The Guardian

by David Hosp

  ‘All evidence to the contrary.’

  Saunders winced. ‘Fair enough,’ he conceded. ‘At an airport there will be too many questions, and too many flight records. He’ll fly out of an area that’s fairly rural, to draw less attention.’

  ‘Any specific thoughts?’ Toney demanded. ‘Anything that might actually be helpful?’ Saunders shook his head again. The two men stared at each other for a few moments, until Saunders averted his eyes. It was his fault that Ainsworth had the Cloak, and there was no way to deny it.

  Cianna’s phone rang, startling everyone in the room. They all looked at her. ‘It must be Milo,’ she said. ‘He’s the only one who would call me.’ She crossed the room and glanced at the receiver as she picked it up. ‘Blocked number,’ she commented. She pressed the button and held the handset up to her ear. ‘Milo?’ she said. Her face darkened, and she looked at Saunders in confusion. ‘How did you . . .?’ she said into the phone. ‘Okay.’ She held the phone out to Saunders. ‘It’s for you,’ she said.

  ‘Who?’

  She shook her head and handed him the phone. He held it up to his ear. ‘Who is this?’ he asked.

  ‘Detective Morrell,’ a gravelly voice responded.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Nick O’Callaghan’s brother. We met last night, remember?’

  Saunders’s heart felt like it had exploded in his chest, and he wondered whether there would be an end to his screw-ups. The notion that he had allowed the cop to track him down this easily was pathetic. ‘How did you find me?’

  ‘Not too hard to look up the girl’s number. I tried her friend Milo’s place, first, but no one answered. I figured I’d take a chance that you’d gone back to her apartment. It was the only other place I knew about, so I played the odds.’

  Fair enough, Saunders thought. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I want answers.’

  ‘I can’t give them to you.’

  ‘I think you can.’ There was silence on the other end of the line for a few seconds. Then Morrell continued. ‘Why didn’t you kill me, last night? You killed my brother.’

  ‘No, I didn’t,’ Saunders said. ‘I told you that last night, and it was the truth.’

  ‘Then the people you were working with did,’ Morrell growled. ‘So you knew about it. The rest is semantics.’

  ‘No, I didn’t know anything about your brother’s death. I had nothing to do with that.’

  ‘Right, you told me. That was the man with the teardrop birthmark.’

  ‘That’s right.’ Saunders could hear the cop breathing hard into the phone. ‘I’m telling you the truth,’ Saunders said.

  If it wasn’t for the breathing, Saunders would have assumed that the connection had been broken. Everyone in the room was staring at him quizzically. He waved them off. Finally Morrell spoke again. ‘Who was the man you gave the box to?’

  Saunders’s heart stopped. He said nothing for a moment, as he tried to gather his thoughts. ‘How do you know I gave the box to someone?’

  ‘I was there at Castle Island,’ Morrell said. ‘I saw you.’

  Saunders felt as though he’d stuck his hand in an electrical outlet. His entire body tensed. ‘You followed me,’ he said slowly.

  ‘I did.’

  ‘Where are you now?’ Saunders held his breath as he waited for the answer.

  ‘You told me to follow the box, and it would lead me to my brother’s killer,’ Morrell said at last. ‘Now, tell me what’s going on.’

  They were headed north on Interstate 93, through the mountains of New Hampshire, toward the village of Glencliff, set in the heart of the Green Mountain Range. It was an area unconquered by mankind, where towers of granite carved by glaciers more than a million years before jutted up from the ground like living things reaching for the heavens. The populace, much like the land itself, had resisted domination since its split from Massachusetts in 1679. The state motto, Live Free Or Die, was a credo most residents held close to their heart.

  One of Toney’s men was driving the conspicuous black suburban, a vehicle that was difficult to mistake for anything other than what it was. He was pushing the giant car to its limit; at one point Saunders glanced at the speedometer and saw that they were travelling at more than 110 mph, weaving in and out of the sparse traffic.

  There were six of them in the car. Toney’s other man was riding shotgun; Toney and Saunders were in the second-row captain’s chairs; Akhtar and Cianna sat on the bench that was the last row of seats. Saunders stared out the window at the passing landscape, cataloguing all the mistakes he’d made. It was a daunting task.

  ‘Morrell was following me and Cianna this morning,’ Saunders said. ‘When we handed the Cloak over to Lawrence, he followed the box. Lawrence took it up to his family compound in New Hampshire.’

  ‘Why did he call you?’ Toney asked.

  ‘Because I could have killed him last night, and I didn’t. He also believed me when I said that I wanted to kill the man who murdered his brother. But then Fasil showed up at Lawrence’s house, and it looked like they were working together. He wanted answers, and he figured he didn’t have to tell me where he was unless he was satisfied with what I said.’

  ‘And he was,’ Toney noted.

  ‘Apparently. He said he would watch the house and wait for us. It’s up at the next exit, and then a half-hour out into the mountains,’ Saunders said. ‘Down Route 25.’

  ‘You’ve been there?’

  Saunders nodded.

  ‘What’s the house like?’ Toney asked.

  ‘It’s big and old,’ Saunders replied. ‘Two floors, several bedrooms. There’s a large living room and a study on the first floor, along with the kitchen. A two-sided fireplace separates the living room and the kitchen, so when there’s a fire going, it warms both rooms.’

  Toney asked, ‘Why so much space?’

  ‘It used to be a state-run sanatorium. They treated more than a thousand tuberculosis patients there through the first half of the twentieth century. There used to be a patients’ dormitory, but it was torn down. It was built close to the top of the mountain so the patients could get as much fresh air as possible. The state sold it off in the sixties, and Ainsworth’s family has owned it ever since.’

  ‘A sanatorium? Creepy. What’s the approach like?’

  ‘Treacherous,’ Saunders said. ‘It’s set on the edge of the mountain. The driveway is cut out of the side of the hill. It has a cliff wall on one side, and falls off down a steep slope on the other side. The house itself backs up against the mountainside on the western side, and there are thick woods to the south with a wide open field between the tree-line and the house.’

  ‘Security?’

  Saunders nodded. ‘Less than you might expect. Motion sensors in the yard are linked to an internal silent alarm and floods. The doors and windows on the first floor are wired, but the house is pretty remote. The security was set up to keep burglars and vagrants out, not to protect state secrets.’

  ‘Anything else?’ Toney asked sarcastically.

  ‘Not that I know of,’ Saunders replied. ‘Unless it’s been updated since I was there last. There weren’t any motion sensors on the interior when I was there.’

  ‘Great,’ Toney said. ‘So he can’t track us inside the house. But how do we go in?’

  ‘We don’t. I do.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘I ring the doorbell.’

  Toney gave Saunders a sharp look. ‘No.’

  ‘That’s crazy,’ Cianna agreed.

  ‘It’s the only way,’ Saunders said. ‘Any approach to the house is protected. He won’t shoot me. If anything, I think he’ll welcome the chance to explain this all to me.’

  ‘What makes you say that?’ Cianna demanded.

  ‘You said it yourself; he cares about me. I’m the closest thing to a son he has left.’

  Cianna shook her head. ‘What if Fasil and his people are there? They’ll kill you on sight.’

  ‘Morrell
says they’re not there,’ Saunders said. ‘It’s only Lawrence and Stillwell in the house. Lawrence won’t let Stillwell kill me.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘I don’t.’

  Toney stared distrustfully at Saunders. ‘If you’re playing me, I promise you, I will burn you.’

  ‘Yeah, I know it,’ Saunders responded, without looking at the National Security Advisor.

  ‘I don’t like the idea of you going in by yourself. You’re too close to him.’

  ‘Maybe. But it’s our only option. There’s no way to mount an assault against the place. There’s only one route down the mountain, so you can wait where you can see the house. I’ll deal with Lawrence and get the information we need.’

  ‘How?’

  Saunders stared out the window again. They were passing through a wooded ravine, the road following the curve of a narrow rushing river. ‘I’m not sure yet,’ he admitted. ‘I’ll figure that out once I’m inside.’

  Glencliff was a tiny hamlet of fewer than 100 living souls and forty man-made structures spread out over twenty square miles of mountainous terrain. The town center was set in a small glen nestled in between two mountainous outcroppings. Ainsworth’s family house was on the mountain a few miles from the town center.

  The sun was setting as Saunders and the others drove up the road that led to Ainsworth’s house. As they approached, Morrell stepped out of the woods along the edge of the drive and pointed to a small turn-around shielded from view of the house, where his car was parked. Toney’s driver steered the car in and parked behind Morrell’s car.

  Perched at the edge of the cliff, the house looked as though it might topple over the precipice with a strong wind. It wouldn’t, Saunders knew. It was solidly built, and had been renovated several times over the years so that it had all the customary modern conveniences while retaining the old Yankee feel of the place. In that respect, it reminded Saunders of Ainsworth’s personality. At least, it reminded him of the personality of the Lawrence Ainsworth he’d thought he’d known for two decades.

  Saunders got out of the car and walked toward Morrell. The cop had his gun in his hand, and a wary look on his face. Saunders nodded to him. ‘You did the right thing,’ he said. Morrell didn’t respond. ‘This is Bill Toney,’ Saunders said. ‘These are his men. You met Cianna Phelan at her apartment the other day.’

  Morrell didn’t offer to shake hands; that would have involved letting go of the gun, and it didn’t look as though he planned to do that anytime soon. ‘He got here a few hours ago. I watched him from the woods, and just after he arrived, he walked farther up the mountain to a little building near the top.’

  Saunders nodded. ‘There’s a deserted schoolhouse up there from the first half of the last century.’

  ‘On the top of the mountain?’ Toney asked.

  Saunders shrugged. ‘It’s New Hampshire.’

  ‘The man with the teardrop birthmark was there. Your boss gave him the box, and then came back to the house. He’s been there ever since.’

  ‘Any movement?’ Saunders asked.

  Morrell shook his head. ‘There was another guy there briefly. Tall, bald. He went back up the mountain, though.’

  ‘Did he come back?’

  ‘Not that I saw.’

  Saunders nodded. ‘Okay. I’m going in.’

  Morrell stared at him. ‘Just like that?’

  ‘Yeah, just like that.’ Morrell looked at the others in the group, the doubt clear in his eyes. ‘Don’t worry,’ Saunders reassured him. ‘Everything I told you was the truth. I’m not working with the man who killed your brother, and I’ll die before I let him get out of this with the Cloak.’

  The driveway was a narrow dirt rut carved into the edge of the mountain. An old wooden fence that looked as though it would snap over if a bicycle bumped into it guarded the cliff on the right. Shards of uneven rock jutted out from the cliff on the left, interspersed with thick woods. It was narrow enough that only one car could pass at a time. Saunders glanced over the right side as he approached and saw that there was a hundred-foot drop to the next flat area.

  The first alarm was tripped as the drive opened up fifty yards from the house. He knew when it happened because flood lights popped on automatically, shining in his eyes and blinding him momentarily, casting shadows in the waning light.

  He paused when the lights came on, looking straight ahead and raising his hands slightly to show that he wasn’t holding a weapon. He had a gun in a shoulder holster under his jacket, but he knew that if he was to have a hope of getting inside, he had to appear as friendly as possible.

  He continued, walking straight and steady toward the front door. His breath was ragged as he considered the possibility that Stillwell would take a shot at him, even if Ainsworth told him not to. It seemed unlikely; the logic he’d laid out for Toney had been sound. He couldn’t know for sure, though, and if he was wrong, in all likelihood he’d be dead before he ever knew it.

  Another set of lights set on the peak of the roof came on when he left the yard and started on the cobbled walkway that led to the door. They fired down on him as though he was the star of a Broadway show. He was, at that moment, the perfect target for anyone within the house who might want him dead. He kept his eyes straight ahead as he walked, accepting his fate. When he reached the front door, he swung the brass knocker and waited for a moment.

  Nothing.

  He knocked again, more forcefully this time.

  The door was pulled open on the third knock. Ainsworth stood in the doorway, a fresh drink in one hand, a semi-automatic pistol in the other. ‘Jack,’ he said in a friendly tone. ‘It’s good to see you.’ He held out the drink. ‘Here, I just poured this. I haven’t even taken a sip yet. I’ll make another for myself.’

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  ‘He’s at the door.’

  One of Toney’s men was perched on a rock, peering through the scope of a sharpshooter’s rifle. ‘Ainsworth is there. I have a clean shot. Do you want me to take it?’

  ‘He didn’t kill my brother,’ Morrell said.

  Toney looked at him before responding to his agent.

  ‘Can you see anyone else?’ he asked.

  ‘No. Just Ainsworth. He has a gun. What do you want me to do?’

  Cianna waited to hear Toney’s response. There was a part of her that wanted him to tell his man to take the shot, if only to remove Saunders from danger. She knew that it didn’t make any sense, though. They had no idea where the Cloak was, and without Ainsworth, they were far less likely to find out.

  ‘Don’t take the shot,’ Toney said. She could hear the frustration in his voice. ‘Keep him sighted for as long as possible, though. I may change my mind.’

  Saunders took the drink, saying nothing. He stared at his boss.

  ‘Come in, come in!’ Ainsworth bade him. He stepped back to let Saunders pass. ‘Just, please, close the door. You never know up here what may lurk in the woods.’ He gave Saunders a knowing look. ‘I saw a mountain lion the last time I was up here.’ He looked out the window. ‘And they’re not even the most dangerous animal out there, am I right?’

  ‘Lawrence . . .’ Saunders began. He had no idea where to start the conversation. Ainsworth seemed strange, almost manic. He had never seen his boss in such a state before.

  ‘You’re armed, I assume?’ Ainsworth asked.

  ‘I have my sidearm in a shoulder holster, if that’s what you mean.’

  Ainsworth scrutinized his protégé, his brow furrowed, and Saunders had the feeling that he was considering whether to take the gun away. After a moment, his expression cleared. He continued holding his gun in his hand, though. Without warning, he exclaimed, ‘Bears!’

  Saunders was startled, and had to work hard not to reach for his gun. ‘What?’

  ‘Bears,’ Ainsworth repeated. ‘Bears are far more dangerous than mountain lions. Mountain lions are afraid of people. A good-sized man is far larger than the average mountain lion
, and we don’t make very good prey for them. All they really want is to be left alone, so they’re not particularly dangerous. But a bear is a different story. You get a bear that is hungry?’ He whistled as he shook his head. ‘You’ve got a real problem. A motivated bear isn’t afraid of anything. They’re huge; they can weigh up to a ton. They’re strong, and deceptively fast . . .’

  Saunders eyed the gun that was still in Ainsworth’s hand. Ainsworth walked over to the island in the kitchen and poured himself another drink. ‘Lawrence, what are you doing up here?’

  ‘I’m taking a few days off. I haven’t been up here in a while. Since Sam died, actually. Remember? Four years ago when the three of us came up?’ It took him another moment to get his next thought out. ‘I’d forgotten how beautiful it is up here. Come look.’ He walked over to the far side of the house. There was a deck off the back. It hung out over the edge of the mountain cliff, facing due west. The sun was just disappearing over Webster Slide Mountain and the Owl’s Head Cliff, a sheer eight-hundred-foot wall of granite that was a perennial draw for rock climbers. ‘It’s as close to heaven as you can get. I should have come here sooner. I realize now that I feel closer to Sam here than anywhere else in the world.’ He gave Saunders an embarrassed smile. ‘I don’t believe it is a matter of actual proximity, Jack. Don’t worry, I haven’t completely taken leave of my senses.’

  ‘I didn’t think you had, Lawrence. Is that why you came here? To be closer to Sam?’

  Ainsworth shook his head. ‘The opposite, actually. I figured as long as I was up in Boston, I could come up here, see the old place. Maybe clear out some of Sam’s things, and make a fresh start.’

  ‘We need to talk, Lawrence,’ Saunders said evenly.

  ‘You know the funny thing?’ Ainsworth continued as though he hadn’t heard Saunders. ‘I can’t tell Sam’s things from mine.’ He laughed and it came out as a bit of a cackle. ‘We were the same size, you see? He had my build. Same size feet, too. I started digging through the shoes in the closets and I couldn’t for the life of me remember which were his and which were mine.’

  ‘I miss him, too,’ Saunders said. ‘He was like a brother to me.’