White Mountain (29 page)

“Where?” he asked.

“It was in Quantico, Virginia, during my training days.
 
We were studying…well, for lack of a better word, what amounts to espionage.
 
One of the trainers showed a file about the Cold War, and we were discussing some of the more famous spies of that time and the tactics they had used then that were now out of date.
 
There was a picture of a man, a Russian agent, who was believed to be a spy they called the Hawk.
 
The face just stayed with me.
 
I‘m pretty sure Victor Ross is the same man, only I can’t be positive.
 
Age is bound to have changed him some, and he’s gone now, so I can’t look at him again.
 
But…”
 
He shrugged.

“It still doesn’t make any sense,” Isabella said.
 
“Even if Victor Ross was the Hawk, and even if he did kill Uncle Frank, are you saying he’s turned into a common criminal?
 
And why did he come to the United States, anyway?
 
Wouldn’t he still be in Russia, savoring his reputation and retirement?”

“There isn’t much left of the old Russia,” Jack said.
 
“And I’m not implying, nor do I believe, that he’s here just robbing and killing for the hell of it.”

“Then what
do
you believe?” Isabella asked.

Jack stood, nodded a thanks to David for the treatment, then made a unilateral decision to reveal more of what he knew.

“I believe he was sent to find one certain man.
 
I believe he found him, but not everything else he expected.
 
I think that’s why he came to White Mountain.
 
He came to Frank Walton’s home looking for something, and until he finds it, anyone regarding themselves as Walton’s family might not be safe.”

“My God!”

They turned.
 
Thomas Mowry was clutching his chest.

“And he found us,” the old man muttered.
 
“He found us all.”

Immediately, everyone rushed to his side.
 
Jasper was closest and was already easing Thomas down to the floor and loosening his clothes.
 
David had his medical bag in hand and went to his knees.

“Thomas…Thomas…are you in pain?” he asked.

“No…just felt faint,” he muttered.

“Help me get him in bed,” David said.

“Let me,” Jack said, and lifted the old man in his arms.

“In there,” David said, and led the way to Thomas’s bedroom.

Jack laid him down, then stepped back, letting the doctors do their thing.
 
He stood for a moment, seeing the fear and concern on their faces, as well as the bond that years of companionship had woven.
 
He hated being the one to upset their quiet little world, but if they had knowingly harbored a defector, it was bound to come out eventually.

It wasn’t until Thomas began coming around that Jack realized Isabella was missing.
 
He turned to look for her and saw her, pale and shaken, standing in the doorway.
 
He went to her.

“Honey, he’s okay.
 
I think it was just shock.”

She stared at him as if he were a stranger.

Jack frowned.
 
“Isabella?”

She shrugged out of his grasp and then walked out of the room
 
He caught up with her at the head of the stairs.

“What/” he asked.

“There’s something you’re not telling us.’

“I’ve told you everything I can.”

“Frank Walton was nothing to you, but he was part of our family.
 
You have no right to keep us in the dark.”

He took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly.

“Ask you uncles,” he said.
 
“They know more than they’re telling.”
 
Then he added, “If you need me, I’ll be in my room.
 
I have some calls to make.”

“What do you mean…they know more than they’re telling?
 
Are you insinuating that my uncles are somehow involved in what happened to Uncle Frank?”

“I’m not implying anything.”

He walked away, leaving her to digest what he’d left unsaid.

Isabella turned and stared down the long hallway to the last room on the right, then started walking.
 
Halfway there, she stopped, her heart pounding, he hands damp with sweat.

Oh God!...please…I can’t take much more.

Then David came hurrying out of the room.

“Isabella, we’re going to take Thomas into Braden.
 
I think he’s all right, but to be on the safe side, I’m going to put him on a heart monitor for the night.”

“Can I help?”

David paused, then smiled gently and pressed a kiss on her cheek.

“No, darling, we can manage just fine.
 
You hold down the fort here, okay?”

“What if that man come back?
 
The one Jack Dolan says killed Uncle Frank?”

Something flickered in the back of David Schultz’s eyes.
 
When Isabella saw it, her faith in the uncles quietly died.
 
For the first time in her life she felt alone in the world, and she knew that if he answered, it would be a lie.

“Never mind,” she said softly.
 
“You take care of Uncle Thomas.
 
I’ll take care of myself.”

She walked away, her back straight, her stride long and purposeful, and David had never felt as guilty or as old as he did at that moment.
 
They were deceiving her, and she sensed it.
 
Not in a way she would ever imagine, but somehow she knew there was a secret that she didn’t share.

“Lord help us all,” he muttered, and went downstairs to meet the ambulance that was already on its way.

Jack slammed the door to his room because it was his only outlet for the frustration he was feeling.
 
He strode to the bed and sat down with a thump.
 
The urge to lie back and sleep was strong, but there were things he had to do first.
 
If only he’d come to the realization a day earlier, Victor Ross might still be here.
 
He needed to confirm his suspicions, but had no way to—no, wait.

He came off of the bed in a leap and ran to the dresser where he’d tossed the pictures he’d been taking as part of his cover.
 
He’d taken numerous pictures of the hotel as well as the surrounding area.
 
If he was lucky—and he was due for some luck—the gardener could have been in some.

Grabbing the fistful of photo packets, he tossed them on the bed and then kicked off his shoes.
 
His belly was growling from hunger, but there was too much to do to bother with changing and going downstairs.
 
Room service wasn’t offered, but he figured if Delia was on the registration desk, he could talk her into getting him something from the kitchen.
 
At least it was worth a shot.

He dialed the front desk and then counted the rings.
 
About to hang up on the eighth ring, he finally heard Delia’s breathless voice.

“Front desk.
 
How may I help you?”

“Delia, it’s Jack Dolan in 200.
 
I know Abbott House doesn’t offer room service, but I was wondering if I could talk you into getting me some food.
 
I’m not picky.
 
I’ll eat anything.”

“Certainly, Mr. Dolan.
 
I would be happy to see that you get some food.
 
In fact, I’ll bring it up myself.”

“Thanks, Delia.
 
I’ll leave the door unlocked.”

He disconnected, then reached for the first packet of pictures and quickly shuffled through the prints.
 
Victor Ross was in none of them.
 
He looked through the second, then the third, and was halfway through the fourth packet when he started to smile.

“Bingo,” he said softly, and turned the photo he was holding a little closer to the light.

It was a morning view of the back terrace, and none other than Victor Ross was coming out of the service entrance.
 
Jack remembered thinking at the time that the man had been in a hurry but had paid little attention.
 
If only he’d looked at him then as closely as he was seeing him now, things might have been well on their way to being over.
 
He flipped through the rest of the photos quickly to make sure there wasn’t another that was better, but there was not.

Tossing the pictures aside, he hurried to the desk, scanned the picture into his laptop, then reached for his cell phone.
 
Within moments, the director answered.

“Dolan?”

“Yes, sir.
 
Sorry to be calling so late but—“

“I only pretend to have office hours.
 
What’s up?”

“I think I’ve identified the man we’ve been looking for.
 
Unfortunately, I missed apprehending him.
 
He got spooked and ran before I could get to him.”

“I can get a team there P.D.Q.
 
Do you know where he went?”

“No, although I’m guessing he went back to the mountains.
 
Aside from Braden, which is too damned small to hide out in for long, it’s the only place close by in which to hide.”

“Maybe he figured out that Walton had nothing of value and has headed for home.”

“I don’t think so,” Jack said.

“Why not?”

“Because he left without answers, and I don’t think that will be acceptable to the people who sent him.”

There was a moment of silence, and then the director spoke.

“What haven’t you told me?”

“I think it was the Hawk.”

“Who are you--?”
 
Jack heard the director’s swift intake of air and then a shift in the timbre of his voice.
 
“
The
Hawk?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I thought he was dead…or at the least living somewhere in relative obscurity on a government pension.”

“The man I saw was far from dead.”

“I don’t know…that’s a big stretch.
 
If it was him then the scope of this is broader than we thought.”

“Yes, sir.
 
I was thinking the same thing.
 
I have a snapshot.
 
It’s not a closeup, but his face is pretty clear.
 
I’ve scanned it into my computer, and I’m sending it to you now.”

“Give me a second,” the director said.
 
“I’m not in my office.”

Jack could hear him walking, then a door opening, then closing firmly.
 
Seconds later, he heard the squeak of a chair.

“Okay, I’m in.
 
Just give me a minute to…yeah…here it is.
 
The download is complete.
 
I’m printing it now.”

“What do you think?” Jack asked.

“I’ll have to give the Company a call and run this through their files.
 
Of course, age enhancement will play a part in this, too.
 
I’ll let you know in a couple of hours.”

“Yes, sir.
 
I’ll be waiting.”

‘Is there anything else?” he asked.

Jack sighed.
 
It had to be said.

“They know who I am.”

“How did this happen?”

“I told them.”

There was another moment of silence, this time longer than the first.

“I assume you had your reasons?”

“Yes, sir, I did.”

“What do the know about why you’re there?”

“Only that I was trailing the man who killed their friend and that we knew he’d used the dead man’s plane ticket to come to Braden.
 
Also…I told them he was Russian.”

“Do you think that was wise?”

“Right now, sir, I don’t know what I think, but I know what I saw.
 
The five old men whom Isabella Abbott calls her uncles were scared out of their minds when I told them.
 
One may have been in the throes of a mild heart attack when I left to come to my room.
 
Oh…I forgot to tell you that I’ve got a friend in research at Quantico getting me information on all the people who were on the same plane with Vaclav Waller.
 
The one that supposedly went down.”

“Really?
 
What are you hoping to find?”

“I’m not sure, but I think I’m on the right track.
 
There were seven doctors on that flight, along with a couple of pilots and a woman, who was supposed to be one doctor’s wife.
 
And, up until a few weeks ago, there were seven old men living in Abbott House.
 
The names aren’t the same, and I can’t tell anything about the faces because the picture is too old and the man are too young, but it’s quite a coincidence, just the same.”