Read The White Mountain for Free Online Page B

idea.  Your guess is as good as mine.  Hell, probably
better than mine.  You’re smart.  You’re a thinker.  You’ve always been one.  All
I did was shoot things.  Point out a target and I’d put a bullet in it from a
mile away.  I can’t say for certain, but I’d bet my life that it’s got
something to do with it.  Might have to bet my life on it.”
    “Just so I understand...a
senator and an ambassador got caught doing something they shouldn’t have, what,
eight years ago?  For some reason, they wait years and then send a
sneaky German guy to tell you you’ve made their ten most wanted list.  They
turn it into a game, offer a reward, and recruit a group of killers from around
the world to play.  All so they can get to you?  What’s that sound like when
it’s repeated back to you, huh?”
    “Maybe it ain’t just for me.”
    “Randall!  If they wanted to
get rid of you, wouldn’t they have done it sooner?”
    “It’s all I’ve got.  Could be
something completely different, but I need you to go find out for me.”
    “There’s no way on God’s
green earth that I’m driving five hours away to chase down this stupid ass
theory of yours when there’s a threat to my family.  No way.  None.”
    “You have to—”
    “It’s ridiculous!”
    “Trust me, we’re good here. 
I can take care of myself, and I’ll send Alice and Jesse off somewhere.  Forty-eight
hours.  No more.  You’d be back by noontime Thursday.  That’s all I’m asking. 
Go check around.  Find something.”
    “What if I can’t find
anything?”
    “Then I better say my
prayers.”
    She’d agreed, with irritated
reluctance, but in a situation such as theirs, she figured it was better to be
proactive than reactive.  Randall’s story, as ridiculous as it seemed, was all
she had to go on. 
    He’d offered a single contact
point—his CIA friend, Chuck Bailey.  He’d said that as far as he knew, what
help he could offer was likely minimal, but he might be able to get her started.
    In addition to Chuck Bailey’s
information, Randall had given her a small GPS tracking device, barely bigger
than a postage stamp, and told her to keep it on her at all times, in case
anything went wrong and he needed to come find her.
    “I mean it,” he’d said. 
“Don’t ever let this thing out of your sight.  Stick it in a sock, wherever,
just don’t lose it.”
    As hesitant and disbelieving
as she was, she’d promised to do what she could.  She’d gone home, given Jimmy
as little detail as possible—a story about Randall needing help with tracking
down someone in the government was sufficient.  Then, she’d packed a bag and
hit the road.
    She abhorred the idea of
leaving her family behind and in danger, but trusted Randall to find a safe
place for Alice and Jesse, and trusted that he’d be able to handle himself if
and when the first assassin came back, if and when the others showed up.
    Now, she drove, scrutinizing
the details, trying to find a nugget of believable reality mixed in with the
chaff of Randall’s wild notions.  It couldn’t be true.  There had to be some
other explanation.  She remembered reading that after the recent election,
Kemper was considering a run for president in 2016.  There was no way he’d go
through the trouble of setting up something like this and risk having it dug up
during the vetting process.  Or...maybe he would.  Eliminate the ties to his
past, wipe the slate clean so no one would ever know about his South Korean
misadventures. 
    As a former Texas oil
magnate, he certainly had the funds to make it happen.  But why?  Why go
through all that trouble?  Was it so impossibly ludicrous that no one would
ever believe it should they come looking?  Maybe a smart way to hide the truth
by being so blatantly stupid?
    Was it conceivable?
    No, couldn’t be.  Even in the
absence of a paper trail, there were too many possible ways for the information
to get out.  Too many mouths