From a cloudless sky, a three-quarter moon cast its glow over the resort. Conditioned by his Special Forces training, Alex had memorized the layout on his first visit. The habit made him go over it again as he walked. Moonlight reflecting off snow-laden trees that bordered the road winding down the mountain gave it the look of a crooked, black snake. Moonbeams also bounced off the silvery metal roofs of two barn-like structures a hundred or so yards removed from the rest of the resort and fifty yards farther down the mountain. Thick cables cast shadows on the smaller barn’s roof. The power lines meant the barn housed generators. Faint outlines of vehicles parked near the other barn signaled its role as the resort’s motor pool and maintenance shop.
Higher up, clinging to the mountainside near the ski lift, Silver Hill’s corporate headquarters kept watch over the whole complex. Against moonlit snow accented by dark shadows, the building could have been a gigantic cruise ship sliding through a black-and-silver sea.
At the end of the village’s main street the road forked, one lane snaking down to the valley floor and the other twisting uphill to the corporate compound. Alex paused at the fork and studied the building.
Pia was up there, Faust had said, to keep her away from Frederick. But what about that newscast announcing that she and the boy were on their way to Peru? And if she wanted the kid, why had she given him away? Had it been for money, as Faust implied? If so, what made her change her mind? Had her declaration that someone wanted to harm Frederick been a last-ditch lie to save herself?
A shrug; it was none of his business. He headed downhill.
Fifty yards farther along, he paused and stared again at the office building. No harm in going up there to say goodbye, telling her he knew she really was Frederick’s mother. Maybe she would explain why she had agreed to have a kid and give it away, why she’d changed her mind and didn’t want Koenig to have the boy after all. She might even give her version of her relationship with Faust.
Alex shifted his backpack to a more comfortable position. He hesitated for another moment and began hiking up the mountain.
Chapter 11
A sentry, one of Silver Hill’s regular security men, hailed Alex fifty yards from the corporate headquarters building. “Wadaya say, Bryson? You here to relieve me?”
Alex paused on the walkway. “How’s it going, Medford? Having a good time?”
“Freezing my nuts off, man.” Medford, a slightly overweight, forty-something Midwesterner, rested the stock of his rifle on hard-packed snow and fumbled for a cigarette. “Flanagan’s got us checking in every half hour. Thinks he’s running a war zone.”
“Probably Faust’s idea. He handles security for Koenig. You meet him?”
“Koenig?” Medford spoke with an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. “Hell, I ain’t even met the Pope.”
Alex chuckled. “Faust. He’s like Flanagan, only smoother.”
“I don’t wanna meet him, then.” Medford glanced at his watch and pulled a two-way radio from a clip on his belt. “Check-in time.” He held the radio to his face. “Perimeter report. Ops normal.”
Through a squealing burst of static, a voice asked if he had seen any movement near the office.
“Come to think of it, I did see something. Little guys, I counted seven. You sure that ain’t Snow White up there?”
The radio voice suggested that Medford pull his thumb out of his ass.
“Yeah, screw you, too.” Medford hooked the radio back on his belt, flicked a wooden match with a thumbnail, and cupped the flame with a palm while lighting his cigarette. He inhaled deeply and offered the cigarette pack to Alex.
“No thanks. I’m trying to live a clean life.”
“What you doing up here?”
“Been down on the strip with Faust. He said to check on the woman. Where’ll I find her?”
Medford pointed to the main entrance. “Somewhere.” He hoisted his rifle, gave Alex a casual salute, and trudged away, puffing on his cigarette and mumbling to himself.
Alex stowed his snowshoes, rifle, and backpack behind a shrub near the front entrance. He headed for the door but turned back and retrieved the rifle. His silvery-gray parka and thermal trousers were standard issue for Silver Hill security personnel, and Medford had been armed, so anyone he met would expect him to be carrying a weapon. He looped its nylon sling back over his shoulder and stepped into the lobby.
He had been in the office building twice before: once to sign on with Colorado Land and Cattle Company and then to process out. He paused just inside to get his bearings. A surveillance camera mounted near the ceiling caught his eye. He headed for the stairwell to the second floor, expecting to be intercepted.
The man who stopped him wore a blue blazer. The bulge under it had to be a shoulder holster, and he did not seem friendly. He looked Alex over, stared at the Silver Hill Security logo on his parka, and grunted. “Where you headed?”
“Looking for the woman.” Alex patted the ammunition pouch on his utility belt. “Faust sent her some stuff.”
The man eyed Alex’s Silver Hill Security emblem again and hooked a thumb toward the top of the stairs. “Corner suite. Gus is with her.” He headed back toward the rear of the building.
What’s with all the security? Alex wondered as he mounted the stairs. If the objective was to keep Pia from snatching Frederick, shouldn’t the guards be watching the boy instead of the mother? If she was being held on kidnapping charges, she should be in the hands of the county sheriff. Otherwise, she ought to be free to go.
The corner office on the second floor was empty, but the man downstairs had called it a suite, so there would be additional rooms. Alex spotted a security camera. As it swiveled, the only part of the room it missed was along the back wall, directly under its wall-mounted bracket.
A toilet flushed. A man appeared through a side door, zipping his fly as he walked. “Whatchu want?” he grumbled.
Gus is with her, the man downstairs had said. “Hey, Gus. The woman okay?”
“Whatzit t’you?”
“I just left Faust.” Wearing his widest smile, Alex closed the distance between them. “Got a message for her.”
“Yeah?” Gus looked disoriented. He might have been sleeping. “Whatsa message?”
“I’m supposed to deliver it myself.”
Gus aimed a glance at double doors behind the security camera. “Nobody goes in there lessen the boss okays it.”
“Swell, Gus. I’ll tell Theo you wouldn’t let me see her.” Using Faust’s first name, he hoped, would impress the guard. “That what you want?”
Gus scratched his jaw. “Nah, but I gotta call it in.” He lifted a telephone and began tapping numbers.
Something serious was going on. It was time to commit or get the hell out. The desk and telephone were within the arc of the surveillance camera, but the lens was swiveling away. In maybe ten seconds it would swing back. Alex stepped close, slipped a forearm around Gus’s neck from behind, and jerked to close off the man’s windpipe.
Gus uttered a faint, high-pitched squeak. The phone slipped from his hand and clattered onto the desk.
Dragging his victim, Alex back-stepped out of the surveillance camera’s range a second ahead of its sweep. “Nighty night, Gus.” He pinched the man’s carotid arteries. Gus struggled for several moments, then went limp and slipped fluidly to the carpet. He would be out long enough for Alex to gag and tie him.
The camera panned the desk area and swung away. Alex replaced the telephone and rummaged in the desk for cellophane tape. He could only hope that whoever was monitoring the video hadn’t noticed the phone off its cradle. When the camera swung back, he ducked momentarily below the desk’s edge. He secured Gus’s wrists with laces from the man’s boots and lengths of the cellophane tape, muffled his mouth with paper towels, and sealed his lips with tape.
Gus began to revive, writhing and bucking as Alex taped his ankles together and tethered them to the leg of a desk. On the floor between the desks, the
man would not be visible to the camera.
Alex stood, making certain he was directly underneath the camera, out of its surveillance arc, and took several deep breaths. He’d damned well burned his bridges. Best to get off the mountain and lose himself in Denver’s masses before Silver Hill security sicced the county sheriff on him. First, though, he would find out what was going on with Pia.
He pushed on the double doors to the next room. They swung freely. Just inside, he paused and checked for surveillance cameras. None evident.
The dimly lit room, a luxurious parlor, had a couch next to a window wall. Pia was stretched out there on her stomach. She spotted him and got to her feet as he walked across the room. Shoeless, she wore a short, wrap-around robe—some kind of wispy black material. Most of the swelling was gone where he had punched her. Neat surgical stitches held the wound closed. Dark splotches under her eyes made them look bruised like her forehead.
“What are you doing here?” Her voice sounded flat, emotionless. “Have you come to gloat?”
“To find out what’s going on. I know Freddy’s your kid, but they say you gave him to the Koenigs.”
“I agreed to do that before I was inseminated. But his life is in danger, and . . .” A strangled sob. She looked and sounded like a condemned prisoner on her way to the execution chamber. “I told Theo Faust, Mr. Koenig’s top security man. He doesn’t believe me.”
She seemed convinced that someone wanted to harm the boy, and she sounded terrified. Alex wanted to cradle her in his arms and comfort her. He wanted to right whatever had gone wrong in her life. No way to do that, of course, but the need transcended reason. It tugged at him viscerally. “Is Faust turning you over to the county sheriff?”
“He is keeping me for himself.”
The reminder that she and Faust were lovers, that her come-on to Alex during their night on Black Oak Ridge had been a con job, shot a surge of resentment through him. “Yeah, he told me he’s your sugar daddy.”
“I do not know that expression.”
“Your lover.”
She looked as if she had swallowed something foul. “More accurately, my serial rapist.”
“Rapist?” Alex did a quick reassessment. Faust had said—what? We got used to each other. He had called her a piece of tail. No mention of attachment. “You guys aren’t . . . you’re not involved with each other?”
“He considers me a piece of property. His property.”
“He can’t force you to stay with him. Even criminals have rights.”
“With Mr. Koenig’s approval, he can do whatever he wants.”
Barely controllable rage washed over Alex. “If you want me to, I’ll take you out of here.”
“I cannot leave. Frederick is—” She jerked at a thumping noise from the front office.
“That’ll be Gus.” Alex stepped to the door to make sure the shoelaces and the tape were holding.
Gus had freed his bound ankles from the desk leg and rolled to the center of the room, in clear view of the swiveling surveillance camera. His bucking and twisting would attract the attention of even a half-asleep guard monitoring the video.
So much for stealth. Alex turned back to Pia. “Get dressed.”
“I will not leave without Frederick.”
She had probably signed a contract with Koenig surrendering her claim to the kid. Her fantasy that he was in danger would rationalize a desire to welsh on the deal, but this wasn’t the time for reason. Better to humor her. “We’ll get him. Put something on.”
Her eyes had seemed dead. Alex’s comment put a sparkle in them. “I have no other clothing.”
“The things you wore yesterday?”
“Theo took them. How will we get Frederick?”
Alex grasped her arm and propelled her through the door. “We’ll talk when hyenas aren’t snapping at our backsides.”
In the hallway she dug in her heels. “We have to—” The elevator dinged, and she snapped her head around. The glowing directional indicator signaled the door was about to open. Her resistance melted; she followed Alex down the stairs.
He nudged her against a wall in the lobby. Gripping his rifle with both hands, he waited by the elevator shaft until the lift came back down and the door slid open. The man who had directed him up the stairs rushed out, with Gus close behind. They didn’t notice Alex until the lead man ran into the business end of his rifle.
“Gentlemen, glad you could join us.” He forced them back into the elevator and stood in the doorway to keep it from closing. He’d been right about the bulge under the man’s blazer. “With two fingers,” he said, and motioned for the weapon, a snub-nosed revolver, to be handed over. “The jacket, too. Toss it out the door. Now both of you sit. Take off your shoes and socks.”
“What?” This came from Gus.
“It’s just not your day. Take ‘em off.” Alex kicked the smallest pair of shoes, heavy brogans, and both pairs of woolen socks over to Pia. “Put those on.”
Silent, frowning, she chewed her lower lip.
She was thinking about Frederick, Alex supposed. He couldn’t risk having her balk now. “First things first,” he said. “We can’t help Freddy if Faust locks you up and has me thrown in jail.”
She hesitated a moment longer. Then she pulled on the socks and shoes and cinched the shoelaces tight. Alex gave her his parka and slipped on the larger of the two discarded jackets.
Static crackled in a nearby office. Alex guessed it was where the downstairs guard had been monitoring radio receivers along with the video. The noise shot extra adrenaline through him. It made Pia jump as if she’d touched live electrical wires. Medford would be checking in soon. He was disgruntled about nighttime sentry duty, so he might let it slide when no one answered. That would give them another half-hour. If he decided to investigate, they would run out of time abruptly.
With his rifle barrel, Alex motioned to the men in the elevator. He marched them into the cold, night air and retrieved his backpack and snowshoes from behind the shrub at the entrance. To his captives he said, “We’re taking a brief tour. Along the way, please give me an excuse to shoot you.”
They bypassed the roving guard, circumvented Silver Hill’s miniature main street, and made their way over unlighted terrain to the maintenance barn. It took fifteen precious minutes. Alex locked the shivering, shoeless men in a storage room inside the heated barn. Pia tried to talk, but he shushed her. Back outside, he ushered her into a snowcat. Hotwiring the ignition took five minutes. If Medford had checked when no one answered his radio call, Silver Hill’s security force would be spreading out by now, closing off avenues of escape.
The imprisoned guard’s jacket, Alex’s only protection from the numbing chill, proved woefully inadequate. Trembling from the cold, he fumbled with the snowcat’s controls until he found the heater switch. Warm air poured through vents below the dash.
With Pia by his side on the bench seat, he maneuvered the vehicle down Silver Hill’s access road. No pursuit, so Medford must have decided to ignore the radio silence. When they were well away from the resort, Alex turned on his headlights and pushed the throttle wide open. The only immediate threat now was the county sheriff. If someone called in the theft of the snowcat, a patrol car would cut them off before they reached the nearest town. But Alex was pretty sure Faust wouldn’t involve local authorities. It would require too much explaining.
“Why are you doing this?” Pia asked. She shrugged the parka off her shoulders and draped it over her knees. “If you did not want them to have me, why did you hit me and turn me over to them?”
Why was he doing it? Even if the press of events had permitted introspection, Alex was not given to self-analysis. The chemistry between them, however, was undeniable. The more their lives intersected, the more out of control his became, but he couldn’t remember when he had last felt so engaged, so propelled by purpose. “I turned you in for kidnapping Freddy,” he said. “I punched you because you were trying to kill me.”
>
“I did not kidnap Frederick. He is my son.”
“As I understand it, he’s also Koenig’s. You figured you could just snatch him away from a man who has all that wealth and power?”
“You said you would help me. Back there—you promised.”
Alex let silence hang between them. Like Brer Rabbit with the tar baby, instead of freeing himself from a god-awful mess, he was getting more entangled. Turning Pia and Frederick over to Koenig had seemed the right thing to do at the time, and a gut reaction to Pia’s situation drove him to free her. He’d promised to help her get Frederick because that seemed the only way to assure her cooperation. Now that reason had begun to reassert itself, he had no idea what to do. The complications just kept piling on.
The Descent From Truth Page 9
