Ghost in the Pine

By MT Clark

Jay Wilson and Jenni Delacroix are on the run from the mob after narrowly dodging a car bomb, but Kaylee, the new boss, won't stop until they're dead. She has elite hacking skills and digital eyes everywhere, so going off the grid is the only way to survive.

Hiding in the secluded forests of northern Minnesota was retired detec

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shaved Dog Book Press
• Release date: Apr 4, 2023
• ISBN: 9781735736136

MT Clark

MT Clark moved from writing non-fiction to fiction after being trapped on long international flights with only his imagination and a laptop. His writing reflects the glorious colors of multi-culturism, the plight and passions of human life and the fascinating discoveries of science and technology. Being profoundly deaf never got in the way of learning how to speak and lip-read Russian, traveling the Trans-Siberian railroad at age sixteen or discovering the joyous mantras of devotees by walking the temples of Mumbai. You can read some of cross-genre short stories at https://shaveddogllc.com/ and can keep up with his latest work on facebook at https://www.facebook.com/mtclarkauthor

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

NORTHERN MINNESOTA

DAY ONE

UNDERSIZED pine trees hung onto the cliffside with gnarled roots, knotted and swollen. It was as if the squat trees were holding the crumbling sandstone together to save themselves from the fifty-foot drop into the water below.

Jay kicked a rock over the cliff’s edge. Halfway down its descent, the rock clipped the side of the ravine with a tick-tock and spun out to the middle of the clear water, punctuating its dive with a small splash.

Amado said the trick is to jump out far enough to miss those rocks near the edge. Jay tried to hide his trepidation. He shivered from the cool Minnesota breeze cutting at the light layer of sweat that accumulated during the walk up the ravine with Jenni. The sun was at its summer peak and would dry him off soon enough.

With his shirt tied around his waist, Jay’s white chest practically glowed against the red tan lines on his arms. There was no one else around for miles, so he really didn’t care. He wanted nothing more than a cool dip in the water hole at the base of the cliff.

I’m not so sure about this, said Jenni. She curled her dark fingers around Jay’s. Her head, full of tightly braided strands of black hair, was pulled back into a ponytail, making her deep brown eyes even more alluring. Her shoulders glistened in the sun and the tank top she wore was damp with sweat. Hiking up rocky paths was an enjoyable new experience for them. However, cliff diving wasn’t on her bucket list.

Jay pulled her hand up to his face and kissed her knuckles. We’ll do this together. It’ll be an incredible feeling.

It looks so much higher from here. Jenni wiped her brow with her manicured hands sporting solid-black nails. I’m all for adventure, but this… She leaned to peer over the cliff’s edge.

Jay squeezed her hand. Don’t look down. It makes it worse!

Oh lord, no. Uhuh. Sorry, Jay.

Jay smiled. He knew when to stop pushing things with Jenni. Next time.

Sure. Next time. Thank you. Her eyes brightened as the fear dissipated. She paused to take in the stunning view of the forest below their feet. Everything that grows here is so lush. The shade of green here is so deep, I have to touch the leaves to make sure they are real. Summer is beautiful here, but I’ve heard too many scary stories about winter.

I’ve been told that the secret to Minnesota winters is to embrace the outdoors. Snowboarding, snowmobiling, snowshoeing. Otherwise, you get cabin fever locked up inside all day, every day.

If every activity involves snow, I guess I’m going to get cabin fever. I hope we’re done with this mess before summer is over.

For a New Orleans girl, winters in Minnesota will be extra bitter. We’ll make the best of this. Ted is in New York sorting everything out. We’ll be out of FBI protection and back walking the sidewalks of Manhattan before long.

Jenni leaned in and kissed Jay on the nose. We don’t have to talk about it right now. I’m guessing you didn’t lead me all this way to not see me in my bathing suit?

Jay nodded back the direction they came. I saw a jump off point on the way up here. Solid footing and only a few feet up from the water. How about that?

I’m sure it’s not going to make for epic GoPro footage, but I’m game.

◆◆◆

Across the ravine, a light glinted, but went unnoticed by Jay and Jenni as they made their careful descent down the craggy sandstone outcroppings. Ray followed them through the scope of his rifle. He hung in the shadows behind a thick brush of buckthorn.

Damn kids. What are they doing out here?

Ray lowered his rifle and pulled up his military binoculars that hung around his neck. He visually searched the couple for any clues of who they were and why they were in this remote corner of northern Minnesota. The dark-skinned woman was voluptuous in every way and was visually striking to Ray, who had been raised in the monoculture of the Iron Range. Her partner was a white male with dusty brown-blonde hair. He looked like he might be German and Swedish, like many others who lived in the area. Ray caught a glimpse of the man’s sky-blue eyes as he helped his partner find her footing on a large rock jutting over the swimming hole. Ray gritted his teeth. They were a mixed-race couple and the idea disgusted him.

The woman shrieked as she jumped into the clear blue waters. She shrieked even louder when she came up for air. The water is freezing!

Ray squinted. Locals know water sourced from the hills run ice-cold. Now certain that these two were not from the area, he scanned their belongings scattered along the rocks. The couple had brought no camping gear with them; just hiking boots and lightly filled backpacks. The closest camp and usable road for a full-sized car was well over twenty miles away.

Their presence was not a good sign, but Ray held hope that they were just passing through, and had simply pitched camp close to the Mikom Trail. However, that camp was only used by the most experienced of hikers in the most rustic of circumstances. These city kids stuck out like a neon sign in a church sanctuary.

With a grimace, Ray quietly shifted his position to ease the stress on his bad knee. The lines in his leathered face darkened as he tilted his well-worn baseball cap further over his eyes. The sun was just past peak, so the kids would likely be loitering for at least another hour.

He rubbed his face with stubby, callused fingers worn from years of chopping wood and digging holes by hand. Today he was supposed to check his traps and hunt, but he was going nowhere until these vagrants left.

If they didn’t leave on their own, he would give them the boot himself.

◆◆◆

Jay dove in headfirst after Jenni. The cold water was a shock to his senses. He opened his eyes in the pristine water and followed the sun’s rays as they rippled across the large stones that formed the pool’s floor. Jay swam below Jenni’s kicking feet as she treaded water above him.

There were no fish. The stones were smooth to the touch, covered by a thin film of clear algae. Jay saw a dark outline of an opening under the ravine wall and swam towards it. As he got close, the inky darkness felt sinister as Jay wondered what critters might be hiding inside. He quickly changed direction and kicked up to the surface.

I’ve never seen such clear water, said Jay as he gulped and filled his lungs with clean, crisp air. This is incredible.

Jenni smiled and dog paddled to the shoreline. Too cold. My lips are turning blue. After negotiating the large slippery stones of the beach in a walking crouch, she sat where the sun was unobstructed by the tall pines.

Jay rolled over, filled his lungs with a large breath and floated, facing into the sun. This peace was unfamiliar to him. As a child, Jay had been tossed from foster family to foster family until he had decided he would be better off living on his own. As a teen runaway in New Orleans, his hours had been filled with worrying about where he’d get his next meal, and where to find a safe place for a night’s sleep.

A couple years ago, he and Jenni moved to New York to start anew. Louisiana was filled with too many dark memories. New York was exactly the distraction they sought. Their days were filled with the focused grind of budding careers, law for Jenni and finance for Jay, and their evenings were filled with the discovery of new restaurants and art galleries.

A puff of cloud floated into the sun’s way and grey shadows chilled his wet skin. The silence was broken by loud honks and grunts of trumpeter swans flying overhead. It sounded like a class of kindergartners trying to communicate with plastic toy bugles. Overlapping and sonorous, there was a playful urgency to their chatter. Jay was floating in the middle of their planned destination. The swans circled, increased their frantic honking, and flew away to find another refuge.

As the din died out, Jay heard a loud crack. It echoed in the ravine and caught Jenni’s attention. She turned and looked at Jay with a concerned gaze. Even in the most serene of moments, they never could truly relax.

Jay stared at the walls of American Bittersweet vines along top of the ravine, looking for motion. The deep-green leaves were impossible to see through. A lumbering bear was the likely culprit. The wildcats of the area were silent predators and would never yield a sound to their prey. If not a bear, it was a human and that was the predator they were most frightened of.

The chances were slim that the mob would find them here. Yet Jay was envisioning a goon in the bushes hovering over them with a snub-nosed revolver. It was a ridiculous feeling. However, his short time in New York was a lesson in the impossible being made possible and he had to be vigilant.

Crack.

It was louder this time. Closer.

Stroking quietly underwater, Jay paddled to the shore. Jenni hurriedly pulled her jeans over her bathing suit. Her deep brown eyes never left the opposite side of the ravine.

Hurry.

Jenni pulled a towel from her pack and held it out to Jay. They moved behind a large pine tree as they dried and dressed. They listened for more sounds and heard nothing. By the time they finished the laborious process of tying their hiking shoes, they were convinced that whatever had made the sound had left.

What do you think that was? whispered Jenni.

Jay shook his head and kept his gaze on the thicket where the last sound had come from.

Jenni said, We should go. We can eat on the way back.

Hang on. If it’s a bear, it’ll follow us, right? Don’t they say not to try to outrun a bear?

Jenni’s face scrunched up. Where did you hear that?

With an embarrassed shrug, Jay answered, YouTube?

I suppose that’s the same source that told you to pee on snakebites?

No, that was jellyfish stings.

Lord help me. Speaking as a beach girl from the South, please tell me you know that’s a myth.

Really? Jay’s voice moved a step up from a whisper. I’ve heard that one more than once.

So, that makes it true?

Jay smiled at Jenni’s look of incredulity. Her dark eyebrows were ready to fly off the top of her forehead. Her lips were in a tight pucker and her fists were firmly mounted on her hips as if she was ready to scold him.

You are going to be the best mother to our kids someday. That was a total momma look.

Jenni smiled and swatted at Jay. We need to get our wedding scheduled first.

A loud crunch and deep thud from the thicket were not only louder but closer. This was no animal.

They held their breath and stared at each other. Without a word, they held hands and quietly descended into the safe cover of the thick woods.

◆◆◆

Ray stood over a branch from a fallen pine tree. The kids were not getting the hint and he did not want to start throwing rocks. He jumped on the branch that was leaning across a rotting log. Not only did the branch snap, but also the log shifted and rolled several feet down the incline into a thick trunk with a thud. Ray grimaced and fell to a crouch, despite his knee’s protest. The sound was loud enough to scare even the bears in the area. Thankfully, it worked.

The kids stopped their chatter and rushed off. However, he cursed himself. Don’t need to be sparking rumors of anyone here in the woods. The threat of a bear already had them packing. They would have left on their own if I had given it more time. What if they alert the locals?

Ray always was impatient when it came to his land and country. Laws were meant to be followed and borders protected and enforced. While Ray was this land’s only resident and royalty, he did not tolerate outsiders trespassing. In his forty plus years here, he has had close calls. Only two people had ignored the laws of his land, and both had received a death sentence, rightful and swift.

Still, he was able to keep the peace and avoid detection. He was proud that he had not paid one dollar in taxes to an illegal United States federal government. Even Minnesota had fallen prey to the connivance of the men who seek to control the masses. Ray was smart enough to stay out of range of cell phone towers and avoid detection. He was very different from the sheep living in the cities. Those mindless idiots wallowed in their ignorance, with radio waves controlling their every move. He witnessed their addiction through the incessant staring at their phones. During his rare trips into town for supplies, he could see the compulsion growing worse each year.

But not here. Not in the United Lands of Freemen. With a clear head, he will hold fast his defense. The ULF was the world’s last refuge from invaders and any attempt to breach its borders would be met with force.

Out of habit, Ray rubbed his tattoo on his arm while he watched the couple leave. It was a snake, coiled around his forearm, extending from his wrist to the top of his bicep. It’s forked tongue jutted out between its exposed fangs, and ready to strike. Its formerly crisp lines had blurred with age and loosened skin, but the ink was as permanent as Ray’s strength of will.

◆◆◆

The hike back to their campsite was better than any trip to the zoo. Mourning doves cooed, their sounds soft and relaxed, easing the tension from Jay and Jenni’s shoulders. Warblers chirped, metallic and buzzing. No longer fearful of being followed, Jay and Jenni enjoyed a sandwich watching a large woodpecker jackhammer a white pine that towered up through the forest canopy.

The woods were a new world for them to experience and far from their lives in the South. Their newfound peace was a gift they savored together. They would have all night to talk by the light of the campfire. Right now, joy was found in identifying a new species of bird and keeping score of who had spotted the buck with the largest rack of antlers.

Jay led the way back. He was surprised by his own skill at navigating the woods. His sense of true north was uncanny, and his picture-perfect memory served him well in identifying markers for their effortless return. It was different for Jenni. While in the rest of her life, she was a brilliant lawyer, she lacked not only a sense of direction and had only a clumsy awareness of her surroundings. Jay was horrified to see her arms cut up and bleeding after their first hike. He had not a single scratch, after spending the walk holding out his hands at the right times to avoid the thorny branches and twigs. It was like a game.

But Jenni just barreled forward, expecting the branches to step aside for the queen she was. She got better with practice but benefitted most from an extra layer of protective clothing. She perpetually complained about being cold in the mid-seventies temperature, so the layers were doubly worthwhile. Jay understood. Jenni grew up in the oppressive heat of New Orleans. For Jay, this was heaven. Not too hot and not too cold. Just perfect for short sleeves, shorts and hiking boots. Here, you only broke into a sweat from exertion. In New Orleans, Jay broke a sweat sitting in the shade.

Back at their campsite, Jay figured they had a couple hours before sunset and immediately set to find wood for their fire. Jenni put her hands on her hips, scanned their temporary home and considered the best place to put up her sore feet.

A well-constructed cabin, likely built several decades ago, was the centerpiece. The pine logs were several inches thick and stacked perfectly, with no gaps. The window frames held together cracked glass which had likely broken years ago. Strong aluminum screens on the inside of the frame kept mosquitos out of the cabin at night. The roof was a single angle, high in front and dropping to the back. Any snow that collected would slide down the back and provide even more protective shelter from strong winter winds.

Ted Stone had warned them about Minnesota winters. While Ted was a life-long NYPD detective who knew Manhattan better than any tour guide, especially its seedy underbelly, he was well traveled. It was rare he visited the same destination twice, however he often returned to fish the crystal-clear lakes of northern Minnesota. Once, one of his fishing buddies recommended an ice fishing trip to change things up. Ted never made that mistake again. Winters in northern Minnesota were brutal and unforgiving.

Yet, it was summer, and it was Ted’s brilliant idea to hide here. Last week had been a shocking blur of explosions and threats made on Jay and Jenni’s lives. Under Ted’s direction, they snuck away in the most inconspicuous way they could; they hailed a taxicab downtown as if they were heading to a show. Jay and Jenni left everything they owned behind without hesitation. Most importantly, they discarded their phones, credit cards and anything that could allow someone to hunt them down.

Fake identifications, provided by witness protection services, enabled a zigzag of separate flights to shake their potential followers. After landing in the Minneapolis-St. Paul airport, Ted met them under disguise as a limo driver. They continued their deceptive voyage by car, circling the Twin Cities before heading due north into the middle of one million square miles of uninhabited gentle hills, rocky cliffs, lakes, streams and endless forest.

All along their desperate rush into hiding, dark clouds hung overhead. Jay and Jenni were not being pursued by a run-of-the-mill criminal but were being hunted by a sophisticated organization that could scour the digital world for clues on the location of its target.

Jay and Jenni were being hunted in the name of revenge. In Ted and Jenni’s attempts to quash the work of a lone hacker hell-bent on destroying Jay’s life, the leader of Cosa Nostra was killed. In actuality, the US marshals had done the deed and it had been front page news. Law enforcement would never miss an opportunity to send a message that crime never paid. The fact that the boss’ name was Johnny The Snake Gjerdes conveyed guilt beyond a doubt and was perfect publicity. The public ate it up. The mob seethed. Several months later, the mob was able to discern the series of events that led to their leaders’ death and formed their own conclusion; Ted, Jay and Jennie must pay with their lives.

The last time Jay and Jenni saw Ted was when he introduced them to their hiking guide, Amado. Ted bid goodbye and slipped away to his own place of seclusion.

For the past week, Jay and Jenni stayed in the cabin and waited for a dead drop message declaring they were safe to come out from under cover. Until then, Jay and Jenni would follow every one of Ted’s instructions. Stay close to camp. Pick up dead drops every four days. Avoid contact with other people. Use the flare gun only in emergencies.

Jay returned from his search for firewood. He dragged the trunk of a fallen pine tree to a clearing surrounded by wood chips. He paused before grabbing the small axe stuck in a stump.

I just realized this is the only weapon we have.

That’s not a good opening line, said Jenni. You could have opened with ‘Honey, I’m home.’

Maybe I’ve grown paranoid?

We have reason to be paranoid. We survived a bomb going off in our front yard. The fact that the mob were able to kill that hacker, Scott, in prison was what really got to me. They have eyes everywhere, so you would think they’d understand that we’re the victims here. Scott was behind everything that led to Snake’s death. This whole mess should have ended with his death. Why can’t they just let it go?

I think it was Charles Dickens who said, ‘Vengeance and retribution require a long time.’ We may never be able to shake this. The more I think about it, we should reconsider returning to Manhattan. I’ve got some memories there I’d rather forget.

I don’t blame you. My co-workers would miss me. I’m the source of their gossip. How will they replace someone who has a fiancé who was hunted by not only hackers, but the mob and NYPD?

And hid in the sewer.

When this blows over, I know my firm will be more than understanding if I ask to relocate to a different office.

I’m not sure there is an office in Minnesota.

Here? Honey, there is no staying here. It’s pretty right now, but Ted warned us about winter. A few cold days and I’ll be Jack Torrance from the Shining with your axe. Do you realize it can get as cold as fifty below?

It’s rare. And that’s only when you factor in the wind chill.

Oh, that’s real comforting.

Jay rocked the axe blade out of the stump and flexed. If I keep chopping wood like this, I’m going to look like that actor from the Thor movies. That’s a bonus, right?

Jenni shook her head in disbelief at Jay’s bubbly demeanor. He had been trapped in depression and mistrust ever since he survived his ordeal. It doesn’t matter to me. Just be healthy and keep all your body parts connected. We need all your fingers if we’re going to survive this unplanned camping trip.

Tomorrow morning. Our second dead drop. I hope it’s filled with good news. I’ve enjoyed this time, but I’m worried you’re going to tire of my peach cobbler if we stay out here another week.

Jenni replied with a weak smile.

What’s wrong?

We’re going to be here more than just a couple weeks. She walked up to Jay and playfully patted his chest. If Jay kept this spirited attitude, she wouldn’t mind staying a little longer. Your optimism is cute, but the mob aren’t going to give up easily.

Ted said that Hofstra and the FBI are all over this and with Ted’s experience chasing the mob his entire life, Hofstra is going to have a head start. Don’t underestimate her.

Ted is in hiding, too. I highly doubt he’s an active collaborator right now.

Jay put down the axe and embraced Jenni. Your pessimism is even cuter. There is no one else I’d rather have watching out for us. Ted knows what he’s doing. Let him do his thing.

◆◆◆

Shrill beeps woke Ted from his nap. With a grunt, he dropped his feet to the floor from the uncomfortable cot and rubbed his face. He pulled his jet-black hair back into the same tight ponytail he’d had for decades. Another grunt preceded his rise from the cot. He stood tall with the ceiling only a handful of inches from the top of his head. He stretched with his arms awkwardly splayed across the pine ceiling. Ted spent his life ducking below low hanging obstacles, but the rustic cabins in Minnesota felt oppressive for someone threatening seven feet of height.

Amado, his guide, said the low ceilings made the cabins feel cozy and inviting. Ted felt like a dog in a crate begging to go outside for a walk. With a grimace, he turned on a tiny monitor to discern the reasons behind the incessant beeping.

His communication with the FBI came only by encrypted messages on an appliance that had a tiny six by six-inch screen embedded in its smooth black finish. Along one side was a thin slot to receive a custom hardware key designed to decrypt and encrypt messages. That special key was kept inside the large gold cross that dangled from Ted’s neck and nestled in his pepper-black chest hair.

Ted inserted the decryption key and pressed the button to check for messages. Like it was all week, there were no messages and Ted was not surprised. Out of abundance of caution, the FBI would only send a message if it were absolutely necessary. VERIFCATION COMPLETED flashed on the small screen. Message or not, he needed to check in every day to communicate their wellbeing. He returned the key to his necklace with a quiet click.

There were no other electronic devices in the cabin. Solar panels hidden in the cabin roof provided a trickle charge to a battery that had been embedded in the log walls. The device was tucked away in the top drawer of the dresser, and only came into view when the drawer was opened with a turn of the knob in the correct direction.

Ted was jealous of the capabilities of the FBI compared to those of the NYPD. He would have caught a lot of made men in his career with resources like this at his disposal. The most technologically advanced item he had early in the force was an electric pencil sharpener and, even then, he refused to use it. It was meditative to turn the tiny crank and grind away at the dull end of a pencil. If only the sharpeners were larger, he would have used them to extract confessions from the worst of criminals, one finger at a time. Of course, the confessional would begin with an insertion of their middle finger.

Ted had a map of the state park unfolded on the dresser. In the middle of a large section of green nothingness, there was a small circle made in red pen. He and his guide picked this hiding spot for Jay and Jenni. If they got injured, it’d be his fault. His former partner, Elmer, always told him, Don’t let the medicine be worse than the affliction. There were dangers in the Minnesota forests, but few that were deadly. Nature had its pecking order, and humans sat high up the pyramid. If they didn’t get overconfident in their hiking abilities, Ted was convinced that they would be fine, and would leave with a deep appreciation of the beauty of the north woods.

Ted folded up the map, powered down the communication device and closed the dresser door. A loud click signaled that his secret was safely locked away.

Ted glanced at this watch. Amado was going to arrive in twenty minutes and that was how long it took him to tie his hiking boots, which had more than two dozen eyelets and hooks. He had to hold his breath, bend down to snake the laces through a few hooks, come back up for air, and repeat. If someone were listening at the door, they’d think he was in the middle of a workout with heavy weights.

But Amado was insistent about suitable hiking attire. Hiking boots. Thick khaki Carhartt pants that had several pockets running along his legs. Two layers of shirts, despite the pleasant Minnesota weather. They never left for their hikes unprepared. Accidents were the real dangers of the north, not the threat of wild animals. Emergency personnel were only seconds away from an accident in Manhattan. In the north, an emergency response was measured in hours or even days if there was a response at all.

Like clockwork, Amado announced his arrival with two knocks before entering. In these parts, privacy was apparently relegated to the outhouse. The walls were paper-thin, and most cabins were lucky if their doors filled the entire opening.

Ready to go, Marvin?

Marvin Theodore Stone had been known as Ted all his life, but Marvin conveniently came into use when hiding his identity. All Amado knew about the whole situation was that the FBI was paying him well to keep him safely hidden.

Amado was nearly two feet shorter than Ted, but sinewy in his build. His calves rippled with every step. He wore shirts a size too small, accentuating his pecs and flat abs. His hair was thick and