The Guardian (37 page)

‘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.’

‘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.’

‘He was,’ Ainsworth agreed. ‘When he died, you were the closest thing I had to a son left. It’s just the two of us now. You understand that, don’t you?’

‘I think so, Lawrence.’

‘Good,’ Ainsworth said. He seemed to be staring past Saunders. ‘Now more than ever this country needs people who understand.’

‘It’s been too long,’ Cianna said to Akhtar. They were crouched at the edge of the woods that crept up the slope from the drive leading to the mountain house.
Toney was standing nearby, his three men spread out at the edge of the tree-line to increase the chances that one of them might catch a glimpse of something happening inside. They had seen and
heard nothing, though, since Saunders had entered.

‘Do you think he is in trouble?’ Akhtar asked.

‘Maybe,’ Cianna said. ‘You never know what Ainsworth may do if he really has turned.’

‘We don’t know what either of them will do,’ Toney said quietly.

‘What is that supposed to mean?’ Cianna demanded.

‘It means exactly what I said,’ Toney replied. ‘The two of them have worked together for decades. They’ve been in contact with each other throughout the past three days.
We have no way of knowing whether they’ve been on the same page the entire time.’

‘Bullshit,’ Cianna said.

‘Yes,’ Akhtar said to Toney. ‘I agree. What you say is bullshit.’

‘How can you say that?’ Toney demanded of Akhtar. ‘You know nothing of this man.’

‘I know what I saw of him. That is enough.’

Toney shook his head. ‘What’s taking so long, then?’

‘Perhaps Mr Ainsworth has not been welcoming.’ He was silent for a moment. ‘Or, perhaps Mr Saunders was not correct. Perhaps Fasil and his men were with Mr Ainsworth all
along.’

Cianna took a step toward the house. ‘I’m going in,’ she said.

‘How?’ Toney demanded.

‘Through the front door,’ she said. ‘I’ll shoot my way through, if necessary.’

‘No, you won’t,’ Toney said, moving toward her and holding out a hand to restrain her. She grabbed him by the thumb and twisted the hand around so that he was forced to bend
over to keep the thumb from breaking. He grunted in pain.