“That’s something, I guess.”
They strolled along on the narrow but well-built road in the darkness, the red beams from their flashlights illuminating the way. Years ago Hydro-Quebec, the enormous electric utility for that province, had planned a new series of transmission lines to come through this part of northern New England. This area of land had been purchased as a right-of-way for the eventual construction, and roads had been built to handle the trucks and other heavy equipment from Quebec to New Hampshire. But lawsuits, environmental pressures, and a collapsing economy had derailed the project, leaving behind some well-maintained roads that Duncan had discreetly used over the years.
Duncan tried again. “It wasn’t that I didn’t trust you, Cam. I trusted you too much. But this deal … it had potentials. If anything, I was afraid that you’d ask too many questions, try to talk me out of it, and that you’d succeed.”
“Hah,” Cameron said. “Have I ever succeeded in talking you out of anything?”
“There was Susan Sheldon back in high school.”
“I knew she had a plan to get knocked up by any boy bright enough to get her out of Turner,” Cameron said. “I was presenting you with facts, not trying to convince you to do anything else.”
Something ahead clattered through the woods at their approach. A coyote, fox, or the ever-elusive Eastern mountain lion.
Duncan said, “All right, leaving that aside, I’ve got something else to spring on you.”
“Go for it.”
Ahead of them was a cleared area, maybe ten feet wide, that stretched off to the left and right as far as one could see.
“This is the last one, Cam. The last score.”
Cameron turned to him, pointing the MagLite on the ground. “Meaning what?”
“Meaning that once we get that truck safely over the border and to where it belongs, I’m done with the life. The criminal life, the illegal life, the life on the edge. I’ve been at it too long. I’ve stretched out my luck as much as I can, and it’s not fair anymore to Karen, the kids, or you. When I told you earlier that this was going to set us up, I meant more than just having a fatter bank account. I meant I intend to be done.”
Cameron stayed quiet for a moment or three. “That’s a hell of a spring you just sprung there, bro.”
“I know it.”
“So what about us, then?”
Duncan said, “This is what I’ve been thinking. I get out of the life, and if you want to keep it up, go for it. Just don’t ask me for advice, or counsel, or to be involved in any way. I want out, Cam. If you want out as well … then I can make it worth your while.”
Cameron said, “Damn it, that’s one hell of a thing to be dumping on me, time like this. Couldn’t it have waited?”
“This container that’s coming across, that’s the key, Cameron. The key to my new life, and your new life, if you want it. That’s why I’m dumping this on you tonight. C’mon, you know we’ve been very, very lucky these years. By keeping a low profile, we’ve kept our heads attached to our shoulders. The time to quit is now, while we’re ahead.”
Again, Cameron seemed to ponder Duncan’s words, and he said, “Can’t say it’s not an attractive proposition, though I would miss the life, that’s for sure. It’s nice to be top dog. But it’d also be nice not to put in the hours, have to look over your shoulder all the time. Thing is, I’ve been thinking about taking some time off. Was wondering when I could tell you. Guess now works.”
“How much time?” Duncan asked.
“Six months, maybe a year.”
Duncan was shocked. “Really? What for?”
“Saw an advertisement in Sky & Telescope magazine. Unpaid internships with the SETI Institute are opening up, and I’m sure I could get in.”
“The what institute?”
“SETI. Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence. Out in California. Doing real science, with other guys and gals who have the same interest in space and astronomy. It … it’d be something great, being with people like that, day after day, night after night.”
Duncan said, “This is the night for surprises for the both of us, hunh? Go for it, Cameron. It’ll be the perfect time for it.”
“Maybe so, but you’re forgetting one thing. The Iron Steeds. After the container gets through and payment gets made, you could take out a full-page ad in the Montreal Gazette, saying you and me are going on the straight and narrow. That still won’t make a difference to the Iron Steeds. They’ll want their pound of flesh. Or kilogram of flesh, however they figure it up there.”
“Maybe we could pay them off, set up a truce.”
Cameron gave a sharp, bitter laugh. “Bro, get real. They sent four of their guys down here, and none of them are ever going back. I don’t think the Iron Steeds will step aside for some money, jugs of maple syrup and a card of apology.”
“Like the man says, I’ll make him an offer they can’t refuse.”
Cameron groaned. “Enough with The Godfather references, already.”
thirty-three
Zach Morrow slowly paced around the wide area in the dirt road where the Suburban was parked. Up ahead the dirt lane went on, and it was an odd feeling, knowing an international boundary beckoned just a few yards up that road. He had crossed a fair number of international borders over the years. During most of those occasions, he had either been in, on, or under water, performing his duty for an allegedly grateful nation.
To the left of the parked Suburban was brush and saplings, and to the right was the road and a cleared area that looked like it had once been pastureland, though low-growth was slowly reclaiming it. He paused, took a deep breath, and found an odd sense of memory and nostalgia flowing though him. Ever since coming back to Turner, he had been focused on getting the job done—i.e., betraying Duncan and his friends and family so he could get his precious Federal bennies back—but something else had popped up during his few days there. It was seeing the old buildings downtown, the high school where he had practically drifted during those four years, and of course, most importantly, seeing Karen Crowley nee Delaney once again. He was under no illusions about his relationship with Karen. She was totally devoted to Duncan and their two children, and that was fine. But inside of him a small spark kindled, of that special and oh so warm late spring romance, where each had been the other’s first.
He smiled at the thought. Duncan may have her forever, but Zach would always have been her first, and the thought cheered him. That was something, at least.
A whisper from the rear of the Suburban. “Hey, Zach, you want a drink?”
He came over, saw Luke Munce there, rummaging in a small cooler. Zach said, “What do you have?”
“Water, Coke, Diet Coke.”
“I’ll take a regular Coke.”
A can was offered to him and he popped it open, sucking in the cold cola drink. Luke said, “It’s not beer or a mixed drink, but I guess it’ll do. Damn, this waiting, it sure does suck, doesn’t it.”
“It does,” Zach said.
“You know, I’m still thinking about that night you took me and the other three guys on. You were a fucking whirlwind.”
“If that’s a compliment, thanks.”
“Shit, I’ve been tossed around some, have done my share of tossing around. But it was like you weren’t even thinking, like you were just doing, anticipating our moves and countermoves, like you were four or five steps ahead of us. Where the hell did you get experience like that? Military?”
“Sort of,” Zach said. “Coast Guard, truth be told.”
“Coast Guard?” Luke asked. “Thought those guys did search and rescue, boat safety inspections, stuff like that. Didn’t know they were into hand-to-hand shit like the other night.”
Zach said, “There’s a special unit I belonged to. Pretty much still secret. You see, the Coast Guard, they’re responsible
for a lot of things on the water, from harbors to navigable waters. Somewhere along the line, somebody thought it’d be best if the Coast Guard had their own special guys to kick ass when the time came. That’s the unit I was with.”
“You see some heavy shit?”
“Yeah, though at the time, I thought it was just shit, didn’t know if it was heavy, light, or skim.”
Luke laughed at that. “So did you put your time in and get out, is that it?”
“Not really,” Zach said. “I kicked the wrong ass and pissed off the wrong people. So I got tossed out of the Guard, no pay, no pension. Which is one of the reasons I’m here tonight, working for the Crowley brothers.”
Luke put the cooler away. “Hell of a thing.”
“Certainly is.”
“But know this,” Luke said. “You’re one lucky guy, to be working for the Crowleys. First of all, they pay well, and second, they’re so fucking loyal you can’t believe it. Meaning, they trust you, they’ll back you up a hundred percent, and then some. So you got that going for you, Zach. That should make you feel good.”
Zach said, “You would think.”
Brewster Flagg lowered his speed to nearly a crawl as he maneuvered down the increasingly narrow road. Branches and brush were whipping against the side windows and fenders of the cab, and he hated being closed in like this, with all of these trees pressing in against him. He didn’t believe in spooks or ghosts or haunts, but he still didn’t like the feeling of being trapped, for there was no place to turn around. It was like being stuck in a long dark tunnel with no easy way out.
He took a breath and whispered to himself, “Man up, buttercup.” Frig, he’d been in tighter spots before, like back there in Arizona, after he wasted those three spics. That long walk back to the pickup truck with Chuck and Robbie was dicey because he didn’t if either one of them was going to turn around and take him out. That didn’t happen, so here he was.
He checked the odometer. Just a ways to go before he saw the pre-arranged signal. But all ahead of him was the long and narrow road. Where in hell was he supposed to go?
Duncan kept pace with his older brother, and even smiled at the old joke as they passed the cleared area. “Welcome to Canada,” Cameron said. “Anything to declare?”
Putting on the voice of what might have been a Southern belle, Duncan replied, “I do declare that I’m about to break a number of laws in your fair land, suh.”
They walked ahead about another ten yards or so before they stopped. An apparently impassable wall of brush and small trees were in front of them, as the road came to an abrupt end. There was an open area of night sky above them.
Cameron said, “So you’re okay, then, with me heading out to California, eh?”
“Why not?”
Cameron carefully said, “Feel like I’m … betraying you, I guess. I mean, after that shitty summer, where everything collapsed, it was like, oh, I don’t know. Things equaled out for the both of us. You didn’t get to play baseball, I didn’t go to college. Now I’m off west, to really do hands on stuff … and you, well …”
“Forget it.”
“Still feel guilty about it.”
Duncan said, “Enough, all right? No guilt necessary. It’s all going to be squared away tonight, just you wait and see.”
They both kept quiet and Cameron arched his head back and said, “My God, the stars are bright tonight.”
“See anything interesting?”
“Every night’s interesting, if you know where to look. Hey, there’s a satellite, catch it.”
Duncan tilted his head back as well, saw an unblinking dot of light race overhead. Years ago his brother had shown him how to spot satellites at night. For one thing, they were never red or green; that always marked aircraft. Secondly, they never blinked; again, that was the sign of aircraft. No, satellites were a steady little dot that moved gracefully and quickly before fading from view, and Cameron was always pleased to run up some computer program that would tell you—after you plugged in a location, date, and time—what that dot of light represented, either a bit of space debris, a weather satellite, or a communications outpost.
Duncan watched the little dot fly overhead in a break of the trees, until it was lost from view. A breeze came up, and he said, “So Cameron, where are they?”
“Who?”
“The aliens, that’s who,” Duncan said. “SETI, like you said. There are billions of stars out there, billions of galaxies, and you’ve told me that every month, more and more planets are being discovered around other stars. So where are the aliens? Why haven’t we heard from them, or seen them?”
Cameron carefully said, “Some would say they’ve already been poking around.”
Duncan said, “No, you’re not getting off that lightly. No flying saucer tales, please. Looking for real evidence. With all those stars and planets out there, do you really think we’re alone?”
“Not for a moment,” Cameron replied. “But I’ll tell you what I think, as scary as it is.”
“Scary? What do you mean by that?”
Cameron said, “We like to think that for the most part, aliens are friendly and cuddly, like the movie ET or most Star Trek episodes. But look at reality. Man is on the top of the evolutionary food chain on this planet because he’s mean, tough, and nasty. Chances are, so are any aliens out there who survived on their own worlds. Mean, tough, and nasty. We might be living in a rough neighborhood, where other alien races have decided it’s for the best to keep their goddamn mouths shut, stop advertising their existence to meaner aliens out there. But we’ve decided to be fat, dumb, and happy by trying to contact the universe through our radio messages.”
Duncan said, “You telling me there might be an alien death armada heading our way?”
His brother said, “No. Maybe an alien version of the State Police, coming here to clean things up. Just like the real State Police would do to us if they ever snooped around enough.”
Duncan said, “So it’d be best for all of us, for you and me to step aside, and for Mother Earth to take a low profile as well.”
“It’s a goddamn perceptive thought now, isn’t it.”
Duncan was going to say something snappy when he heard the straining growl of a diesel truck approaching, traveling at a crawl.
“I think our alien has just arrived,” Duncan said.
Cameron said, “Congrats on your discovery.”
From a pocket on his Kevlar vest, Cameron pulled out an instrument that looked like a television remote, pointed it at the direction of the truck sound, and pressed a switch.
Brewster Flagg was driving the Peterbilt just barely above stalling speed, looking up at the narrow road and the thick trees, then looking down at the odometer, and looking up again. Damn his fucking cousin and his friends! He was at the meeting place! Where was the damn signal?
He looked to the right, out front, and to the left. He checked both sideview mirrors, and he was about to keep moving, thinking the odometer was wrong, or he was wrong, when a tiny amber light suddenly flared up to the left, and started blinking.
He had made it!
Brewster reached to his headlight switch, pulled it out, quickly illuminating the road ahead of him, and then he went back to parking lights.
But where was he to go?
Then the world next to him fell apart.
When Duncan and Cameron saw the brief flash of headlights through the brush and trees from the truck, they went to work. First, Duncan pressed the switch again, turning off the little flashing battery-powered amber light on the other side of the trees and brush. Weapons slung over their shoulders, they both knelt down at the side of the road, where something that looked like a tree stump was positioned.
The two brothers lifted up the tree stump, which was a heavy piece of plastic painted and carved to look like a stump. Underneat
h the plastic were a set of car batteries and a small electric motor. Duncan closed a switch and the motor whined into life. Up ahead, Cameron helped guide two sets of cables that suddenly lifted up and started dragging a wall of carefully entwined brush, trees, and branches that hid an intersecting dirt road.
With the wall moved to one side, a tractor-trailer truck was exposed, a half-sized shipping container hitched to the rear.
Duncan said, “Going to meet our business partner. Hope he’s in a good mood.”
Cameron said, “Tell you what, if I see you drop back with a round through your forehead, I’ll make sure he’ll live long enough to regret it.”
“Always know I can count on you, big brother.”
He took a breath, strode quickly to the side of the Peterbilt truck, its diesel engine grumbling, exhaust eddying. He took the red-lensed Maglite, lifted it up, and blinked it three times. The window rolled down.
“Yeah?” a Southern-accented voice called out.
Duncan recalled the phrase he had memorized some time ago. “What did Thomas Jefferson say about the tree of liberty?” he said in a loud voice, waiting.
He hoped he didn’t have to wait long. In the meanwhile, hidden in his waistband, was a 10mm Glock semiautomatic pistol with something special.
After the long and smelly bus rides, passing through Customs, and now the grueling drive here, Brewster grinned with delight. He had made it. In two days it would be April 19th, and this truck would be in its target area. He wasn’t sure what was back there—nerve gas, a dirty bomb, hell, maybe even the kind of bomb McVeigh had used—but all he cared was that he had done his job. He also didn’t know who this man was, deep in the Canadian woods, with a red flashlight before him, but no matter. He was truly a patriot and fellow traveler.
Brewster finished the quote. “Jefferson said ‘The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants.’”
“So he did, so he did,” the man said. “Glad to finally meet you, bud. Follow me down this road. Keep your lights off. When you see me and my companion flash our lights at you, come to a halt. Do you understand?”
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