Avalanche

by Kristine Williams

  "But what was he doing on that slope? There's no way that guy was a skier."

  Jim shook his head, "No. He was probably up there to meet his contact. And someone else followed him up." he stood and walked for the door, turning back as he pulled the storage locker key from his pocket. "Stay here, I'll be right back."

  "Wait, where are you going?"

  "Just stay here." He locked the door behind him, knowing Blair couldn't get very far without the crutches. He was more concerned with someone else coming in than him going out. It was beginning to make some sense. Not much, but some. He took the service elevator down to the basement where the rifle was locked up. Benchly, or Cummins, had been instrumental in bringing down a multi-million dollar drug money operation. There were a lot of highly placed, wealthy crime bosses who would pay dearly to have him eliminated. Informants were always considered unfinished business. He unlocked the storage room and found the rifle right where he had left it. Wrapping it in a towel, he quickly returned to the service elevator. Whoever it was could be working with a partner who knew he found the weapon. But then, with no access to a forensics lab there wasn't much he could do. And once that pass was cleared, he--or she--could disappear.

  He made it back to the room without anyone noticing his package. "What are you doing?"

  Blair was standing, on one leg, at the table again, apparently looking for something. "Just checking on something. Yeah, here it is." he turned to hop back to the couch and nearly fell. Jim was right there in an instant, grabbing Blair by the arm.

  "You're going to break your neck." he chided, easily gliding him over to the couch and forcing him down. "Then what am I going to do?"

  Blair looked at him for a moment, a questioning look in his eyes.

  "What was so important, anyway?" Jim changed the subject, setting the rifle down on the coffee table.

  "This." Blair handed over a sheet Jim had missed in the pile at the writing desk. "It's a map of the ridge. Look at this." he spread out the map on the couch, waving Jim to come closer. "I was wondering why Benchly would have gone up there to meet this agent. Why not down here?"

  Jim picked up the map and examined it more closely. "You're thinking someone could go up and over this ridge here, and down the other side?" He followed the markings with a finger, tracing the slight incline that cut through the mountainside just above the top of the ski slope, and angled down the opposite side of the pass. "I think you might be right, Chief. That slide split right down this ridge. That's why it's covered both sides of the pass. If there's another body, it could very well be down the other side."

  "The agent? Or the hit man?"

  "I think our hit man is smarter than we thought." Jim replied. He picked up the rifle and looked straight down the barrel. He could see markings on the inside, typical of a weapon having discharged. But he couldn't tell how many times it had been fired. "I'm beginning to think the avalanche wasn't a surprise after all. What better way to cover your tracks long enough to get out of the crime area? Only maybe he didn't count on the pass being blocked from both sides."

  "What about finger prints?"

  He shook his head, "No good. Even if we could lift some, they wouldn't do us any good until we could get back to the station. Then we wouldn't have anything to compare them to."

  Blair held up both hands, "Not necessarily Jim. I have an idea." he moved to get up from the couch again and Jim grabbed his shirt.

  "Just sit here." he said, pulling Blair back down. "What do you want? I'll get it."

  Blair motioned to the writing table, "There's some tape, and a pencil." he answered, sheepishly. "We can lift the prints from the gun. Then we'll need prints from everyone else here."

  Jim found a roll of scotch tape and a pencil and returned with them to the couch. "No, no good Chief. Sure we can lift them, but we have no database."

  "Ah, but we do." Blair smiled, taking the pencil. "The best kind around."

  Jim paused, watching him use his Swiss army knife to make a fine powder from the lead in the pencil. "You mean me?" he shook his head in disbelief. "I may be good. But comparing finger prints?"

  "Just humor me, okay? You know how to lift prints, right? I know this is low-tech, but I think it will work."

  Jim took the lead dust and a strip of tape and decided to humor his friend. He could lift the prints, but how he was going to compare them he didn't know. And then there was the slight matter of getting prints to make the comparison. Blair had already discounted Mr Smyth and his party. And, Jim had to admit, he was beginning to agree with that assessment. Blair might be prone to exaggeration at times, but he was a good judge of character. Most of the time. Okay, so he let emotion rule his thinking instead of the logical, criminal justice approach Jim preferred. But emotion had its place now and again in making judgment calls.

  "There's just one problem, Chief. My finger prints are all over this thing, and so are Tom's. "

  "I know, I know. But if this works, we can get a set of your prints, and a set of everyone else here, and start eliminating. Right? I mean, who else is going to have prints on the gun? Anyone who picked it up outside is going to have had gloves on. And just you and Hanks have been handling in inside, right?"

  It didn't take long to lift off several good sets of finger prints from the handle and barrel of the gun. When he had finished, Blair took the strips of tape, with Jim's help, over to the window and taped the two good thumb prints he had acquired on the glass, one over the other.

  "Okay, now concentrate on the prints. Try to think of it as one of those three-dimensional poster things and see if you can make all the lines melt into one. See if they are the same print."

  Jim shook his head, but instead of starting an argument he knew Blair wouldn't let die he obliged.

  "Concentrate. Go ahead and let your other senses fade out. Just look at the prints. See if there is any difference in them at all."

  Jim stared at the taped prints, concentrating. Slowly everything around him lost clarity as he focused tightly on the thumb prints. They began to take on an almost 3-D appearance as he concentrated. Then, they became one. One perfect print. They were the same. He could see it clearly, as if it was on the computer database screen there in the crime lab instead of taped to a window in a ski lodge.

  "Jim...Jim!"

  Blair's voice seemed to come from a great distance as he stared at the prints. He couldn't seem to respond. Then he felt something, barely at first, like his arm was numb.

  "Jim, come on snap out of it!"

  Blair was shaking his arm and he willed his eyes to close, to stop the tight focus that had zoned out his other senses completely. He shook his head to clear the rest of the image and turned away from the window. "Okay, I'm okay." he said, blinking. "It worked! I can't believe it." He was still a little dizzy from the tight focus, but it had worked! "Man, that was incredible. It just came out at me, almost like it was in three dimensions, like you said. It was clear as day." Jim was still surprised at his accomplishment. "Now we just need to find out whose prints those are."

  "Well, I have an idea about that, too." Blair replied.

  "Tom Hanks."

  Blair looked up, surprised. "How did you know? I'm right, aren't I?"

  Jim helped Blair back to the couch and sat down, looking at the rifle again. "He had a stopwatch on, when we were up there digging you out." he replied, turning the rifle over as he spoke. "I kept looking at it, trying to determine how long it had been." He set the rifle down. "I didn't think about it then, but he had the avalanche timed. As though he knew exactly when it had started and was ready, with the watch in hand. I just thought he had timed it from when we first started up the slope on the snowmobile. But he was too sure of the time. And that would explain why his snowmobile is out of gas and the others aren't. He could have run up there, killed Benchly, knowing full well it would cause the slide, then high-tailed it down right in front of the fall on that snowmobile "

  "Did you know he was the one who authoriz
ed the night skiing?"

  "What?"

  Blair nodded, "Dr Stuart told me he's new up here. It was his call to allow night skiing. She thought it was odd that he would okay that with the planned avalanche control scheduled. Jim, he could be our man."

  "I think you're right, Chief. He was counting on that slide to cover the body until he could get far enough away. He wasn't counting on finding anyone alive who would have remembered Benchly being up there."

  "Great, I'm right. But what do we do about it?"

  Jim stood and walked back to the front door, trying to pick up the aftershave he had smelled earlier. "Did you notice Mr Smyth wearing any cologne, or aftershave?"

  Blair shook his head. "No. You've got something?"

  Jim walked slowly around the room, following the scent. He traced it back to each room, then found a stronger concentration near his own suitcase. "I think we had a visitor." he replied, projecting his voice to Blair who remained on the couch. He opened the suitcase and found his service revolver where he had left it. A quick exam showed him an empty clip. Damn. He returned to the living room with the useless gun. "Things just got complicated, Chief."

  Part 6

  * * *

  Complicated, he says. Blair was working his way across the room, hopping from one piece of furniture to another, trying to get to the door. Complicated. Jim's plan had been simple, in his eyes. But Blair didn't like it one bit. This Tom Hanks, if that was really his name, was obviously a hit man. Maybe not a good one, if Blair had been able to figure it out, but a hit man non the less. Jim had an empty gun, no backup, and he was supposed to just sit there on the couch and wait. He reached the door and had to stop to catch his breath. If only Dr Stuart hadn't taken away the crutches, defying Jim's order to stay put would be much easier. His leg was throbbing terribly now and he felt just a little dizzy.

  "Man this really sucks." He took a few deep breaths, waiting for the dizziness to pass, then opened the door. Just a couple of quick hops took him to the balcony railing, with a good view of the lounge below. After allowing time for his eyes to adjust to the dim light he scanned as much of the room as he could see from there, looking for Jim. His plan had been to simply get a set of finger prints from Hanks, to compare them to the many they had taken from the gun. Maybe, just maybe, the threat of discovery would tip his hand. How he was going to do that Blair didn't know. But if Hanks knew they were on to him...this guy knew Jim's gun was empty.

  No, Blair didn't like this at all. He started working his way down the hall, holding on to the railing as far as it would take him, then the wall, until he reached the elevator. Just as he pushed the button for the elevator, a door opened behind him, startling Blair into turning around. In his surprise, he inadvertently put his right foot down, and the pain that shot up his leg caused him to sway and fall forward.

  "Mr Sandburg! Are you alright?"

  Blair's vision cleared sooner than the pain and he looked up. "Mr Smyth, your just the man I needed to see."

  Mr Smyth insisted on helping Blair back into the elevator. He had explained the situation as quickly as he could, while Mr Smyth was rummaging through his bags for something Blair could use. Once inside the elevator Blair was reluctant to allow him to help.

  "This could be dangerous. If I'm right, Jim's in trouble. If I'm wrong, then I'll be sent back up here, I'm sure. Either way, I can't risk you coming along." Jim's gonna kill me for doing this, let alone bringing company.

  Mr Smyth reluctantly agreed, on the condition that if Blair didn't return quickly, he would come looking himself. He agreed as the elevator doors closed.

  Blair meant to hit the button for the lobby, but his hand slipped as he tried to lean against the wall and he hit the basement level instead. The service elevator was so old, it didn't like to change directions quickly, so Blair was forced to travel all the way down. Once it stopped, the doors opened automatically. He was just about to hit the 'door close' when he heard voices coming from the end of the hall. Jim's voice.

  Carefully Blair eased himself out of the elevator, glancing around. The hall was empty, and dark except for the light he could see under the door at the far end. He worked his way as quietly as he could down the hall. The closer he got, the more distinguishable the voices were.

  "What about the Federal agent? Is he dead, too?" Jim's voice was clear now.

  "The avalanche took him out nicely. Went down the opposite side, so his body won't be found for quite some time." Blair recognized the second voice.

  Oh shit. This was it. He had no way to call for back up. This time, he was the backup. The tazer gun Mr Smyth had loaned him was clipped to his pants, leaving his hands free to hold on to the wall for support.

  "I don't have to take out your partner. He's not going anywhere, and I only kill for money. I would have left you alone if you hadn't gotten too close." Tom Hanks was speaking now, right inside the door. Jim must be farther inside the small room. "My plan was so simple. Just take out Benchly when he went up to meet his contact. Let the snow bury the man. It would have been months before he was found. Then you had to come along and insist we keep looking for bodies up there." Blair heard him pacing back and forth in front of the door. "If your friend had just died, no one would have known there was another person up there unaccounted for. No one knew he was even here."

  "So, you drove up there, took out Benchly, beat the avalanche down the mountain, then came back up to help rescue?"

  "Yep. Simple as that. I've been up here for weeks now, just waiting. Letting that snow build up."

  "Too bad the mob didn't get their money's worth. They should have sent a professional. Only a small-timer would be stupid enough to hand over the murder weapon, help find the body, and then stick around."

  "I was enjoying it, actually. Call it a study in Police Detection." Hanks was pacing back and forth in front of the door. "I expected Benchly to be buried for months, and the weapon. But then your friend had to survive, thanks to you, and mention Benchly. So, naturally we had to recover the body. Then it got fun, and I couldn't resist digging up the gun for you to see. Call it pride, call it whatever you like. You had no access to the Department, there was no way you were going to figure this out before I got away. So I didn't mind getting fingerprints on the gun. Mine aren't on file anywhere." he stopped his pacing and stood still for a moment. "But, your friend started to worry me. He has that look of a man who needs to know the answer for everything. I figured he might start asking too many questions." he began pacing again. "So I decided it was time for me to make my exit, but the snowmobile ran out of gas. Eddie had the only other working one, and you two were up there, still snooping around.

  "How did you know Benchly would be coming here?"

  "Pillow talk. I've been doing the Records Clerk at the Bureau. So, nothing personal, you understand."

  Blair knew it was now or never. He had the tazer out. The handle of the door turned easily and he slowly opened it, just enough to discern Tom Hanks standing directly in front of him. He aimed and fired into the man's back, hearing the electricity discharge at exactly the same instant the gun fired.

  Hanks went down hard and jerked several times before the charge stopped. Blair didn't care if it had worked or not, all he could see was Jim on the ground at the other end of the room.

  "Jim!" He let the tazer fall over Hanks's now unconscious body and ran to Jim, ignoring the shooting pain that ran up his right leg with each step. He dropped down beside his friend,

  "Oh man, oh man! Jim?!" He was unconscious, bleeding from a bullet wound in his right shoulder. "Shit!" Blair tried to get up, to get help, but his leg collapsed under him and he fell back down. "Dammit Jim, come on." Frantically he searched the room for something, anything that would help. Finding nothing he pulled his sweater over his head, using it as a pressure bandage to stop the bleeding. "Somebody! Help!" He couldn't get up, couldn't go for help. Hanks was still unconscious, but how long would that last? Mr Smyth knew he was there, maybe he would... "So
mebody!!" God, what now? "Jim, please don't die man." He wanted to check the bleeding, but he knew better than to stop applying pressure. "Come on Jim, I need you. Don't do this to me." He heard movement and quickly glanced over at Hanks.

  "Mr Sandburg...?"

  "Doc, thank God! He's been shot." Blair urged Dr. Stuart into the room, seeing then Mr Smyth following close behind her.

  She stepped over Hanks and moved quickly to Jim on the floor. "Okay, let me take this. Mr. Smyth, could you help Mr. Sandburg out of here?"

  "Certainly."

  Blair reluctantly let himself be helped up off the floor, but refused to be ushered out of the small room. "We can't leave him." he said, indicating Hanks.

  "Not to worry, Mr Sandburg. I have more toys up my sleeve."

  Blair watched incredulously as Mr Smyth removed a large pair of handcuffs from his shirt pocket, then expertly placed them on Hanks. He then took out a second pair, and secure their prisoner to a table that was heavily bolted down. He nodded when Mr Smyth looked up, but refused to leave.

  "Mr Smyth, could you please escort our Mr Sandburg to the aid station?"

  "No way, I'm not leaving him."

  She smiled tolerantly. "If you don't leave, they can't get in."

  Blair turned then and saw Eddie and another man standing in the hallway with a stretcher. He apologized quickly and allowed Mr Smyth to help him out of the way. He still refused to leave, waiting for them to load Jim onto the stretcher, then followed the group to the aid station.

  The snow had stopped sometime during the night and there were stars visible for the first time in a long time. Blair hardly noticed as he was helped across the street. His head was buzzing, and he was certain it wasn't from the pain in his leg. That gun had gone off the instant the tazer leads struck Hanks. What if he was the cause? Did Hanks fire, then the tazers hit? No, he was certain they had happened at the same time. It was his fault. Why in the hell did he wait so long? He was listening outside that door for several minutes. Why had he waited until the moment Hanks was taking aim?