Read Spartan Gold for Free Online Page A

me a little, Sam.”
    He reached over and gave her thigh a squeeze. “Now, have I ever gotten us into trouble—”
    “Well, there was the time—”
    “—without getting us back out again?”
    “No.”
    “Do we have a signal?” he asked.
    Remi pulled out her cell phone and checked the reception. “Nothing.”
    “Damn. We still have that map?”
    Remi rummaged through the glove compartment, found the map, and opened it. After thirty seconds she said, “Sam, there’s nothing out here. No houses, no farms—nothing for miles.”
    “Curiouser and curiouser.”
    Ahead, the Lucerne’s brake lights flashed once, then again, then turned right and disappeared behind some trees. Sam pulled up to the turn and slowed just in time to see the Lucerne’s taillights turn again, this time left into a driveway about a hundred yards down the road. He turned off the engine and rolled down the passenger window. Through the trees they could see the Lucerne’s headlights go out, followed by the sound of a car door opening then closing, followed ten seconds later by another.
    Then a voice: “Hey . . . don’t!”
    Frobisher’s voice. Clearly agitated.
    “Well, that settles it,” Sam said.
    “Yep,” Remi said. “What do you want to do?”
    “You drive to the nearest house or wherever you can get reception and call the police. I’m going to—”
    “Oh, no, you’re not, Sam.”
    “Remi, please—”
    “I said no, Sam.”
    Sam groaned. “Remi—”
    “We’re wasting time.”
    Sam knew his wife well enough to recognize the tone in her voice and the set of her mouth. She’d planted her feet and that was that.
    “Okay,” he said, “but no stupid chances, okay?”
    “That goes for you, too.”
    He grinned at her and winked. “Am I anything but the epitome of caution?” Then: “Don’t answer that.”
    “In for a penny—” Remi started.
    “In for trouble,” Sam finished.

CHAPTER 5
    H eadlights still off, Sam slowly steered the BMW up the road, trying to avoid potholes, until they were within fifty yards of the driveway, then shut off the engine.
    Sam said, “Will you please wait in the car?”
    Remi frowned at him. “Hi, it seems we haven’t met.” She stuck out her hand for him to shake. “I’m Remi Fargo.”
    Sam sighed. “Point taken.”
    They had a brief strategy/what-if/worse-case-scenario talk, then Sam gave her his sport coat and they climbed out.
    They stepped off the road into the drainage ditch, which was shielded by high grass on either side. It ran up to the driveway, where it was funneled into a culvert.
    Hunched over, pausing every few steps to listen, they followed the ditch to the driveway, then climbed up the bank and began picking their way through the trees. After twenty feet the trees began to thin out and they found themselves at the edge of a clearing.
    The space was immense, perhaps two square acres filled with hulking tubular shapes, some the size of garages, some the size of compact cars, lying at angles like a child’s set of pick-up sticks. As Sam’s eyes adjusted to the darkness he realized what he was seeing: a boiler junkyard. How and why it was here, in the middle of the Maryland countryside, he didn’t know, but here it was. Judging from their size he guessed the boilers had come from a variety of sources—locomotives, ships, and factories. The falling rain pattered the leaves around them and pinged softly on the steel of the boilers, sending echoes through the trees.
    “Well, this is the last thing I was expecting to find here,” Remi whispered.
    “Me, too.” And this told them something about Ted’s assailant. Either he knew this area well or he’d done some homework before coming here. Neither thought gave Sam much comfort.
    The Buick Lucerne was parked in the middle of the clearing, but there was no sign of either Frobisher or the car’s driver. Clearly they’d gone deeper into this maze of boilers. But why come here? Sam wondered. The first answer that came