Claw Heart Mountain by David Oppegaard

Author:David Oppegaard [Oppegaard, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: CamCat Publishing

26

Bannock and Gideon sat in the truck they’d stolen from the old ranch couple. The truck’s air-conditioning felt good to Bannock after his hike. He drank deeply from the 1.5-liter bottle of water he’d purchased earlier that day. He’d been stupid not to bring along any water on his hike, given the August heat and the unknown distance he’d set out to cover. It was a small mistake, relatively, but another reminder of the rust he’d been feeling on this job.

Or maybe it was just age. Bannock was getting too old for all this dicking around in the mountains, chasing Russian ghosts who could lose significant amounts of blood while somehow remaining capable of scaling great slabs of rock. Maybe he was approaching that inevitable moment when he should go to ground one final time, relocate to a truly untraceable location and destroy all the contact phones his clients had given him. He’d made more than enough money over the years, and it was mere pride that kept him working, pride in his abilities and the love of the hunt. If he could find the Sobol cousins and the stolen money, the three million he’d pocket in payment from the Organization would be more than enough to send him into a plush retirement. He’d always loved Argentina. Or maybe Thailand.

“So the wall went straight up the mountain?”

Bannock looked at Gideon. He’d almost forgotten the other man was sitting beside him.

“More or less. Only an expert could have climbed it.”

Gideon held up his phone, showing Bannock a picture of the Sobol cousins. They both had beer guts and shaggy beards.

“These gentlemen?”

Bannock finished off the bottle of water, put its cap back on, and tossed it into the truck’s footwell.

“Maybe they used some kind of winch.”

“A winch?” Gideon said, looking again at the picture on his phone. “That seems like a lot of effort.”

“They could have set it up ahead of time. Had a third guy waiting up there to lift them up. Another cousin, maybe.”

“Right,” Gideon said, smirking. “Or maybe they shot a couple of grappling hooks up the mountain, like Batman. Perhaps these two slobs were really highly trained KGB operatives all along.”

Bannock shook his head. “The KGB doesn’t exist anymore. They’re called the Federal Security Service now. And they wouldn’t necessarily have a skill set like that. It would be Russian Special Forces.”

Gideon stared at Bannock. The younger man seemed visibly annoyed for the first time since they’d left Utah. “Dmitri and Fyodor Sobol aren’t special forces. They aren’t special anything. They might win a few barroom brawls, but that’s it.”

Bannock shrugged. “There’s a ski resort. We could look there.”

“All right.”

Gideon put the truck in drive. They swung around the highway and headed back up the mountain. They passed the spot where the dead elk had lain the day before. The highway was still marked by a dark stain of blood and a few clumps of fur-covered hide. The markings looked too messy for the usual roadkill crew. Something big, like a bear or a mountain lion, had likely dragged the elk carcass away, antlers and all.

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