"Actually, I might be able to help you with that." Machry tapped some keys on his computer and brought up the file on Alex. "I've met Alberto Ordoñez before. He got very violent when I refused to tell him where Roland Orson lived."
"Why didn't he just look it up?"
"Your father lives a very secretive life. He's got an unlisted phone number, address, everything."
"I see…" Alex hated his father more with everything he heard about him.
"Mr. Ordoñez, it appears, had business dealings with all three of the victims for up to years before they died. And if they involved these Moose Killers at all, we might have a motive."
"What kind of motive?"
"Picture this," Machry explained. "A man is financing the Moose Killers. He tries to back out of the deal when he learns what it is they really do. Thus, he knows too much. Ordoñez goes to meet him, pretends to help him, gets information out of him, and kills him. Pin the murders on a mysterious, somewhat famous runaway and his allies. No judge or jury wants to say otherwise because they're afraid of the same fate. No-one is any the wiser."
"That's completely evil…although you can't fault him for cleverness."
"There you go, Alex. He's got a motive, you've got none. But what's really going to save Jake is the opportunity part of it. You couldn't have been anywhere, except maybe the gas station."
"We were there."
"No problem. The point is, only Ordoñez could have gotten around so fast."
"That's true…"
"Another interesting tidbit for you. He's dead."
Alex became extremely confused when he heard this. "Dead? As in heart attack, drowned, shot, fallen off cliff dead?"
Machry scrolled through the file. "It was a car accident. His brother Raul Ordoñez brought the news to the Philadelphia police."
"See what you can find on Raul Ordoñez. I'm pretty sure his name's never appeared in print before his brother's death."
"You catch on quick, Alex. Ordoñez, right now, is about as dead as you."
"Machry, that's not funny."
"Okay, as dead as me. In the U.S., he's dead, in Canada, he's a heroic crime informant."
"What!?"
"He's been giving the police news on the evil murderer Alex Orson all over Quebec and Ontario."
"Great."
"Among other things, he told them you were going to be in Ridge City. So that's where your forced choice comes from."
"Okay. You're on the right track, Machry, but I need something hard. Something that will get Jake out of jail and keep me loaded with necessities."
"Therein lies the rub! Listen closely, Alex. The opportunity part will save everything, and here's how…"
Alex got off the phone several minutes later and gave Sarah and Anthony a full recap of the conversation. Sarah was very happy upon hearing it, but Anthony wasn't sure the evidence was quite hard enough.
"There's plenty. Anyway, what we do is go to the supplier today. Then, as Jake stands trial, right in that courthouse over there, we run in, incriminate Ordoñez, save Jake, take the goods and get the hell out of here."
Nobody was happy upon hearing what they faced, but Alex smiled as best he could. "Should we go find a hotel? I think we all need a rest." So they wandered off to find somewhere that would let them pay the next morning.
As luck would have it, the hotel on Main Street allowed them to do this. They checked in as Colin Walker, Jane Philips and Stephen Jerome and were given a room on the second floor. Alex placed the backpack in the corner. At this point, all it was carrying was the gun.
They had just gotten settled (Alex had a third bed brought to avoid having to share with anybody) when the phone rang. Sarah picked it up. "Hello?"
The concierge answered. "Room 205, someone's calling for you. I'll put them through."
Presently she heard a click and the voice on the other end changed. "Ridge City supply program, calling for Alex Orson."
Sarah handed Alex the phone. "It's for you."
Alex picked it up. "Hello?"
"Alex Orson?"
"Don't use my name! We don't know who's listening."
"Apologies. Anyway, if you're staying in a hotel, we want to meet you there. We can't keep meeting people in the same place. We might get detected."
"Detected?" Alex thought of something. "Didn't you say there was nothing illegal about what you're doing?"
The voice hesitated for a moment. "We're not illegal…but we're also not exactly legal."
"Whatever. I need your help anyway. Can you come in one hour? We're in 205. Say you're here for Colin Walker."
There was a pause here. Sounds could be heard in the background, and Alex made out two voices consulting with each other. At last the man came back online.
"If you say so. See you then."
Alex hung up, more apprehensive about this meeting than about anything else in his life.
CHAPTER 11
The Plan in its Glory
Two men from the supply program filed in about an hour later. Alex sized them up immediately. They appeared to be shifty but not necessarily completely untrustworthy, and although he needed what they had, he could not rely on them for anything beyond that. One sat down in the chair across from the door, the other chose to stand up, by the desk.
"Alright, Orson, you've been waiting for this for three weeks. We got it, too. We even got a fourth backpack together on short notice. And, we don't expect payment."
The other, in the chair, cut in. "Until you get money to pay us. Just about three hundred dollars—Canadian dollars—when you get where you're going."
Alex knew this when he signed on, of course, but he still wasn't sure about the payment. Besides the obvious sum, which to a kid is like a chest full of gold, there was something else troubling him. How did they know he was going somewhere where he planned to get a job? He considered asking them, but held his tongue; he didn't think it would get him anywhere.
"Did you get any cigarettes?" Anthony piped up.
"Where are the backpacks?" Sarah asked.
The man by the desk shifted his weight slightly. "We, um…forgot them."
"Wait a minute!" Alex said. "You spent three weeks stuffing these, and when it comes to giving them to me, you just forgot them? Isn't this your job?"
"Not exactly," the man in the chair replied. At this the man by the desk gave him a rather obvious signal to shut up.
Alex was notably irritated now. "Where are they, then, if they're not here?"
"At our HQ. I can assure you, they exist."
Alex calmed down, but only slightly. "Can you go get them and bring them back here?"
The man in the chair seemed very happy about this. "I was just gonna suggest that. Let's go get the bags."
As they walked off toward the door, Sarah noticed light reflecting off something inside the first man's coat. She decided not to mention it—it was probably a pair of sunglasses hanging around his neck.
Soon after she thought this, the supply program opened the door, and in walked Ordoñez.
"Thank god," he said. "I thought you'd never open it." He turned to Alex. "These men gave me a signal, see. When they opened the door again, it would be my cue to enter."
Alex had no idea what he was supposed to think. He was shocked, confused, angry, and despairing simultaneously.
He checked his position in the room and found that he was about five yards from the backpack at the wall by the door. He stood up and began slowly edging towards it. When Sarah asked what he was doing, he shushed her.
The man who had been standing by the desk removed his jacket and revealed what had glinted inside his coat: the faux-gold, overpolished metal of a police badge. "I'm Officer Jeffries. Nice to meet you. And now, the best part of the job—explaining what the supply program really is."
Ordoñez smiled his mirthless, calculating grin. "It's quite genius, and very ironic. You'll appreciate it, Alex. I was told you have a taste for such things."
"Sh
ut up," Alex replied viciously. He was as filled with hate at that moment as it was possible for one boy to be. He checked his position: four yards.
Ordoñez laughed again—he appeared to find the whole situation incredibly funny. "Alex, you are in no position to tell me to do anything."
"Excuse me," Jeffries cut in. "Are you two finished?"
"Apologies," Ordoñez said. "Go on, officer."
Sarah and Anthony were watching the situation and reacting in their own ways: Sarah, scared but much more intent on what they would say next; Anthony, fighting to keep from leaping at Ordoñez's throat.
Jeffries cleared his throat. "The supply program was a good idea by a man who worked at the station a few years ago. This area—and the whole Quebec Transit—is a key route for drug traffickers, and since they're so good at disguising themselves, we're pretty much powerless to stop them. So this guy I mentioned, he invented an idea to lure them to us."
Alex was only half listening to Jeffries's speech, as he was much more intent on getting toward the backpack in time. He was about three yards away now. He swore under his breath, wishing he could move faster, but knowing Ordoñez would notice.
Jeffries continued. "So, these runners have usually been going for a while. They can't stop to eat or sleep, and usually their food, clothing and sometimes cars are totally unfit for another thousand miles of driving. So, we set up this supposedly underworld outfit to give them the stuff they need. Only once we give it to them, we bust 'em, and they go no further."
The other unidentified policeman spoke for the first time in a while. "It was just lucky that Ordoñez was here to tell us that you'd be going through Ridge City, and that we could use the system to bust the traveling Quebec murderers. When you originally called us, we thought you were another trafficker. We didn't know until later that you were a murderer."
"Did you ever wonder," Jeffries said, "why the police were pursuing you so lightly? Why we didn't call for a nationwide manhunt after the deaths? We knew Ridge City would bust you. We didn't think a manhunt would be worth it. And look how it's turned out! We've got the traveling Quebec murderers!"
Alex was just about two yards from the backpack when Anthony, who could apparently not stand being called a traveling Quebec murder, sprang off the bed and hurled himself at Jeffries. The two crashed into the desk behind with a violent noise, and landed on the floor. Anthony was wildly throwing punches at Jeffries's face, and a good number of them were making contact. Blood flowed out of the cop's nose, and Anthony thought he was winning before Jeffries kicked him in the stomach. Anthony rolled over once, clutching his solar plexus and groaning.
Jeffries stood up and took a clump of tissues from the box on the desk, holding it to his bleeding nose. "No more interruptions," he said, and there was a tinge of almost homicidal anger to his voice. "Remember, Alex, it was me who met you in the alleyway and presented you with that little dilemma. I can win fights with any of you."
"You…cheated!" Anthony moaned. Jeffries kicked him.
Sarah looked even more horrified at the officer's treatment of Anthony than she had initially, when the supply program had revealed themselves. Alex silently thanked Anthony—the tussle had given him the diversion he needed to reach the backpack.
"Sarah," he mouthed. "Distract them."
Sarah nodded to show that she had heard, and turned to Ordoñez. "I think you need to think about this, Mr. Ordoñez."
"What do you mean?"
"You know you're the murderer. And these cops would know it too, if they looked hard enough."
"Shut up!"
"Think about it. Why would you have to fake your own death? To travel in hiding. If you were on the law's side, why would you need to do that?"
The policemen were looking at Ordoñez, surprised.
"We have no motive for three murders. You're a hired assassin. What does that tell you?"
"Shut up!" Ordoñez roared. "Not another word!"
Sarah smiled. "What would you do if I decided to keep talking? Would you shoot me?"
"Exactly. In a heartbeat, I'd kill all of you. I've done it so many times before!" Ordoñez shouted.
Alex spoke from across the room. "Go ahead, Ordoñez. Shoot us. Just three more heads in your trophy room. So kill us. Finish the job."
"Damn you, you know I can't! Your father told me to bring you back alive!"
"I know. You were going to steal us out of the jail cell, weren't you? But you'd have to get us in there first, and…"
"And what?" Ordoñez said.
Alex grinned as he only did when he'd won an argument. "We fight back."
With a quick motion he thrust his hand into the backpack, brought out the gun and pulled the trigger. The bullet broke through the window, and the entire room was startled by the report. In that moment of weakness, Anthony got up, Sarah ran, and both of them bolted for the door.
Alex fired again, this time hitting Jeffries in the leg. The policeman howled in pain and hopped up and down, clutching it. It didn't appear to have broken anything, just grazed flesh, but Alex didn't stick around to find out. He fled after his allies.
Out in the hallway, several of the other rooms had opened their doors now, and guests were peering out, scared by hearing what they swore were two gunshots. Alex and Anthony ran left when they escaped, Sarah ran right. It was an unspoken rule that they should split up—it would mean less of them would be captured. Alex looked around, and saw an elevator ahead.
He looked at Anthony. "Not safe," Anthony said. "We should take the stairs. More freedom to move, in case they see us."
The cops had wasted no time in taking flight, and Jeffries was even now limping as fast as he could down the hall after them. Alex forced himself to move faster—the stairs were steps away. As he looked around again, he realized Ordoñez wasn't in sight. He didn't waste any time thinking about this.
As they reached the door, Anthony stopped Alex. After looking around to see that Jeffries was a safe distance away, he spoke. "What about Sarah?"
"She'll be fine. We have to go!"
"No! She went right—it's a dead end!"
"We can't worry about her. If that other cop got her, she's probably been arrested already."
"Don't you get it, you asshole!?" Anthony shouted. "Sarah isn't just a piece in your stupid game anymore!"
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"Your plan's ruined!" Anthony gestured toward Jeffries, still limping at a laughable pace. "This is your plan in its glory! Everything you've worked for to get us here is screwed. It's touch and go from now on, and that means Sarah is now a human being!"
"You two are going to kill me someday," Alex said. With that, he raced down the hall and barreled into Jeffries's wounded leg. Jeffries cried out in pain and fell to the floor. Alex stomped on his face, causing an even louder cry. Then, he ran.
"Do you still have the gun?" Anthony panted, running alongside him.
"Why would I not?" Alex replied, as they turned a corner. The unnamed cop was talking to Sarah, presumably reading her rights. Alex rolled his eyes, sick of hearing these. Other guests were out of their rooms now, and running toward the elevator. Alex and Anthony pushed them out of the way.
The cop turned. "Dammit," he said. "I hate this job." He leveled his gun. "Not another step."
Alex, at this point, raised his own weapon. "Sucks to be you right now. I know something you don't."
The cop looked confused, so Alex continued. "You haven't fired your weapon yet today. I have twice."
"So?" The cop looked almost afraid. Sarah attempted to inch out from behind him, but he forced her back with his arm.
"So your safety's on."
As his adversary looked at his gun, Alex shot into the floor. The policeman was so shocked he let his fingers slip and dropped the weapon, at which point Alex struck him in the head with his own. The cop dropped to the floor. Anthony picked up the gun and pocketed it.
"Was it on?" Sarah asked.
"M
aybe, maybe not," Alex said. "Let's go."
They tore down the hall as fast they could, stepping over Jeffries on the floor, who feebly tried to crawl after them. As they stepped into the stairwell, Alex locked the door.
Even with the advantage of having knocked out both the cops, they still didn't have much time to move. Sarah did talk, though. "You actually came back to save me?"
Cold Snow: A Legal Thriller Page 12
