Fire and Ice

  “Okay, tell me the surprise,” she prodded.

  “Can you get to a computer and look at the newspaper?”

  “Probably,” she answered. “What paper do you want me to read?”

  “Ours, Sophie,” he said, exasperated. “I want you to read today’s edition of our newspaper.”

  She laughed. “Of course. What am I looking for?”

  “Oh, heck, I might as well tell you. Full-page, four-color ad, paid for with a cashier’s check telling Chicago that Kelly’s employees are going to get their pensions.”

  Tears came into Sophie’s eyes. Daddy had kept his promise.

  “Do you know who placed the ad? Was there a name?”

  “Nope, but everyone in Chicago is celebrating. They’re saying Bobby Rose is behind it. You should hear the call-ins on the radio. Lots of excitement, Sophie, and when times are hard with the layoffs and all, we need some good news, don’t we?”

  “Yes, sir, we do. You can stop hoarding root beer now.”

  “Oh, no. Not until the company’s doors are open. Call me tomorrow to check in—and Sophie, you be careful.”

  She couldn’t wait to tell Jack about the ad. If she couldn’t find a computer to use in the hotel, she’d pull up the Internet article on her phone. She hurried back to the cafeteria and found two men sitting with Jack. He made the introductions. One of the men was a police officer in Deadhorse, and the other was an oil company security guard. Jack pulled out a chair at the table, and when she sat down, she noticed a stack of papers in his hand with a list of names that he handed to the security officer.

  “Jack tells me one of our men has been helping you with your investigation. Is that right?” the security guard asked.

  “Only on his time off,” she explained, not wanting to get Paul into trouble.

  The guard smiled. “I understand you’ve had several conversations with him?”

  “Just a couple,” she answered. “He said he was helping the police, and he provided some information about William Harrington’s death.”

  When the two men glanced at each other, she became curious. “Why are you asking?”

  “You’re sure you talked to Paul Larson?” the policeman asked.

  “I’m positive,” she stated emphatically.

  “Ma’am,” the policeman said, “I don’t know who you talked to, but it wasn’t Paul Larson.”

  “But he—” Sophie began.

  The security officer didn’t let her finish. “We don’t have a Paul Larson here.”

  JOURNAL ENTRY 680

  CHICAGO

  Eric and I are calling our study the Alpha Project.

  We ’ve had no trouble keeping our work secret in Chicago, but Inook was another matter altogether. Living in such close quarters with Brandon and Kirk made it difficult. Luckily, Brandon decided that he and Kirk should go off and observe another pack, and that gave us more freedom. Eric gets so nervous about being found out, I worry that he will let something slip.

  I’ve been checking out pharmaceutical companies. What I’ve learned so far is that they’re all mired down in bureaucracy. I don’t think we can approach them about our findings. If we were to tip our hand now, we’d lose all control. I’ve also learned they pay a pittance for independent research because they have to factor in how long it will take to get government approval. That could be years, if not decades.

  If Eric and I are going to get the money we deserve, we’ll have to take matters into our own hands. There are plenty of other markets out there.

  WHY WOULD HE LIE? Sophie’s initial reaction to the news was that there had to be a mistake. Of course Paul Larson existed. She’d spoken to him!

  When Jack went to get her some hot tea from the cafeteria’s beverage service, she tried the phone number Paul had given her. Once again, she left a message on his voice mail.

  While she was waiting to hear back, Jack made a call to his sources to run a check on the number. He received his answer minutes later, not surprised to learn that the number Sophie had been calling was registered under yet another fictitious name at a fictitious address.

  What kind of game was this man playing?

  “They’re getting a fix on the location of the phone, so we’ll know where this guy was calling you from,” Jack told her.

  “We’ve got employees flying in and out of here every day, but they check in right away and get to work,” the oil company security guard said. “Truckers will spend the night in Deadhorse when they need to, but they usually head back the next day.”

  “Even so,” the Deadhorse cop added, “with so many people coming and going, we would notice a stranger hanging around.” Looking across the table into Sophie’s eyes, he said, “I checked with Joe Rooney, the officer who called you about Harrington, and he’s never heard of Paul Larson. He certainly didn’t give anyone your phone number. Joe’s a reliable guy, so I don’t have any reason to doubt him.”

  All three men took turns asking Sophie questions, but there was little she could tell them. The guard and the police officer assured her that they would ask around, but other than that, there was nothing they could do, concluding that she had been the victim of a twisted practical joke.

  After they left, Jack continued grilling her about the details of her phone conversations with the man calling himself Paul Larson.

  “He didn’t tell me anything specific about himself. Why would he? Oh, wait. He did say he was single and asked to take me to dinner, but I don’t think he was serious.”

  “How much did you tell him about yourself?” Jack asked.

  Irritated, she responded, “Nothing personal. I wasn’t talking to a dating service.”

  Jack stood and began to pace. Sophie drummed her fingertips on the tabletop while she thought about her conversations with the fictitious man.

  “So this guy lures you up here—” Jack began.

  “He did not lure me here,” she interrupted. “I wanted to come up here to talk to people in hopes that someone had seen Harrington. He didn’t just drop out of the sky and land in a tent next to Barry. I’m still determined to find out what happened to him.” She shook her head. “I know what you’re going to say: Barry happened to him. ”

  “I wasn’t going to say that. Would you have started in Prudhoe Bay, or did you come here because Paul suggested it?” He rubbed the back of his neck while he waited for her answer.

  “I don’t know. He told me there were trappers near here that I could talk to,” she said. “This is crazy. Was anything he told me true?”

  “They did find Harrington’s wallet, and his remains were taken to Anchorage, so yes, I guess some of what he said was true.”

  “When will you know where he was calling from?” she asked.

  “That will take a little time,” he said. “We’re getting out of here first thing in the morning. I’ll call Chipper and put him on standby.”

  “Is Chipper really Chipper?” she asked. She smiled at how silly that sounded. “Is he really who he says he is?”

  “Yes, he is,” Jack answered. He crossed the room and stood in front of her. “And do you know why I know?”

  “I’m guessing you’re going to tell me.”

  “I checked him out. I don’t take anything on blind faith.”

  “You’re an FBI agent. You’re trained to be suspicious. I’m a reporter. I’m trained to be curious. My interest wasn’t in Paul Larson, so why would I want or need to investigate him?”

  Jack gave up trying to make his point. He could tell this was going the route of the “You would have looked, too” argument she’d used after she was shot.

  Sophie now walked to the cafeteria window and stared outside. “Do you know it’s against the law to lock your car doors here?” she asked.

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s true. It’s because of bears. I guess if you run into one, or one happens to be chasing you, you jump in a car.” She sighed and turned around. Jack stood just a foot away. “I should have checke
d him out,” she admitted.

  He pulled her into his arms and rubbed his chin against the top of her head. “Yeah, you should have,” he agreed. “Any other interesting facts you want to share?”

  “Most foxes carry rabies.”

  “Good to know.”

  “The Barrow Whalers made the play-offs.”

  “The who?”

  “The Whalers. They’re the high school football team in Barrow. You’ll probably get to meet some of them. They’re a new team, and football has made a positive impact on the lives of these boys. I promised Mr. Bitterman I’d write their story.”

  “So we’re going to Barrow, huh?”

  “Yes.”

  JACK WAS PREOCCUPIED at dinner, but Sophie didn’t mind. It had been a long day, and she was weary.

  They returned to their rooms, and Sophie went into the bathroom to get ready for bed. After showering, she opened the bathroom door into Jack’s room and overheard him talking on the phone. “It has to be connected” was all she managed to hear. Who was he talking to, and what had to be connected?

  Jack looked up and smiled when he saw her. She wasn’t wearing a skimpy nightgown, but she was just as sexy in her oversized, blue and white cotton pajamas. And fuzzy pink socks. After he finished his call, he took his turn in the shower.

  The wind was picking up outside, and the window rattled. Sophie had read somewhere that the winds could get as strong as a hundred miles an hour. The thought made her shiver.

  The bed wasn’t a double or a twin, but something in between. She pulled back the covers and stretched out on top, leaning against the headboard. Her mind wouldn’t quiet down, racing from one thought to another. If the man calling himself Paul Larson was playing a joke, what was the point? Why go to all that trouble? There must be a reason. Had any polar bears ever gotten inside the hotel? She should have asked Zester.

  Sophie was rubbing on hand lotion that smelled of jasmine when Jack entered her room. He obviously didn’t mind the chill in the air. He wore just shorts and a T-shirt.

  “Aren’t you cold?” she asked.

  “I’ll get warm in a minute. Did you set your alarm? We’re getting up early.”

  Sophie noticed him staring at her socks. She felt a little silly but what did she care? She had made up her mind to keep their relationship simple and professional.

  No, not relationship. Association.

  “The phone calls were made from Fairbanks,” he told her before he reached down and pulled one pink sock off, then the other.

  “So Larson had no intention of meeting my plane tonight?” she asked. “What was the point? Don’t you think that was a rather strange prank?”

  Jack went to the door to make sure it was locked. “I don’t know what his motive was, but I’m going to find out.”

  Sophie got under the covers. The sheets were cold. Jack was walking toward his room when she remembered the ad Mr. Bitter-man had mentioned.

  She told Jack about Kelly’s Root Beer, then asked, “What do you think?”

  “I’d like to see the ad.”

  He disappeared into his bedroom, and Sophie felt a pang of disappointment. She wasn’t going to let him sleep with her. Still, it would have been nice if he’d asked. A minute later, Jack came back carrying his gun and holster. He didn’t ask permission to join her. He put his gun on the table next to her pillow, pulled the covers back, and told her to scoot over.

  He slid in next to her and turned toward the wall with his back to her. The heat radiating from his body warmed her in no time at all. She slipped her hands under his T-shirt. “I didn’t say you could sleep with me,” she whispered against his neck as she cuddled up against him.

  “Go to sleep.” He reached over and turned out the light.

  “Jack?” Sophie said in the darkness. “I’m a terrible reporter, aren’t I?”

  JOURNAL ENTRY 702

  CHICAGO

  Eric and I are weary from our trip, but it’s been worth it. We’ve found a buyer. Our contacts in Asia and Europe produced nothing. Don’t know why we didn’t think of the Middle East in the first place.

  To the Dubai billionaire, fifty million means nothing, and he was willing to agree to it on the spot. All he requires is that we give him hard data on our human experiments.

  I’ve been having dreams about how I’ll spend my share. Always wanted to visit Fiji. If the sands are soft and the women softer, I may just stay there.

  JACK DIDN’T EMBELLISH OR COMPLIMENT HER ON HER RE-porting skills. He simply answered her question. “You’re not a terrible reporter.”

  A few minutes passed. Sophie asked, “How many brothers do you have?”

  “Three.”

  “Any sisters?”

  “No.”

  Jack slowly turned toward her. He was a big man, and the bed was small. He rolled Sophie toward him so that she rested on his side.

  “Why all the questions?” he asked, his face close, their eyes meeting in the dark.

  “You know everything there is to know about me, and I don’t know much about you.”

  “Yeah, you do. You know where I grew up, where I went to school, and when I joined the FBI. You also know I like the way you kiss me.”

  She smiled. “Good night, Jack.”

  He laughed. “Good night, Sophie.”

  Jack made it until around two in the morning, and then Sophie began to move restlessly against him. He wasn’t sure if she was awake or asleep, but after removing her clothes without any resistance, he didn’t care. It was his turn to seduce her. And, ah man, it was better than the first time. She was so responsive to his touch, and he loved the sexy sounds she made when his fingers caressed her. This time he made sure she climaxed before he did, and when at last he found release, she squeezed him tight inside her. And that was better, too.

  He was just drifting off to sleep when a thought popped into his head. Had he done the seducing, or had she?

  DENY, DENY, DENY.

  Again Sophie was furious at her lack of self-control. Why couldn’t she keep her hands off Jack? If they were in Chicago, it would be so much easier to stay away from him, but here they were forced to be together. Fortunately, he respected her unspoken decision not to mention last night’s activities.

  Chipper was waiting for them by his plane. He stowed their luggage while Sophie climbed into the backseat. Jack took the seat by the pilot, and while they were waiting for Chipper to finish his checklist, Jack asked Sophie if she was feeling okay.

  “I’m fine. Why would you think I wasn’t? Do I look like I’m not fine?” She couldn’t stop blathering. “Why do you ask?”

  “You’ve been unusually quiet, that’s all, and yeah, Sophie, you look fine, considering neither of us got much sleep with the—”

  “Barrow is considered a desert, did you know that?”

  Jack grinned. She was once again pretending that nothing had happened. “It is?” he asked.

  “Yes. It gets very little rainfall, but lots of snow. Temperatures drop below zero in early October and stay down until the end of May or early June. It never gets warm.”

  Chipper climbed into the plane, heard Sophie’s last comment, and added, “Barrow generally gets around seven inches of snow in October. It’s not snowing today, though, not yet anyway.”

  “Jack wants to see the ocean,” Sophie told Chipper. “His ideal vacation is to sit and watch it.”

  “You’re in luck then,” Chipper said. “The ocean’s on three sides of Barrow. You’ll get to look at it every which way you turn.”

  Because of crosswinds, the flight to Barrow ended up being even bumpier than the one to Deadhorse, and Sophie’s stomach did a couple of flips. She was, however, willing to delay their landing when Chipper insisted on circling so that Jack could see the ocean up close.

  Barrow wasn’t a fancy place, but the people were the warmest she had ever met. Everyone was friendly and helpful. They were proud of their city, and they were especially proud of their football team. S
ophie had called ahead, and the coach was waiting to greet them. She interviewed him about the boys on his team and their backgrounds, but it was Jack who knew what questions to ask about the games. While the men discussed the season, she took notes.

  Coach Smith told them about the first game the Whalers had won. It was quite an event in the small community. The players and coaches had celebrated by jumping into the Arctic Ocean. A pizza party wouldn’t have been enough? Sophie wondered.

  The coach called a couple of his players over to talk to Jack and Sophie. While they were with the boys, Sophie noticed two teenage girls sitting on the sideline with their heads together, laughing. One girl stood up and the other pushed her friend toward the field, giving her the nudge to approach them. The girl slowly came closer and closer, until she was standing just a few feet behind Jack.

  She gently tapped Jack on the shoulder. “Excuse me,” she said shyly.

  Jack turned around. “Yes?” he said.

  “My friend and I were wondering …” she began. She looked back at her companion who was gesturing for her to continue. “We were wondering if you’re that guy on YouTube.”

  Sophie burst out laughing.

  Jack patiently talked to the girl for a few minutes, and after thanking Coach Smith for his time, he quickly ushered Sophie off the field.

  “I really must see this video,” she said.

  Jack was not amused, but Sophie was still laughing as they walked into a nearby restaurant.

  A couple who were having lunch at the next table struck up a conversation and were glad to talk about their community. They had lived in Barrow all their lives and were able to give Sophie some interesting background for her story. They suggested places to stay the night, and Jack chose the one closest to the restaurant.

  By the time Jack and Sophie walked to the hotel, they were frozen to the bone.

  Jack paced in the lobby trying to get warm. “Couldn’t do it. Couldn’t do it,” he repeated.

  “Couldn’t do what?”