It was odd, he thought, as he crossed the hallway, how long he had gone without remembering his home in Woodsbrook. Roland, however, had sent Ordoñez after them--he had killed Jake. Alex found himself wondering where the assassin was now. Had he given up? No, he can't have. He doesn't seem the type.
The room was on the ground floor, and he reached the lobby easily, crossing and opening the door. As he stepped outside he was struck with a burst of cold. It wasn't snowing, but it looked almost ready to. He set off along the street, watching the northern night and its mysterious beauty.
Up ahead, he saw something strange. A figure, standing alone in the middle of the street, was watching the sky. As Alex observed him he began moving intently toward the exit of the town. Alex, his curiosity piqued, followed at a distance.
As they passed the "Porcupine" sign, Alex considered going back--it was frigidly cold, and this figure didn't seem to be doing anything interesting.
This all changed when Alex saw his face. He turned around to face the town just past the sign, and was illuminated by one of the few lamps set along the street.
It was Hart McGee. His eyes were closed and his face was tranquil; it appeared to Alex that he was sleepwalking. Hart continued walking, along the dirt remains of the Transit. Alex considered following further, but decided against it. Still, he had to wonder if there was more to Hart than met the eyes.
Hart was the last one to the meeting place the next morning. Alex and Anthony were studying the map, and Sarah was staring out into the landscape. A light snow was beginning to fall from the wide, overcast sky, and she was sure that the thirty-mile hike, while arduous, would at least be vividly scenic.
Hart arrived fifteen minutes after they had agreed, wearing his own heavy coat.
"Hart!" Alex said. "Where were you? We were about to leave without you!"
"Sorry!" Hart said defensively. "I overslept." This Alex could believe. He had, after all, been sleepwalking.
"Well, okay. You're here now. Who's up for leaving?"
"Oh, yeah," Hart began. "I forgot to ask...I didn't catch your names..."
"Anthony," Anthony said, not taking his eyes off the map.
"I'm Sarah Jones. Sorry about him," Sarah said, shaking Hart's hand. Alex could have sworn he saw her turning red when Hart smiled. "Okay, Anthony," she asked, turning to him. "Which way do we go?"
"Due northwest," he replied, pointing at the horizon. "That'll take us through the Porcupine Mountains, toward Duck Mountain. Around there is where we meet the train. It's actually the middle of the park but apparently whoever runs the place let them build a railroad through there."
"Thanks, Anthony," Sarah said, smiling. "What would we do without you?"
Anthony's face suddenly hardened. "Yeah," he said stonily, "I think it's time somebody around here considered that question."
Alex stared at him. "What are you getting at?"
Anthony rounded on Alex. "What I'm getting at," he said viciously, "is that I think you should start treating me with a bit more respect! Without my navigation you'd be stuck in Ridge City. Without my finger on the trigger of that rifle you'd all be buried next to Jake!"
"You shut up about him!" Alex shouted.
"What have you done!?," Anthony shouted back. "What have you done except get us shot at and led into traps!?"
"Quiet!" somebody shouted; looking around, they realized it was Hart. His softened face had returned to the hard stare he'd worn during his fight with Alex. "I don't know who Jake is or what happened in Ridge City, but I do know that if I'd known you two would be bickering the whole time, I never would have agreed to come."
Alex and Anthony were shocked by this outburst; Alex looked over at Sarah, who, to his disgust, and one unidentified feeling, was gazing admiringly at Hart.
"Now, look." Hart went on. "I have an idea to solve this. We split up into two teams. Each of us takes one pack of supplies. One team takes the two pistols, the others get the rifle. We each walk the route, and the first to arrive at the town we're aiming for is the winner. Got it?"
They all considered it for a moment. Finally, Alex said, "That's not a bad idea. If I win...none of you will question my leadership anymore. I did start this outfit."
"Okay, but if I win, and I will..." Anthony pondered. "You will respect me as your equal...and you'll let me have cigarettes."
"Deal," Alex said. "I'll go with Hart and we'll take the rifle. You go with Sarah and take the pistols. If anything bad happens, if we get lost or..." he did not speak to the elephant in the room, "fire a few shots from the gun. It'll travel far around here, and we'll come and find you."
Everybody nodded in understanding.
"See?" Alex said to Anthony. "I told you bringing him was a good idea."
"I do not understand, Ordoñez, why you insist on driving with the roof off this car. It is barbaric when it's this cold."
"Welcome to Manitoba, Francois. You're here. Get used to it. Because I don't know how long this is going to take."
Francois Levache sighed, and returned to gazing out at the passing landscape. "Remind me never to ride in your car, ever again. As a matter of fact, remind me to never to pick up your slack again."
Ordoñez gritted his teeth in frustration and bent low over the wheel. "I don't think you'll have much to worry about there."
"So," Levache said, turning to face Ordoñez. "I have been meaning to ask. Could you give me a scouting report? What has the past situation been with this particular target?"
Ordoñez made an angry noise halfway between a grunt and a sigh, and drew a deep breath. "I was contracted by an entrepreneur in New York--"
"New York City?"
"Upstate. And please don't interrupt me. He told me to retrieve his runaway son who was fleeing along the interstate, and that he represented a sizable investment, so I must return him alive."
"Did he elaborate?"
"No! And don't interrupt! It's not Moose Killer policy to interrogate clients."
"I apologize. Go on."
"Thank you. Now, I initially formulated an elaborate plan to use his friends to lure this kid, Alex Orson is his name, to me."
Levache rolled his eyes. Whereas Ordoñez often described his plans as "elaborate" most of the rest of the Moose Killer force preferred the term "unnecessarily convoluted".
Ordoñez continued. "While tracking him I committed three murders on Potard's orders, skillfully accusing the target. I would then follow him, capture his companions, and force them to stand trial. I studied him enough to learn that his nature would bring him to rescue them, at which point I could have him arrested too and kidnap him out of the jail."
Levache was slightly confused. "I do not see how that could go wrong."
"He escaped," Ordoñez said succinctly, scowling. "Two of his companions got away with him, the third died."
"Hmm," Levache said, in deep thought, "I think I understand why you need help with this. Anybody who can escape from the clutches of the police and MK simultaneously is not your average target. What do you plan to do?"
"I'm glad you asked, Francois. First of all we find a small village called Porcupine at the end of this highway. Second, we track Orson and his companions across the wilderness. If we can catch up to them, we kill them all."
"That does not seem too difficult."
"However, if we fail to catch up to them before they reach Duck Mountain, and we probably will as they have a head start, I have a hunch that they will be catching the Trans-Shield Express."
"So, we follow them aboard?"
Ordoñez grinned. "Exactly! And take them down!"
"There's just one more thing that bothers me, Ordoñez."
"What is that?"
"You were told by your client to bring his son alive. Now you tell me you plan to kill him. Are you not acting in direct violation of this entrepreneur's wishes?"
Ordoñez watched the road for several seconds before speaking. "I was given higher orders."
"What do you
mean? Is it possible for...upper management to override client's wishes?"
"Not usually. But this is much more important than most. And after I kill the son...I'm going to kill the father."
"Okay," Alex said, staring across the wide landscape. "Do we all know the route?"
"Northwest," Sarah said, following Alex's gaze.
"Towards Duck Mountain," Anthony added, pointing toward a large summit across the vista.
"Got it," Hart adjusted the straps on his backpack. He was holding the automatic rifle across his chest. "Let's go."
They all hesitated for a moment before stepping off the road
--it seemed at the time like a very rash thing to do. Eventually, however, they managed it, and set off into the forest, toward the mountains. Eventually, they reached a fork in the clear path: Alex and Hart went left while Anthony and Sarah went to the right.
Alex and Hart walked in silence for what felt like around three hours, but which could have been any amount of time. After all, Alex thought, out here, who cares what time it is?
It was definitely beautiful enough to take his mind off anything else. The landscape rolled up and down, and all around them grassy hills flourished, covered with stately aspens. The mountains, capped with snow, loomed in the distance, and they often had to take off their shoes and wade across small ponds or creeks. Above it all, the sky was overpoweringly wide and grey, giving a desolate and magnificent feel to everything around them. It was now misting off and on, and the familiar fog was creeping in around them again.
After a long time, Alex was completely wiped out. It was too overcast for him to know for sure but it seemed as though the sun was sinking in the west. On an ordinary highway he could have made fifteen miles by now, but as they often had to pause to make sure they were headed in the right direction, or double back to get on an easier path, or trudge up steep hills, they hadn't been able to make good time.
Alex found himself wondering where Anthony and Sarah were, whether or not they were winning. He found himself worrying that something bad could have happened to them, in which case it would be his fault due to his and Anthony's petty competition. He found himself wishing he had gone with Sarah, although he didn't really know why. He found himself wondering what time it was.
He spoke the first words he had said to Hart since they left. There are those who will aggressively vocalize their appreciation of a land's beauty, and those who understand that words cannot capture it.
"Do you think we should stop?"
Hart, however, did not answer. He appeared to be staring at something on a ridge across from the wooded creek they were currently standing at. Alex walked to stand next to him, attempting to see what Hart was seeing.
Then he noticed it for the first time. A large animal was creeping along the ridge, ambling softly, moving slowly but in a way that made it seem it was sure of its surroundings. As they watched, it paused beside a gathering of small shoots, and tore them up with a heavy paw before messily consuming them.
Alex stared at it, trying to identify it from a distance, when Hart spoke, doing it for him. "It's a black bear," he said, answering Alex's unspoken question. "There's a few of them wandering around this part of Manitoba. Don't get too close!" he said quickly, flinging an arm out to stop Alex, who was making to move closer. "They can be predatory."
Alex stood transfixed, watching the bear as it lumbered through the forest away from them. "It's…um…it's beautiful."
"Isn't it?" Hart said, smiling broadly and looking truly happy for the first time since Alex had met him. "They're a wild ideal…I think every animal aspires to be the bear. If everybody lived like them the world would be a better place."
Alex was not sure he shared this opinion, so he walked off into the trees and began gathering wood to build a fire.
Ordoñez was in his element, and Levache knew it--whatever the Moose Killers could say against the assassin, he was more skilled at tracking than any of them. He commanded a certain respect for this skill, and especially for some famous exhibitions. The most talked-about of these was his spectacular shooting of a victim hiding in the Mojave. To fit with Ordoñez's sense of humor, the gun had been a Desert Eagle.
A slight misting rain had helped to preserve the party's footsteps. Ordoñez darted around the path, examining trampled vegetation, closely studying anything resembling tracks, and looking for traces of unnatural occurrences that would signal that a human had been there. Levache merely watched and followed him, knowing that his job was to pull the trigger.
"I expected this," Ordoñez had said at one point near the start, shaking his head. "They split up. The young ones always do. It looks as though two of them went this way and two of them went over there."
"I thought you said there were three of them?"
"Evidently they found another."
Ordoñez elected to follow the tracks to the left, knowing that it did not matter and that they would meet up again. He stalked the footprints mercilessly, not eating or resting, knowing that he would catch his man, as he had done every other time.
The fire was roaring with mighty crackles, and the sky was completely dark. Alex was lying beside it, mesmerized by the flickering flames, marveling at the perfect chaos of the fire. Hart, however, was sitting at the edge of the creek, staring across the wilderness.
Alex remembered his sleepwalking escapades of the previous night and wondered what was wrong with their new companion. At last he chanced to speak. "Hart. Are you all right?"
"What?" Hart said, as though he was barely registering the words. "Oh, yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."
"You are not fine."
"What makes you think that?"
"The fire is over here. It's warm. But you're over there, where it's cold. Why?"
"Maybe I just want to enjoy the night air."
"Did you know you sleepwalk?"
He had obviously touched on something. Hart turned around and fixed Alex's eyes with a piercing gaze. But there was something beyond that. Alex had been trying to see what Hart was thinking ever since he had met him, and now he found it--deep below his defenses Hart carried the burden of sorrow.
"I do not sleepwalk," he said pointedly.
"I saw you! Just before we left Porcupine, you went and walked past the entrance to the town."
"Why the hell would I do that?"
Alex sighed. "Who are you, Hart? What's your story?"
Hart turned around again so Alex could no longer read him. "I'll tell you if you go first."
Alex sighed. "If you want."
"I do want. People don't end up in the middle of the Canadian wilderness for no reason at all."
Alex took another breath and began. "I was born in New York--"
"City?"
"Upstate. And please don't interrupt me. Woodsbrook, New York, in August of 1993. I lived there for about twelve years with my evil father and indifferent mother, and--"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Hart held up his hands. "Back up. Tell me about them."
"Them?" Alex retorted. "Who wants to know about them?"
"Twelve years with those kind of people...that would have shaped you more than anything else."
"Okay. My mother, Catherine...I would say maybe ten words a day to her. She was obnoxious and self-satisfied, and would never let me forget that she'd rather have had a girl. My father--now there's a piece of work. My mother was unpleasant. He was evil. Real evil."
Hart laughed slightly. "Are you making this up?"
"Do you think I could make this kind of thing up?"
"Actually, I don't."
"This guy ran my town. He took absolutely no crap from anybody. He was sadistic, and enjoyed watching people mentally and emotionally suffer. After I ran away from him he hired a hitman to come after me."
"What!?"
"Don't worry, I think he's given up. But he took a bit of me with him. If not for him we would have had uneven teams."
"There was a fifth?"
"I had no friends in Wo
odsbrook except for this one guy, Jake. And I found out later he was just using me...but..." Alex put his face in his hands. "I can't bring myself to hate him for it. It's so easy for me to hate other people but I can't hate him."
"I know..." Hart said uncertainly.
"Really."
Cold Snow: A Legal Thriller Page 19