Cold Snow: A Legal Thriller

by John Nicholas

  "I suppose it can't hurt to let you know! You're about to die anyway!"

  Alex focused intently. He had to hear the next words...

  "Mafia, Orson! Canadian Mafia! Organized crime! The most ruthless, dangerous, and coordinated mob in the world! A professional team of killers, silently robbing people of their most precious gift, every day!"

  Alex stood, stunned. This was not what he had expected, certainly.

  "Anybody who so much as shortchanges one of our operatives is put to death. We launder and embezzle money under the oblivious nose of the government. We manipulate politicians, judges, law enforcers. We sell weapons and traffic drugs to far corners of the globe."

  It was Alex's turn to screw up his face. "You disgust me, Levache."

  Levache guffawed. "What do you plan to do about it? Jean le Potard, our leader, is a great man. If you knew what he had in store for this worthless country...what he had in store for you..."

  "I want to hear the end of that sentence!" But it was too late. Levache, a horrible laugh suspended on his face, drew a bead on Alex and aimed his gun. Alex looked at Sarah. She had to wake up...Levache clicked off the safety. Alex stated at the Saskatchewan River. It would be the last thing he ever saw.

  I can think of worse things.

  As Alex closed his eyes and braced for the shot, the heavy fog and snow that persisted through the day rolled across the top of the Trans-Shield Express. The wind blew viciously, the fog obscured all vision. Confident, Levache squeezed the trigger. But when Alex opened his eyes after the shot he was still alive. Francois Levache had missed his first shot.

  Alex heard an inhuman roar of rage and a clang of metal on metal, presumably the gun being thrown down on the train, and then, as the fog lifted but the snow persisted, Levache charged at him like a bull to a matador's cape.

  The force of the first blow threw him clear across the crevice, over Sarah beginning to stir, and onto the roof of the next car. As he watched, Levache leapt across with surprising agility for a man with such a large build, and advanced, hungry for blood.

  The people rushing through the halls had ducked into cabins, desperate to hide, and only Hart and Anthony were left in the halls. Hart clutched the rifle and Anthony limped after him, stealing glances at the window and watching Ordoñez move closer, kicking through doors.

  "Hart, he's coming!"

  "Then get through here!

  Hart punched through the glass and turned the handle. Blood began seeping across his hand. "Not doing that again," he winced.

  Anthony threw open the door and hurled the fire extinguisher through it, reaching through and turning the handle before limping hastily through. Hart followed and began looking around.

  They were in the last car--through the door ahead of them, the railroad sped away from beneath the train. It appeared to be a storage room, as the floor was littered with wooden crates. Anthony tugged on Hart's shoulder as Ordoñez opened the door they had locked behind them. Only one now stood between them...

  They both cast their eyes around the boxes, desperate for something to help them. Anthony's eyes fell on a box marked Official Railroad Signal Flares.

  Levache struck so quickly that Alex had no time to react. The moment the meaty fist struck Alex was bowled over and sent sliding across the slick surface of the train's roof. Struggling to hold a footing before he fell into the pit between the cars, he raised his gun and fired twice, wildly and blindly, missing both shots by several feet.

  Levache laughed and began racing toward him again.

  With no time to explain to Hart what he was doing, Anthony ripped the cover off the crate and dug through it, finding a pile of cold metal objects. He yanked one out and came up with a small, gold-colored flare.

  Ordoñez forced his foot into the door and it snapped cleanly off its hinges. In the distance Anthony and Hart could hear the screams and moans of those who undoubtedly knew exactly what was occurring on the train...that two were dead, soon to be six...

  Sarah had finally risen. When she fell she had lightly hit her head--it wasn't enough to knock her out but it floored her for a few minutes. To her surprise she found that she was still holding her gun. She looked around wildly, searching for Levache.

  She spotted him on the next car. He had struck Alex and was advancing again, filled with cold fury. Sarah glared at his back and readied herself. She knew what she had to do.

  With a loud roar, she leapt over the pit and threw herself into Levache from behind. Alex saw his assailant's eyes widen in shock as Sarah leapt on him and struck him across his face with a left hook. Taking her lead, Alex punched him in the stomach, and stood to face Levache.

  The Frenchman wildly swung his arms, striking blows at every part of Alex. Alex fought desperately to keep him off but felt himself becoming weaker, and Levache seemed to be becoming stronger...

  Alex stared at Levache's face, forced all his strength into his arm, and struck. Levache yelled in pain and fury, blood pouring from his nose. He kicked Alex to the floor and turned on Sarah, seizing her by the throat.

  Sarah kicked at Levache's stomach and chest as he lifted her off the roof...she saw Alex, bent against the wind, fighting to reach her...she felt her face turning blue as the air left her lungs...stars exploded in front of her eyes...and the forest and river, all the time, continued to rush by, indifferent to these human battles...

  Anthony let the flare loose the moment Ordoñez crossed the entrance to the room. It struck the wall a yard to the left of where he had intended and burst open in a frantic display of chaotic light. The floor and stacks of crates burst into flames, and the crackling of the fire filled the room.

  As the interior of the car heated up, Ordoñez forced himself through the flames. Anthony, suddenly realizing that the fire extinguisher was on the floor, snatched it up, dropping the flare.

  Hart looked at him, and he looked back. By unspoken decree they agreed. Hart shouldered the rifle.

  Ordoñez laughed, high, cold, and merciless. Hart, his strength failing, signaled to Anthony. They charged at the assassin and took him by surprise. Mingled shock and terror were suspended upon Alberto Ordoñez's face as he was thrown backward into the next car, and landed on the floor.

  Anthony readied the extinguisher in one hand. The fire was a wall, a mass of flames he could not afford to hit. He grunted and hurled it.

  The extinguisher miraculously cleared the flames. It landed just outside the door.

  Ordoñez yelled in terror and realization. He turned to flee.

  The extinguisher, for a split second, hung in the air as the antiquated link creaked and Hart stared down the barrel of his gun.

  Then he flicked the trigger.

  The world exploded in silent light.

  CHAPTER 20

  The Saskatchewan River

  The first thing Sarah saw was the fireball and the flash of light, and then she was released. She lay upon the train in the frigid air, drawing rattling breaths, clutching her chest and gasping for the air she had never appreciated so much.

  At the sound and sight of the explosion at the back of the train, Levache had scrambled backward in fear, fell on the ice, and collapsed. Alex was on the ground, playing dead, and the explosion set off a clash of emotions: Ordoñez could be dead, but very easily, Hart and Anthony could be also.

  He had no time to worry about it, though. In the light from the fireball he and Levache were illuminated lying side by side atop the train. Alex rolled over and kicked Levache in the side as hard as he could. With a yell, the Frenchman slid across the ice—

  --and over the edge of the train.

  Alex breathed a sigh of relief, coupled with amazement that one of their pursuers had actually been felled. Everything, however, was quickly cut down his the dread he felt at what he would find at the end car.

  Even that soon left, however.

  "Sarah!"

  Alex cried out and dove for her hand, for Sarah was sliding quickly over the edge as well. He grapple
d for it, clawing desperately at the icy expanse, finally reaching something warm and grabbing onto it with all his might.

  Sarah had slid completely off, and was now kicking wildly with her feet, looking for a foothold she was unlikely to find anytime soon. Alex held onto her hand with both of his, crying out wordlessly, struck with fear when he noticed what was below her.

  Francois Levache, leering madly, was clinging onto Sarah's ankle, fighting to aim his gun with one hand at Alex's forehead.

  "Sarah, you've got to shake him off!"

  "I'm trying!" Sarah kicked and spun her leg back and forth, throwing off Levache's aim but not dropping him to the ground.

  Alex closed his eyes and jumped.

  Hart heard the creak of the ancient clamping system moments before it was permanently rent to pieces and the entire front wall of the car was blown to shrapnel. He and Anthony were thrown backward by the force of the destruction, Anthony hitting the back wall and Hart hitting the door, bursting it open on impact.

  It took them a few seconds to realize that the car had stopped moving--they had been completely separated from the train. They slowly rose to look upon their handiwork, Hart first and Anthony later, eventually looking upon the gaping hole and the train disappearing into the mist.

  Whether it was his careful aim or his silent prayers Alex would never know, but he somehow made contact. Levache's inhuman shriek of pain resonated through the air as he, Alex, and Sarah fell past the rushing Trans-Shield Express in a heap. Then they struck the earth.

  The base of snow saved them, and they fell apart on impact. Alex looked from where he lay on his stomach and saw a small, steel object lying on the tracks ahead of him--his gun.

  Levache was lying a short distance away from him, and slowly rising—Alex knew he would never get to it in time.

  When he had risen to his knees, Levache doubled over, clutching his head in a resurgence of pain.

  It's safe now—

  Alex groped at his weapon, found it, and aimed it.

  Levache was rising again and pointing his own weapon directly at Alex's head.

  Alex aimed. He had, at most, less than a second, and only one chance to shoot—

  He fired.

  Levache screamed and dropped again to his knees, then fell against the cold tracks—

  "The Moose Killers!" Alex shouted, racing up to him. "What are they planning? How does my father know them?"

  Levache's eyes became glassy and lost focus. Alex knew that he had fired his last shot and spoken his last word.

  Anthony clambered down over the railings and ran to follow Hart, chasing after the train. "What are we doing this for!?" he shouted as they sprinted. "You don't really think we'll catch it!?"

  "Alex jumped!" Hart shouted back. "I know he did. We're going to catch up with him!"

  They came upon him kneeling next to Sarah on the tracks, examining a large, dark shape. Upon approaching they saw that it was a man's body. Alex looked up, his face flooded with relief. "That was quite a blast," he said. "Everyone in Saskatchewan must have seen that thing."

  "We don't like to brag," Anthony said, smiling. He lost his smile when he saw the corpse. "Who's that?"

  "Francois Levache," Sarah answered. "The Frenchman who Ordoñez worked with. He gave us a load of trouble, we'll tell you the story later."

  "Damn," Alex said. "I can't believe I actually killed somebody. I actually pulled the trigger that killed this guy."

  Hart stepped forward, his face full of grim resignation. "Hate to break it to you, but there's four more guys we're going to have to kill tonight."

  Alex looked up. "Huh?"

  "I said, there's four more guys we're going to have to kill. Remember Ordoñez saying that there were four Moose Killers on the train? They're probably insurance, there in case we escape. They'll be coming after us."

  Sarah looked at the train, then at Levache's body. She prized open his hand and took the gun out of it.

  "Great," Alex said. "We're all armed. Let's move."

  The driver had finally received the alert after the explosion, and the Trans-Shield Express was pulled to a shuddering, screeching halt. The mob of angry passengers proceeded to storm the front car, angry and seeking answers the engineer was unable to give them. In the chaos, nobody noticed four men in suits exiting through the door at the back. Each was carrying a fully loaded automatic rifle, identical in make to the one Hart slung over his shoulder as he ran.

  The train vanished into the mist as they beat a path further from the tracks and closer to the winding river. Alex continued to hear sounds that he swore were voices and gunfire, but were probably just the wind and the water.

  At last they reached a grove where Alex held his hand up, calling for them to stop. Hart protested, saying they had to keep moving to shake off their pursuers.

  "We don't even know if anybody's chasing us!" Alex said, raising his voice. "Besides, look at all these trees…this whole place is a disguise. They won't find us."

  "Shut up and listen for a moment!" Sarah called. She was standing beside a tree a few yards from them.

  The footsteps of several men could be heard amid the whistling wind.

  "What are you waiting for!?" Sarah shouted. "Get moving!"

  Alex, Hart and Anthony immediately dove through the wall of trees and headed for the river.

  One of the men yelled something to the other three; Sarah judged him to be the leader. Three of them, including the one that had shouted, turned toward the river. One continued toward the grove, directly for where Sarah was hiding.

  Sarah was standing, facing the tree. She dodged into his sight line and fired twice, missing both shots. She quickly took cover again behind the tree.

  The Moose Killer fired several shots past her, unable to hit her through her cover.

  He was getting too close. She had to move.

  Sarah dodged backwards and headed for a bank of bushes to her right, shooting twice more and again missing.

  She ducked and rolled as the Moose Killer blasted at her. The bullets streaked dangerously close but missed.

  Behind her cover she checked how many bullets she had remaining. Three. Better than nothing…

  The Moose Killer had vanished, presumably taking his own cover. Sarah scanned the row of trees and the riverbank beyond.

  The man appeared again, firing a series of shots at her, which again barely missed. Sarah crouched low behind her bush, then rolled out and stood up. She let off another shot and stood facing the Moose Killer, ready to attempt what she thought was her only chance. Sarah advanced.

  The Moose Killer fired. Instinctively she flung out and arm and felt the bullet strike the edge of her hand. Her left hand was instantly covered in blood. Cursing, screaming and fighting back tears, she continued moving forward, held the gun before her with both hands, and shot him through the stomach.

  He collapsed on the ground. She aimed at his head and closed her eyes, not wanting to hear what came next. She squeezed the trigger, and instantly had a vision of somebody else lying on the ground, a fired to his head.

  Still fighting tears, she picked her way through the trees to see how the rest of the battle was going.

  Alex was crouching on all fours beside the riverbank, waiting for a shot he knew would come soon. His adversary was hunting him along the stretch of land beside the water's edge. When there was a single shot he would know the position of the Moose Killer leader. Then, the fun would begin.

  Alex looked over to the far bank. Between the trees, he swore he saw a creeping shadow, but seconds later knew he had imagined it. He held his gun ahead of him, waiting for the sound.

  Hart cocked the rifle as he ran to the right along the banks of the river. There was somebody in the brush on the opposite bank, somebody who was looking for Hart as Hart looked for him.

  He ducked behind a pine as a volley of shots rang out. For a split second after, the man was visible on the opposite bank. Hart hurled himself out from behind the tree, fir
ed off a round of shots in the general direction of his opponent, and rolled down the snowy hillside, bullets striking the ground behind him.

  He had one chance, and that was to keep the assassin from drawing a bead on him. What Hart forgot, though, was that the snowy slope eventually came to an end. It was too late for him to stop before he flew off the slope and crashed into the river.

  Spitting water, struggling to get his balance in the current, he saw a spray of bullets hit the water to his left. Looking wildly for some cover, he spied a bank of reeds, and dove behind them, dodging another hail of fire.