The Flight Before Christmas

By R. L. Keller

Lee Crane looked up from the briefing pages he’d been reading and all but glared at his part-time boss, Admiral Robert Jones, Director of the Office of Naval Intelligence. “It won’t work,” he stated flatly. The “sir” he added was a definite afterthought.

“Why?” Jones demanded. He wasn’t used to being talked back to.

“Jacobs isn’t that stupid,” Lee answered, not backing down.

Jones stared a few seconds longer, but finally blew out a long sigh and sat back in his chair. “You’re probably right,” he admitted reluctantly. “Any suggestions?”

Donald Franklyn Jacobs, former Army Ranger, had warrants out for his arrest in nearly a dozen countries worldwide. An incredible marksman, and highly skilled in other areas as well, he’d slipped away from his unit during a mission in Afghanistan and set himself up as a gun for hire. He didn’t care who he killed as long as he was getting paid.

“You’re for sure that he’s hiding at the Blanchard Inn?” Lee asked.

“Mostly sure,” Jones told him. “And purely by accident. The Inn is closed during the winter...” He paused and glared at Lee for the whatever-it-was expression that hit Lee’s face.

Lee acknowledged the glare with a small nod. “I’m actually somewhat familiar with the Inn, and that area,” he admitted. “I stayed there with Mom once, when I was about fourteen. Mom was writing an article about the place for the local newspaper she was working for at the time. You know, a publicity piece about the Inn, its history, current owners, accommodations, that kind of puff piece.” He couldn’t hold back the grin at the expression that hit Jones’ face at the mention of Lee’s mother. There was a bit of history there that tended to frustrate Jones and amuse Lee. But he covered the grin as quickly as he could. “I got bored pretty fast,” he admitted with one of his shy smiles, “and spent most of the several days we were there hiking around the area. I haven’t been back since, but if I remember right they leave a caretaker there during the closure to keep everything safe; start the generator if, or more likely when, the power goes out so things don’t freeze up. That area sometimes gets really heavy snowfalls.”

Jones nodded. “That’s how we got onto Jacobs, or at least we think it’s Jacobs, being there. Once the owners were getting ready to close for the winter, their regular caretaker/handyman decided that he didn’t want to get stuck out there by himself anymore and quit. For most of the winter that area is inaccessible.” Lee nodded. “The owners advertised for a replacement, and one of the agents we had covertly searching for Jacobs happened to see the notice and checked into it. The owners, who assumed that the agent was wanting to apply…” He nodded as Lee grinned softly. They both knew that would be the most appropriate way for the agent to inquire. “He was told that the position had been filled. He asked for a name and description, telling the owners that he wondered if it had been filled by a friend of his, and made up a name and description for the fictitious friend. The owners gave him the name Jacob French; the man had ID to prove it.”

Lee nodded. “From what I understand he’s got any number of fake ID’s.”

“Yes,” Jones growled out in as angry a voice as Lee had ever heard from the man. And he’d seen Jones plenty angry on occasion! “But this is a new one,” Jones added in a slightly more under control tone. “The description, however, was almost certainly Jacobs.” Lee nodded again. “But the first heavy snowfall started that afternoon and the agent was unable to easily get into the area. It’s posted off limits to snowmobiles so the only way we could figure to get a man in was by someone on a winter hike.” He shrugged. “That area can get up to two feet of snow in twenty-four hours. And sometimes it doesn’t stop snowing for three days.” That last came out in a snarl.

“I remember that much from Mom’s research.” Lee hadn’t meant it as a jab at Jones, but ducked his head slightly at the look the man shot him. But he suddenly sat up straighter. “Any chance you have access to a small helicopter that’s about to be scrapped?” he asked with an innocent grin.

Jones’ frown deepened. “Why?” He was all too aware of Lee’s occasionally unorthodox methods for completing an assignment. The fact that Lee was also extremely successful kept Jones from getting in his face about those methods. For the most part, anyway.

Lee shrugged. “If someone happened to be on a little sightseeing trip out of the nearest little airport, to enjoy the snowscape on a sunny day, and happened to have engine trouble near the Inn…” He didn’t finish the thought.

“That’s all heavily forested; even around the Inn. I don’t think that there’s any place within what’s going to be easy walking distance where you could land safely. Well,” he hesitated, “maybe the road in. That’s what we had originally been going to use for a winter hiker.”

Lee nodded. “Which is why it needs to be an old chopper so that I can land unsafely and not worry about trashing a new one.”

Jones opened his mouth but nothing came out. He stared at Lee another moment, his expression more curious than harsh, before reaching for his phone. But he hesitated once more before picking up the receiver. “Where are you staying?” came out as a demand.

“Technically I’m on Leave. I was headed to Mom’s when I got your message…” Once more he had to quickly cover a grin as Jones frowned. “But no real plans that can’t be adjusted.”

Jones nodded and glanced at the clock. It was just before noon. “Go have lunch, and report back here at 1500 hours,” he ordered.

“Yes, sir,” Lee acknowledged and stood, the ‘sir’ this time coming out easily. As he headed for the office door he heard Jones pick up the phone.

As Lee sat enjoying a simple chef’s salad and garlic toast at a small diner he liked to frequent when he was in DC, he ate mostly with his left hand as his right was making a list of things a man might have with him on a shortish flightseeing trip. That did not include extra clothes or food, although a jacket and perhaps a sandwich and a bottle of water wouldn’t arouse suspicion. The same went for hiking boots, sleeping bag, or any kind of survival gear. While there wasn’t any open area by the Inn, it sat on the edge of a small stream-fed lake and Lee pondered landing the chopper on the edge, just into the water. That had two advantages. As a pilot having engine trouble he’d be looking for any opening in the trees to try to land. And later, the chopper would be easier for a larger chopper to lift out if it wasn’t tangled in half a dozen treetops. He wondered if he could get away with carrying a small backpack, with the excuse that it held his sandwich and water. He was pretty sure that Admiral Jones could come up with one that had at least one hidden compartment where Lee could stash a weapon, and some kind of communication device. He’d have to have a way to contact the authorities if – or hopefully when – he had Jacobs in custody. He was pretty sure that the Inn was too far out to have cell service, and land lines could be problematic during the winter. Or perhaps the Inn has a short-wave unit, he thought. The caretaker must have had some way to reach out if there was an emergency.

“Speaking of which,” he muttered to himself and grabbed his own cellphone, dialing a number not too many people had. “Hi, Mom,” he said with a grin in his voice when his call was answered.

“Hi, yourself,” Helen Crane replied, also happily. “Where are you? I did get your text about not being on the 10:40 flight.”

“Got sidetracked,” Lee admitted bashfully.

“I’d rather not know, thank you,” she grumbled, but then her tone lightened. “Actually, it might be for the best. I’m waiting for a call, and might have to fly out myself tomorrow morning.” To most of the world, Lee’s mother was known as Pulitzer prize-winning, freelance writer Helen Graham Lee, always on the lookout for a good story.

“You going to be back for Christmas?” Lee asked.

“Are you?” she snipped back

“Ahhh…”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Same here.”

“Love you, Mom.”

“Back at you,” she agreed, and they both chuckled softly.

“I’ll check in when I can,” Lee told her, “and see where you are and what you’re in the middle of. Hey,” he spoke brightly, “Christmas in some exotic location this year?”

“Now that has definite possibilities,” she agreed, and on that happy note they ended the conversation.

Lee didn’t quite get a small grin covered as he walked into Admiral Jones’ office at precisely 1500 hours, thinking about the conversation. Jones momentarily glared, and Lee got himself back under control. “Sorry, sir. Nothing about this assignment is humorous. Just thinking about the quick call I made to Mom to let her know I wasn’t coming.”

“Harrumph,” Jones muttered, and Lee had to take firm control of his expression, so much did Jones sound like Lee’s full-time boss, Admiral Harriman Nelson. Jones gestured to a manila envelope on Lee’s side of the Admiral’s desk, at the same time indicating Lee should sit down, and both were quiet as Lee read through the sheets of instructions he found in the folder.

Lee was nodding, still only about halfway through. “You hit pretty much the same sticking points I did,” he said when he finished reading, and went on to explain what he’d put together over lunch.

“The backpack is no problem, but the weapon will have to be small.”

Lee agreed. “Shouldn’t be an issue since nothing will hopefully be at a distance.”

“As for communication,” Jones reached into a drawer and tossed a cell phone at Lee.

“I didn’t think cells would work that far out in the boonies.”

Jones snorted softly at the phrase. “Normal ones won’t. That one,” he pointed, “will.”

“Oh,” and Lee looked more closely.

“Looks normal,” Jones told him. “Dead for all practical purposes. Open the back,” he ordered, and Lee did as instructed. “See the plastic tab that pokes out from under the battery?”

“They put them there so it’s easier to get the battery out,” Lee told him.

“Not that one. When you need to use it, and only then, pull that tab out. It will make a connection under the battery to a dedicated channel. Someone will be monitoring it twenty-four/seven after you take off.”

“Understood.”

Jones paused and sent Lee a look that Lee wasn’t quite able to identify. “I actually like your idea of landing in the edge of the lake.” He sighed. “It will make dealing with the Forest Service a whole lot easier when we retrieve the chopper.”

“Yes, sir,” Lee agreed. He didn’t actually smirk, but it was close. He knew how Jones hated dealing with anyone who wasn’t actually under his command.

“Your travel instructions clear?” Those instructions were in the manila envelope.

“Yes, sir.”

“When you get to the small airport, speak only to Agent Rye. He’s there undercover as a small plane owner. He’ll keep all your gear safe that you can’t take in with you, and have ID papers ready under an alias.”

“I wondered about that,” Lee admitted. “I’m not unknown to military personnel, even former ones.”

Jones nodded. “That possibility had been mentioned. From everything we’ve been able to lay our hands on, you and Jacobs have never been anywhere where you could have even accidentally bumped into each other.” Jones looked at Lee. “And you do a pretty good job of letting Nelson be the face of Seaview and the Institute.”

Lee ducked his head just a bit. “Do the best I can, sir,”

“Harrumph,” Jones muttered again. It was well known that Jones would give anything to have Lee as a full-time agent. He was still ticked at Nelson for coaxing Lee out of the regular Navy and into the Reserves so that he could captain Nelson’s futuristic submarine. Jones was just glad that he could still call on Lee for the occasional ONI assignment.

Lee took the sound as his dismissal and stood. “You haven’t said anything about a timetable,” he mentioned, somewhat carefully.

Jones all but snorted. “Assuming Jacobs doesn’t blow your head off the instant he lays eyes on you…” He stared at Lee, and Lee nodded with one of his shy smiles. “I’m not expecting anything immediate,” Jones continued. “He’s going to be cautious. I’d expect it to take a day, maybe longer, for him to relax enough for you to take him into custody safely.” He emphasized that last word.

“Yes, sir,” Lee agreed, and left.

* * * *

With the open timeline Lee did, actually, make a quick stop at his Mom’s place the next morning. He gave a quick call to the neighbors, who kept an eye on everything when Helen was out of town, letting them know that he was only stopping for a couple of hours. He left his uniform there, and most of the clothes he’d brought with him, taking just the few things one might carry on a short flight. All NIMR ID was left behind; he knew that he could leave those things with the other agent, but this was easier. He’d only be leaving his driver’s license, cell phone, and one credit card with Agent Rye.

He startled, still about an hour away from the small airport where he’d meet Agent Rye – who he still didn’t have a first name for – when his own cell phone chirped. He realized about the time that he got to his mom’s place that he hadn’t asked Admiral Jones, and he couldn’t exactly walk around the airport calling out for ‘Agent Rye’. He reached for his cell, knowing that he shouldn’t drive and talk at the same time but hoping that it was either Jones or the agent calling to correct the oversight. His expression turned quirky when he saw Chip listed as the caller. “What can’t you fix without your captain’s help?” he answered officiously, looking for a place he could stop the car. Chip muttered something rude and both men laughed. “What’s up?” Lee asked between chuckles.

“Mom asked if you might be here for Christmas and we never really talked about it; whether you’d be spending the holiday with Mother C. or if she was out of town.”

The very last thing Lee wanted Chip to know was that he’d taken an ONI assignment! “Not sure, either,” he told his XO, and best friend. “Mom’s out of town right this instant but expected back.” Well, that wasn’t a total lie; she did always come back. Lee just wasn’t saying when. “When I talk to her I’ll have a better idea. In the meantime tell everyone Hi from Me.”

There was just enough of a pause that Lee had a feeling Chip knew ‘something’ was going on. But he finally replied. “Will do. See you whenever. And you know, Lee, that she’s always welcome here as well.”

“Will keep that in mind. And I’ll see you by January fifth for sure,” Lee quipped back. Admiral Nelson had managed Seaview’s schedule so that the entire crew and most of NIMR’s staff had just over three weeks’ Leave around the Holidays.

“At least, with most of the departments also quiet, we won’t get back to desks buried in reports for a change.”

“Hallelujah,” Lee agreed. They exchanged a few more pleasantries, and jabs, because that’s what best friends do, and both hung up with broad grins on their faces.

It turned out that Lee had no problem finding Agent Rye because the agent found him first. Lee had barely parked his rental car in the small airport’s long-term parking lot when an overly friendly – or so it seemed to Lee – man about his age walked out of the terminal building, waving a hand and calling out, “Right on time, pal. How was the drive up?”

“Easy and pleasant,” Lee responded. “Your directions were spot on,” he added as the man reached him and they shook hands.

“Lyle Rye,” the man introduced himself a good deal quieter than he’d been talking. “And you’re Ben Lee.”

“Pleasure to meet you. And myself,” Lee added with a grin.

Rye chuckled as Lee grabbed his small backpack. “Got your bird ready. And a few necessities,” was added almost under his breath, and he led the way across the tarmac toward a small hangar, outside of which sat an older two-person helicopter. Once inside what was apparently the hanger’s office, Rye handed Lee a well-worn wallet and Lee exchanged it for his own, as well as handing over his cell phone. Inside the wallet were driver’s and pilot’s licenses for Benjamin Taylor Lee, description and picture correct but nothing else. The several pictures of what were supposed to be family members were totally unknown to Lee. There was a couple hundred dollars in a variety of bill amounts, and a small handful of change. There was also a receipt for rental of the small chopper.

“You thought of everything,” Lee told the man after checking the wallet’s contents.

“Tried to, as long as Jacobs doesn’t get too weird on you.” He indicated the several pictures. There was a couple about Lee’s age, and individual pictures of three children.

“My sister Beth’s family. She’s all I’ve got,” Lee quickly acquired Chip’s youngest sister. He handed back one of the children’s pictures. “She and Greg only have two.” That picture, as well as Lee’s wallet and cell phone, went into a camouflaged pocket on the inside of the other agent’s jacket before he indicated Lee follow him back outside.

“Instrument check,” Rye told him, and Lee gave him a quick nod. At the chopper Lee climbed in and ran a quick check of the familiar instrumentation. Once done, Rye pointed down and underneath the main panel. “Feel for a small box,” he ordered.

“Got it,” Lee told him once he found it.

“It’s only attached by a magnet. But when you pull it off, all hell will break loose. You’ll have five to seven minutes to get down. Do not pull it off too soon. And when you do, jettison it. Maybe in the middle of the lake if it’s not frozen. But don’t let it be found.”

“Understood,” Lee acknowledged.

“Good luck,” Rye told him, and stepped back. Lee closed the door, started the machine and, once it was warmed up, gave Rye half a salute and took off. His heading memorized, he circled once to get his bearings and headed off into the white-frosted forest.

From the map Lee had also memorized, and the chopper’s normal air speed, he knew that he had about forty minutes to get to the lake and Inn. He also knew that he had well over three hours of fuel, so just in case anyone was watching he flew a ‘no-particular-destination-in-mind’ course over the heavily forested landscape, rather enjoying himself, for well over an hour before ending up in the general direction of the lake as if to make an easy loop back toward the airport.

Rye’s timing proved to be a little off. Unfortunately. When Lee figured that he was about ten miles from the lake, he jiggled a couple switches just enough to cause a quick engine sputter and started flying very erratically. He had just caught sight of the roof of the Inn when he reached down and pulled the little box away from the panel. Rye’s comment about ‘all hell breaking loose’ was a definite understatement, and Lee had his hands full to not instantly crash. Black smoke started billowing off the engine, which was sputtering now for real, and Lee barely managed to get even close to the lake. It wasn’t frozen – a minor miracle in itself. Lee somehow managed to toss the small box out the window before the chopper took a nosedive that he was unable to control. He lost consciousness from the very hard landing across the lake from the Inn, never feeling the cold water start to surround him as the chopper slipped into the edge of the lake.

* * * *

His next conscious thought was, he wished whoever was using his head for a drum would take a long walk off a short pier! Senses were sluggish as he tried to figure out something – anything – and he worked hard to open his eyes. “You alive?” The words echoed, making his head throb even harder. “No,” he mumbled, and got a chuckle in return. He never fully understood if he stayed conscious or lost more time, but eventually he recognized that he was laying on a couch in what appeared to be the entry area of the Inn. Memory came back as well and he started to sit up. Two things stopped him: his head once more exploded and he discovered that he was naked, covered by a couple blankets.

“You were soaked from landing in the lake,” floated from somewhere behind the couch. “I stripped off your wet clothes. You didn’t have a change in your backpack.”

“Didn’t plan on being gone that long,” Lee managed to get out, processing that information. Jacobs, if that’s who had rescued him, had gone through his clothes and backpack. No way to know at this point if he’d found the gun. “The chopper?”

“Half-submerged.”

“My insurance agent is going to have a cow,” earned Lee another disembodied chuckle. But footsteps approached and a man walked around the end of the couch. He held out an oversized mug and Lee took it, grateful for its warmth no matter what was inside. Turned out to just be canned tomato soup, but it tasted wonderful as it started to warm his insides as well as hands.

“How’s your head?”

Lee reached up and found a sizeable lump on the left side of his forehead, but no blood. “Ben Lee,” he finally introduced himself. “Guess I need to thank you for saving me from drowning.”

“Jacob French,” the man said with a shrug.

“Where am I?” Lee figured that was an obvious next question.

“Blanchard Inn, middle of the forest. Closed for the winter. I’m the caretaker.”

“Someone mentioned that I might see it on my flightseeing trip.” He sent ‘French’ a shy smile. “Didn’t plan on seeing it this close.”

“What happened?”

“Not sure. The engine gave a sputter and I started looking for a place to set it down. Figured that the fuel line might have gotten clogged, and the next thing I remember is waking up here.”

“Did you get out a Mayday?”

Lee carefully controlled his expression, not reacting to the urgency in the simple question, and shrugged. “It wasn’t the immediate thought in my brain,” he tried to put just the right touch of emotion in the comment. “If I did, I don’t remember doing it.” He sighed. “My friend, the one who loaned me the chopper, won’t even know where to tell the authorities to start looking since I took off with no direction in mind. “I don’t suppose…” He looked at who he now knew was Donald Franklyn Jacobs.

“We’re pretty much in a dead zone,” Jacobs told him. “The land line went down a couple days ago, with the last storm, and there’s another one due in the next twelve hours.

Lee nodded. “Why I flew today. It was the only opening.”

“No telling when the lines will be operational.”

“Sis is going to have a freaking fit,” Lee muttered. It was a way to explain the pictures in his wallet that he was sure Jacobs had gone through.

“She’s expecting you?” Again, an urgency in the question.

Lee shrugged again. “Not immediately. They left for her husband’s family’s place yesterday. I’m not expected to join them for several days yet.”

Jacobs nodded, mostly to himself, Lee thought. “Well, best I can do is loan you a pair of sweats while I put your jeans, shirt, and skivvies in the wash. I put your jacket and shoes to dry out by the fire.” He tossed a hand at the nearby fireplace. “The clothes will be a bit big for you,” he admitted with a smile.

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” Lee told him with a small smile of his own. He started to stand and his head once more exploded.

“Ahhh…” Jacobs started.

“Yeah,” Lee agreed. “Think I’ll stay right here for a while longer.”

“Sounds like a plan. I’ll be in and out, checking on things.”

“Again, thank you.” Lee put as much sincerity in the words as he could. Jacobs waved off the comment, stood, and walked out of sight around the couch.

Lee, playing his part, curled up under the blankets. In actual fact it wasn’t much of an act at that point, as his head was still pounding. Taking inventory, there were other aches and pains, particularly across his chest where the safety harness had crossed. It no doubt kept Lee from serious injury when the helicopter crashed. But he was also taking inventory concerning his chances of completing his assignment. Was the modified cell phone still operable? Was his gun? Did Jacobs find the gun? The questions only made his head hurt worse. Jacobs hadn’t mentioned the backpack. Was it still in the partially submerged chopper? No, Jacobs mentioned searching the backpack, Lee finally remembered.

Lee once more, this time slowly and carefully, tried to sit up, pulling the blankets snuggly around him as his body was still cold. Hearing a snap, he looked to his right and found the fireplace Jacobs had mentioned, his shoes and jacket laying in front of it. He thought about moving closer, for the extra warmth, but he was actually beginning to feel better, not quite so chilled, although he’d rather have some clothes to wear instead of just the blankets.

As if on cue, Jacobs reappeared with a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt and flannel long-sleeved shirt. “Best I can do until your clothes are dry.”

“Greatly appreciated,” Lee told him, tossed off the blankets and quickly, or as quickly as he could while trying to keep his head as still as possible to avoid the vertigo that too quick movements caused, pulled on the clothes. He finally realized that he was still wearing his watch and glanced at the time, surprised that only a couple of hours had passed since he initiated the planned crash.

“Good watch,” Jacobs commented as he added another log to the fire.

“Need it. When I’m not destroying helicopters I work in marine salvage.” It was a lie Lee used on occasion to explain familiarity with anything related to water – the watch was made for divers and therefore highly waterproof.

“Hope you don’t mind hanging out in this room until we can figure out how to get you home. Here in the main lodge is the only place kept any warmer than necessary to keep pipes from freezing. My room is just off the kitchen,” he waved a hand in the direction he’d come from, “and I’d rather not heat up one of the guest rooms.”

“Hey, I’m glad to be anywhere other than the bottom of that lake,” Lee told him honestly with a heartfelt sigh.

“There’s a bathroom you can use, first door on the left down that hallway. No problem keeping a fire going in here; there’s plenty of wood stockpiled.”

“Works for me.”

Jacobs smiled. “You any good at cooking?” Lee shrugged. “Mostly I nuke something out of the freezer. But you’re welcome to check what’s in the kitchen, if you’ve a mind to.”

“Just as soon as my head stops spinning every time I move it more than an inch.”

Jacobs nodded. “There’s a first aid kit in the cabinet next to the kitchen sink. No doubt there’s aspirin or ibuprofen in it.” Lee nodded but stayed sat, stretching out his feet toward the heat coming from the renewed fire. Jacobs nodded again. “Gotta make rounds. Be back in half an hour or so.” Lee nodded, carefully, and Jacobs left through the kitchen.

Lee wasn’t dumb enough not to think that Jacobs was keeping an eye on him so he did nothing more than sit for another ten minutes or so until his head stopped pounding quite as hard as it had been. Very carefully he stood up, then walked over to his shoes and jacket, turning them a bit to help them dry. His wallet was laying open on a side table, and what had been inside was spread out to also dry. Assuming that Jacobs was watching, he gently picked up each of the pictures, holding them fondly before laying them back down. He finally spotted his backpack laying on the floor on the other side of the fireplace. It looked empty, laid open so that it could dry, and Lee didn’t dare check to see if the gun was still in its special hiding place. He assumed that the cell phone was still attached to his belt, neither of which was in sight, and assumed that they were wherever the washing machine was, where Jacobs mentioned putting Lee’s clothes. Perhaps the belt hadn’t gotten that wet.

His head still hurting but the vertigo semi under control, Lee made his cautious way into the kitchen. First he found the first aid kit, remarkably well-stocked although that made sense because of the remoteness of the Inn, and downed a couple ibuprofen, leaving the bottle on the counter before putting the kit back where he found it. That medicine was actually more helpful for all of Lee’s aches then aspirin would have been. He mentally gave NIMR’s CMO, Will Jamison, a thumb’s up as he downed the pills with a swallow of the cold coffee he found in the coffee pot, rinsed it out, and prowled the kitchen until he found the coffee can and made a fresh pot. In his search he also came up with noodles, a can of cream of celery soup, and a can of beef hash. Not a gourmet meal, but filling, and by the time Jacobs returned everything was mostly ready.

“Beats the TV dinners I’ve been eating,” was Jacobs’ verdict as he took more of the noodles cooked in the soup. “Never would have put these together,” he admitted.

“At home I add whatever leftover veggies I happen to have. Works well with leftover fish or shellfish, too,” Lee told him.

“Where’s that?” When Lee looked up, confused at the question, Jacobs clarified. “Home.”

“Southern California, but mostly wherever I find work.” He shrugged. “I travel a lot. You?” he asked, to be friendly.

“Same here. Travel, I mean. Never seem to stay in one place long enough to put down roots.”

“Nothing wrong with a little wanderlust,” Lee told him. “I keep a small apartment close to my sister but I don’t seem to spend much time there. Sis says I should put that money into a small travel trailer and park it on their property, for what little time I’m in town.” He shrugged. “Might just do that.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Jacobs agreed. “I checked the phone line. Still down.”

Lee sighed. “Won’t be the first time I’ve been out of contact.” He frowned. “I know they’ll worry.” He kept his expression neutral as he carefully didn’t identify the ‘they’ he was referring to. “Not much I can do about it at this point. Sis didn’t know about the chopper flight; that sort of came up last minute. And my friend doesn’t have any way to call her, so…” He shrugged. “It is what it is.”

“At least you’re alive.”

“And I have you to thank for that,” Lee told him sincerely.

“You can pay me back by being the official cook until we can figure some way to get you out.”

Lee smiled. “Works for me. It won’t be anything special, from what I found in my first perusal. And I may still have to resort to those TV dinners.” They both grinned, and between them cleaned up the rest of the meal.

Once the few dishes and pans that had been used were washed and put away, Lee returned to the livingroom. He again turned things over or around, and was happy how everything was drying. Just as he finished, Jacobs returned from wherever he’d gone and gave Lee his clothes, now clean and dry. “Afraid that’s probably trashed,” he pointed to the cell phone in its holder, still attached to the belt that was still damp.

Lee nodded as he laid the belt down in front of the fire, and switched out the sweats for his own clothes but keeping the flannel shirt. He offered the sweats back to Jacobs, but Jacobs just waved them off. “Keep them for now,” he said.

Lee nodded and laid them at the end of the couch. “Can’t tell you how many cells I’ve managed to destroy over the years,” he admitted shyly. “My nephew considers himself a mechanical genius. He can at least have fun taking this one apart.”

Jacobs chuckled. “Not much for entertainment here this time of year. I’ve got some books in my room…” He paused. “Actually, it’s one reason I like the job. Guess you could call me a loner.”

Lee waved off the comment. “Used to my own company as well.” He frowned. “Right now I think I need to lay back down.” He nodded to one of the cushions on the couch. “That and the blankets will be just fine.” Jacobs nodded and headed back through the kitchen, and Lee heard a door close.

While his head was still hurting, it wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been, nor as bad as he’d tried to sound to Jacobs. Still afraid of being watched he did lay down, not going anywhere near his belt or backpack. Tomorrow, he told himself. I’ll feel better by then. And I’ll find a way to check my gun. I can’t tackle a man like Jacobs until I know that I can get the upper hand.

* * * *

But come morning, Lee knew that the timetable would have to be delayed. Dawn broke – well, by the clock it should have been dawn – but the sky was dark with clouds, and snow was falling faster and heavier than Lee could ever remember seeing. Even if he could get control of Jacobs, there was absolutely no way he could expect a rescue crew to get to them until the storm passed.

He got a pot of coffee started, and was once more searching through drawers and cupboards in the kitchen when Jacobs appeared so quietly that he startled Lee. “Sorry,” Jacobs told him with a quick grin. Lee merely waved it off and kept up his search. Eventually flour, baking powder, canned milk, powdered eggs, salt and oil were lined up on the counter, as well as a bottle of pancake syrup.

Lee sent Jacobs a frown. “Never made pancakes with powdered eggs before,” he admitted.

“I think I saw some kielbasa in the big freezer,” Jacobs told him.

Lee brightened. “Can you thaw it in the microwave while I see if I can make this work?” He pointed to the ingredients he’d lined up. Jacobs have him a thumb’s up, then watched carefully as Lee did his best to construct an edible version of pancake batter.

“Not bad, if I do say so myself,” Lee grinned after his first bite.

“Perfectly acceptable,” Jacobs agreed. The meal took a while because Lee could only cook two hotcakes at a time in the frying pan, heating slices of the kielbasa around them, so the two took turns eating and cooking until both the batter and kielbasa were gone. Lee raised an eyebrow, silently asking if he should fix more, but Jacobs raised a hand. “Plenty for now,” and Lee nodded. “Need to wade through the snow and check the cabins. If I eat any more I won’t be able to move.”

Lee chuckled. “I’ll clean up then, unless you need any help.”

Jacobs shook his head. “Nope. Got a routine.” He sent Lee a look. “You must be feeling better.”

“Wonderful stuff, ibuprofen,” Lee nodded at the bottle still on the counter. “Head’s still tender where I banged it.” He reached up and touched the spot. “But I’m definitely better.”

Jacobs nodded and stood. “Take me about an hour, with all this snow. Need to check to see if I have to get snow off the cabin roofs. They are pretty sturdy, but…” he pointed out the window, “sometimes snow builds up on the porch roofs and gets heavy if it gets too thick.”

“Understood.” Lee kept to himself the thought that Jacobs was merely repeating what the owners had told him when he took the job. Lee figured that Jacobs planned to be long gone by the time the owners returned in the spring, and could care less what happened to the cabins. He was pretty sure that the subterfuge was nothing more than a way to spy on Lee; to see what Lee did when he thought Jacobs was out of sight.

To that end, Lee very carefully did nothing that might cause Jacobs to think Lee was anyone other than who he claimed to be. He cleaned up the kitchen and checked to see what he might be able to fix for lunch. He found bread and lunchmeat in the freezer where Jacobs had found the kielbasa, and set them on the counter along with a couple cans of chicken noodle soup, then returned to the livingroom. After adding more wood to the fire, he gathered up his assorted belongings now that everything was dry, and put everything into the backpack. That seemed the most reasonable thing to do since he wouldn’t need his wallet while he was here. He decided that he didn’t need his belt, either, and that was a good way to stash the cell phone out of sight. It gave him an excuse, as he was folding the belt into the pack, to see if he could determine if the gun was still safely hidden. It was, although there was a chance that Jacobs had found it and unloaded it before putting it back. Lee would have to find a way to check that before he tried to use it. But not now, while he felt sure that Jacobs was somehow watching him. He returned to the kitchen, to put the thawing lunchmeat and bread into the fridge where they wouldn’t spoil so fast, then once more stretched out on the couch, seeming to rest.

While his body was quiet, his brain was working overtime. Admiral Jones would prefer that Jacobs be taken alive. Well, so would Lee. He absolutely hated killing. Admittedly, it was sometimes unavoidable. His original plan of getting the drop on Jacobs as quickly as possible, then calling in the troops – well, a backup team standing by to drop in by helicopter – went down the tubes the instant he couldn’t control his landing. And now he was doubly delayed by the snow storm. Typical ONI mission, Lee grumbled silently as he lay watching the snow come down even harder than it had been. Something always gets screwed up. Then he had to cringe as he was the one to start this set of problems.

He did question whether he should be worried about Jacobs deciding that, now that his hideout had been invaded, figuring out a way to leave. But he immediately dismissed the idea, simply from the fact that Jacobs wasn’t stupid enough to try to get away in this heavy a storm. The ATV the owners had supplied to get him in, and out in the spring once the road was passable, would be useless until there was less than six to eight inches of snow on the road, and iffy even then.

He also didn’t consider the idea that Jacobs might contact anyone on the outside to chopper in and pick him up. All the intel that Admiral Jones had gathered indicated that the man was a true lone wolf; he didn’t trust anyone enough to depend on them for anything.

Jacobs still wasn’t back – or, at least Lee hadn’t heard him come in – when Lee got up. The fire needed another log, and it was nearly time to heat the soup for lunch. He also put the bread, lunchmeat, and a jar of mayo on the counter. He didn’t particularly want a sandwich but he figured that Jacobs, if he had actually been traipsing through the heavy snow, would have worked up an appetite.

Feet stomping on what Lee figured was back steps sounded as Lee started a fresh pot of coffee, and presently Jacobs came through a door off the kitchen. “Perfect,” he told Lee, and barely let a full cup get through the filter before grabbing the pot.

“Good thing that’s one of the coffee makers that has a stopper for when the pot is pulled out,” Lee offered in a semi-humorous tone, and Jacobs quickly shoved the pot back in place after pouring out its contents. Lee sent him a grin.

“Didn’t even give that a thought,” Jacobs admitted.

Lee chuckled softly. “Been there, done that.” He continued to grin softly. “Sis wasn’t happy when I made a mess because her coffee maker doesn’t have that feature.” What caused his sheepish expression was the memory that it was Chip’s sister’s coffee pot, and the whole counter in her kitchen had been covered in hot coffee before either Lee or Chip could stuff the pot back in place. Beth had immediately gone out and bought a new coffee maker while the two men spent an hour cleaning up the mess. “What’s it look like out there?” He tossed a hand toward the windows.

“Nasty,” Jacobs actually growled, causing Lee to duck his head as he stirred the soup.

“Sorry to screw up your solitude.”

Jacobs shrugged, frowned, but it quickly turned into a grin. “I’m a lousy cook,” he told Lee.

“The least I can do, after dropping in unexpectedly.” He frowned. “Literally. And even when the Forest Service, who by now has been alerted by my friend that I didn’t make it back, can send out search planes, they’ll be looking too far north. I never intended to come this direction.”

“Why did you?” Lee thought he detected a demand in what was supposed to sound, he was sure, merely an innocent question.

Lee sent Jacobs what he hoped was a shy smile as he dished up the soup. “I was just looking around when I spotted what I thought was a Bald Eagle flying around.” He shrugged. “One direction was as good as another, so I followed it.” He straightened up a bit. “Had my headings so figured that I couldn’t get lost. But I’m definitely much further south than where my friend will direct the search plane.”

Jacobs had taken a big bite of the sandwich he’d made while Lee was talking, so it took him a bit to respond. Lee maintained a neutral expression as he knew exactly what Jacobs was doing – taking time to formulate his next words. “This storm is supposed to stop by nightfall. With any luck the phone lines will be back up in a couple days. At least you can let your family know that you’re safe, even if it will take some time to get you out.”

“I don’t even know how they’ll do that,” Lee tried to sound at least a little disparaged.

Jacobs shrugged. “My guess, a big helicopter. Not sure where they could land. They might have to send down a harness and lift you out.”

“Swell,” Lee muttered, trying to sound disgusted. “Wonder what that will cost me. Not to mention my friend’s chopper, and getting it out of the lake.” He glared at Jacobs, but hoped that the man realized that the expression was turned more inward than out. “This was just supposed to be a little side trip on the way to the family gathering for the Holidays.” He very carefully controlled his expression as the double meaning to that last sentence hit him, and continued to grumble. “I’ll be paying for this for the next ten years. At least!” The last two words came out not quite under his breath. Both men were silent as they finished their simple lunch.

Lee, having only made half a sandwich, stood up and took his dishes to the sink. He asked by a look if Jacobs wanted another sandwich. Getting a head shake, he put things back in the fridge and filled the sink to wash dishes.

“Never married.” The statement from Jacobs came totally out of the blue and caught Lee off guard. He turned and sent Jacobs a blank look. Jacobs chuckled. “You’re too handy in the kitchen to have ever depended on someone else.”

Lee finally smiled and nodded, and answered as he turned back to the sink. “Raised by a single parent who was gone a lot. Learned early to take care of myself.” He sent Jacobs an honest grin over his shoulder. “Mom hated mess, so I made sure the house was in order before she got home.”

Jacobs all but growled, and Lee turned toward him. “All I ever learned was how to stay out of my old man’s way when he came home drunk.” Lee sent him what he hoped was a commiserative nod, and returned his attention to the dishes. Jacobs finally stood, polished off the last of his coffee, and handed the mug to Lee. “Gonna go lay down for a bit after my workout this morning.” He suddenly smiled. “What’s for supper?”

Lee laughed. “Have to check the larder,” he said with a grin. Jacobs nodded and headed through the door he’d entered from. The quick look Lee got before the door closed, it didn’t look like a bedroom. More like a hallway that must lead to a back door, with the bedroom Jacobs was using going off the hall. Lee didn’t hear another door close, and wasn’t about to check. He finished cleaning up from lunch and started checking to see what he might put together for supper.

He also, as unobtrusively as possible, looked for hidden detection devices, either camera or sound monitor. Setting out a couple steaks that he found in the freezer along with a box of instant scalloped potatoes, he continued his search in the livingroom, wandering seemingly aimlessly around like he was tired of laying down. Which he was! But nothing out of the ordinary caught his eye in either room, nor in the bathroom he was using. He was wise enough to know that, just because he couldn’t see any such devices, that they weren’t actually there. He did have to smile at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. The fact that he hadn’t shaved in nearly thirty-six hours was definitely in evidence. Chip always said that it made dark-complexioned Lee look a bit demonic.

He decided that, unless some other opportunity presented itself, which he highly doubted, he’d try tonight to check the status of his gun. At 0100 hours it would be as dark as it was going to get and he could hopefully hide what he was doing. Before he did anything he needed to know if the gun was loaded and operational. He had no idea how water-proof the hidden compartment was, but had been surprised – and pleased – to note that the inside of the main compartment hadn’t seemed nearly as wet as the outside when he’d first touched it after the crash.

That thought sent his thoughts toward the front windows, and two things hit him at the same time. The windows had no curtains; that would make getting the room dark enough to hide his search for the gun difficult to do if there were, indeed, cameras hidden somewhere. Especially as the snow wasn’t coming down so heavily now. If the moon happened to come out, shining on the fresh snow, the livingroom would be nearly light enough to read by. And second, looking out to where he knew the small helicopter lay half submerged into the lake, he couldn’t even tell it was there. All the snow had camouflaged the edges to the point that it could easily be mistaken for a mound of brush. He casually walked over to the windows, pretending to just be looking out but also checking to see if perhaps there were shades hidden behind the valances over the windows, and was happy to find that there were. They weren’t the totally dark kind, but more like the heavy mesh ones used during the summer to help hold out the heat but still be able to see through. He was a little surprised that Jacobs wasn’t using them to help hold in the heat from the fireplace, although in actual fact the room was staying a pleasant temperature. Lee would close them tonight, claiming to sleep better in a darker room. It would be interesting to note Jacobs’ reaction to that move.

Wandering back into the kitchen, Lee finished defrosting the steaks in the microwave and then put them in the fridge until he was ready to fry them. He also found a covered casserole dish in which to prepare the potatoes. With still no sign or sound from Jacobs, he decided to run a little test. He went back into the livingroom and lowered the blinds on the two end windows and leaving the middle one, the biggest, open, and sat down on the couch to watch the lightening storm. He’d been casual, but as watchful as possible as he’d lowered the shades, trying to determine if there was anything else hidden behind the valances, but saw nothing that shouldn’t be there.

Jacobs seemed startled when he walked in, quietly it seemed to Lee who wasn’t dozing as he pretended to be. As Lee turned casually, then opened his eyes fully, Jacobs pointed to the blinds. “Didn’t know those were there,” he admitted.

“Got restless and was snooping a bit,” Lee told him. “Figured that they’d help keep the room a little warmer. I’ll close the middle one tonight. If the moon comes out after the storm passes, which it looks like it might, the light off the fresh snow will keep me awake.” Jacobs didn’t seem to have an issue with that as he merely nodded. Lee stood up and glanced at his watch. “Guess I’ll go start working on supper. How do you like your steak cooked?”

“I definitely didn’t dig deep enough in that freezer.” Jacobs sent Lee a grin, then shrugged. “Not that I would know how to fix one correctly anyhow.”

Lee chuckled. “Steaks are easy. Roasts take a little practice.”

“Oh man,” Jacobs almost drooled. “Haven’t had a good pot roast in I can’t remember when. The one in the TV dinner that said it was pot roast was…..disappointing.”

Lee smiled. “Let’s go dig through the freezer,” and the pair headed for the kitchen.

The next half hour, Lee could almost let himself forget that Jacobs was an extremely dangerous, highly trained assassin. Together they scrounged through the kitchen, finding a nearly seven pound beef roast in the freezer which Lee immediately put on a plate and stashed in the fridge to start defrosting. They also found a bunch of frozen vegetables. The peas Lee ignored as not working well for a pot roast. He laid a package of frozen carrots to one side as he was digging through the deep chest freezer, and pointed to a package of broccoli and cauliflower. He laughed, and teased Jacobs about being a traditionalist when it came to food. “Guess I’ll have to made do with a little onion and garlic powder,” Lee told him when they came to the bottom of the freezer. “I saw those in the cupboard. And there should be potatoes left from the steak tonight. Best I can do.”

“I’ll watch. We found more steaks and roasts at the bottom, and I haven’t completely searched the other big freezer where I found the TV dinners.” He waved a hand toward the door he’d been coming in and out of.

Lee nodded. He considered saying something about “Let’s go check it out,” but quickly decided not to push the issue. Jacobs was being far too relaxed to screw anything up that he didn’t have to!

Jacobs did keep a close watch as Lee started seasoning the steaks, then reading the directions on the potato package. The directions called for milk so he diluted some of the canned milk with water, and added a little onion powder for some extra flavor. The steaks were easy – get the cast iron skillet extra hot, sear the steaks on both sides, and pop them in the oven until the potatoes were almost done, then put some butter in the skillet and baste the meat a couple minutes before plating everything. Jacobs had set the table with what little they needed. One steak went on each plate, and the whole casserole was put on a folded towel with a serving spoon.

“Too bad I can’t keep you around all winter,” was Jacobs’ verdict as he put the third or fourth piece of meat in his mouth. Lee sent him a grin.

“Would be nice and peaceful,” Lee agreed. “But too many people would have a freaking fit.” He was all too aware that Admiral Jones was probably already screaming about Lee’s not having checked in yet. Thankfully, Lee could blame most of it on the storm. The less said about his miscalculated landing the better, although he would like a word with Agent Rye about the timing after pulling out the little box.

Once they were both finished eating, Lee more slowly even though he’d taken the smaller of the two steaks and only had one big spoonful of the potatoes, he offered to clean up, telling Jacobs that he wasn’t used to being this inactive. Jacobs continued to sit at the kitchen table, nursing the last of the coffee. Lee offered to make more as he puttered around, putting things away and nosing through the cupboards again, but Jacobs shrugged him off. “Probably shouldn’t be drinking this,” he admitted. “Too much caffeine and I don’t sleep well.”

Lee chuckled. “Not a problem for me. I tend to live on the stuff, and I didn’t make that,” he pointed toward the coffee maker, “nearly as strong as I’m used to.” Jacobs shrugged and went once more silent.

“Hey,” Lee said not quite to himself when he discovered a packet of dry French Onion soup mix. He tossed it on the counter. “Something for the roast tomorrow.” He glanced at Jacobs. “Unless you’re not big on onions.”

Jacobs shrugged. “Sounds interesting.”

Lee couldn’t stop the quick look he shot Jacobs; the man’s voice had gone almost completely flat, with none of the almost friendship and humor he’d had when the meal started. He realized that Jacobs had caught the sharp look and tried to cover it. “You okay?” he asked, trying to sound sincere but all the while frantically trying to think of anything that he’d said or did that might have alerted Jacobs that he was anything other than the hapless tourist he was playing.

Jacobs shrugged again. “Headache,” came out, still flat.

Lee carefully let out the breath he hadn’t realized that he’d been holding. “I get the occasional migraine.” He pointed to the bottle of ibuprofen still on the counter. “Three or four of those and a dark, quiet room. I’ll quit searching through the kitchen and stay quiet in the livingroom.” Jacobs said nothing but stood, handed Lee his coffee mug, grabbed the bottle of pills, and disappeared through the door he’d been using. Lee set the mug in the sink, filled it with water since he’d already drained the sink of soapy water, and retreated to the livingroom.

Already dark outside, Lee walked to the window and looked out. He’d been right; the moon was starting to shine through breaks in the clouds now that the storm had passed. He stood there, just watching, not wanting to turn on any lights and made do with the light coming from the fireplace. When nearly an hour had passed, he sighed inwardly. Now or never, he told himself, closed the middle blind to further darken the room, picked up his backpack, and carried it to a chair as far away from both windows and fire as he could get.

That meant being in almost total darkness, sitting in the far corner of the room almost to the hall that led to the bathroom he was using. He sat quietly for what felt like an eternity, but was probably no more than twenty minutes, listening for any indication that Jacobs had come out from the back. Finally, more by feel than anything else, he found the opening to the small hidden compartment and touched the gun. Again, he did nothing for several minutes, but finally pulled out the weapon and checked the clip. Loaded. And everything felt dry, with even a slight slick feel of gun oil along the barrel. Once more he sat very still, listening, but finally tucking the gun in his waistband at the small of his back. Then, because he wasn’t sure of its safety there, pulled out his belt and threaded it into his jean loops. He was thankful that he’d kept the flannel shirt Jacobs had lent him. Much happier now how everything felt he stood, casually returned the backpack to where it had been on the floor next to the end of the couch, and finally laid down.

* * * *

Lee didn’t think that he’d sleep a wink all night, so keyed up was he over what might happen the next day. When he finally realized that it was getting lighter through the shades, and also that he was starting to get cold because the fire needed stoking, he got up. Once the shades were up and the fire once more nicely going, he headed for the kitchen and as quietly as possible started the coffee maker. Right this instant he didn’t care about Jacobs. He needed coffee for himself!

He was most of the way through his second mugful when Jacobs appeared, tossing the ibuprofen bottle on the counter and making a beeline for the coffee. Neither man said anything. Lee was watching for any sign that Jacobs may have somehow seen what Lee had done during the night but saw nothing, including Jacobs even being aware that Lee was now wearing his belt. Once the man was halfway through his second hit on the coffee, Lee asked softly, “More pancakes for breakfast?” He wasn’t sure for a bit if he was going to get an answer, and once more all but held his breath.

Finally, “That sounds good.”

Lee nodded and started to fix the batter. He knew from experience that the heavy flannel shirt of Jacobs’ that he’d continued to wear would easily hide the gun so wasn’t worried about turning his back to the man. Also, he was hoping that his casual attitude toward Jacobs would make it seem like Lee had nothing to hide, or fear, from being in the man’s presence. Jacobs, while he’d never shown Lee a talkative side, continued his silent, brooding, contemplation of his coffee mug, and Lee figured that his best bet was to remain so as well. Once the batter was to the consistency he wanted, he got out the big cast iron frying pan, and also a smaller one he’d found to heat the rest of the kielbasa they hadn’t eaten the morning before. He also pulled out a cast iron dutch oven that was stored with the frying pans.

“What’s that for?” came a hard demand.

It caused Lee just a moment’s hesitation before he could half-turn in Jacobs’ direction. “To cook the pot roast.” He tried to keep the right amount of surprise in his voice and expression to balance the harshness in Jacobs’.

Jacobs gave his head a small shake. “Sorry,” came out with almost no inflection.

Lee pretended to shrug it off and go back to fixing breakfast. But now he was totally on alert. He was hoping that the man was merely grumpy from a continued headache. But whatever was causing the change in Jacobs’ demeanor boded no good for Lee!

The silence lasted all through the meal. Lee detected no outright hostility from Jacobs, and he tried to cover his own nervousness. Once they were both done eating, Jacobs made no move to leave the table. Lee took the dishes to the sink and cleaned up, then pulled the roast out of the fridge. Putting oil in the bottom of the dutch oven, he put it on a burner to heat while he seasoned the meat with salt and pepper. He’d also intended to use onion powder but decided that the soup mix had enough flavor. Once the pot was very hot he browned the meat on all sides before turning off the plate and starting the oven. He added the soup mix and a healthy amount of water, scattered the carrots around the edge of the meat, put the cover on, and put the pot in the oven. “Three or four hours should be about right,” he said, before heading to the livingroom. That got a grunt from Jacobs, but no movement.

Lee sat on the couch and stared out the windows, in a quandary over what his next step should be. Should he try to get behind Jacobs and hit him with the butt of the gun, stunning him until he could tie him up? One of the drawers in the kitchen was apparently a utility drawer, with all kinds of small tools, and it included several types of tape. Lee also thought that he saw some plastic zip ties, but hadn’t wanted to make a point of going through the drawer as Jacobs had been standing next to him at the time. He was afraid that if he pulled out the gun it would turn ugly very quickly and he’d have to shoot the man, which he was trying to avoid if at all possible. He finally decided to wait now until the pot roast was done. Maybe by then Jacobs, who’d seemed quite interested in the food, would eat so much that he’d be just that little bit slower, and Lee could take him without much trouble. That decided, and with his lack of sleep, he stretched out on the couch and closed his eyes.

They popped right back open when Jacobs walked into the room. Lee watched him but didn’t sit up. “Didn’t sleep well,” he offered calmly.

“Yeah,” came back in a growl. Jacobs stood by the windows, staring out as Lee had been earlier, both men remaining silent. Finally, “Thought I heard a plane overhead.”

“Really?” Lee tried to act surprised and excited as he sat up. “But no one would be searching for me this far south,” he added with a hopeless tone. “You must have better ears than me. I sure didn’t hear anything. And whoever it was couldn’t have realized that pile of snow was the chopper.” Lee was barely breathing. He hadn’t heard a plane, and his hearing was excellent. He knew that Admiral Jones wouldn’t send in anyone. Maybe, if he hadn’t heard from Lee for several days he’d start to worry, but not this early. “Have to admit, its lovely out there. Well, as long as I can look at it and not have to be out in it. Probably another sightseer. With better equipment,” he added with what he hoped was an honest grump. “Still no phone line?” he asked.

“Nope.”

“Damn.”

“Heavy snow, this last storm. Could be days.”

Lee sighed heavily. “Sis will be a basket case. But nothing I can do about it. Just glad that I’m not stuck out there,” and he waved a hand toward the windows. Jacobs turned, and Lee thought he was going to say something. But he turned abruptly, walked into the kitchen, and Lee heard the other door close. What the… he asked himself silently. It took him several minutes before he was calm enough to lay back down. But he never closed his eyes.

He did get up a couple hours later and check the roast. It was doing nicely and he only added a bit more water. When he returned to the livingroom he added another log to the fire, and surreptitiously – he hoped – put the cell phone in its holster on his belt. He buttoned the bottom several buttons of the shirt to keep it covered before once more laying down.

Lee’s plan almost worked perfectly. For a change, he told himself, and he almost laughed. He’d gotten up again about 1230 hours to check the roast and walked into the kitchen from his direction just as Jacobs entered from the other. Nothing was said, but the oven was sending out delicious smells. Lee checked it, turned off the heat but left it in the oven while he took the casserole dish with the leftover scalloped potatoes out of the fridge, dumped them into a saucepan and heated them on the stove, using the time that took to make a fresh pot of coffee. Once the potatoes were well-heated, and not wanting to dirty any more dishes than he had to, he took the roast out of the oven and set it on the counter with a small towel under it. By this time the meat was literally falling apart, and on one plate he put a generous serving along with a big spoonful of the carrots and some of the gravy the soup mix had created, then some of the potatoes, and handed the plate to Jacobs who dug in with relish. Lee served himself a smaller portion of everything, poured them both a mug of coffee, and finally sat down as well. He was barely halfway through his meal when Jacobs finished, got up, and reloaded his plate even fuller than Lee had originally. Lee grinned when Jacobs sat back down.

“Where did you learn to cook?” Jacobs asked, starting to slow down partway through his second helping. Lee was relieved when the easy tone was back in the man’s voice.

“Bachelor,” Lee told him between bites. “I’ve picked up this and that from friends.”

“Delicious.” Jacobs waved a hand around the kitchen. “And with limited supplies.

“I’ve learned to make do with what I have.” Lee grinned at the double-meaning, since he often had to improvise on ONI missions. “Glad that you like it.” It had, actually, turned out pretty good. His grin broadened as he stood up to get a small second helping and Jacobs got up shortly after for thirds.

Finished, Lee puttered around, casually putting the meat, carrots and gravy into smaller containers to go into the fridge. There wasn’t anything left of the potatoes. Lee purposely walked behind Jacobs at one point, not too close, to judge the man’s reaction. He saw Jacobs stiffen slightly, but almost immediately relax as Lee appeared not to be aware of his reaction. Lee held up the coffee pot toward Jacobs – there was about one serving left and Jacobs held up his mug, which Lee filled and headed to the sink with the now empty pot. As Jacobs didn’t seem to be paying much attention to Lee’s puttering, Lee once more meandered behind the man. He nearly held his breath as Jacobs polished off the brew, and just as the now empty mug hit the table, Lee pulled out the gun and hit Jacobs. He put a little extra effort into the strike, knowing that he had to make the first one count. Jacobs collapsed, his head and chest on the table.

Lee worked fast. Hurrying to the utility drawer, he grabbed a roll of black electrician’s tape knowing that it was fairly strong, and quickly tied Jacobs’ wrists to the arms of the chair, doing the same with the man’s ankles to the chair legs. That done, he went back and grabbed the zip ties, not totally trusting the tape, and re-did all four securely just to be sure. He was just finishing the second ankle when Jacobs started coming around. Lee backed off a few steps, said nothing, just letting Jacobs figure out on his own what had happened.

Jacobs struggled only a bit, not fighting once he discovered that he was indeed securely tied to the chair. He also said nothing, but glared hard at Lee. The glare changed to a smile as Lee pulled out the cell phone, expecting it not to work. The smile left when Lee took off the back, pulled out the plastic tab, and punched the buttons he’d been told to. There was an instant answer.

“One package, tied up and ready for delivery.” Lee spoke easily, with a decidedly smug grin. He was, however, inwardly breathing a huge sigh of relief.

“Copy. Carrier service on its way within minutes.” Lee grinned again at the semi-smart aleck response.

“Much appreciated,” and both disconnected.

“Who are you?” Jacobs finally spoke.

“Just a man doing his job,” Lee told him. He finished cleaning up the kitchen to total silence before walking once more into the livingroom and standing at the windows.

It wasn’t a long wait. In less time than Lee would have imagined a large military helicopter appeared over the tree line and hovered over the front of the Inn. Four men repelled rapidly to the ground, two off each side. They were instantly followed by four more. Lee considered that a bit of overkill, but once he let them in the front door eventually discovered the reasoning. No one spoke until he had led the men into the kitchen.

“You weren’t kidding, Commander,” the apparent spokesman for the group told Lee as Jacobs’ bindings were checked.

Lee noticed Jacobs react to the title, but merely nodded. “Seemed appropriate, all things considered.”

“Understood. Lt. Michael Hardy,” he finally introduced himself. “Staff Sgt. Neal Larson and his three men will escort you and Jacobs back to town. The rest of us will search and secure the premises, and someone will stay until the owners can be notified and get a real caretaker in place.”

Lee nodded and pointed to the back door. “Jacobs has been coming and going through that door. And I just put what was left of an excellent pot roast in the fridge. Bread’s in there, too. Perfect for sandwiches.” He sent Hardy a broad grin.

“Sounds like a plan,” the lieutenant agreed. Lee headed back to the livingroom to gather his few belongings. He decided to keep the flannel shirt. It was a little big but he’d grown fond of it.

* * * *

Three days later a taxi pulled up in front of the Morton family farmhouse and Lee stepped out. He grabbed his small suitcase, paid the driver, and was almost to the front door when it opened. “Why didn’t you call,” Chip Morton admonished. “I’d have picked you up at the airport.”

Lee shrugged. “Didn’t want to bother you,” he said as Chip grabbed the suitcase and they went inside. What he didn’t say was, he didn’t want anyone, and especially Chip, to find out that he’d flown in from Washington DC and not Boston, the closest major airport to where his mother lived, who he’d originally planned to spend the holiday with.

He’d called his mom the instant he’d gotten back to civilization, as he thought of the mission, but hadn’t offered to join her as she hadn’t found anything of interest after all, and was planning on heading home in the next few days. He’d extended Chip’s invitation to come to the Morton’s and Helen had readily agreed. She and Joanne Morton, Chip’s mom, had become good friends over the years.

The intervening days had been spent mostly in debriefing sessions with Admiral Jones and replenishing his clothes supplies, and Lee was in serious need of just sitting down and relaxing. Even knowing that Lee was going to trash the small chopper, Admiral Jones had a tizzy fit. Lee merely let him rant; it would have done no good to argue the point anyway. But the paperwork involved for the whole mission seemed to take forever!

Almost immediately Lee had to fend off Mrs. Morton’s fussing that Lee had once more lost weight. It took a second for Lee to figure out, since he knew that he hadn’t, that what caused her reaction as Lee took off his coat was, Lee was wearing Jacobs’ flannel shirt. “Chill, Mother M.,” he told her. “I’m fine. The shirt is several sizes too big for me.” He laughed as Chip glared at him for the ‘I’m fine’ comment. He patted his stomach. “I might have even gained a pound.”

“Well, I don’t think so,” Mrs. Morton muttered. “Dinner’s in an hour. Chip, take his bag up to the room.”

At that both Chip and Lee grinned. They kibbitzed easily as they climbed the stairs. Chip did send Lee a look just before they went back down as he brushed a light hand over the shirt. “Long story,” Lee told the blond. “What’s for supper?” he changed the subject. The pair nattered happily as they rejoined the rest of the family.