Snow Falls

by Bobby Nash

  “You don’t know that. You’ve been away a long time.”

  “Let’s just call it a hunch.”

  “You’ll never know until you try.”

  “Then I doubt we’ll ever know,” Snow said. “Can we just let this go?”

  Archer held up his hands in surrender. “Okay. Okay. I’ll drop it. For now.”

  “Thank you.”

  “But not for good. We will talk about this eventually.”

  “Of that, I have little doubt,” Snow said.

  “The job offer still stands though.”

  “Thanks, grandpa, but I think I’ll pass, if it’s all the same to you.”

  “And if it’s not,” Archer said. “All the same to me, that is?”

  Snow’s smile grew. “Then I’ll still have to pass. I’d just feel bad about it.”

  “Fair enough. Consider it an open-ended offer. Anytime you’re ready, kid, the job’s waiting for you,” Archer Snow said. “Now, come on. That’s enough business talk. Let’s get you settled in and go grab something to eat. I’m starved, and I want to hear all about your travels.”

  • • •

  “This is great,” Snow said.

  “I thought you might like it,” Archer said as they stepped into the apartment over the shop/garage. “I had it fixed up a few years back as an office, but now that I only work part time, I hardly ever come up here. I thought you could crash here during your recovery.” He smiled. “Unless you’d rather stay in the main house?”

  “No. This is perfect.”

  The apartment was spacious, running the length of the shop below, which held fifteen cars easily on one side while leaving workspace on the other. A collector of classic cars, Archer Snow had a rather immaculate collection. He also bought, restored, and sold a number of cars as well. It had become a nice sideline business for him. Some of his favorite childhood memories were of him and his brother attending classic car shows with their grandpa.

  The large sliding glass doors at the far end of the apartment led out onto a deck that looked out over a picturesque view of the lake. As a kid, he had spent many summers swimming, canoeing, and fishing in that lake. He and his cousins had named it Lake Snow, which seemed appropriate for a private lake. In later years, it became a recurring joke among the family.

  “Perfect,” Snow said again. “You know, I wasn’t going to let you talk me into staying. I even prepared an argument full of good reasons not to stay here.”

  “I figured as much.”

  “You don’t play fair, old man,” Snow said.

  “Where would be the fun in that?” Archer joked.

  Snow laughed in spite of himself. “I guess you’ve got yourself a new tenant.” They shook hands.

  “You consider this home for as long as you like.” Archer looked out over the lake, inhaled. “I can’t think of too many better places than this to get your mind back in order,” he said. “I’ve always loved this view.”

  “What’s not to love?” Snow said. “Lake, trees, just a hint of the mountains in the distance. It’s perfect.”

  “Great. Let’s go grab some lunch. I’m starving.”

  “Now there’s a plan,” Snow agreed and followed his grandfather down the stairs leading into the shop floor instead of the ones leading down the outside of the apartment.

  “I just need to make a quick stop first, check in on my mechanic.”

  “No worries.” Snow said. He looked out over the row of classic cars and whistled. “Looks like you’ve added a few jewels to the collection.”

  “You know me. Have to keep ’em moving. Right now we’re rebuilding a ’57 Ford Fairlane. A lady I know found it rusting out in an old barn after her father passed. The deal she offered was too good to pass up.” He pointed to the car in question. A pair of coverall covered legs jutted out from beneath the rust-colored body. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to my chief mechanic.”

  “She’s a beaut,” Snow said. “You’ve got a lot of work ahead of you on this one though.”

  “This baby will be turning heads in no time,” a familiar voice called out from beneath the car.

  “John?” Snow said.

  John Salmon slid from beneath the car, a big grin on his face. “Ham Bone!” he shouted, leaping to his feet to embrace Snow in a hug that squeezed him even tighter than his grandfather had earlier. He grunted under the strain.

  “Oh, shit!” Salmon said when he realized. “Sorry, man. I forgot. I mean, your granddad told me about your… uh… you know…” he pointed toward Snow’s chest.

  “It’s all right,” Snow said, smiling despite the pain. “It’s damn good to see you, Big John. You work here?” he motioned toward the room as if he couldn’t quite process the news.

  “Yeah. I know. I got in some trouble and did a little stretch. When I got out, there weren’t a whole lot of people willing to give me a shot,” Salmon said. “The old man here helped me out.”

  “Ah, it was nothing,” Archer said, smacking John on the shoulder. “You’re like family. It was the least I could do.”

  Snow and Salmon had grown up in the same neighborhood. As kids, they were inseparable. After high school, their lives drifted off in different directions. Snow had enlisted right after graduation and was recruited for deep cover work not long after that where he learned a new skill set. Big John, the nickname everyone called the tall, hulking teenager, fell in with some new friends who taught him some new skills as well. He learned how to steal cars.

  “We were heading out for lunch,” Archer said. “Thought you might like to tag along, maybe catch up a little.”

  “Sure. Do I have time to clean up?”

  “We’ll meet you outside,” Archer said.

  “Give me two minutes,” Salmon said, still smiling. “Glad to have you home, Ham.”

  “Bring the SUV around on your way.”

  “You got it, boss.”

  Once they were outside, Snow turned to his grandfather. “He works here? You actually hired Big John to work on your classic cars? Are you nuts?”

  “John’s been with me a couple years now. That boy knows his way around a car,” Archer said. He noticed the puzzled look on his grandson’s face. “What?”

  “You know I love Big John like a brother,” Snow said, trying to soft pedal. “But he is a car thief. That’s where he learned all that stuff about the cars.”

  “I’m aware of his history.”

  Snow shook his head. “Isn’t this like sending an alcoholic to work in a brewery?”

  “John is a former car thief, and it’s fine,” Archer said plainly. “We’ve had no problems since he got here. Not a one. He did his time, paid for what he did. He’s reformed, and I trust him.”

  “Glad to hear it,” Snow said. He hated to doubt his friend and hearing that he had reformed his thieving ways, made him feel better. “Thanks for taking care of him. I know you’ve always had a soft spot for the big lug.”

  “Of all the friends you and your brother used to hang out with, I always liked him the best,” Archer said. “Better than that McClellan kid. He still bugs me.”

  “You’ve seen Mac? How’s he doing?” Snow asked around a smile. “Don’t tell me he works here too?”

  “Not bloody likely,” Archer said. “We run into him sometimes at work.”

  “Really? Grandpa, you’re in the security consultant business. What possible business dealing could you have with Mac?”

  Archer barked a laugh. “You really have been out of touch with everything, haven’t you? Tom McClellan works for the FBI now.”

  Snow felt his mouth gape open. “I beg your pardon? Are you seriously trying to tell me that Mac works for the Federal Bureau of Investigations?”

  “Yep.”

  “As what?”

  “He’s one of their lead investigators, kid. Special Agent, if you can believe it.”

  “Seriously?”

  “You really need to learn how to pick up a phone every once in awhile, Abraham. Y
ou’re out of touch.”

  Snow scratched the side of his head, a gesture he did whenever he was working out a situation. “I guess I did fall way off the grid there for a bit. I’ll have to give ’ol Mac a call,” he said just as Big John pulled up to meet them. Snow climbed into the back seat.

  Archer slid in the front passenger seat. “Just do me one favor, kid,” he said.

  “What’s that?”

  “Do it after we’ve had lunch.”

  “Yes, grandpa.”

  2.

  That first day had been wonderful.

  Spending time with his grandfather and friend had been just what Snow needed. It had been so long since he could be himself; enjoy a friendly conversation without having to keep track of all the lies and half-truths he had crafted as part of his cover identity. For the first time in a couple of years, he could be Abraham Snow instead of James Shepperd. It felt good to simply be himself, to be Abraham Snow, and not having to worry about slipping up and letting the wrong detail slip out or doing one of a million things that could get him killed. He felt the weight of undercover work lift off his shoulders. It was freeing.

  He’d spent the evening catching up with Big John before turning in for the night. It was the first peaceful sleep he had gotten in quite some time. There was something about being back at his grandfather’s place that was very comforting. He felt safe there.

  On the second day, his grandpa snuck up on him and set the trap.

  “Ride into town with me,” he said after breakfast, all smiles and cheer. Still flying high from the great time he’d had the day before, Snow agreed. He should have known something was off when he saw his grandfather in slacks, shirtsleeves, and a jacket. Comparatively, he felt slightly underdressed in jeans and a button down shirt, so he grabbed his jacket as well. Neither man bothered with a tie.

  Big John brought around a nicer SUV than the one from the night before. This one sparkled like new and was loaded to the nines with all the latest and greatest accessories. In hindsight, Snow would realize that this should have been his first clue that the old man was up to something.

  Archer slid behind the wheel, thanked John, and said he’d be back later.

  “No problem,” John said. “There’s still plenty to do on the Fairlane. That’ll keep me busy.”

  “So, where we off to today?” Snow asked from the passenger seat.

  “I’ve got a surprise for you, junior,” Archer said.

  “I’m not a big fan of surprises, grandpa,” Snow said. He rubbed the area around his still-sore wound. “The last one I got pretty much soured me on them.”

  “You’ll like this one. Trust me.”

  “Can you give me a hint?”

  “Nope. You’ll see soon enough, but first…”

  “Here it comes,” Snow muttered.

  “I just need to swing by the office for a bit,” Archer Snow said once they were on the road, springing the trap closed around him. The last place Abraham Snow wanted to go was to visit the family business.

  Snow shot him a disapproving look. “And there it is. You don’t fight fair, old man,” he muttered. “This is dirty pool.”

  “I’ve never played fair, kid,” Archer said, still smiling. “And I’m too old to worry about changing my ways.”

  Snow Consulting occupied the top six floors of the twelve-story Archer Building, named after Archer Snow’s great grandfather, at least as far as Archer the Second told the story. Snow had always ribbed the man about the coincidence that he just so happened to share the name of the man he named the building after. The headquarters of Snow Consulting was just outside of Atlanta, one building over from the FBI field office, which made traffic a little less of a headache than if they had to head all the way downtown.

  “Place hasn’t changed much,” Snow said as they parked in the spot reserved for the company’s owner.

  “What can I say, I like consistency,” Archer quipped.

  “It couldn’t be that you’re too stubborn to change, could it?”

  “Not at all, kid. Not at all.” Archer got out of the car and started toward the entrance. He stopped when he realized that his grandson had not followed suit. “You coming?”

  “I wasn’t planning on it.”

  “Plans change. Come on.”

  Resigned, Snow climbed out of the car and joined Archer. “I was really hoping to avoid this,” he said.

  “I know,” Archer said. “That’s why I had to lie to get you here.”

  “Maybe I could just run next door and look up Mac, maybe say hello.”

  “Later,” Archer said. “Besides, I know he’s not there today.”

  “And how do you know that?”

  Archer Snow smiled.

  Snow waved him off. “I know. I know. You’ve got your ways. Let’s just get this over with.”

  After checking in at the security desk and getting him a visitor’s pass, they rode the elevator to the top floor without speaking while a piano version of Queen’s Who Wants To Live Forever piped through the speakers. Snow found himself humming along with the tune in spite of himself.

  “Good morning, Mr. Archer,” a receptionist said as soon as the men stepped off the elevator on the twelfth floor, where the public face of Snow Security Consulting lived.

  “Is he in?” Archer asked.

  “Yes, sir. I’ll let him know you’re on the way in,” the receptionist said.

  Archer waved her off. “Don’t. I’ve brought him a surprise.” He chucked a thumb in his grandson’s direction.

  If Archer noticed the receptionist’s apprehensive look, he didn’t acknowledge it.

  Snow felt her pain. His grandfather was a force of nature. He was hard to corral. “Sorry about that,” he said as he passed, offering her a shrug and a smile.

  It had been years since Abraham Snow had visited the family business. He had hoped never to set foot inside the place again. Although the outside of the building looked the same as it always had, the interior was a different matter all together. Everything was shiny and new, not to mention top of the line. His grandfather was not one to spare any expense to keep his people outfitted with the best equipment needed to do their jobs safely, but he also understood that the packaging was almost as important as was what was inside. His time working for the Agency had taught him a few tricks that he brought with him to the boardroom. From what Snow had seen of his grandfather in action, Archer Snow was a shrewd businessman. He was firm and fair but could be ruthless when the need arose.

  “You know, he doesn’t like surprises any more than I do?” Snow reminded his grandfather.

  “Something you both have in common. Who knew?” Archer said.

  Snow shook his head. There would be no getting out of this one. His grandfather would always be the alpha dog of the Snow family. He was like a wild animal with a bone. When he got a notion, there was no changing his mind.

  Snow consulting knew their business. Nothing put a client’s mind at ease with a security-consulting firm than seeing all the latest and greatest toys. Little did the clients realize that the best security measures were those not seen, but most customers wanted the best equipment when what they should be asking for was the best people for the job.

  Snow whistled.

  “You like?”

  “You do know how to put on a dog and pony show, grandpa,” Snow said.

  Archer clapped him on the shoulder and flashed that big smile he reserved for the customers. “Give the people what they want, kid. The shiny electronic gizmos make the clients feel better. Who am I to argue?”

  As they walked down a hallway, next to the offices and cubicles where the consultants worked, Archer slipped into tour guide mode. He explained what happened in each section they passed. Not only could they handle local security measures, but they were also mobilized to handle international client concerns as well. The company had grown from a local security firm to offering their services to a worldwide clientele.

  Snow’s grandfat
her was proud of the company he had built, as he should have been. His success was a testament to not only his skills, but also his business acumen. Archer Snow projected a likeable good ’ol boy charm that instantly caused those who opposed him to like him while underestimating his abilities. That was usually the start of their undoing.

  “This is our bread and butter,” Archer said as they reached the cyber-security division. “The world is a much smaller place than it was when I was your age. Dealing with someone on the other side of the world was a massive undertaking and not usually something you did without going through a lot of hoops to get approved. Now, you can use social media to talk to people in war zones. There’s probably only a handful of locations on this planet where you’re truly off the grid.”

  “And even those are drying up fast,” Snow said.

  “Sounds to me like you’ve visited a couple of them.”

  Snow smiled. “One or two.”

  At the end of the hall, Archer entered the corner office without knocking. The man occupying the office was standing next to the window, the phone pressed to his ear. He did not turn at the intrusion. Instead, he simply held up a finger toward the newcomers so they would come in quietly as he paced back and forth behind the desk, tethered by the landline’s phone cord.

  “Yes, sir,” the man in the expensive tailored suit said, his voice deep and commanding. He was in great shape. If not for the thinning gray hair atop his head that was starting to show signs of going white, he could have passed for a man much younger than in his sixties. “I assure you that all necessary precautions have been put in place,” he continued. “Yes, sir. I will be on hand, personally, to supervise security. No, sir. It is my pleasure. Very good. I will speak with you then. Goodbye, sir.”

  He dropped the receiver back into its cradle. Only then did he look up to see who had stepped into his office uninvited. He didn’t seem all that surprised to see Archer Snow standing there. If seeing his grandson with him was a shock, he didn’t show it. “When did you get back in town?” he asked as he turned to face the newcomers.

  “Good to see you too, Dad,” Snow said softly.

  Dominic Snow straightened his jacket before taking a seat behind the antique desk that Snow assumed cost someone a lot of money. “You’ll forgive me, gentlemen, but today is a rather busy day, and I don’t have a lot of time for a family reunion. The trade summit starts this afternoon, and I’m juggling several ops related to that.”