“Should we follow him?” I asked.
“I’ll get the snowplow,” Big John said, a shotgun in hand. “I won’t be happy until that bastard is in the air.”
Chapter 18: Skinny-dipping
It probably took us ten minutes to start the plow and get loaded aboard, including Max. We were another fifteen very cold minutes getting to the lake. There wasn’t enough seating for everyone so we kind of caught hold and squeezed in where we could. No one wanted to be left behind, except Whisky Jack who was still sleeping it off. I held on tight to my dog and tried not to think how dumb it would be if I survived the mobsters only to die by falling off a plow.
The snow had let up enough that we could follow the snowmobile’s tracks and the treacherous Grigori was definitely headed for the lake. With the duffels but without his men.
Along the way we encountered Misha and Anatoli, waiting at the side of the road, for all the world like they were expecting a bus. We good-naturedly made room for them. The boys caught them up on events as we rumbled along. They spoke in Russian and the noise of the plow and the unsettled wind drowned out most of it, but the story was easy to follow. Anatoli looked incredulous, but Misha started laughing and didn’t seem able to stop.
As strange as the situation had to be for them, I thought that it was equally weird for Chuck. The Mountie and the Russians were all strangers in a strange land, and I had the feeling that Chuck had compromised a lot more ideals in the last twenty-four hours than the other men had. Certainly he wasn’t saying much.
We stopped the plow inside a stand of trees and clambered down to the ground, which was almost hip deep in snow. It took us a couple minutes to forge a path to the edge of the lake since we weren’t interested in making ourselves into easy targets. We couldn’t see the plane—a Lear jet—all that clearly because of the cloud of steam around her.
“He’d better get moving,” the Wings said while shaking his head slowly from side to side. He and Fiddling Thomas had apparently followed us out of town. I noticed Madge Brightwater and Wendell Thunder coming up behind them. “The ice is already melting. She’ll never hold.”
The Flowers, well mannered as always, introduced the Russians to the various McIntyres and Joneses. Anatoli looked as bemused as Chuck had the first time she performed this ritual. Again, she neglected to mention that Chuck was a Mountie, but I was fairly certain that Anatoli had figured this out and was weighing the implications as we watched the steam cloud around the plane grow ever larger.
“I didn’t think he’d actually leave us behind,” Misha said. “The boys are his cousins after all.”
“Be glad you aren’t aboard. If he doesn’t—see! I told you the ice would give out!”
The Wings pointed but we heard more than saw the frozen water giving way under the plane. Belatedly aware of his danger, Grigori attempted a takeoff but it was too late. The Lear jet, slowly but surely, subsided under the splintered ice.
“Why doesn’t he try to escape?” Big John asked. “Not that he’d make it to shore. The water is damned cold and his heart would stop before we could get to him.”
In answer, there was an explosion that sent up a small geyser of water and ice.
“Well, I reckon he’s about as dead as dead can be, eh,” Fiddling Thomas said, not sounding too regretful.
Chuck shook his head, either in sorrow or to dislodge the accumulated snow on his cap. The precipitation had slowed but not stopped, and the icy weight became noticeable after a few minutes.
“I guess it will be possible to search the lake come the spring thaw,” he said to himself. “We might even find a body.”
Behind him, I saw Big John and Fiddling Thomas trade a look. I had a feeling that there would be a lot of “ice fishing” going on this week. Our would-be surfer dude actually had some ancient scuba gear. There wouldn’t be anything of value left to find come spring.
“I’m hungry,” the Flowers announced. She patted Sasha on the arm and smiled warmly at the boys, who had moved closer to Madge. “Let’s go back to the pub and I’ll make breakfast.”
“Sounds good,” I said, realizing that I was hungry too. That probably makes us callous since a man had just died, but Grigori hadn’t been our best friend.
The Russians began to look more cheerful at the prospect of breakfast. I wondered when we would have to break it to them that Chuck was a Mountie and that they would probably have to hasten away as soon as the storm lifted.
I fell in beside Chuck as we waded back to the plow.
“You know I’m caught between a rock and a hard place,” he said softly.
“I know.”
“And you’ve little sympathy for me?”
“Lots of sympathy, since I know something about rocks and hard places. I have even more worry for the rest of us here in town. This is a refuge we’ve built. It has always felt safe, but right now I am wondering if it’s Masada instead of a shining city on the hill.” He looked at me sharply. “As good a man as you are, and as much as you might wish it to be otherwise, the law can’t and won’t protect everyone who is in trouble. And sometimes people in trouble need a place to go, to disappear. That’s here. That’s us. The poor Russians would fit right in, since I doubt their old employers are going to be very happy with them.”
“Except for me. I’m not a refugee.” He reached down to pat Max.
“Yes. At least not yet. You never know when you might need to get away from it all.”
Chuck looked up at the sky and got a face full of snow for his trouble.
“I suppose that the other Russians could have perished in the explosion.”
I blinked.
“Really?”
“But they would need to be out of sight by the time the government dive teams arrived in the spring. And I don’t mean just disguised with red hair.” Chuck was firm.
“I’m sure that can be arranged. They might not want to stay anyway. Life here is awfully quiet.”
“Anatoli and Misha will probably move on. They seem like rolling stones, but I think Sasha and the boys are planning on staying.”
That was the impression I had also gathered. Sasha seemed especially enamored of the idea of setting up shop here and for some reason or other the Flowers liked him.
Chapter 19: Goodbyes
Big John and the Flowers stood beside me and Max as we waved goodbye to Chuck and the Wings. The Mountie was a little pale as he climbed aboard the plane, but the Wings had promised to be nicer to him on the return trip.
Chuck was going to have some talking to do when he got back to headquarters since it turned out that other agencies were interested in the Russians and had some questions, but at least his boss seemed inclined to let the matter of the Russians go away. What could Chuck have done, faced with overwhelming odds and hostages? His plan for their rescue had been ingenious and sounded especially thrilling when one forgot to mention that most of the Russians were on our side and the townsfolk were all armed. The bad guys, while not under arrest, were dead and no longer a threat. The town had been saved without anyone getting injured, and if the treasure was blown all over the bottom of the lake, well, they could always try retrieving it later when the weather was more cooperative. Everyone had promised to let him know when that was possible.
“You didn’t really give that damned Russian the cash, did you?” Big John asked as he continued to smile and wave.
“Of course not. I kept that and most of the gold aside. There was also a small locked box. I kept that too.”
“Good. We’ll open it later.”
“But I think some of the loot has to go to the Russians now to help them get set up in their new lives.”
“Share and share alike,” Big John agreed magnanimously.
“Do you think the Mountie will be back soon?” the Flowers asked, having to raise her voice to be heard above the engines.
“It’s possible.” And I found that I was happy about the idea. “I just hope we aren’t visited by anyone el
se.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll have everything gathered up before they can get back to dive. You just keep telling the Mountie that the lake is still too fragile to land on.”
“Me? Why should I tell the Mountie anything?” Big John and the Flowers just stared pointedly.
“Okay, I’ll do it,” I agreed. “But you know this can’t lead anywhere, right? It’s a relationship with too many obstacles.”
The Flowers looked back at Sasha, who was shoveling snow off the pub’s raised walkway, and shook her head.
“Around here, we don’t have any other kind,” she pointed out and we both sighed.
“Come on, Max,” I said. “Let’s go for a hike.”
About the Author
Melanie Jackson is the author of 50 novels. If you enjoyed this story, please visit Melanie’s author website at www.melaniejackson.com.
eBooks by Melanie Jackson:
The Chloe Boston Mystery Series:
Moving Violation
The Pumpkin Thief
Death in a Turkey Town
Murder on Parade
Cupid’s Revenge
Viva Lost Vegas
Death of a Dumb Bunny
Red, White and a Dog Named Blue
Haunted
The Great Pumpkin Caper
The Butterscotch Jones Mystery Series
Due North
Big Bones
Gone South (Coming Soon)
The Book of Dreams Series:
The First Book of Dreams: Metropolis
The Second Book of Dreams: Meridian
The Third Book of Dreams: Destiny
The Wildside Series
Outsiders
Courier
Still Life
Medicine Trilogy
Bad Medicine
Medicine Man
Knave of Hearts
Belle
Club Valhalla
Devil of Bodmin Moor
Devil in a Red Coat
Devil of the Highlands
Dominion
Halloween
The Curiosity Shoppe (Sequel to A Curious Affair)
Timeless
Nevermore: The Last Divine Book
Due North Page 13