“I get the idea.”
“Anyway, the point is they’re all using non-IC, non-military talent. Folks like Matt Zimmerman. That’s what I think Riptide’s about.”
“Prepare to turn left,” said the car’s GPS system and Decker jumped in his seat. Though based on a real woman’s voice, the tone sounded metallic, Borg-like.
Decker glanced at the GPS console. “That’s Pierce Road,” he said, concentrating. “Braun’s cabin is two miles due west.”
CHAPTER 36
It had started to snow by the time they arrived at the cutoff leading to Rutger Braun’s cabin. Whirling white flakes filled the air, making it difficult to see very far. At this elevation, the forest floor was already covered with snow. Decker could just make out Braun’s cabin. It was about a hundred yards or so from the main road and he told Lulu to pull over.
They sat there for a moment, staring at the cabin. It was a simple pre-fab affair, made from some kit, no doubt, with a bay window in front and a natural stone chimney. On the other side of the cabin, perhaps another three hundred yards from the structure, Decker could just barely make out the sheen of some mountain pond through the aspen and laurel.
“No smoke,” Lulu said. “Looks deserted.”
“Maybe,” said Decker. “Go ahead and pull in. Let’s take a closer look.”
Lulu slipped the Ford into gear and made her way slowly down the snow-covered driveway, flanked on both sides by rhododendron and spruce. As they pulled in and parked by the front door, Decker noticed another car, partially covered in a blue plastic tarpaulin, on the other side of the cabin. A large pile of wood was stacked up beside it, next to a splitting stump.
They got out of Lulu’s Ford and trudged through the snow to the front of the cabin. Lulu knocked on the door. No one answered. She peered through the window. Somewhere a crow cawed.
“I told you,” she said. “It’s deserted.” She reached into her jacket and pulled out the same set of burglar tools she’d used to break into Zimmerman’s house, but Decker stayed her hand.
“Just a minute,” he told her. He made his way around the side of the cabin. The snow had piled up into a three-foot high drift and he had a hard time pushing through it. As he turned the corner to the rear of the cabin, he noticed a fresh set of footprints. They began directly underneath a small window by the chimney. Decker followed them with his eyes as they wound their way through the trees toward the mountain pond.
“Jesus Christ,” Lulu said.
Decker turned. Lulu was looking through the window into the rear of the cabin. When Decker peered in, he noticed a device attached to the front door of the cabin. Some sort of charge, he surmised. Set to go off when someone opened the door.
“Not very neighborly,” Lulu said.
They both turned and looked at the trail of footprints leading down toward the pond. That’s when a shot rang out and the side of the cabin exploded.
Decker threw himself onto Lulu, driving her to the snow.
Another shot echoed through the trees. “Stay here,” he said as he rolled to his knees. Decker pulled out the Python. A moment later, he was zigzagging through the snow toward the pond.
The brush was much heavier here and he had a hard time scrambling through the bushes and trees. He had gone about fifty yards or so when he noticed a muzzle flash.
Decker threw himself to the ground just as a bullet passed over his head, thudding into a blue spruce nearby.
Whoever he was, Decker thought, he wasn’t much of a shot.
Decker continued to crawl on his belly through the snow. When he had covered another ten yards, he stood up behind an oak tree and peered down at the pond.
A man was lying on the snow by the edge of the water. He was holding some sort of hunting rifle.
Decker edged his way down the embankment, using a cluster of rhododendron bushes for cover. Now, the snow was his friend. It had started to fall more heavily and the thick flakes helped conceal him as he inched closer and closer.
The man near the pond was still facing the cabin. He hadn’t noticed Decker flanking him. Decker moved in this fashion for another twenty yards or so, until he was positioned about thirty feet from the man with the gun.
“Don’t move,” Decker said, appearing out of the trees, the Python trained on the stranger.
The man whirled about. He lifted his rifle and fired.
Decker dove to the snow and the shot passed harmlessly over his head. Then, before the man had a chance to reload, Decker rushed him.
Despite the snow, Decker covered the distance between them in seconds. As the man tried to reload and fire again, Decker ripped the gun from his hands. He struck him with the tip of his elbow, catching the man on the jaw, and the stranger fell back to the snow.
“Don’t kill me,” he cried. “Please.” He lifted his hands, trying to cover his face. “Please!”
“You’re the one trying to shoot me,” Decker said. He stood above the man now, the Python aimed at his face.
“Please,” the man cried. He rolled to his knees, reaching out to grab Decker. “Don’t kill me. I beg you.” He was a slight man, narrow-shouldered, with round wire-rimmed glasses that magnified his already large eyes.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” said Decker. “Calm down. Are you Rutger Braun?”
The fact that Decker knew his name seemed to send Braun over the edge. He began crawling away through the snow. “Oh, God,” he cried. “Oh, God, no. Please don’t kill me.”
Decker followed him. “Where are you going? Come back here,” he said. He put the Python back in his holster. Braun’s gun was still at the edge of the pond where Decker had tossed it. “I said stop.”
But Braun kept crawling away on his hands and knees through the snow. He was babbling now, incoherent. He was weeping like a child.
“Oh, for crying out loud,” Decker said. He walked up behind him, pulled the Python out of his holster, and brought it down with a thud on the back of his head.
Braun fell to the snow and was still.
CHAPTER 37
By the time Braun came to, Decker and Lulu had already broken into his cabin through the rear window and disarmed the explosive device attached to the door. Lulu had found some supplies in the cabinet and was about to make some tea when she realized the ancient cast-iron stove was neither gas nor electric; it was a wood-burning stove. In fact, the cabin featured no modern conveniences, except for a hand-pump for water, and they speculated if Braun had picked this location on purpose, knowing that he was free from the terrors they had both experienced at her apartment in Cambridge and Zimmerman’s place on Mount Stratton. Despite the fact that Braun had tried to kill them, without a boiler, without electricity or gas, without a phone or wireless router, they both felt more at ease in this primitive setting than they had in days.
Decker had lashed Braun to a chair in the middle of the room and when he finally came to, for the first several seconds, he didn’t seem to know where he was. Then, as his head cleared, he began to whimper again. He pulled at his bonds.
“Stop that,” said Decker, and he did.
Braun looked over at Decker, then at Lulu. “Who are you?” he said.