Fire and Ice (Buchanan-Renard 7)

“No, he had an unfortunate accident. A polar bear killed him.”

Mary nodded sagely. “Ah yes, Barry ate him. We never knew the man’s name. Now we do. William Harrington.”

“Have you ever met the scientists who study the wolves?” Sophie asked.

“No, they keep to themselves. They watch the wolves, and sometimes they watch us. I think maybe they study us, too.”

Mary insisted on feeding them. Knowing it would insult her to refuse the kind offer, Sophie spoke up before Jack declined. “We just ate before we came here, but I would love something hot to drink, please.”

While Mary brewed tea, she told them about the other villagers. Later, she pointed the way to the three neighbors she knew to be home.

They spent the next hour knocking on doors and asking questions.

As they left the last house, Sophie said, “We should have listened to Mary. She told us no one saw Harrington, and she was right. She’s a sweet woman, isn’t she?”

Jack nodded. “You put her at ease.”

“Do you think we could stay inside the empty cabin Joe told us about? I’m freezing. The cold seems worse since I got warm at Mary’s house.”

He put his arm around her shoulders. “Sure. I think we’re through here. Chipper should be back soon.” He pointed to a small wooden building sitting fifty yards off in the distance. “That should be it over there,” he said.

He pulled her close as they made their way to the cabin, and Sophie prayed that there was a heater inside ready to start.

“I guess I may never know why Harrington came here,” Sophie admitted.

They walked up the two steps to the door. Jack reached for the handle just as a loud crack split the air and splintered the wood, the chips flying past Sophie’s face. His reaction was instantaneous. He threw the door open and shoved Sophie inside, covering her with his body as she landed on the floor.

JOURNAL ENTRY 807

CHICAGO

We can’t afford another mistake like the one Eric made with Brandon. If the Alpha Project is to continue, we have to be prudent and cautious. We ’ve refined the formula and believe we’ve found the right dosage.

We ’ve set up a human trial and were amazed at the number of applicants. It’s incredible how many people will sign up for something if we play to their ego. Even when we swear them to secrecy, they seem eager to prove themselves.

They believe they are testing dietary supplements. We have given them only enough information to gain their trust and their cooperation.

The results have been phenomenal, even better than we expected. The added variable of the adrenaline has been especially exciting. The next step is to increase the stress factor to see how it affects the results.

ANOTHER CRACKLING BOOM. IT SOUNDED AS THOUGH INOOK had been snapped in half by a demonic force. Jack kicked the cabin door shut and dragged Sophie out of the line of fire.

Stunned, she whispered, “Was that—?”

“High-powered rifle. Stay down!” Jack’s voice was hard, angry.

He didn’t have to tell her again. Her mind took a few seconds to grasp the horror of someone trying to kill them, but her body reacted instantly.

Jack ripped his glove off and, gun in hand, rolled next to the window. He leaned against the wall, listening to the silence, waiting for some sound that would tell him where the shot had been fired. Ten seconds passed. Ten more. Nothing. He slowly edged up to look out the corner of the window. Impossible to see much of anything. The wind was stirring up the snow on the ground, and more was falling.

Sophie crawled on her stomach to the far wall, then quietly turned and sat with her back against a cabinet. She looked around the cabin, searching for anything that would help them defend themselves. It was sparsely furnished with a table and chair, a cabinet, and a cot. A thick drape meant to keep out some of the cold was pulled back on a hook beside the small window, which was their only source of light.

Another round of bullets slammed into the wall outside. Some of them spit through, hitting the table and chair.

“Get behind the chest!” Jack shouted.

Sophie hurried to do what he ordered and crouched down just as a bullet hit a can on a shelf above her. Pork ’n Beans. The can spun around, flew into the wall, and crashed to the floor.

The shooter was getting bolder, coming closer. Jack heard the sound of a motor humming in the distance. He looked out again and through the snow saw a light bouncing across the flat area where Chipper had landed the plane. It had to be a snowmobile. The beam of light was widening, and the sound of the motor getting louder.

“No matter what, you stay down,” Jack shouted to Sophie.

“Careful, Jack. Careful … please.”

Sophie watched him turn and reach for the door handle. He cracked it open an inch, no more. Stretching out his arm, he aimed the gun and waited for the snowmobile to stop. It was still too far away. He needed it to come within range.

“A little closer. Just a little closer,” he said, deadly calm.

He got his wish. The snowmobile moved toward the cabin. When it stopped, the shooter turned the motor off but left the spotlight on as he swung his leg over and stood next to it, raising his rifle again. As though realizing he could be seen in the light, he lowered his weapon and leaned across the shield to turn off the beam.

For an instant he was in the light. That was all the time Jack needed. Shoving the door open with one hand, he fired with the other. The first bullet wounded the man in his shoulder and spun him around. The second bullet went through his neck. He was dead before he hit the ground.

The wind blew the door toward Jack, and he held it back with his arm as he scanned the area, looking for another target. Motioning for Sophie to stay where she was, Jack disappeared into the snow

Sophie lay trembling for what seemed an eternity. She felt helpless. There was no signal on her cell phone, and the people in the tiny village didn’t have telephones, so there was no way to call for help. Every minute Jack was gone felt like an hour. What was happening? Was he all right? Why didn’t he come back?

The cabin was as cold as a meat locker, and her teeth chattered violently. She couldn’t wait any longer. She got up and ran to the door. Just as she reached for the handle, it opened. Jack was coming up the steps holding the shooter’s rifle in his left hand.

He wrapped his right arm around her and pulled her back inside, bolting the door. After lighting a candle that sat on the table, he looked around for something that would warm the room.

Sophie cautiously edged her way to the window and glanced outside. She saw the dead body sprawled on the snow. “Where did he come from?” she asked. Before he could answer, she thought about the village.“What about Mary and the others?” she worried.

“If they’re smart, they’ll lock their doors and stay inside.”

Sophie could barely make out the shapes of the houses in the distance. She couldn’t see any signs of movement. Again she looked at the dead man.

“What are we going to do?” she asked.

“For now, we’ll stay put,” he answered. “If no one else shows up, we’ll move the body. Someone might come after him.”

Jack had found a kerosene heater and was lighting it. Sophie rubbed her arms and stomped her feet while he got the heater working. The rifle he’d taken from the dead man lay on the table. It had a scope on top.

“Who was he, Jack?” she asked.

“I’ve never seen him before. Do you recognize him? Maybe you saw him in Deadhorse or Barrow.”

“I can’t see his face from here,” she answered. She dropped the curtain across the window.

Jack walked over to stand in front of her. Her face was pale, and she was trembling. He surrounded her with his arms and tilted her chin up. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

She grabbed hold of the collar of his jacket, drawing him to her. “I know. And I’m not going to let anything happen to you. You’ve got a gun. Can I

have the rifle?”

“You think you can handle it?”

“If you show me how.” She glanced at the door. “Why is this happening? Why would anyone want to shoot at us?”

“I don’t know,” he answered, “but I’m going to find out.”

“Where did he come from?” she asked again. “Mary told us the men in the village wouldn’t be back until late.”

“His snowmobile came from the east,” he said. “The only thing in that direction is the scientists’ camp.”

“I remember,” Sophie said excitedly. “Chipper told us the people staying there have all the latest equipment. If they have a satellite phone, we could call the police in Barrow and get some help.”

“We’ll wait it out until Chipper gets here. We can’t take any chances.”

“How can you be so calm?”

“Practice,” he said.

Jack managed a quick smile, but inside he was in a rage. He wanted to shoot the bastard a couple more times. He crossed the room to stand next to the window, moving the curtain aside just enough to watch the area in front of the cabin. Minutes passed and no one else appeared.

Finally, he said, “I’m going to move the snowmobile and the body behind the cabin. You barricade the door behind me.”

“Oh no, you don’t,” Sophie cried. “I’m not waiting in here without you again.”

“Then stay behind me,” Jack cautioned. He went out first. It was deadly quiet now, the silence eerie.

Sophie followed Jack to the snowmobile. The halo of blood around the shooter’s head was black against the white snow. Bracing herself, she looked at his face.

She gasped. “I know him.”

JOURNAL ENTRY 874

CHICAGO

We’ve found the perfect subject. He’s extremely fit, and he signed on to the project knowing that he could be tested at any time. His considerable ego makes him willing to prove himself. In addition, he has no family and very few ties. If he were to disappear for a few weeks, no one would miss him.

SOPHIE STEPPED AWAY FROM THE BODY. “CHICAGO,” SHE SAID. “I talked to him in Chicago. He was rude, and I thought he looked like Bluto.”

Jack knelt on one knee and methodically went through the man’s pockets, searching for identification. He found a gun, engaged the safety, and handed it to her. In another pocket he found two clips and gave those to her as well.

“He was the security guard,” she said. “No, I thought he was a security guard. I remember thinking he was filling in for someone else at the reception desk.”

“Where, Sophie?” Jack asked patiently. “Where exactly did you see him?”

“In the lobby of William Harrington’s apartment building.”

If Jack was surprised by the news, he didn’t show it. “Go back inside before you freeze to death.”

His expression told her he didn’t want an argument. She headed toward the cabin but dropped one of the clips in the snow. She scooped it up and held it against her so she wouldn’t drop it again. Inside, she carefully placed the gun and clips on the table next to the rifle and felt a little calmer, knowing if anyone else were to start shooting at her she had weapons to defend herself. It wasn’t relevant that she had never even held a gun until just a moment ago. Jack would show her how to unlock the safety and load the weapon. By God, she’d shoot to kill if she had to.

She remembered the bloodstains on the snow and went outside again. While Jack moved the snowmobile and the body behind the cabin, she scooped up handfuls of snow and covered the blood. Then she stomped it down so the wind wouldn’t carry it away. It seemed to her that the temperature had dropped again. Did it ever get too cold to snow, or was that a myth? She didn’t know. She should have paid attention in earth science class instead of flirting with Billy Gibson.

By the time she and Jack were back inside the cabin, they were feeling the early effects of hypothermia. Sophie’s feet were numb, but after pacing in front of the heater, her toes began to sting, a good sign, she knew, though it was painful.

Jack was going through the drawers of the cabinet looking for anything they might need should they be stuck in the cabin all night. In the bottom drawer he found a stack of porn magazines, which explained how some of the stranded pilots passed the time, and a flashlight. The batteries were weak. He added the flashlight to the pile on the table and kept looking.

“This is the most ill-equipped cabin,” he muttered.

“What should it be equipped for?” she asked. She pulled off her gloves and warmed her hands in front of the heater.

“Anything and everything. We’ll need more kerosene, and I don’t see any.”

“Chipper will be here soon.” She tried to sound optimistic.

Jack nodded. “There’s a small utility shed close. I’ll look there.”

“It might be locked,” she said as she put on her gloves again.

“If it is, I’ll break the lock.” He pulled the curtain away from the window and scanned the area in front of the cabin.

“Jack, what are you thinking?” she asked.

He didn’t want to scare her, but he wanted her to be prepared. “If the man I killed had friends waiting for him, they might come looking. We need to be ready for anything … just in case.”

He looked at her to see how she was handling the dark pos sibility.

She simply nodded and said, “Okay.” She wrapped her scarf around her neck and tucked it inside her collar. “Show me how to use the gun.”

He smiled.

“What?” she asked.

“You’re a lot tougher than you look.”

He gave her the man’s gun and made her release and engage the safety several times before he was convinced she wouldn’t forget it in a crisis. Then he showed her how to load the clips and fire the weapon.

Sophie put the extra clips in her left pocket, zipped it closed, and checked the safety one last time before slipping the gun into her right pocket.

“I’m going to the shed. I’ll be right back,” he told her. He looked outside before opening the door. Sophie was right behind him.

“I’m going with you. I can help carry if there are things we can use.” She nudged his back. “Hurry. You’re letting the cold in.”

He pulled the door closed. She walked beside him, and he slowed his pace so that she could keep up. “You just had to come to Alaska,” he grumbled. “I hate this cold.”

She ignored his complaints. The snowfall had diminished, and Sophie looked off to the east. On the dark horizon, she could just make out the silhouette of a building. Joe had told them that the scientists closed down for the fall, but maybe Bluto had gotten inside and been waiting there for them to show up.

“How did Bluto … I mean, how did the man who shot at us know we would be here? He must have followed us,” she said.

They had reached the shed, and as Jack tried to pry open the door, Sophie pulled the wool scarf over her mouth and nose to warm the air before she inhaled it. Hearing a sound in the distance, she looked up at the heavy clouds hanging over them, expecting to see Chipper’s plane.

“Do you hear—?”

Jack grabbed her and pulled her to the side of the tiny building. “Someone’s coming. Stay here.”

He slowly looked around the corner. Two … no, three lights were coming toward the cabin from the east. Three men on snowmobiles were riding at full speed. It was too dangerous for Jack and Sophie to try to make it back to the cabin, so they waited. The men slowed and fanned out as they got closer. One headed toward the front, halting before he reached the cabin so he couldn’t be seen. The other two circled to the back. When they passed the snow mobile Jack had parked there, they stopped abruptly.

“They found the body,” Jack whispered.

One man motioned to the other, and they turned their machines around and retreated a few hundred feet, pausing to confer. Jack saw one of the men lift a fuel can from the back of his snowmobile. On foot, they crept up to the cabin again. The th

ird man moved closer, drawing a gun and aiming at the front door while the other two bent low and ran under the window. One took a rag from his pocket, dipped it in the can, and set it afire. Giving the signal, he broke the glass and tossed the rag inside just as the man with the fuel threw the open can through the window. The light from the flame flashed across the opening, and the cabin ignited. The men crouched in the snow, waiting for Sophie and Jack to run out the door.

Sophie couldn’t get the gun out of her pocket with her gloves on, so she pulled one off. Flexing her hand for circulation, she wrapped it around the handle with her finger on the trigger.

One of the men turned to the side and saw motion coming from the shed. By the time he raised his gun in their direction, Jack had aimed and fired. Solid hit. The man dropped on the snow facedown.

Jack swung to the left and fired again. He wounded the second man, got him in the shoulder, and fired again. The bullet hit him in the back of the knee as he tried to turn to shoot. Screaming, he went down hard.

The third man disappeared. A second later, they heard a snowmobile revving up. Jack ran toward the bastard writhing on the ground and kicked the gun away from him.

Sophie followed. “This one’s not going anywhere,” she shouted as she pointed the gun at his head. “Go after the other one.”

“If he moves, shoot him,” Jack ordered. Running to a snowmobile, he jumped on and took off. The man he followed headed east, then veered north at full speed. Jack thought he must be disoriented. There was nothing in that direction but the ocean.

The sky had turned dark, and the lights on the snowmobile made it easy to follow him. The light wavered, and Jack heard gunshots. The man was shooting at him. At this speed, it was only a matter of time before he lost control of the snowmobile and killed himself. Jack slowed down, widening the distance between them, and followed as the man zigzagged across the snow, the light on his vehicle bouncing at every bump.

How many miles had they gone? Jack’s face stung from the cold; his eyes burned from the wind. Where did the bastard think he was headed? Had he lost his bearings? They had to be getting close to the ocean.