The first thing Ash did was check the weather report. It didn’t look good. One, maybe two days of relative calm, then another storm, a big one that might last several days—several days they couldn’t afford to sit idle.
Once they arrived at the CF Guest Quarters, he told the team what he’d decided. “We’ll have to split up. Four in one, three in the other, with Gagnon in the plane.”
Chloe nodded in agreement, but Pax didn’t look as comfortable with the idea.
“The weather isn’t giving us a choice,” Ash said to him.
“I know. It’s the decision I’d make, too, but I still don’t like it.”
Ash nodded. He felt the same way. “I want you to head up the second group. Browne, Solomon, and Wright will go with you. Chloe and Red will be with me. Which island do you want?”
“You’re the boss. Which one do you want?” Pax asked.
Before Ash could respond, Chloe said, “We’ll take Yanok.”
They all looked at her.
“If you know something, you should tell us,” Ash said.
She shook her head. “Just a feeling.”
Ash stared at her a moment longer. He knew firsthand that her instincts were far better than average, but kept the thought to himself. “Okay. Gagnon, you’ll fly the first group out to Amund Ringnes in—” He looked at his watch. “—six hours. As soon as you get back, you’ll take us to Yanok. Anyone have any questions?”
There were none.
“Then that’s it, I guess. Tomorrow we start what we came here to do. No pressure, but the whole human race is hanging in the balance.”
“There is that, isn’t there?” Pax said.
SECURITY HAD ALWAYS been a priority for the Project. The last thing they wanted was for Bluebird to be discovered. They had come close already with the men who’d made it all the way onto the island, but it seemed as if Major Ross’s diversionary tactics had been successful in cutting off any trail that might have led back to their headquarters.
From even before they had taken full control of the facility on Yanok, they had stationed a two-man observation team in Grise Fiord. The men—Rogers and Perry—posed as climatologists for a European consulting group, and had slowly worked their way into the tolerance of the locals, if not their trust.
Because of this, whenever something happened in Grise Fiord, they heard about it almost right away, like everyone else in town. This was particularly true of new arrivals.
When the news got around that evening about a jet touching down with a group of scientists, Rogers had been having a beer with a few of the local residents. Upon hearing the story, he casually finished off his Molson’s and excused himself for the night.
He did not, however, return home. Instead, he took the cold bumpy drive out to the airstrip.
Just like he’d been told, there was a private jet sitting off to the side. They didn’t get a lot of traffic out here, especially not jets. Usually those who arrived in one were oil and energy people looking for a new resource to exploit.
Unable to recall ever seeing this particular plane before, he wrote down the tail number so someone back at Bluebird could run it through the system. Next, he went to see if the plane might be open. He wasn’t worried about being seen. Chances were he was the only one outside for a thousand miles in any direction. The aircraft, however, was locked up.
He drove back into town and woke up Perry. Together they headed over to the building the supposed scientists were using for the night.
All the lights inside were off, so it was a pretty good bet that everyone was asleep. Over a period of time, he and Perry had been able to make keys to all the buildings in town as a precaution. Not that they needed them often. There was no crime up here, so most places were seldom ever locked.
That message had obviously not been passed on to the new arrivals yet since the door to the CF Guest Quarters was secured. Rogers thought for a moment, bringing up a layout of the building in his mind. If he remembered correctly, there was a long, narrow mudroom on the other side of the main entrance, then another door that opened into the central room where everyone would be sleeping.
Easy enough.
He found the appropriate key from his master ring, slipped it into the lock, and turned it. The door opened with barely a protest. He motioned Perry in first then followed.
The front room was pretty much empty. Unfortunate. He’d been hoping their luggage would be there. Having no other choice, he moved quietly to the other door, listened for a second, then turned the knob and pulled the door open.
CHLOE’S EYES OPENED.
She’d heard something, but didn’t know if it was real or in her dreams.
She tried to recall the noise. Something bumping something else, maybe? A click?
Even as this thought was going through her mind, the wind suddenly howled across the roof.
Maybe that’s what it was?
Click.
No, not the wind. Not even from outside. The noise had come from somewhere in the room.
She raised herself on her elbow and looked around. All the other cots were full, so whatever was making the sound was either the building itself, or…
A shadow moved over near where they’d left their backpacks.
Son of a bitch! Someone was trying to steal their things.
Silently, she slipped from the cot, and moved along the back end of the beds in a crouch, using them as cover to get closer to the packs. She stopped behind the last cot.
Not one shadow. Two.
They seemed to be carefully looking through the bags. Why? If they were thieves, they would just grab and go. It was almost like they were looking for something in particular.
She glanced around for anything she could use as a weapon, but apart from a pair of boots, there was nothing handy.
To hell with it. She didn’t need a weapon.
THE PACKS WERE stuffed with all the items one would expect for cold weather survival—clothes, goggles, extreme-rated sleeping bags, and similar items. But so far, Rogers and Perry had found nothing identifying the people sleeping on the cots.
Rogers leaned toward his companion. “There are a couple bags by the door,” he whispered in Perry’s ear. “I’m going to check ’em out. You stay on these.”
CHLOE SMILED. WHOEVER the intruders were, they’d just made a critical error.
There was no question which one she should go after first. The guy sneaking across the room was headed straight for the bags containing weapons and other specialized gear.
Being sure to stay out of either man’s line of sight, she quietly closed in on her target.
THERE WERE THREE large, duffel-type bags shoved against the wall. Rogers started with the one farthest from the door, and carefully unzipped it. When he had it open enough to look inside, he pulled out his flashlight and aimed the beam into the bag.
Guns. At least half a dozen. And not the kind that might be needed in the unlikely event they ran into a wild animal. These were handguns.
Why would a group of scientists need pistols? Only one answer came to mind: because they weren’t scientists.
He turned to get his partner’s attention.
WHEN THE MAN finished looking in the bag, Chloe was two feet behind him, her arm drawn back.
He paused for a second, undoubtedly working through what he’d just found. Then, as she knew he would, he turned.
The base of her palm rammed into the side of his jaw before he even registered her presence. The blow sent him reeling backward. His feet caught on one of the bags, and he fell across them, his head slapping loudly against the wall.
Chloe whirled around and sprinted across the room toward the other man. He was staring at her, surprised. His hand suddenly shot to the pocket of his jacket, where it began fumbling with the opening, going for a weapon, no doubt. But by that point, he was too late.
Chloe all but leaped the final few feet, hitting him in the chest and sending both of them to the floor. She tried t
o pin him down, but he had a size advantage on her, and easily shoved her off to the side.
“I could use a little help!” she yelled.
The intruder pushed himself back up, but was on his feet for only a second before Chloe grabbed his ankles and yanked his legs out from under him.
“What’s going on?” a sleepy voice called out.
The man jerked Chloe toward him by her hair, and threw his arm around her neck, choking her from behind. She slammed her elbow repeatedly into his ribs, but he held on tight. Gray started to invade the edge of her vision as the blood flow to her brain decreased. Desperate, she brought her leg up into the air, bending it at the knee, and slammed her foot down into his groin.
Air rushed out of his lungs as his grip around her throat loosened.
Chloe twisted free, hopped to her feet, and looked back toward the other guy. He was still on the floor in the same place she’d left him.
Suddenly, the lights came on.
ASH WAS FIRST to jump up. He ran across the room to the light switch and flipped it on.
Chloe was standing in the middle of the room, her fists hovering ready at her waist. She was looking back and forth between two figures on the ground. The one nearest her was rocking in obvious pain. The other one lay unmoving only a few feet away from where Ash stood.
The rest of Ash’s team were throwing off their blankets and hopping out of their cots, ready if another fight broke out.
Ash jogged over to Chloe. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”
There was a patch of red on her neck, but otherwise she looked fine.
“What happened?”
“These two assholes were taking a look through our stuff.”
“Who are they?”
She frowned at Ash. “I didn’t stop to ask.”
The one who’d been rocking had recovered enough to put his hands on the ground and try to stand.
“Uh-uh,” Chloe said, shoving him back down with her foot.
Ash pointed at the unconscious one. “Pax, check him.” He then knelt next to the nearer guy. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Nothing, okay?” the guy said defiantly.
“Not okay. Why were you going through our stuff?”
The man remained silent for a few seconds, then shrugged. “Looking for something we could sell. That’s all. You got us, okay?”
“Sell? Here in Grise Fiord? I’m guessing there’s not much of a black market.”
“You’d be surprised.”
“You got that right.”
Chloe moved up next to Ash, and put her foot on the man’s neck. “Who the hell are you?”
“Stop!” the man croaked.
“I think you should probably answer her question,” Ash said.
“Just a couple of guys, all right? Trying to entertain ourselves.”
Chloe pushed down on his throat.
“Come on…stop…it.” His voice was even more strained.
Pax walked up behind them. “Ash, a moment if you don’t mind.” Once they were several feet away, he whispered, “The other guy’s dead. I’d say he cracked his head against the wall.”
“Dammit,” Ash said. That was a mess they didn’t need.
“I wouldn’t worry too much. I don’t think these guys were just burglars.”
“Why not?”
Pax held up his hand. In it was a small notebook. He opened it to a page near the back, and showed it to Ash. There was a date, a number, and the words: 7 MEN 1 WOMEN, PLUS 2 MAN FLIGHT CREW. Pax pointed at the second item. “That’s the tail number of our jet.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’ve flown in the thing nearly a hundred times. Yeah, I’m sure. Now take a look at this.” He flipped back to earlier pages in the book. It was a log with more dates, both arrival and departing; plane numbers; and passenger descriptions. “He’s been tracking visitors. I’ll bet this is everyone who’s set foot in this town since he’s been here.” He paused, and locked eyes with Ash. “I think they’re with the Project.”
Ash looked at the book, and pointed at several dots that were printed at the end of each entry. “What are these?”
“I’m not sure. But if I had to guess, I’d say those were times they reported in.”
Ash flipped to the last entry. Theirs. At the end was a blue dot.
With a nod, he walked back over to their captive. He motioned for Chloe to remove her foot, then crouched down beside the intruder, making sure the man could see the notebook in his hand.
“I have a very simple question for you. Where is Bluebird?”
“Bluebird? What’s that?” The response was automatic, too quick.
Ash opened the notebook to the page containing the team’s information. He tapped the blue dot. “What did you tell them?”
The guy snorted and shook his head, but kept his lips sealed this time.
Ash stood up and looked over at Browne and Solomon. “Search him.”
They pulled the intruder to his feet and checked him over, but the only items they found were a pistol, a flashlight, and a key ring with four keys on it.
“Where is Bluebird?” Ash asked the man again.
For a second it looked like the intruder was going to deny any knowledge of the Project’s base again, but then he smirked and said, “You really expect me to tell you?”
“It would be better for you if you did.”
The man laughed. “You’re all going to die, you know that? All of you. There’s nothing you can do!”
Without warning, he lashed out to the side, knocking Solomon backward, then ran for the door. Ash and Browne sprinted after him. The intruder reached the mudroom five seconds before the others. He raced to the main door and threw it open.
Neither Ash nor Browne were dressed for the outside, and would risk serious exposure if they stepped into the Arctic night for more than a few seconds.
With no choice, Ash returned to the other room, where he threw on heavier pants and a jacket, and yanked on his boots without tying them.
“Take this,” Pax said. He tossed one of the pistols through the air.
Ash grabbed it in mid-stride and headed for the main door. Browne was standing just inside, holding the door partially open.
“Which way did he go?”
“Left,” Browne said.
Ash ran out the door.
The cold was like a wall, slapping him hard and nearly stealing his ability to breathe. He forced himself forward, ignoring the shock, and focused only on finding the man. If the intruder really was part of the Project, they had to stop him before he could report back to his bosses. If that happened, their mission would be compromised, and their minimal chance of success would drop to zero.
CF Guest Quarters was located at the northern end of Grise Fiord, not far from the landing strip. The bulk of the town—not much to begin with—was to the left on the other side of a short bridge.
Ash ran as fast as his loose boots let him, his gaze on the road ahead, looking for the man in the darkness. Wind was whipping around him, sending up swirls of ice and snow, and playing tricks with the shadows.
He had just crossed the bridge when he heard someone running up behind him. He twisted around, thinking maybe he’d somehow passed the man, but the person was too small.
Chloe, he realized. In her hand was a gun.
With a nod of acknowledgment, he started off again, his run turning more into a jog as the cold zapped the energy out of him. Even then, within half a minute, he was in the main part of town.
Here and there, lights shone outside some of the buildings. Each structure was raised above the ground, making them all look like they’d fit better in a mobile home park farther south than this northern bit of barren island. Even the church looked like a shoebox on a wooden stand.
The road ahead was split, one part continuing straight and paralleling the coast, while the other curled to the left, back to a few other buildings on the
eastern side of town. He glanced at Chloe and pointed for her to take the coast road. He then followed the curve.
Where is this guy, dammit?
It wasn’t that big of a place. Ash doubted there were even one hundred buildings in the whole area. He was also confident the man couldn’t have gone into any of the buildings unseen.
Stopping in front of the church, he looked around.
Nothing. Just night and snow and frigid cold. He was the only one—
Wait. Something had moved behind a large storage tank to his right.
He ran toward it, stumbling once but managing to remain on his feet. As he neared the tank, he saw another behind it, and there, outlined against the side of the second tank, was the intruder.
Breathing hard, the best Ash could muster was a quick walk, but it was faster than the other man, who could do no better than to shuffle around the tank. Soon, Ash could hear the man breathing.
“Stop!” he yelled when only fifteen feet separated them.
The intruder looked back, but kept moving.
Ash raised the gun. “I will shoot you.”
The threat did nothing to stop the other man.
On willpower alone, Ash increased his speed until he caught up to the man. He reached out and grabbed the back of the guy’s jacket. The intruder tried to pull away, but Ash held tight.
In a desperate move, the guy spun around and threw himself at Ash. Ash’s feet slipped on the icy snow, and they both slammed to the ground. The man grabbed the barrel of the gun and twisted the weapon, popping it free. Ash tried to snatch it back, but the man pushed away, creating a few feet of distance between them.
Ash scrambled to his right, wanting to get behind the cover of the tank, but knowing he wouldn’t make it in time. When the gun went off, he tensed, waiting for the bullet to hit.
It never did.
He looked back.
The man was sprawled on the ground, a hole in his head.
The Project Eden Thrillers Box Set 1: Books 1 - 3 (Sick, Exit 9, & Pale Horse) Page 47
