Lethal Force (12 page)

“What?” Lori finally said. “We're just discussing the finer points of the law.”

“Right,” Tramil said, leaning forward in his seat. “And the bad guys are just chasing me because I have a new Lego design.”

Silence all around.

Jake gave in first. After all, he was just bringing this man to a safe location before he regrouped to search for those who wanted to do him harm—or at least steal his work. “All right,” Jake said. “But those clothes won't work up in the snowy high country.”

“Are you taking me shopping, Mister Jake Adams?” Lori asked enthusiastically.

“No. I'm guessing everyone in town knows you. I'll shop for you and the professor. But first I need to make a stop at my storage unit.” He turned and headed toward the south side of town. There was a big outdoors store on the way out of town, and his storage locker a mile down the road from that. He had set this locker up years ago, but he also had similar storage units in Austria and a couple other countries, along with bank accounts in safe havens in four countries.

Portland, Oregon

Alex Yaroslav handed the driver cash and then stepped out of the taxi in front of Union Station, a large stone structure in the city's Old Town Chinatown section along the Willamette River. Glancing up at the clock tower, he saw it was a couple minutes after ten, and he had only a few minutes until the Amtrak train, the Empire Builder, would arrive at the station. Assuming the train was on time, which he knew from experience was rarely the case.

He and his associate, Danko Boskovic, had decided to travel from the airport to the train station in different taxis. Alex suspected Danko was already inside somewhere, setting up the perfect intercept point. But he didn't like this one bit. Neither of them had a weapon, having depended on airlines for their travel. Eventually Alex knew he would need to find a few guns, or at least a knife. For now, though, they would have to depend on their own strength and their training to fight by hand. This could be a problem, considering what they knew about Jake Adams. Based on their intel, Adams was a dangerous man. Their young friend Bogden had found that out himself in Montana.

Inside the terminal only a few people wandered about the structure, which would be considered old in this country but a new building in his own. To Alex it looked like the perfect place for Portland's homeless to find warmth and get out of the frequent cold rains of winter.

It wasn't hard to find Danko. His bald head lumped over the top of an
Oregonian
newspaper, which he lowered slightly to reveal his eyes. These little black orbs shifted to his left at a Portland Police Bureau officer talking with a disheveled man in dirty clothes with a backpack over both shoulders. The scruffy homeless man was being summarily escorted out of the building before the tourists could disembark and get an immediate negative impression of their city.

Alex found a rack of brochures against one wall and watched the policeman in the reflection of a window as he pretended to read a pamphlet on the nearby Chinese Gardens. In a few moments the area was clear of miscreants and available for passengers to disembark without panhandling.

Alex's phone buzzed in his pocket and he checked the incoming text message. It was from Milena telling him that the train should be sliding into the terminal at this time. It was also at that very moment he heard the train and then saw it slowly slide by the windows outside.

He turned and saw Danko still behind his newspaper. Alex nodded his head at him, meaning get up and pretend to look for a friend or relative getting off the train. Danko did just that, leaving the paper behind on the wooden bench.

Now he would need to contact Milena directly and have her guide them to the transmitter. He called her on his cell phone and waited.

She answered and started talking in their language.

Alex interrupted her. “Speak English,” he said. “We stick out too much otherwise.”

“Fine,” Milena said. “Your transmitter is working fine and on the move. Doesn't seem to be waiting for the luggage, so they must have only carry-on.”

“That makes sense,” Alex said, his eyes scanning the door for Adams and the scientist. “Adams would have only his pack that he had in Washington. Where are they now?”

“Inside the terminal,” she said. “It says he's inside the terminal.”

Alex shifted his eyes toward his partner, Danko, who was standing at the edge of the door. His shoulders shrugged slightly. The plan was to have him come up behind the men while Alex confronted them directly. But there was only a young man with a backpack over his shoulders, much like the homeless man only less scruffy. Other than him, there was only a young woman with a backpack almost as big as her and an old man who shuffled quickly toward a real bathroom.

“Where is it now?” Alex asked her.

“Looks like it's going out the front door,” she answered.

Which is exactly where the young man was going.

Damn it. They had been duped.

Alex said, “Adams dropped it onto someone else.” But where and when did he do so? They would have to wait and watch everyone get off the train to be sure. He hung up with Milena and watched each person depart the train. As each person walked past him, it became clear that Adams had pulled off a grand deception from way back in Montana.

Bitterroot Mountains, Montana

The three of them had traveled for a couple of hours south of Missoula after first picking up some provisions and Jake Adams stopping at his rental storage unit. Snow had crusted over on the road, leaving washboard-like strips of ice, only parallel, which seemed to pull the SUV nearly off the road in one direction or the other. Snow plows had actually made conditions worse. From US Highway 93, which ran from British Columbia to Phoenix, they had gotten off on a county road, then a forest service dirt track, until they reached a dead end, gated with a warning that they were leaving forest service land and entering private property. Of course with two feet of snow covering the road beyond the gate, it wasn't like anyone without snow shoes, cross country skis or a snowmobile would be traveling beyond Jake's metal barrier.

This land had been in Jake's family on his mother's side since before Montana statehood in 1889. Officially it was still in Jake's mother's maiden name, but he was really the only family member still interested in the property. It was just too isolated for his brother or sister. The very reason Jake liked the place. But he had not been there himself in the winter in a number of years. Why? From the gate to the cabin it was two miles, with a rise of over a thousand feet of elevation.

They got out of the SUV and Professor James Tramil took in a deep breath of cold, fresh air. “This is fantastic, Jake. You own this property?”

Opening the back of the SUV, Jake said, “It's been in my family for more than a hundred years. The Forest Service has been trying to get us to swap land with them for decades. But we've been here longer than there's been a Forest Service.”

Lori zipped up her jacket. “I think a cold front is moving in from Canada.”

Jake handed the professor a pair of new lightweight snowshoes they had just purchased for him in Missoula. “You ever use these?”

“Yeah,” Tramil said. “I grew up in Marquette, Michigan. But the kind we used back then were those long wooden contraptions. I'll bet I could run with these on.”

“Let's hope you don't have to,” Jake said. “We'll be going well over eight thousand feet by the time we reach the cabin.” Then he turned to Lori. “You might want to wait here.”

“Then why'd you buy me the snowshoes, Jake?” she said, her arms crossed over her chest.

“I forgot how much snow would be up here, Lori. It's two miles up the road, uphill the whole way.”

“And downhill all the way back,” she said. “I can keep up.”

He looked her up and down and had to admit she was in very good shape. “All right.” He pulled a backpack from the back and threw it at the congresswoman, who caught it and almost fell over. “We can use the extra pack mule.”

“Great. I've gone from congresswoman to jackass in just a few days.”

Jake started to say something, but she gave him a wicked glare and he held back his comment.

In a few minutes of putting on snow shoes, backpacks and adjusting clothing, the three of them then headed around the gate and up the narrow road.

It took them two hours to travel the two miles through some of the deepest snow Jake had ever traversed. Tramil had kept up with Jake's pace, but Lori had fallen behind many times, mostly because her legs were much shorter than either of the men, so she had to blaze her own trail half the time instead of simply falling into Jake's snowshoe indentions.

Checking his watch as they got to the outside of the cabin, Jake wasn't pleased with the time. It was already two p.m. It would be nearly dark by the time he and Lori got back to the SUV, and it was never a good idea to get caught out in the dark in the Montana mountains during the winter.

“Let's go,” Jake said. “We've gotta hurry. Lori was right. Looks like a cold front is heading our way. And I've got to get the good professor set up before I leave.”

“Just point me in the right direction, Jake,” Tramil said, “and I'll be fine.” He pointed at the stack of wood under the porch that ran the length of the cabin. Covered with a blue tarp, it was dry and seasoned.

“All right,” Jake said. “Lori, why don't you head inside with your food pack and then take a rest. It will be easier going on the way down the mountain, but still not like a walk in a DC park.”

Lori walked past Jake with her snowshoes and she punched him in the arm. “Remember, I was born here and grew up here. I haven't been in Washington that long.”

Jake smiled at Tramil, who said, “She's been quite the trooper.”

“Yeah, now let's get moving.” Jake hurried toward the cabin. He was never sure what kind of shape the place would be in each time he came here. He never locked the doors, figuring someone who really wanted in could just break a window. And that would let in the weather and the critters.

But the cabin was in good shape since his last visit. It looked like nobody had been there. The place had hardwood floors everywhere, with a few throw rugs. The fireplace was framed with smooth river rock from floor to ceiling against one wall. Two other walls were adorned with elk and deer antlers. And the fourth wall had a brown-phase black bear rug that took up most of the space. A chill came over Jake, as his mind flashed back to the cabin in Austria where his girlfriend Anna had been shot and killed.

“This is a nice place,” Lori said, setting her bag onto the floor and taking a seat on the cowhide sofa.

“Thanks,” Jake said. “I just added this furniture last fall, along with a new bed.” He glanced around the room and thought about the last time he had been there. He had brought a girlfriend from Germany after his crazy case there, where every hitman and criminal in Europe was trying to kill him and collect on a one million Euro bounty on his head. She had helped him load and off-load the trailer with the furniture, and then the two of them had fly fished a number of local streams—places off the beaten path for most fishermen. They had spent three nights there before she had concluded she needed to get back to Munich to her job with
Der Bundesnachrichtendienst
, the German Federal Intelligence Service. The BND would only wait so long. He thought about her often, and what their life could be like together. Right now, and for the past months, they were seeing how life was apart from each other. A lot had happened to Jake since the two of them were together, including Jake's incarceration in a Tunisian prison for killing a terrorist.

In fifteen minutes Jake showed the professor where everything was, from the fire starters to the generator that fed the back-up batteries. Almost ten years ago they had even upgraded from an outhouse to a flush toilet that fed to a septic and drain field.

“At night make sure you don't flush or use too much water,” Jake warned. “Otherwise the batteries will drain too fast pumping the water. I run the generator during the day to power the batteries.”

“How are you on gas for the generator?” Tramil asked.

“You should have enough gas for a month up here,” Jake said. “Not that you'll need it. I'm hoping we can get you in a week or two. Hang on.” He went into the bedroom and came back with a side-by-side double-barrel shotgun and a box of shells. “You know how to use this?” He handed it to the professor.

Tramil flipped open the breech to check if it was loaded, slammed it shut and pointed it toward the door. “Yeah, point and shoot, right?”

“Right,” Jake said. “Just don't shoot my brother when he comes up here next week with more supplies. He'll be on a black snowmobile pulling a sled with your gear.”

Jake went for the door and considered one more time if what he was doing was the right thing. Although he knew he could handle living out this far from civilization, since he had done it many times, he had no idea if the professor was equally inclined.

Lori rose to her feet quickly and seemed uneasy. Jake rushed to her and caught her just as she started to fall toward the wooden floor. He brought her to the ground and placed her head against his lap. “Lori, are you all right?”

Her eyes swirled around and struggled to remain open. Finally, she shook her head and said, “What happened?” She tried to raise herself up but Jake held her in place.

Professor James Tramil hovered uncertain, his arms across his chest.

“You started to pass out and I caught you,” Jake whispered. “Are you all right?”

She twisted and sat next to him. “I don't know. I've never fainted or passed out before. It's such a girly thing to do.”

Jake laughed. “No, it isn't. I've seen huge football players do the same thing. Are you nauseous?”