Assassin Games

by Sidney Bristol

  Tate climbed behind the wheel. He reached behind them and pulled a small red-and-white medical kit from his gear bag and tossed it at her.

  She almost wanted to take back all the bad things she’d thought about him. Almost.

  “He has to have another place ready,” Tate said.

  “Yeah?” Georgia had no further thoughts on where Andy was. She opened the kit and poked around, picking out some burn cream and topical antibiotics. It wasn’t a run-of-the-mill first aid kit. This was personally picked and built. Nice.

  “Somewhere off-grid. Remote. He’ll hunker down for a few days, less if this woman he’s with isn’t cut out for running. I might have shot her, but I can’t be certain. He’ll get wherever he’s going, wait out the storm, then…he’ll have another way out.”

  “He has to get on the road at some point.”

  “My thoughts exactly.” Tate fired up the engine. “North or south?”

  “East. When he wants to get out of here, he’ll want to go fast. The closest airports are east.”

  “You’re still calling the bitch?”

  “Yeah.” Georgia groaned and reached for the satellite phone.

  Being a double agent came with plenty of pitfalls, but the worst was being called on to do jobs for people within SICA who had no operational oversight during their days working for the Company. Whoever this bitch was, she was clearly in over her head and had no idea how an op worked. What was obvious was that Georgia and Tate were taking care of a mess she’d made. Hopefully it didn’t kill them.

  Chapter Eight

  The snow was coming at them sideways. Andy could barely see a few feet in front of the snowmobile. The compass kept icing over. His fingers and toes were numb, so he could hardly imagine what Carol must be going through.

  “We’re almost there,” he yelled over his shoulder for the tenth or so time.

  He honestly had no idea where they were. If he’d followed the compass exactly, they should be running into the lodge any moment now. What if he’d made a mistake? What if they’d veered off course? They’d die soon if they didn’t find some shelter. Carol’s grip had already slipped a few times. Determination and willpower would only fuel them so long.

  The engine choked and gurgled.

  “Shit,” he muttered.

  The snowmobile sputtered and slowed.

  He twisted the ignition, but the tank had nothing left.

  Stay calm.

  No matter how much he wanted to scream “Fuck!” into the snow, he couldn’t. Carol needed him, and the best thing for her was to remain calm.

  He glanced around, searching for something, anything that could break the wind.

  “Carol? Carol, we have to go on foot now.” Andy slid off the snowmobile, turning as he sank into the snow, and wrapped his arms around her.

  She didn’t reply.

  Andy lifted her until her feet were under her, then set her down. She hunched over, and he was pretty sure he heard the chatter of her teeth over the howling wind.

  “Come on over here.” Andy led Carol toward a tree. Some of the branches had so much snow on them they’d snapped. “Sit with your back against the trunk. We went off course. I’m going to figure out where we’re at, then come get you, okay?”

  Carol didn’t respond, and he didn’t have time to wait for an answer. Andy gathered the downed branches and propped them up around her. Snow built up around it in moments, creating a little respite from the wind. If he couldn’t find his way back, she might stand a chance in the lee of the tree.

  Andy leaned down, grasping Carol’s lolling head with both hands. He lifted her face, her eyes drooping.

  “I’m coming back for you, Carol, got it?”

  She shifted slightly in his hands. A nod? He’d take it.

  Andy turned back toward the direction they’d been headed and checked the compass at his wrist.

  Please don’t let us have strayed off course…

  He pushed forward through knee-deep snow.

  The lodge wasn’t so much ready for them as kept ready year-round. It was a hunting lodge technically owned by one of his old contacts. They turned a blind eye to Andy’s occasional use of it.

  Retired spies were still spies, after all.

  Andy didn’t expect to live long enough for retirement, especially if he didn’t get them out of here soon.

  He trudged on.

  Five paces.

  Check the heading.

  Adjust.

  Keep going.

  The snow was coming down so heavy he stumbled over something buried in the snow. He lurched forward, putting his arm out to catch himself and nearly thunked his head against the rough-hewn logs of the lodge.

  He’d made it?

  He’d made it!

  Andy hustled around, putting his shoulder into levering the log over the door open.

  The lodge had no electricity, just an old fire stove to heat the whole structure. It would take time, and Carol needed to warm up fast. Plus, what if he’d missed a wound? He hadn’t exactly looked her over for more than the graze on her arm.

  He wrestled off the board securing the door and pulled it open. It was dark inside, but he’d been here often enough he could work blind.

  Andy grabbed logs from near the door and stepped across the small lodge. He groped for the stove handle, pulled it open, and tossed the logs into its belly. Tinder and matches were on the ledge to his right. He struck a spark, lighting the little nest of lint and debris rolled into a ball. It caught.

  He pinched the edge and tossed it in on the logs, praying it caught.

  There wasn’t time to nurse it further. He’d leave it, and hope they came back to a slowly growing fire.

  He closed the stove and bolted back out into the storm, pausing only to close the door.

  They didn’t need to come back to piles of snow inside the lodge, too.

  Andy searched the snow for his tracks. They were fast being filled up by fresh powder and rolling snow flurries. Knowing the lodge was ready and waiting gave him the burst of energy he needed. He followed the deep divots, one to the next, all the while praying that Carol hadn’t given up, and that she was still hanging on.

  He hunched over, the wind nearly blowing him sideways a few times.

  Keep going.

  He had to get to Carol. He had to see her through this. If she didn’t make it, then what was the point? People like her, the good ones, they were why he did what he did. Without her, without some good in the world, why even bother?

  Andy paused, searching the snow in the fading light for his trail, but it was gone. Wiped clean.

  “Carol? Carol!”

  He listened, but the wind carried his voice away.

  She wasn’t made for this. She wouldn’t last.

  “Here!”

  The sound was faint, the screeching wind far louder, but it was there.

  “Carol!”

  “Over here,” she called out louder.

  He swung to his left.

  “Come to me!” If he could get her to move, something.

  There.

  A bit of shadow against the snow moving into the wind, not with it.

  He pushed forward as fast as he could. Carol had only made it a few feet before stopping.

  “It’s not far. Come on, I need you to be strong. Stay with me, Carol.” Andy grasped her hand.

  Her bare hand.

  Fuck, she didn’t have gloves. How had he missed that?

  He pulled off his other glove with his teeth. He paused to slide it over her hand. In these temperatures their extremities ran the risk of frostbite, and there’d be no getting help anytime soon. He latched onto her hand, keeping his other one in his pocket, and started forward, Carol in his wake.

  She was slow, sluggish. Every step was a struggle.

  Andy stopped and turned toward her. Bits of her pale hair fluttered in the menacing wind.

  She wouldn’t make it much longer.

  He had to be strong for
both of them.

  He grasped her arm, pulling it over his shoulders. She didn’t struggle or ask a single damn question. That was what worried him. She might be bookish and quiet, but she never stopped asking questions. It was the sign of a fighter, and now she was running on empty with nothing left to give. He bent and hauled her across his shoulders in a fireman’s carry. He could feel her body shivering, trying to build up some warmth through the many layers of fabric and down.

  Andy trudged forward, repeating the mantra.

  The lodge was waiting for them, and with any luck the tinder had spread to the logs. It wouldn’t be warm, but at least they would have a break from the wind, and the chill would be gone. It was enough for him to have hope.

  He tried his best to follow in his path, checking the compass when he could.

  The sun was completely gone now, the night black as the yawning mouth of hell.

  He ducked under branches, sending a displaced shower of more snow on top of Carol. His foot got caught on a root and he pitched forward, only for Carol to catch them with her other arm. She might be weak, but they were a team. In this together.

  Andy smelled the scent of wood smoke first.

  The lodge was nearly invisible in the storm. No windows, the buildup of snow around it, he was wading through the drifts around the structure before he realized they were there.

  “We’re here,” he hollered over the wind.

  He made it to the door and wrestled off the plank braced across the front with one hand. His hands hurt. His arms were nearly numb. If he paused to think about it, he might begin to shiver. Only one of them could be in danger right now, and it wasn’t him.

  Andy yanked the door shut and secured it from the inside with a metal lever.

  The stove cast a little light, and though it wasn’t much warmer inside, Andy could feel the increased heat in his eye sockets. His exposed skin was so cold even the meager warmth made them burn.

  He crossed to the bed and gently lowered Carol to the edge. It wasn’t a comfortable accommodation, made for one large man, but it would have to do. He dusted off her clothing and hair, pulling off any excess snow he could. Snow would turn into cold water, and that would work against his new goal of getting their body temperatures up.

  “Carol? Carol, talk to me.” Andy peeled his other glove off and yanked out the plastic tubs that kept the lodge gear clean from visit to visit.

  “C-c-c-cold.” She shook almost violently.

  He had to get her thinking warm thoughts. Anything to stabilize her core temperature.

  “I know, sweetheart.” He’d gotten caught out in the snow as a kid. He could still remember the soul-deep numbness.

  Andy pulled out two blankets. He wrapped one around her and shoved the other to the front of the stove to let the fire heat it for a moment. Under the blankets were packages of hand warmers. He ripped open four packages. While those heated, he pulled off Carol’s one glove and examined her red chilled hands.

  “Can you feel this?” He pinched her fingertips.

  “N-n-no.”

  “Okay, hold onto these. They’re going to get too hot after a while. It’s okay to let them go.”

  Andy pulled off her boots. The lining was soaked down to her ankles and the tops of the boots frozen almost to her pants.

  He should have stopped, gone over her gear, make sure she was as prepared as he could have made her. But then they’d still be out in the storm.

  “How about this? Feel this?” He pinched her big toes.

  Carol shook her head.

  “I need you to answer me.” What he really needed was her engaged, showing she wasn’t slipping away into a sleep she’d never wake up from.

  “N-no.”

  Less stuttering. Good. She was likely beginning to warm up, the lodge giving her hope that things were going to be okay.

  “I’m going to pick you up and put your back against the wall, then wrap your feet in the blankets and put these warmers on them, okay? After that, we’ll make some tea and see about eating something. Sound good?”

  “S-s-sure.”

  Andy grabbed one of the last remaining blankets in the bin, folded it over again, and made a cushion for her. Once more, Carol hardly moved or helped as he positioned her. She was a human-size rag doll. All the fight had gone out of her.

  The wound. He needed to check her over, see if he’d missed anything. She could be in shock or have lost too much blood.

  One thing at a time…

  He got her cocooned and comfortable with the warmers.

  “How about we get the fire going a bit bigger, huh?” He eyed the stack of logs. That would last them through the night. He’d worry about getting more tomorrow once they were out of the woods, so to speak.

  Andy tossed on several more logs, praying the fire would catch fast. He spent a few moments rummaging in the other bins stowed in a bench seat for the cookware. He got the pots out, plus a few other plastic bags of things he recognized.

  “I need to get us some water. We haven’t eaten or drunk anything in hours. It’s going to be cold for a moment, but after this I won’t open the door for hours, okay?”

  “O-okay.” Carol pulled the hood of her coat down over her face so that he couldn’t see a millimeter of her skin.

  He shoved the door open once more and stepped out. He didn’t secure the door, just propped his boot against it, knelt and began packing snow into all four pots as tight as he could.

  Soup and tea would go a long way in helping raise body temperature. Not to mention he’d need some to wash Carol’s wound. If she had more, he’d cross that bridge then. By the time he had enough snow packed into the pots his hands were numb and he’d begun to shiver.

  Stupid.

  He should have taken the gloves, paused a goddamn second to ensure they weren’t both at risk of frostbite. He was so focused on Carol he was making a rookie mistake.

  Andy pried the door back open and shoved one pot after another inside, then slid in himself.

  He wasn’t looking forward to digging them out tomorrow.

  The blaze in the stove was higher, casting more light around.

  Carol peered out from under the fur of her coat hood.

  “C-can I h-help?” Her voice was muffled, but intelligible.

  A question. That was good.

  “Focus on getting warm. There’s not enough room for us to both be standing, anyway.”

  “W-who were those p-people? H-how did t-they find us?”

  “They’re probably contractors, like me, just doing a job. How they found us? I’d like to know.” There was no hideout safe enough to pass detection forever, but he’d anticipated more time. The people after Carol were clearly better equipped to track her than he’d realized.

  Andy set the largest and smallest pots on the two burners on top of the stove. He set the other two pots close enough to the heat to melt the snow.

  “I need to boil the water before we can use it.” He knelt by the last bin he’d looked through. “We have…some sort of bean stew, and…I think this is black tea. How’s that sound?”

  “W-what about my c-chicken parm?”

  The leftovers at the cabin?

  Was that a joke?

  Carol chuckled.

  He shook his head. A question and good humor. That was a positive sign. If she had enough life in her to find humor in their situation this wasn’t as dire as he’d feared.

  Andy stripped off his coat and hung it behind the stove on pegs. This way the clothing would be warm, but not in danger of catching fire.

  “Let’s see what else we have, hm?” He put what they wouldn’t need back in the bins and went rummaging.

  “W-what is this p-place?” Carol asked.

  “Hunting lodge. It technically belongs to a contact of mine, but they allow me to use it on occasion. We should be good for a few days if we need to lay low here.”

  He found a couple more packs of the hand warmers. He set them aside but didn’t ope
n the packages. The first aid kits were in a bin closest to the door, which made sense. The first was a general wound kit, while the other three were more specific. They had antibiotics, a suture kit, and a variety of medications.

  “Carol, are you warm yet?” Andy turned toward her.

  “I’m not freezing.”

  “I need to check out the graze, see how your arm is.” With the rip in her clothing, there was the risk of frostbite.

  Carol didn’t answer, at least not with words. She sat up, folding the blanket over her upper body down around her waist. She tucked the hand warmers under her thighs, then unzipped her jacket, then snow bibs, until she was down to her clothing.

  Blood coated one sleeve and ran down her side.

  Shit.

  She’d have to get out of the clothes.

  He grabbed a bin and dragged it in front of the fire.

  “Sit here.” He patted the top of the sturdy bin. “Want me to pick you up?”

  “No, thank you.”

  Good.

  Carol was strong, even if it wasn’t in brute force.

  She shifted and picked her way across the bed slowly, bringing the warmers with her and the fire-heated blanket. He offered her a hand getting out of the wooden trough the mattress sat in and helped her to the stove-side seat.

  “Do you need help out of the shirts?”

  “Shirts?” Carol curled her arms against her chest, recoiling.

  “That’s not just a graze, Carol. I need to look at your arm.”

  …

  Carol stared into Andy’s dark, hard gaze.

  It was probably silly that she didn’t want to lose her shirts, too. They were just clothes. But she’d already lost so much of her dignity in this madness. He wasn’t the man she’d let herself fall for. She wasn’t ready for him to see her.

  But he wasn’t interested in her.

  He wanted to make sure her wound was okay, because he needed her to live. They all needed her to live so she could finish the algorithm. It wasn’t anything personal. That was all in her head.

  “Carol?” Andy said her name slowly.

  “I’m fine. Just—turn around.”

  He pressed his lips together.

  Yes, it was a ridiculous request, but this was her body. She got to say who saw her and how. She wasn’t bleeding to death, there was no dire medical emergency; he could give her this one thing.