Reapers (25 page)

She pocketed it and crossed to his desk to search for personalized stationery, which would be the cherry on top. As she slid open the drawer, feet thumped on the stairs.

She eased it closed and hurried toward the stairwell. The steps neared.

"Hey, you seen Nerve?" Lucy called.

As if summoned by black magic, he appeared on the stairs below. "What are you doing in my office?"

Her hand moved toward her pocket. She stopped it cold. "Well, I was looking for you."

He stared at her with unsettling resolve. "Get downstairs. Stay there."

"What's up?"

"I'm sending you out of the city." Nerve walked up the steps, brushing past her on the landing.

"Sure thing," she said, but inside she was buzzing, mind collapsing, plans burning up like a pile of autumn leaves.

16

"Ah," Ellie said. "Just who we were looking for."

"What are you doing here?" Nan said.

"Like I just said. Looking for you."

Nan looked past her to the men in front of the truck. "You shouldn't be here."

The two men crunched through the snow. They hadn't yet drawn guns, but their hands hung close to their holsters.

Ellie still didn't have a plan. "We found the body. It was him. We wanted to thank you."

"You're welcome." The old woman stood her ground. "But this here is private property."

The men stopped six feet behind her. Ellie nodded placatingly. "I understand. But that's not why we're here. We spoke to your mechanic. At first, we were interested in purchasing snowmobiles from you, but then I saw all that equipment and I realized I was thinking small."

Hobson carefully kept his gaze away from Ellie. Nan's eyes flicked over Ellie's shoulder; she nodded at the pair of men. Ellie didn't look back, but she could feel the tension thaw from the air.

"You want to talk business," Nan said.

"Our employer's a big believer in kismet. While he won't be happy to learn what happened to our man, he would see the circumstances arising from it—our meeting—as meaningful. Particularly when he's looking to expand his operations."

The old woman pursed her mouth. "Why don't we step inside?"

Nan led them to a back door. Ellie made a small scene of stomping and scraping the snow off her shoes. The others followed suit. Nan watched with quiet approval, then brought them to a sitting room with dark wood panels and deep-seated couches.

Nan tasked one of the men to heat tea, then turned to Ellie. "First things first. Why don't you explain who you're speaking for?"

"Forgive me for having to play coy," Ellie said. "You know how these things are. Let's say he runs a settlement north of the border."

"Sounds cold."

"And isolated. Which is how he likes it. But that means extra work, too."

"Same story everywhere." Nan's blue gaze lingered on Dee. "Who's she?"

"She works with us," Ellie shrugged.

"Right. You're the ambassador. Your man with the hat is the muscle—former lawman, maybe. But why the girl?"

Ellie blanked. Dee got a small smile on her face and inclined her head. "Because some men are best convinced with things besides words or force."

Nan chuckled throatily. "Interesting team, I'll give you that."

"Our employer's tactically flexible," Ellie said. She stopped herself from sighing in relief. She'd managed to convince Nan this meeting was intentional. Time to pivot and see whether she could come out of it with something useful. "You represent the Clavans?"

"You've heard of them?"

"I saw the signs."

"And you'd like to know whether I'm authorized to speak for them." Nan leaned back and tucked her glasses into her shirt pocket. "That won't be a problem."

"You deal in machinery," Ellie said. A kettle whistled from the kitchen, startling her. "Anything else? There are some chores a machine is no good for."

Nan pressed her palms together. "What would your people have to offer in trade?"

"Vegetables. Grain. Meat."

"Food is cheap. The Clavans are interested in more exotic goods."

"Such as?"

The old woman smiled. "We're open to proposals."

"Some of our citizens make fuel," Ellie tried.

"You think I'd put together a fleet like this and not produce my own gas?" Nan smiled with half her mouth. "Here's how it works. We establish a franchise in your settlement. Run by our people. In exchange for access to your market, your employer will receive a cut of each sale. We'll start simple—a couple trucks, a tractor. If your people can pay with something more interesting than wheat, then we'll see about expanding our offerings."

Hobson thrust out his lower lip. "Would you consider operating on a wholesale model?"

Nan laughed. "We don't want distributors. We want
markets
. We bring the goods, we make the sales, you get a piece. Where's the downside?"

A man walked in with a tea tray, keeping his steps low and level, porcelain cups rattling on the silver platter. That was the end of business. They left with tea in their bellies and a sheet of listed goods. Ellie examined this as they walked their bikes south from the manor, fighting the snow. The goods were all mechanical, mostly automobiles and farming equipment with a smattering of less obvious vehicles like snowmobiles and golf carts. The equipment's list price was given in several currencies—grain, bullets, penicillin, a whole series of painkillers (hydrocodone, oxycodone, oxycontin, morphine), and "Surprise Me!"—with a second column breaking out the prospective partner's commission of each sale.

"I got the impression there
are
no Clavan Brothers." Hobson cackled. "She uses them as a front for herself!"

"No doubt." Ellie waved the list. "No mention of human goods here."

"I expect she's as sly about that as she is with her front. Selling people is a dark business. Wouldn't trust us with that knowledge until she knows we're operating in good faith."

"Which we have no way to prove. Even if we tried to bluff her about our 'employer,' the back-and-forth could take weeks."

"If Quinn's still here, they could move him at any time," Dee said.

"I know. We'll have to try to find where they're keeping the captives."

"Doubt it's the house," Hobson said. "She let us in as if she had nothing to hide."

"But the captives were in the truck," Ellie said. "Its tracks led straight to the house."

Dee gestured ahead of them. "What about the other tracks?"

Both Hobson and Ellie turned. Ellie got the words out first. "Which others?"

"Down here a ways. They split off to the east. I don't know how you missed them."

Dee led the way. Ellie glanced back toward Nan's house. She and her people were predators. Specifically, they were pack hunters. Attracted by herds of prey. When Ellie got back to the lakes, she'd have to think long and hard about relocating herself, Dee, and the Tolberts. It would be a hassle and a half, but if it kept them away from trouble, it would be well worth the work.

Backtracking their way down the street, the divergence of tire tracks was obvious. They must have been riding too fast. Assuming there was only one set to follow. If not for Dee's sharp eyes, they might never have known different.

The intersection was roughly halfway between the manor and the main office. They followed the tracks east past a slew of local businesses, riding down the center of the road where the snow was thinnest. After just two blocks, the path turned into the parking lot of Clavan Dry Cleaning.

Ellie rode on past. Hobson cleared his throat. She shook her head. Three blocks later, she turned north and pulled her bike behind a Taco Bell.

"We'll wait till night," she said. "I don't want to risk bumping into anyone else. And we're close enough to hear if they try to relocate again."

Hobson nodded. "Did you note the bumper of the delivery truck sticking out from the back?"

"Yeah. What do you think?"

"Feels right. Much more so than Nan stashing them at her own house."

"Agreed," Ellie said. "Should have brought the bike trailer. If Quinn's here, I don't want to stick around town once we've got him."

"Shall I go back for it?"

"We don't have much else to do until nightfall."

He saluted and rode north. Ellie tried the door of the Taco Bell. Unlocked. Dee held it open while she wheeled the bikes inside. They stomped off the snow on the rug in the entry, then went to the drive-thru window to keep an ear on the street.

It was no warmer inside than out. A few times an hour, Ellie got up to walk around and stir her blood. Dee, typically talkative, gazed out the window at the motionless snow. Hobson returned with the trailer a couple hours later, coming in from the north, having looped clear of Nan's office/garage as well as the dry cleaner.

"Brisk out there, isn't it?" He was red-faced and bright-eyed. "Any movement?"

Ellie shook her head. She napped, then killed more time studying the map of town she'd taken from the phone book. With the sun hidden by the clouds, she had little sense of time until the light began to fade. As soon as it went, snow sifted from the sky.

With no electric lights, and the moon concealed by thick clouds, the streets were all but pitch black. Ellie went outside to pack snow into their empty gallon jugs and bring it inside to melt. Food would be a problem on the return trip. If the roads were snowy all the way to the lakes, the ride could take three times as long as it had on the way down.

At eleven o'clock, they slipped from the Taco Bell on foot, heading east before doubling back to approach the dry cleaners from the back access alley. Another inch of snow had fallen and more was coming down fast. Good. It might hide their tracks.

Ellie hunkered down at the corner of the neighboring building. She saw no movement except the snow. The back wall was blank concrete with two loading bays, both shut with metal doors, and a plain exit. Gun at her hip, she hurried to the exit door. Footprints marred the snow. They'd just begun to fill.

She glanced at the others, then tried the door. It didn't budge. She opened her mouth to ask Dee whether she had a hairpin when a voice spoke from beside them.

"
God
, it's cold."

Her skin prickled. She pulled her gun, glancing to all sides, but saw nothing more than snow.

"It's senseless," the voice went on, tinny but distinct. "You figure they mean to stick us in a field somewhere, right? How am I supposed to pull a plow when I lose my foot to frostbite?"

"Shut up," a second voice moaned.

Hobson pointed to a vent in the wall. It had, in all likelihood, once carried steam outside, but now it carried the voices of prisoners. Ellie walked up to it. Tiny icicles hung from its slats.

"Hello?" she whispered. The men on the other side went dead silent. "Can you hear me?"

"Who's that?" The man dropped to a whisper, but his voice was clearer than a moment before.

"Are you being held against your will?"

"No, I'm just too lazy to find a blanket. Or to untie myself from this bed. You outside?"

"I'm looking for someone," she said. "Quinn Tolbert. Twenty years—"

"I know him."

"Is he in there?"

"Truck took him and the others away two days ago. Headed south."

Ellie's heart quickened. "What did the truck look like?"

"White van. Like the one they brought us here in," the man said. "Hey. I've told you all I know. There's five of us in here still. You got to get us out."

"Are you under guard?"

"Couple dudes. Think they're up front. Asleep."

"Armed?"

The man laughed. "If they weren't, I would have bitten my way out."

"You hang tight and be quiet," Ellie said. "We'll see what we can do."

"My name's Nelson," he said. "Now you know my name, you got to come get me."

"See you soon, Nelson."

She turned to the others and gestured toward the neighboring building. Together, they ran to it in silence. Ellie continued past and didn't stop until they were back to the Taco Bell. Fat flakes of snow swept into her face with stinging cold.

"Mom," Dee said.

"We have to go now," she said. "If the snow stops, the guards will see our tracks. If it doesn't stop, it may be too thick for the bikes."

"You told them you'd save them."

In the darkness of the restaurant, Ellie moved to pack up the blankets they'd used during the day. "So what?"

"He said the guards were asleep."

"You think they'll stay that way once we break in? What if we take down two and a third comes in from the back room?" She grabbed a Ziploc bag of bread and shoved it in the trailer. "No matter how good your odds, once the bullets start flying, you can't be certain one won't take you down. That's why violence is the last tool in the box."

She knew she was babbling, but it was something Dee needed to know. She found the jugs of snow and added them to the trailer. "While I was training for the DAA, I took some karate classes. I once saw a girl tear her ACL without being touched. She stepped wrong and boom, down she went. Crutches for months. The sensei had a running joke about such things. Said he'd hurt himself worse training to handle himself in a fight than he ever would have if he'd never learned. If that's the risk of training, can you imagine the risk of a real fight?"

"So we leave them?" Dee said. "They're all Quinn to someone."

"You can't save the world. You'll die trying. But if you stay focused, sometimes you can save the piece that matters most." She put her rifle in the trailer. "You ready?"

"Not until we do something for those people."

They glared at each other. They might have gone on this way until the sun rose and glared down on them both, but Hobson cleared his throat.

"Dee, I reluctantly agree with your mother. We can't intervene directly without exposing ourselves to undo risk."

"Oh yeah?" Dee said. "And what about intervening indirectly?"

He smiled, extremely satisfied about something. "You're a sharp one. Which segues neatly into my plan: we pass the prisoners knives through the vent."

"That is so stupid," Ellie said.