Gray Mountain: A Novel(119)

She mumbled, “More stuff they didn’t teach us in law school.”

A yellow light flashed twice in front of them and Jeff stopped the Jeep. “Here’s our backup team.” Vic Canzarro yanked open a rear door and jumped inside. No greetings, no hellos, nothing but “Nice move, Sam, why did you leave the cabin?”

“Knock it off,” Jeff barked over his shoulder. “Have you seen anything?”

“No. Let’s go!”

Jeff turned on the lights and they were moving again, much faster now, and were soon on a paved county road. The fear was fading, replaced by a bit of relief. Each mile took them farther away, they thought. Five minutes passed without a word. Vic was texting away, his rifle still in his lap.

Finally, Jeff calmly asked her, “Why did you leave the cabin?”

“Because I heard gunshots, and I thought I heard someone scream. I thought you were hurt, so I panicked and went to the trail.”

“What the hell were the gunshots?” Vic thundered from the backseat.

Jeff began laughing and was quite amused with himself. He said, “Well, I was racing through the woods, pitch-black, you know, and I ran into a black bear. A big one. They’re hibernating this time of the year so they’re practically brain-dead. This guy wasn’t moving too quick, but he was irritated anyway. Figures it’s his neck of the woods, you know, so he takes offense at getting run over by a trespasser. We had words, he wouldn’t move, I had no choice but to shoot him.”

“You shot the bear?”

“Yes, Samantha, I also shot a human, though I suspect he’s okay.”

“Aren’t you worried about the police?”

Vic laughed loudly as he cracked a window and lit a cigarette.

“No smoking in here,” Jeff said.

“Sure, sure.”

Jeff glanced at Samantha and said, “No, dear, I’m not worried about the police or sheriff or anyone else, not for shooting an armed thug who was stalking me on my own property. This is Appalachia. No cop will investigate, and no prosecutor will prosecute because no jury will ever convict.”

“What will happen to the guy?”

“I guess he’ll have a sore leg. He’s lucky. The bullet could have hit him between the eyes.”

“Spoken like a true sniper.”

Vic said, “He’ll show up in an emergency room with a tall tale. Did you get everything?”

“Every piece of paper. Every scrap so skillfully confiscated by my dear brother.”

“Donovan would be proud of us,” Vic said.


In the town of Big Stone Gap, they turned in to a Taco Bell and waited in the drive-thru. Jeff ordered a sack of food with drinks, and as he was paying Vic opened the door and got out. He said, “We’re headed to Bristol.” Jeff nodded as if that was expected. He watched closely as Vic opened the door to his pickup, a truck Samantha recognized from her excursion into Hammer Valley with Donovan.

She said, “Okay, what are we doing now?”

“He’ll follow us to Bristol and watch our tail. He also has the documents we hauled out last Saturday, the first batch.”

“I thought you said Vic has a pregnant girlfriend and wanted no part of this.”

“It’s true. She is pregnant, but they got married a week ago. You want a taco?”

“I want a martini.”

“I doubt if you can find a good one around here.”

“What, may I ask, is in Bristol?”

“An airport. Beyond that, if I tell you then I’ll have to kill you.”

“You’re on a rampage, go ahead.”

The aroma hit them, and they were suddenly starving.


There were only five airplanes parked on the general aviation ramp at the Tri-Cities Regional Airport near Bristol, Tennessee. The four small ones—two Cessnas and two Pipers—were dwarfed by the fifth, a sleek, glistening private jet with all lights on and the stairs down and waiting. Samantha, Jeff, and Vic admired the aircraft from a distance as they waited for instructions. After a few minutes, three large young men dressed in black met them outside the terminal. The documents—in two coolers, three backpacks, and two cardboard boxes—were handed over and immediately wheeled out to the jet.

One of the three men said to Jeff, “Mr. London would like to see you.” Vic shrugged and said, “Oh why not? Let’s check out his little toy.”

“I’ve actually flown on it,” Jeff said. “It’s a step up from the Skyhawk.”

“Well aren’t you the big shot,” Vic snarled.

They were led through the empty terminal, onto the ramp, and to the jet. Jarrett London was waiting at the top of the stairs with a huge smile and a drink in hand. He waved them up and welcomed them to his “second home.”

Samantha had a friend at Georgetown whose family owned a jet, so this was not her first glimpse at one. The massive chairs were covered in deep, rich leathers. Everything was trimmed in gold plate. They sat around a table while a flight attendant took their drink orders. Just take me to Paris, Samantha wanted to say. And come get me in a month.

It was clear that Vic and London knew each other well. As Jeff gave the details of their escape from Gray Mountain, the drinks were served. “Would you like dinner?” London asked in Samantha’s direction.