The Sword of God - John Milton #5 (John Milton Thrillers) Page 7

  My name is John Milton, and I am an alcoholic. I am also an assassin. I killed one hundred and thirty-six men and women in the service of my country.

  It meant that the meetings would only ever be able to offer him partial solace.

  The program had been good for him, but there were moments when the deep well of his shame had risen up and overflowed, breaching his makeshift defences. It had been that way in Ohio, only this time his defences had failed. He didn’t feel the guilt when he was drunk. He could drown the reproachful voices with booze, obliterate them for as long as he had a bottle in his hand and, like a sailor hearing the beauty of the siren’s song, he had almost submitted.

  He had gone into a bar, ordered a whisky and stared at it for what felt like hours. He watched it for so long that the cubes of ice had dissolved into slivers, and then the slivers had dissolved into nothing. What harm could it do? he asked himself. What harm? Just one, that would be all it was.

  But it wouldn’t be just one. Never was. Never would be.

  He had tossed his money on the bar and left, taken a bus to a mountain sports shop, bought everything he thought he would need, and had set off that same day.

  The journey had brought him here.

  He thought about Mallory.

  He began to worry that she might have been brought to him for a reason. Drunks in the program were urged to believe in a Higher Power, but Milton had seen too much death to believe in God or Buddha or Mohammed or anything else. Those men and women with no time for religion interpreted GOD as Group Of Drunks and used the Rooms as their Higher Power, but that needed absolute honesty, and Milton couldn’t do that. He had tried to fill the void in his soul with a spiritual outlook, and there had been moments where Providence had seemed to play a role in bringing him to a certain place at a certain time to take advantage of an opportunity that, eventually, brought him peace. Coincidence, probably, for he would always fall back on the rational, but a part of him couldn’t discount the possibility entirely.

  Maybe Providence was at play here.

  He had been too hasty. The chances were that Mallory’s brother had just gone out to camp in the woods. Kids ran off all the time, it would be something as simple and innocent as that. It was no skin off his nose to divert north for a day or two. He had plenty of time to get to Walker. And if he missed Morrissey, so what? There would be other gigs. He had no itinerary. He would go wherever the wind blew him.

  He finished cleaning the firing pin, replaced the spring with a new one, and put the rifle back together again. He slung it over his left shoulder, swung the heavy pack across his right, and went to check out.

  He stepped out into the damp morning. The sunlight sparkled off the pools of water that had gathered across the pocked asphalt of the parking lot.

  The Pontiac Catalina was still waiting in the same space. He saw the wide blue and white stripes of Mallory’s woollen beanie through the dappled glare on the windshield.

  Yes, Milton thought. Providence.

  Tenacity and determination, too.

  He would help her.

  PART TWO

  Chapter 11

  ELLIE WENT back to reception.

  “Yes?” the girl asked, her eyes flicking up from the show she was watching.

  “I need the room longer.”

  “How many nights?”

  She thought about that. How many would she need? Two? That would be enough. How long would it take to hike up north where the girl thought the men were hiding out, check out the area, then come back again? Maybe it would be better to get three, just in case it took longer. Three would be plenty.

  “Three,” she said.

  The girl clicked her mouse, tapped on the keyboard and said, “Done,” before she looked back down to the TV.

  Ellie heard the sound of a wheeled suitcase approach from around the corner and, before she could take evasive action, Orville came out of the corridor, tugging his little Samsonite behind him.

  “Ellie,” he said awkwardly.

  “Orville.”

  “Just checking out.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You sure you still want to stay up here? Last chance. You want, I could wait for you. You could—”

  “No, I’m staying.”

  “There’s this thing,” he said distractedly, tapping his finger against his cellphone, “just heard about it. Dillard just called. The VP’s due in Minneapolis in three days, right, campaigning through the state this week? The bureau office picked up a threat against him. Probably wack-jobs, probably nothing, but he’s sending resources over there. You don’t fancy a trip to Minneapolis?”

  “No, Orville. I’ll see you in Detroit.”

  He nodded, just once, and pulled his case around her so that he could get to the desk. Ellie felt a little shiver of revulsion, the sheer ludicrousness of the affair coming home to her like a slap in the face. Ryan had been right. What had she been thinking? It was the most childish—no, the most infantile—thing she had ever done. She made her way out of the lobby and into the foyer. She needed to rent a car, and then she needed to go and get the equipment that she would need for the trip into the woods.

  MILTON APPROACHED the car.

  Mallory saw him and cranked the window down.

  “I can stay here all day,” she said, and he could see that she meant it. He had been right about her tenacity, but wrong to underestimate just how dogged she was prepared to be. He could see that she was possessed of a single-minded focus so absolute that it allowed her to simply ignore anything that conflicted with her plans. She would badger him until he either relented or fled the town, possibly with her in pursuit.

  “You think that’ll make a difference?”

  “I can be persuasive.”

  “It’s okay. There’s no need to wait.”

  “You’ll do it?”

  He nodded. “Against my better judgment.”

  Her face broke into a childish grin, and Milton was reminded of how young she really was. “Thank you.” She beamed at him. “When?”

  “This afternoon.”

  “Great. I can do that.”

  Milton frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “What do you mean, what do I mean? I’m coming, too.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “I am.”

  Milton stared squarely at her. “I don’t need you to come with me, Mallory.”

  “I have to come.”

  “No, you don’t. You’ll slow me down, and the slower I am in getting up to your brother, the slower I’ll be in bringing him back to you.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s not negotiable.”

  “Well, that’s lucky, because I’m not negotiating.”

  “Then I’ll just follow you. What are you going to do about that?”

  “I’ll tie you to a tree.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “So am I. I’m not going to put myself in front of four armed men while I look after a child at the same time.”

  “I am not a child,” she said indignantly.

  “You are, and you’re staying here.”

  She pouted at him, unbowed.

  “Have you thought about this, Mallory? There are no hotels between here and wherever they are. There won’t be any warm beds and, tasty though it was, there will be no bacon and eggs on the table. I’m going to travel quickly, eat light, and what little sleep I get is going to be on the ground. And,” he said, looking up at the sky, “I don’t think it’s going to stay dry for very long.”

  “I’ve slept on the ground before, Mr. Milton. I told you: my father used to take me and Arty out when we were little.”

  “It’s not really the same thing.”

  “I’ve shot whitetail deer before.”

  “This isn’t going to be like shooting deer, Mallory.”

  She refused to give up. “You’ve never met my brother. You don’t know what he looks like.”

  “You can describe him to me.”

  “H
e doesn’t know you, though. I told you, he’s simple. He gets frightened easily, especially when he doesn’t know someone. And if things don’t go the way you think they will, he’ll run. If he sees me, he won’t. If I tell him to come back with us, he will.”

  Milton looked at her hard face and the determined frown that was visible below the bottom of her beanie and sighed. It would probably be easier to concede. There was some truth in what she was saying, too, he supposed. It probably would be useful to have her around if the boy got spooked. He would just have to make sure she knew to stay a safe distance behind him if it did get difficult. He wouldn’t be swayed on that much, at least. He had made mistakes before and people had paid the price for them. He had sworn to himself that there would never be a repeat.

  “Fine,” he said. “You can come. But there are some rules and these are not open to debate. First, you do as I say at all times. I don’t want any lip. Second, you stay with me. Third, if we find them, you let me handle getting your brother. Are those all clear?”

  “Crystal.”

  “What equipment do you have?”

  “Sleeping bag in the trunk.”

  “Anything else? Ground sheet? Compass? Water filter? Flashlight? First-aid kit?”

  She frowned. “Not with me. Just the bag.”

  Milton sighed, doubting himself afresh.

  “Is there an outdoor store in town?”

  “Morrisons.” She reached down and started the engine. “Shall we go there now?”

  “Why not.” Milton sighed, settling back into the seat and closing his eyes.

  THE STORE was well stocked with everything they would need. Milton was already equipped, but he took the chance to replace some of his older gear and replenish his supplies. They took a shopping cart and worked through the aisles. Milton picked out a backpack and had Mallory try it on to make sure it fitted her comfortably. He dropped the things he thought they might need into the cart: water filter and purification tablets; a map and a compass; a headlamp; two fresh boxes of matches and a backup fire starter; a simple first-aid kit; sunscreen and insect repellent. Mallory already had decent boots that he thought would be up to the job, and she had a fleece jacket that looked like it would be warm enough. He picked out polypropylene underwear, a hooded rain jacket and pants, and a pair of Gore-Tex gloves.

  He only had a one-man tent with him, but she was small, and he thought that there would be enough room for both of them. Her sleeping bag was old and primitive, so he bought a new one with a foam pad so that she would be as comfortable as possible.

  He wheeled the cart to the checkout and waited as the clerk rang it all up. It cost three hundred dollars. He took out his money roll and counted it out. He had a thousand left. That ought to be enough to get him across the country if he was careful.

  “I’ll pay for it,” Mallory said.

  He doubted that she had the cash and, if she did, he guessed that she would need it more than he would. “Don’t worry. We can settle up when we get your brother back.”

  Milton was arranging the gear in Mallory’s new pack when he noticed that the girl had walked away from him and had approached the woman who had just entered the store. He watched as the newcomer turned to her, the concentrated expression that Mallory had worn as she scouted the shelves changing into a smile that Milton thought bore a little awkwardness, too.

  He hoisted the pack onto his shoulder and walked over to them.

  “Ready?” he asked her. “We should get started.”

  “Mr. Milton,” Mallory said, “this is Special Agent Flowers.”

  The woman turned to him and extended a hand. “Ellie Flowers.”

  She looked familiar.

  “I’ve seen you in town, haven’t I?”

  “In the bar last night.”

  He remembered: she had been talking to Mallory. “Sorry about that,” he said.

  “What’s your name?”

  “John Milton.”

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Milton.”

  “Likewise.”

  “Mallory says you’re going to go up into the woods with her.”

  “That’s right. She said the FBI wouldn’t.”

  “My partner didn’t want to, no. There’s just the two of us and he’s not convinced that they’re out there.”

  “But you are?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Where’s your partner now?”

  “Probably halfway back to Detroit by now.”

  “And you’re staying here?”

  “No,” she said. “I’m going into the woods.”

  Milton fought the urge to let out a long, impatient sigh. “You know what you’re doing?”

  “I’ve hiked before. Camped a few times when I was younger.”

  “You got equipment?” He looked down at her feet, shod in plain leather flats.

  She followed his gaze. “I’m not an idiot,” she said indignantly.

  “I was just saying—”

  “Well, don’t. I’m a federal agent. I know what I’m doing.”

  He let it ride.

  He had riled her up. “What’s your involvement in this, anyway?”

  “Mallory asked me to go up north and look for her brother. I said that I would help.”

  “I don’t know about that. This is a federal matter. I don’t need your help, and I’m not sure it’s even appropriate, especially after what you did last night.”

  Milton snapped, “After what I did? You saw what happened just like everyone else. They went after me.”

  She shrugged. “You have a temper. If Mallory’s right and those boys are up there, what’s to say you wouldn’t just make things worse?”

  Milton started to snap back a retort, but caught himself, took a deep in-and-out breath, and managed a tight smile. “All right, then. Fair enough. Good luck.”

  Mallory turned to him. “What do you mean?”

  “Like she says, she’s a federal agent. You don’t need me. I’ll see you around. I’ve packed your gear for you. You’ve got everything you need.”

  The girl’s face fell. “No. I want you to come.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  He started to leave, but the girl reached out and grabbed him by the wrist.

  “Please,” she said. Still holding onto him, she turned back to Ellie. “Please, let’s all just relax and start over, okay? Agent Flowers, Mr. Milton is an experienced outdoorsman. You said to me yourself last night that’s not what you’re good at. Doesn’t it make more sense for him to come with us up there?”

  “This is a federal—”

  “Yes,” the girl said, interrupting her, “the thing with the men is a federal matter. But Mr. Milton is going to help me get my brother back. That’s a family thing. Totally different.”

  The woman started to retort but stopped herself.

  “And, Mr. Milton, if they are up there, isn’t it better that the FBI is involved?”

  Milton drew another breath. He had already entertained doubts that this was a foolish idea, that agreeing to help the girl was pandering to his ego as much as thinking it was the right thing to do, but he relented. Grandiosity was not something that a drunk could afford. Humility was better. Healthier.

  “I don’t take orders from anyone except myself,” he said. “And I’m not a tour guide.”

  “I don’t need you to guide me, Milton.”

  Humility was better. But not easy.

  He picked up Mallory’s pack again and slung it across his shoulder. “Get the stuff you’re going to need and meet us outside. We’ve only got eight hours of daylight left before it starts to get dark. I want to get as far north as we can by the time we have to stop.”

  Chapter 12

  SPECIAL AGENT Flowers had rented a Cadillac Escalade from the place in town, and Milton quickly decided that it made more sense for them to travel the short distance to the place where they would start to hike in that rather than in Mallory’s tired old Pontiac. He opened the rear door and
found the button to fold down the third-row seats, the motors humming quietly as they doubled over into the floor. He transferred his gear into the SUV, laying his rifle down in the space between the pack and the back of the second-row seats, and then collected Mallory’s pack and slotted that alongside. Flowers was struggling with her own pack, catching the strap on the door as it closed behind her, and he crossed the sidewalk towards her with his hand out to help.

  “I got it,” she said tetchily.

  She freed the strap and hauled the pack to the back of the Cadillac. Milton watched her as she muscled the bag across a wide puddle. She was medium height and elfin, with brown shoulder-length hair and exquisitely delicate bones in her face. Her eyes were grey, and her lips, which were full, were set in a severe expression that matched her frown. She had bought more appropriate clothes in the store and had changed into them in the changing rooms out back. She had transferred her suit and work shoes into the car already. The waterproof jacket and leggings and the walking boots were much more suited to the terrain, although Milton was sure that her feet would blister as she broke the firm leather in. Knowing that, and not wanting her to slow them down, he had returned to the counter and bought zinc oxide tape, antibacterial ointment and a sterilised needle.

  “This isn’t what I had in mind,” Milton said to Mallory when Flowers was out of earshot.

  “Give her a break,” she said. “It makes most sense for us to go together, right?”

  “We’ll see.”

  The rear door slammed, and Flowers came around and opened the driver’s door.

  “Ready?” she said.

  Milton opened the rear door for Mallory and followed her inside.

  MILTON OPENED out the map that he had bought in the store and spread it across his knees. Ellie turned around in her seat, and Mallory leaned in closer.

  “Where did your brother say they were hiding?” he asked her.

  She studied the map, gaining her bearings, and then pointed to the Lake of the Clouds, right up on the southern shore of Lake Superior. She pointed to a spot on the southern shore.