Alien Artifacts Page 11

  Ben shook his head. “These weren’t tender-foot city boys. They were locals, knew the area, had family waiting for them to come home. Disappeared. Never found a trace.”

  “People ‘go missing’ all the time,” Jacob observed. “Usually turns out there’s old debt or a new woman involved.”

  Yankton slapped his hand down on the bar, sharp as the crack of a bullet. On the far side of the bar, Hans glanced up from the drink he pretended to nurture. Jacob gave a negligible shake of the head, and Hans looked down again.

  “Not in this case,” Yankton growled. “One of those men was my brother. Didn’t owe anyone a dime, loved his wife like a moon-eyed schoolboy. Knew the woods like the back of his hand. They found his boot prints. Had a hound dog follow the trail for a ways, and then his scent and tracks just disappeared. So did the dog—and part of the forest.” He stopped, as if suddenly aware that he had said more than he intended. “Not that it’s your business,” he added with a sullen glare.

  A bell over the door jangled and a man walked in. The newcomer was average height with a thin build. He sported a patchy beard and his brown hair looked as if he had cut it himself. Dark, close-set eyes and a pinched face gave him a feral look.

  “There’s your guide,” Ben said with a jerk of his head, in a tone Jacob took to mean he was glad to be rid of them. “Since you like questions so much, might want to ask him what happened to the last guys he took out hunting.”

  “Thanks for the drink—and the information,” Mitch said, leaving behind a generous tip. “We’ll be around.”

  “Maybe,” Yankton muttered, pocketing the money. “Maybe not.”

  Jacob caught Mitch’s arm. “Let it go.”

  Mitch shook off his hand and glowered, but said nothing else.

  Astin was watching them attentively. “You must be Mitch and Jacob.”

  “Let’s talk over here,” Mitch said, heading to a table in the far corner. “It’s a little crowded at the bar.”

  Astin tipped his hat to Yankton and nodded to Ben. The two men regarded the guide with icy silence. “I trust your train trip went well?” Astin inquired as they found their seats.

  “Unremarkable, except for the scenery,” Jacob replied. “Is everything ready for the trip?”

  “Yes. Oh, yes.”

  “We’d like to take a bit of a detour,” Mitch said, as if the thought had just occurred to him. “Head over beyond Pitchfork Pond.”

  Astin frowned, and Jacob saw concern in the guide’s eyes. “Pitchfork Pond?”

  “You don’t have to take us all the way in, just get us to the pond,” Jacob said. “We’ll pack in from there.”

  “Are you sure?” Astin fidgeted with his signet ring. “I can show you where the hunting is much better.”

  “Probably more hunters, too,” Mitch replied. “My Uncle Kurt told me about a good spot north of the pond, and I’ve got my heart set on seeing it for myself.”

  “If you’re sure,” Astin agreed half-heartedly. “But I need to warn you—there have been bear attacks out that way. Mauled a hunter a week ago, and a couple of out-of-towners never came back.”

  Bears, huh? Jacob thought. If it was that simple, Ben and Yankton wouldn’t have gotten in a twist about it.

  “Oh, and we brought a couple of friends with us, and some equipment,” Mitch continued.

  “I hope your equipment is portable. The trails are rough, and it’s quite a hike.”

  “We’ll manage,” Mitch assured him. Hans and Oscar, thanks to their clockwork enhancements, were substantially stronger than a normal man. They could easily haul the two sledges to get the equipment where Mitch and Jacob needed it.

  Astin nodded, though apprehension showed in his eyes. “Well…if I can’t change your mind, I’ll see you at dawn tomorrow.” He walked to the bar to pay for his drink and said something to Ben that Jacob couldn’t catch.

  When Jacob and Mitch left the bar, it was dark. The shops were closed, and lights glowed from the upper windows where the merchants lived above their stores.

  “What did you make of all that?” Jacob asked. Despite Hans following a block behind them, Jacob felt uneasy.

  “I think they know more than they’re telling. Something’s got Ben and the others spooked.”

  Jacob nodded. “Might just be because we’re not from here. Locals stick together. Maybe they’re afraid that if word got out, it would be bad for business.”

  The night was cold and crisp, and a light dusting of snow had fallen. Jacob had worked with Mitch long enough to know that Mitch was intentionally putting them on display to flush out anyone looking for them. I really wish he’d ask before using us as bait, Jacob thought.

  “You think someone here had a hand in Crawford and the rest disappearing?” Jacob asked, keeping his voice low.

  “Maybe. If not a hand in causing it, maybe a stake in covering it up.”

  “Can I go on record that I don’t care much for our guide? Gives me the creeps.”

  “We hired him because Donahoe and Crawford used him as their guide,” Mitch replied.

  “And look how well it turned out for them,” Jacob muttered darkly. “Ben and Yankton didn’t seem to think much of him.”

  Mitch slid him a look. “Small town…could be almost anything.”

  Jacob caught a glimpse of motion out of the corner of his eye. Mitch saw it, too, and tensed. A shadow figure moved down an alley and Hans followed him. Mitch and Jacob drew their guns. Mitch jerked his head to the right and Jacob veered off to the left.

  Hans was fast and the alley was short, but by the time Mitch and Jacob circled around, they found only their bodyguard, shaking his head. “I saw someone—but he gave me the slip.”

  “Keep your eyes peeled,” Mitch replied. Jacob couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched as they headed back to the Altamont Hotel.

  Mitch glanced into one of the shop windows as they walked. “There’s someone tailing Hans,” he murmured, and raised his hand, giving their bodyguard a silent signal. Hans peeled off down the next side street, while Jacob and Mitch kept their guns at the ready.

  “Might just be someone out for a stroll,” Jacob allowed. Hans emerged from the side street, now tailing their follower. The man stopped, realizing he was boxed in.

  “Astin,” Mitch said, when he got close enough to recognize the man’s face. “Why are you following us?”

  Astin fidgeted. “I wasn’t following you. I was heading over to my sister’s place. She lives on the far side of the hotel, down a piece.”

  “Ben said for us to ask you about the last strangers you took out hunting,” Mitch said.

  “I don’t know what he’s talking about.”

  “Ever meet a guy named Fred Crawford?” Jacob asked.

  “You’re friends of his?”

  “Yeah,” Mitch replied. “He disappeared. Know anything about that?”

  “No! Look, the sheriff asked me all kinds of questions when Crawford and his buddy didn’t come back to town. I told them the truth: I took them as far as the trailhead, and that’s where they paid me and sent me back. I swear to God.”

  “You looked a little green in the gills when Mitch and I asked you to take us the same direction,” Jacob prodded.

  Astin’s gaze flitted back and forth between Mitch and Jacob. “I haven’t taken anyone toward Pitchfork Pond since Crawford. I don’t want no trouble.”

  “How about Frank Donahoe?” Jacob asked. “Sound familiar?”

  “Donahoe. Tall guy? Yeah, he was here a while back, but he didn’t go toward Pitchfork Pond.”

  “It didn’t worry you when you never heard from Donohoe after you took him out to his camp?” Jacob pressed.

  “Nah. Lots of guys pay me when we get where they’re going, I leave them a map, and they take it from there. By the time they come back to town, I might be out with another group.” He looked surprised. “He and his buddy run into trouble too?”

  Jacob shrugged. “No one’s seen or
heard from them.”

  “I didn’t have nothing to do with that. They were fine and dandy when I got them to their camps.”

  “But something spooked you?” Mitch asked.

  “That’s why I didn’t want to take you up near Pitchfork Pond. I’ve seen a lot of strange things in these woods. There’s something wrong about that area now. Me and all the boys around these parts, we hunt elsewhere. Plenty of woods up here; no reason to go looking for trouble.”

  “How about the animals?” Jacob asked. “Do they steer clear of the area too?”

  “Maybe. The moose are running farther south than usual this year and the cougars and the bear are causing more trouble lately.” Astin looked scared, but whether it was related to Pitchfork Pond or to possibly losing their business, Jacob wasn’t sure.

  “We wouldn’t have hired you if we didn’t think you were a good guide,” Mitch said, relaxing his posture to be less intimidating. Hans and Oscar both had compasses built into their mechanics, so “needing a guide” was strictly for the purpose of deciding how much Astin knew, and what part he might have played in the disappearances. “We’ll be ready in the morning. See you then.”

  Astin gave a curt nod and headed on his way. He walked another two blocks, headed up the steps to a house, knocked at the door, and entered. “Maybe he really does have a sister,” Jacob said. “He might not have been tailing us.” Mitch looked unconvinced.

  “I’ll check on Oscar and our things, sir,” Hans said, after he saw them safely to their room. “And have dinner sent up.”

  “Make sure they include yours as well,” Mitch said. “The Department’s paying,” he added with a grin.

  “Very well, sir.” Hans headed back downstairs to the storage room where Oscar stood guard over their crate.

  Mitch and Jacob opened the door carefully, guns drawn, standing on either side of the doorway in case shots greeted their entry. When nothing happened, Mitch glanced at the undisturbed powder on the floor just inside the door. “No footprints.”

  They entered quickly, and turned on the gaslight, one going right and the other left, in a well-practiced sweep of the room that included assuring there were no intruders under the bed, in the wardrobe, or hiding in the tub. They repeated the process in Jacob’s room. To Jacob’s relief, the rooms were empty.

  A gunshot crashed through the window, shattering glass. Mitch and Jacob dropped to the floor and crawled to the windows.

  “There!” Jacob hissed, “At the corner.”

  Mitch carefully peered out to see a shadowy figure at the corner across the street. Even with a rifle, it would have been a difficult shot in the dark, and they couldn’t be certain the shadow was their assailant.

  Hans knocked at the door. “Is everything all right?”

  “We’re fine,” Mitch replied.

  Jacob carefully drew the curtains and turned down the lamps so they were not silhouetted against the light. Mitch dug the bullet out of the wall and cursed. “Could have come from any hunting rifle.”

  A few minutes later, a sharp rap at the door brought both their guns up, trained on the doorway. “Sheriff. Open up.”

  Mitch and Jacob exchanged a glance and lowered their weapons. Mitch holstered his beneath his jacket and headed toward the door, while Jacob moved his gun out of sight but kept it in hand.

  “What’s going on in there?” The speaker was a stocky, middle-aged man in a sheriff’s uniform. He looked like he was in a bad mood.

  “Thank you for coming so promptly, officer. We were about to call the police ourselves,” Mitch replied smoothly. “Someone shot into our room.” He handed over the slug he had taken out of the room. “I’m afraid it put a hole in the plaster and broke the window.”

  “You’re the two been asking a lot of questions?”

  “Just getting the lay of the land.” Mitch was casually blocking the sheriff from moving farther into the room.

  “I ought to run the two of you in for disturbing the peace.”

  “I believe we’re the damaged parties,” Jacob pointed out. “We were just lucky no one got killed. Perhaps one of the local boys had too much to drink and decided to shoot the place up?”

  The sheriff’s face reddened. “You’ve got nerve, coming in here and stirring people up.”

  “You don’t want anyone to find out about all the disappearances,” Mitch replied, steel replacing the affability in his tone. “You’re afraid tourists will stop coming if word gets out, and your own boys are too scared to go investigate on their own.”

  “Think you’re so smart. You’ll wise up after you spend some time cooling off in a cell.”

  Mitch had his badge in the sheriff’s face before the man had stopped speaking. “We’re here on government business. Asking questions is our job. And interfering with the job of a government agent is a federal offense.” He gave a cold smile. “You wouldn’t want to spend time cooling off down at Sing Sing.”

  The sheriff looked as if he had swallowed his tongue. “Why are you here?”

  “Enough people go missing, and the Department takes an interest. We appreciate the support of local law enforcement. If that’s not possible, we appreciate them staying out of the way.”

  “It appears we got off on the wrong foot, Agent Storm. I’m Sheriff Marston. And you can count on the cooperation of my department—which would be me and my deputy.”

  “Thank you, Sheriff. You could start by telling us how you happened to get here so quickly.”

  “I was walking my usual route around town when I heard a shot. I ran toward the sound, and there were people on the sidewalk who had run outside at the noise. I saw the broken window, and asked the front desk whose room it was.”

  “And you didn’t see anything strange after the shot?” Jacob pressed.

  Marston shook his head. “Give me a little credit—I would have noticed someone running from the scene. But no. Just the people outside the hotel.”

  Mitch nodded. “All right. Now you can tell us what you know about the disappearances.”

  “I don’t know anything, except that more men have gone into the woods and not come out this year than usual,” he replied with a sigh, as if the admission was a personal failure.

  “Anyone go looking to see what happened?” Mitch pressed.

  Marston set his jaw and gave a curt nod. “Sure we did. But there’s something very strange going on out past Pitchfork Pond. There’s a weird, shimmery wall of light. Peters went in—he was ahead of the rest of us, we saw him walk through the light—and then he disappeared. There was a strange sound, then all kinds of crazy bright flares shot out. Fortunately, no one was close enough to get hurt. We hollered, but he never came back, and we didn’t try to go in after him.”

  “Thank you, Sheriff. You’ve been very helpful. I’m counting on you not to say anything to anyone else.”

  Jacob closed the door behind Marston and turned to Mitch. “What part of the ‘secret’ in ‘secret agent’ don’t you understand?”

  Mitch rolled his eyes. “Did you want to spend the night in the Tupper Lake jail? Or have Marston and his deputy on our heels?”

  “We’re supposed to be discreet.”

  Mitch guffawed. “How long have we been partners? Did you just notice that discretion is not something I do well?”

  Jacob gave up. “Now what?”

  Mitch edged over to the window, peering out as he stood to one side. “Thanks to the sheriff barging in when he did, I doubt we’ll find any trace of our shooter.”

  “Do you think that’s a coincidence?”

  Mitch pursed his lips, thinking. “Yeah. It might be. Marston didn’t seem to be lying about his part in things. Of course, he also didn’t seem to be too disturbed that someone took a shot at us. My money’s on Ben or Yankton. They seemed pretty anxious to get us to go away and leave the disappearances alone.”

  “We’re leaving, so they should be happy. Here’s hoping they don’t decide to follow us.”

  * * *
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  “Why can’t people disappear when it’s warm out?” Jacob muttered, throwing his duffel onto the wagon before he jumped in the seat beside Astin. Hans and Oscar had loaded the two large crates, the heavy equipment, and the sledges onto the back of the wagon earlier that morning to avoid prying eyes. They climbed into the back to watch for unwelcome followers while Mitch hoisted his duffel bag of weapons and swung up into the back as well. A boy from the village rode with them to bring the wagon back to town.

  “The road ends on this side of Pitchfork Pond,” Astin said as they headed out. “There’s some rough terrain to navigate on the north side of the pond. I’ll get you through that, but it’s as far as I’m going. You’ll have to manage the rest on your own.”

  Even in full daylight, the thick forest was dark and forbidding. Astin took it slow and steady, so as not to put the wagon in the ditch. Jacob sat with a rifle across his lap. Mitch, Astin, and Hans also had rifles, while Oscar had a shotgun—and several other built-in weapons Jacob hoped they wouldn’t have to use.

  Jacob watched the snow by the side of the road for tracks. Moose and deer tracks criss-crossed the road. Foxes had followed the road for a while before turning off into the forest. A bloody streak and tufts of rabbit fur accompanied an unmistakable set of cougar prints leading into the shadows. Closer to the tree line, Jacob saw bear tracks and wolf prints. Nothing to indicate people. Despite his heavy coat, hat, and scarf, Jacob shivered. Plenty of things out here that could kill us, even without a whole piece of forest just vanishing.

  The sun broke through the clouds by the time they reached the southern end of Pitchfork Pond where the road ended. “All right,” Astin said, bringing the horses to a stop. “Here’s where we unload. Tommy will take the wagon back, so the cougars don’t get the horses while we trek on in. You sure you need all this stuff? That’s a lot to haul.”

  “Yup. We’re sure,” Mitch said, with a grin.

  Hans and Oscar unloaded the heavy crates and equipment onto the sledges, making it look a lot easier than it was. Mitch slung the heavy duffle bag over his shoulder and Jacob had the backpack with additional weapons, emergency equipment, and supplies.