A Necessary Deception

by Lucy Farago

  “So,” Lonnie started, “you troopers?”

  “You think I’m here to bust you? I’d have to be pretty loyal to my job to burn my leg as a ruse to get in here.”

  “Don’t know how you burn leg. Maybe you stupid. Maybe you blow second sled. Maybe accident? Maybe not. Don’t know. Don’t care. I care why you here.”

  So, she knew about the second sled. She also was very good at reading people because she nodded toward Ozzie. “He see.”

  “What else did he see?” Bodies?

  “Who are you, if not troopers?” she said, ignoring his question.

  From where he’d been standing this afternoon, he’d gotten one view of the inside of the building; now he could see the office desk set up in the far-right corner, complete with a printer and a computer he’d kill to get his hands on. “We’re not here for you, if that’s what you think.” Telling them the truth meant risking their lives. For all he knew, they were working with or for the Russians. If they weren’t, what was to stop them from bartering with their lives?

  Taylor put a hand on his leg. “Monty, we should tell them.”

  Maybe it was because Lonnie reminded her of that Bubbe D she’d talked about, but this wasn’t the woman who’d taken her under her wing when her father had turned his back on her. “That might not be in our best interest. All they need to know is, we don’t give a shit about what they’re doing here. We’re just trying to get home.”

  “No surprise she smarter than you. Listen to your woman,” said the man who only spoke when he had something to say.

  His woman? Yeah, right here, right now, she was his. And no way in hell was he about to risk her life. “Like I said, we’re just trying to get home. Is there even a truck coming back?”

  “Sure,” Howie chirped in. “You think we survive on love and tree bark?”

  Monty glanced at Taylor, who was turning three shades of red, scowling up at the man, and looking like she was going to say something that might really piss him off. “We were afraid you’d lied about that,” Monty quickly interjected. “We just want to get home,” he repeated.

  “Yeah, you keep saying. So, what to do with you?” Lonnie folded her arms over her belly. For a short woman, she came off as a formidable force. That, or the rifle Howie had pointed in their direction was fucking with his brain.

  “He’s telling the truth,” Taylor said. “I’m the one that got us into this mess. Monty has been helping me.”

  “Taylor…” he said, warning her not to say anything else, but she didn’t listen.

  “I was kidnapped from San Diego and put on a plane. The plane went down. The pilot died, and I thought the other two men who’d grabbed me had too, but one hadn’t.”

  “Taylor…” She was feeding them information they could use against them.

  “Trust me, Monty. I know what I’m doing. Reading people is my business, remember? And these people don’t want to hurt us.”

  He wished he had her faith, but seeing something in her eyes, pleading with him to believe in her, he couldn’t let her down. The chips would fall where they fell, and he’d find a way to get them out of this. He allowed Ozzie to push him back into the chair.

  “He’s been following us, with more of his friends,” she said. “I have proof of their crimes, and we think maybe that’s why they want me. But we don’t know for sure. They’re the ones who blew up Monty’s cabin and left us stranded. They were able to track us on the snowmobiles after we fled, but we got the upper hand and were able to steal that one.” She pointed to the sled. “The other, I blew up as a distraction. Monty heard them coming and made me run away. They were going to kill him. You saw what they did to him.”

  She wisely left out several details, but had she said too much anyway? These people were drug dealers. What did they give a shit about two strangers who now knew their dirty secret?

  “Thank you for being honest. I know about Russians.”

  “How?” And why hadn’t they said anything before.

  “They came three days after we arrived here.”

  If he thought Lonnie or any of her people would turn them in, what she said next made him doubt it.

  “Fuckers, bring trouble everywhere they go.”

  “You’re not going to hand us over to them?” Taylor asked, far less worried than he himself was.

  “Why I do that? But can’t have you telling people what you find.” She scrubbed a hand over her withered chin.

  “You know,” Taylor said, “certain drugs can lose their effectiveness if not stored properly. It might be too cold for this stuff.”

  Huh? Now she was giving them advice?

  “Those I keep in cooler.” Lonnie nodded toward the two coolers he’d seen yesterday.

  “Good,” Taylor said.

  Was he missing something here? “Taylor?”

  “They’re not drug smugglers. Well, they are, but not the kind you’re thinking.”

  What other kind was there?

  “The orange pills I think are penicillin. I wasn’t sure, but I recognized the shape and color from the ones I was on last year for strep. That leads me to believe the rest are also pharmaceutical drugs, but not narcotics.”

  “Our people have enough problems with addiction. They need that shit, they see doctor.”

  “I don’t understand.” Monty peered into the box with the so-called penicillin. Maybe she was right. It didn’t look like anything on the street, but shit changes, so who knew.

  “It’s cheaper for American drug companies to manufacture in Canada. They export the compounds, then import the finished product. They save money but don’t pass that on to the American consumer. Drug reimportation is considered a problem, but with medication costs what they are, people have chosen to cross the border to fill their prescriptions. That doesn’t help anyone who doesn’t have the means to do that. I’m guessing this stuff either fell off a truck headed back to mainland USA and found its way up here, or this was taken from Canadian pharmaceutical companies.”

  “I don’t question my sources. I take what they give and make sure it find a good home. It save your ass, when you need it.”

  The antibiotics. It must have been why she’d waited to give him what he’d needed. She hadn’t had them, because they’d arrived on a later shipment. “It’s not always the same drug?” What were they? The Robin Hoods of prescription drugs?

  “You know too much already.” Lonnie motioned to Howie to bring her chair and she sat, a safe distance away from them. “Too old for this shit.”

  “How old are you?” Taylor asked, and he was a little surprised when she got an answer.

  “Eighty-seven this Christmas.”

  Wow; he wouldn’t have put her a day over seventy. “Look, I wasn’t lying. I want to get Taylor to a safe place so we can figure out why they tried to take her.” He only wished Carrie had been able to tell him what she suspected because, more and more, he believed this had very little to do with them hijacking her dating service.

  “If you in my shoes, would you trust you?”

  He saw her point. He shook his head. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t.”

  She grunted and said something to Ozzie and Howie, then rose to her feet, suddenly looking every one of her years. And without another word, left.

  * * * *

  They remained tied to the chairs until sunrise. Ozzie, who it turned out was a night owl, stood watch. Occasionally, he’d blink, reminding Monty he was a living, breathing man. It was eerily creepy. If Taylor hadn’t been with him, he’d have considered an aggressive tactic in escaping, but something about his conversation with Lonnie led him to believe hurting them was not their intention. At sunrise, one of the women he’d seen dispensing the pills came in with a tray of food: hot porridge, fruit cocktail from a can, beans, and toast. He guessed if they were going to kill them, they wo
uldn’t be bothering with food. Then again, maybe they considered beans and toast a great final meal. Thankfully, they’d turned on the heating lamps because Taylor had started to shiver. Not moving could do that to a person, no matter the snow gear.

  He’d been staring at their computer most of the night, and after he’d encouraged Taylor to lean against him to try to sleep, he’d attempted to get Ozzie to tell him what they used it for. Ozzie, being true to his Ozzieness, didn’t say a word. Monty didn’t give up, though, and eventually, the man gave in…sort of.

  “What do you take us for? You think we’re a bunch of fucking dumb Eskimos who fish with spears and sleep in igloos?”

  Monty took a long, hard look at the man, wondering who the hell put that chip, or rather, iceberg, on his shoulder. People had thought him a dumb fuck because of his heavy Kentucky accent; perhaps Ozzie had run into the same kind of bullshit bias. “I don’t think that way,” he said, keeping his tone even, wanting the man to know he meant it. Ozzie, for his part, seemed to at least calm down and went back to being Ozzie.

  He decided to wait for Lonnie. She was their leader, or at the very least their spokesperson. She returned shortly after their breakfast dishes had been taken away with news that didn’t bode well for them.

  “If we let you go, we risk you talk.”

  He wished he could assure her that they wouldn’t do that, but he knew nothing he said would convince her of that.

  “We let you go, you risk dying. Neither good, both bad.”

  “You want to keep us as prisoners?” Taylor asked, perhaps some of her faith in Lonnie fading.

  It wasn’t like the camp was torture, but their plan made no sense. How long could they keep them under guard?

  “Until new plan is formed,” Lonnie said. “Or we kill you.” Meaning they should shut up and be happy she wasn’t going for option number two.

  Monty doubted that was ever really an option. These people weren’t murderers, and he suspected Taylor had figured that out when she said, “That’s a terrible option.”

  Time to try his option. “Does that computer tap into the satellite? Do you have internet?” he added, just in case he’d actually misread her and she wasn’t as smart as she pretended not to be.

  She didn’t answer. He took that as a yes and, more importantly, don’t get any ideas.

  “I can help with your…business.”

  “You just want to get your hands on the computer. To call for help,” Ozzie so graciously offered.

  “Last I check, you not elder,” Lonnie said, shutting him up.

  “Monty is really good with computers,” Taylor said.

  “Awe, thanks, babe.” He liked that she was defending his talents. He liked everything about it.

  “Anytime, sugar lips.” Her over-the-top grin made him smile.

  And she accused him of being a smart ass? “You have a problem with state troopers?”

  “Problem is feds using state troopers. Those Russians bring trouble.”

  “Their investigation might accidentally lead them to you.” He could see that happening.

  “This isn’t mainland. Not everyone have fancy insurance. Some live off what they hunt, off what the land provides. One in four live in poverty. Many problems. We fix one.”

  “By supplying medication,” Taylor chimed in.

  Maybe it was her need for family that made Taylor connect with Lonnie. He didn’t know, and it broke his heart to think he might tarnish that connection, real or otherwise, but she had to know the truth. “You’re not giving the stuff away.”

  “This,” she indicated the building they were in, “not free. Trucks cost money. Everything cost money. Keeping you,” she said, pointing to them, “cost money. When a good buyer comes…”

  “You sell it.” He took a sideways glance at Taylor. Who stared openly at Lonnie, perhaps no longer through rose-colored glasses. “Like you said, everything costs money, and if you want to continue helping your people, you have no choice.”

  Lonnie shrugged one shoulder. “No one die with my drugs.”

  True, and it was why he was offering his service. “What if I can show you how to monitor police activity in your area? Would that be of value to you?”

  When her eyebrows shot up, he allowed himself hope that his plan would work.

  * * * *

  With stopping to refuel and a change in planes, it would take just over twenty-four hours to get back to San Diego. Cowboy had already made his way to Nome after the storm, and once the GPS stopped transmitting, more team members had flown in for the search. Using the same technique as the Russians, Carrie had intercepted a computer signal off a satellite where there shouldn’t be one. The team hadn’t been far when Monty made the call.

  “How does he even fit in this plane?” Taylor had asked of his seven-foot friend.

  “He’s like one of those collapsible cups; everything just kind of folds in on itself from the waist down. I hear it all fits in a nice, neat box.”

  “You know I can hear y’all through the headphones. Don’t listen to a word he tells you ma’am, he’s a total shit.”

  Monty smiled. It was good to be going home. He actually missed the fuckers. And it was especially good to see a bullet hadn’t stopped Cowboy from flying again. He wrapped an arm around Taylor and brought her tight against him. It was hard to be mad at his friends when their misguided attempt at helping him had given him this woman. He intended to keep his promise—he’d be there for her.

  Taylor tugged at his zipper, drawing his attention. “Are they sure?” she shouted, still not believing what they’d learned had transpired in her absence.

  Monty winced, and he heard a “Dang” through his headset.

  “Sorry,” she said. “I forgot.”

  “That’s okay,” Cowboy told her. “Just talk normal. The noise will filter out.”

  Monty kissed her forehead. It was the third time she’d forgotten she didn’t need her voice to carry over the propellers. “They take some getting used to.”

  Cowboy shot him a what-the-fuck look over his shoulder. She’d blown their eardrums. Then a slow smirk curled his friend’s mouth, right before he tossed him a knowing chin nod. Monty knew what he was thinking and honestly, looking down at the woman curled into his side, he wasn’t sure Cowboy was that off. But he wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction.

  “Why don’t you just tell us again what you know? And forget about what you think you know.” If she needed assurances, he’d give them to her.

  Cowboy laughed and turned his attention to his control panel “Sure thing, little buddy. Like I said, the feds raided Strike a Match. They seized all her computers. Her techy, Steven Cobs, the one who disappeared, he’d made a copy of her files. The feds found his backup.” They’d also found him, but Monty knew Cowboy had enough good judgment not to repeat that part of the story. It hadn’t been pleasant, and Taylor had blamed herself for getting the man killed.

  “Four arrests were made. One from Strike a Match—and again, Miss Moore, I’m real sorry about that,” Cowboy said.

  As it turned out, the Russians had had help. One of her web designers had decided to make extra money working for the wrong people.

  “I still can’t believe that,” Taylor said. “He seemed to genuinely enjoy his job. Now I guess I know why.”

  “Don’t…” Monty gave her hand a squeeze. “If you’re thinking about blaming yourself for not figuring it out sooner, don’t bother. The Bratva isn’t stupid and know how to cover their tracks.”

  “Yes, ma’am, Monty’s right. Apparently, the feds have been watching your place for months.”

  “That’s because they thought I was involved.” She craned her neck to look over his shoulder and out the window for her last look at Alaska. He doubted she’d ever want to return. He would. With her.

  “They were
certain someone was,” Cowboy said. “It wasn’t until you called them that they started to think you were innocent. No one working for the Bratva would alert the feds. No one who wanted to live. They’d been going after the girls, trying to rescue the ones they could. It’s why they didn’t shut it down right away. Then you disappeared, and they suspected their investigation was taking a turn for the worse. So, they made their move.”

  “And that’s why you think they went after me? Revenge?”

  “There isn’t any way to know for sure. But the feds weren’t the only ones watching your place. If they thought you had something on them, they’d kill you. And if they thought you were the reason their operations were shut down, they’d kill you.”

  “Cowboy,” Monty warned. What the fuck was he trying to do? Scare her to death?

  “No, that’s all right. Better I know the truth. But it’s a long way to bring someone just to dispose of the body where no one can find it.”

  “I saw the crash site. There’s a private landing strip some twenty miles from where you went down. It belongs to a Russian businessman with ties to the Russian government. Carrie pulled flight records. You were headed there.”

  “That means,” Monty said “you were exactly where they wanted you to be. They hadn’t planned on taking you to Russia.”

  “It still doesn’t explain the reasoning for bringing me up here and then trying to kill me.”

  “No, ma’am. But they knew the feds are all over this. No one was able to find a connection to Krupin, so it looks like it was some splintered faction working on their own. They’re actually lucky the feds got to them first. Krupin doesn’t take kindly to being left out of the loop. Which is maybe why they thought twice about keeping you. If word got back to Russia and to Krupin, he’d stop at nothing to find out which one of his men was going into business without him.”

  Two hours before they’d boarded the fueled plane, they’d gotten word state troopers, in collaboration with the FBI, had picked up four men, one with severe burns and fitting Daniel’s height and weight. Ryan had already given the go ahead for around-the-clock protection and anything else Monty might need. Considering that only a short time ago, Monty’s boss had forced this vacation on him for one of the biggest fuck-ups of his life, it was generous of him. Either that, or the man still had feelings for Taylor.