Page 88 of The House of Cross

One of the Maestro drivers sped up and started closing the gap.

“He’s right behind you, Fagan!”

I lifted the H and K and shot wildly at him left-handed while trying to keep the sled going. Fagan stopped behind a fir tree and fired the twelve-gauge twice at the driver.

She hit him both times with double-aught buckshot, once in the visor and once in the chest, hurling him off his sled.

“Turn back on them, Dr. Cross,” Fagan said. “There’s only three left.”

Before I could argue, she’d gotten her snowmobile turned around and was heading toward the other Maestro men. I struggled to do the same without losing the submachine gun. I finally just sat on it.

By the time I got turned around, the Mountie was cutting away hard northeast about one hundred yards from me with the remaining drivers flanking her, firing at her. She twisted in hersaddle, trying to return fire with the shotgun one-handed, then seemed to realize her mistake.

Fagan swung her head around and dropped an F-bomb in the headset before she and her sled vanished off the rim of the canyon into the dying light.

CHAPTER 66

THE WIND PICKED UPout of the northwest then, whistling and bitter. In seconds, dark clouds took the sun, some thirty minutes from setting.

Shadows and snow swirls swept across the winter landscape.

And still I sat there on my idling snowmobile, staring at that gloomy spot where Officer Fagan had vanished from sight.

I had only the vaguest idea of our location.

The Mountie had been tracking us on some mapping app she had on her phone that did not require an active connection. I had no such app and my phone had lost service right after we left Kimberley.

But the compass app on my phone had to work. And we had just refueled. As long as I could locate the tracks of the Maestrosoldiers, I reasoned, I could eventually find my way back to the warming hut. I’d light a fire. I’d spend the night and—

Two of the drivers who’d been chasing Fagan appeared on their machines. They were close to where she’d gone over, moving from my left to right about one hundred and fifty yards out.

I did not give them a chance to spot me. I killed the ignition, threw the hunting rifle over the handlebars, and shot the near rider as he passed through an opening in the scattered trees, then picked off the second.

I shoved the rifle back in the scabbard, and took off south toward that ridge with the big dead tree. I slowed to a stop near dense Christmas trees in the corner of the clearing, the snag silhouetted ahead and above me in the gray light.

I got behind the sled, watching my back trail over the top of the rifle scope, looking for the last of the seven people who’d been hunting us. The biting-cold wind blew snow devils through the low fir trees, which shook.

New snow began to fall. I glanced farther south, toward that abandoned mine, believing that Bree and John were there, yet wanting serious backup before I went in to see for certain.

Shooting erupted to my left, muzzle flashes at a distance. Bullets snapped branches of the trees nearest to me. I reached up, thumbed the ignition, twisted the throttle, and lurched the sled forward a good twenty yards, putting thicker trees between me and the gunman.

The shooting stopped. I slid the hunting rifle in the scabbard and picked up the submachine gun, knowing he was there listening for me just as I was listening for him.

For the second time in less than ten minutes, I felt as if I had no choice in my next move. Night was falling, bringing temperaturesthat could eventually kill me, and I doubted I could find my way back to the distant trailhead. I could see only one real option.

Forget backup. Forget trying to get out of the wilderness.

You’ve got to kill this last guy and go to that abandoned mine building.

Suddenly and unexpectedly, my headset crackled with a woman’s hoarse voice.

“Dr. Cross? Are you there?”

For a moment, I was sure it was Fagan.

But then the woman said, “Dr. Alex Cross? Are you hearing me at this frequency?”

I realized she had a light British accent. I debated whether to reply.

---