Avenue and Franklin Avenue, moved northeast along Helen Street, and north along Pine Street until he was back at the river and not far from where he had started his search. He cursed aloud.
A siren sounded very close by, and Will immediately ran off the road and dived behind an empty car. He lay on snow and heard the siren come closer. He watched a police vehicle speed past him, and he stayed still until it was out of sight. He was certain that it was heading to the Adirondack Medical Center and that doctors had called the police after taking charge of their strange new patient. He was also certain that the police would return quickly to the village to search for
the man who had delivered Roger to the hospital and then disappeared.
His cell phone vibrated silently in his trouser pocket. He withdrew it and saw that the caller was Laith. He answered.
Laith’s voice was barely audible. “Can’t be sure, but I can see two people who could be them. They’re about one hundred meters from my position on Prospect Avenue. If it is them, then Megiddo’s discarded his rifle. But the man I’m looking at is holding the woman very close to him, and that could mean he’s got a handgun trained on her.”
Will spoke quickly and with no effort to hide the urgency or tension in his voice. “Stay on them, but for God’s sake keep your distance. I’m coming to you. Guide me in.”
“Okay. Prospect Avenue is about four hundred meters northwest of the river. As soon as you hit either William Street or Leona Street, slow down or you’ll run into them.”
Will kept his phone in his hand, sprinted across a road over the river, and headed west. He ran along Bloomingdale Avenue and could see shops closing for the evening and restaurants and diners opening. He ran into a quieter street and immediately recognized it as Olive, the route they’d used to enter the village. He slowed, looked around, and decided he needed to head north to find Laith’s approximate location. He jogged up William, and all around him was now quiet and deserted. He slowed to a walk, called Laith, gave his location, and listened to his colleague’s quiet instructions.