Snow and ice began showering down on top of him. He could hear Vance calling frantically over the radio. The snow was beginning to fall faster, and Harvath knew he didn’t have much time.

Through the shower of snow, he quickly looked above him along the ridge as best he could, then looked down. Both above and below him there were marks consistent with the detonation of some sort of explosive device. From the little he could see, it had not been the type of device fired by avalanche-control cannons from the valley. The spread and pattern were completely different.

When Scot let out a little more slack to drop closer to the area beneath him, he was hit from above by a sheet of ice that felt as if it weighed at least one hundred pounds, and he was knocked right off the face.

He tightened his grip frantically on his rope, knowing that it only had a finite amount of feet before it ran out. He cursed himself for being taken off guard by the ice sheet and loosening his grip in the first place. Scot fell with sickening speed, all the while fighting to regain control. He bumped his head several times, and then, with a loud snap, everything came to a halt.

With the blood rushing to his head, Scot realized that he was hanging upside down by his safety line. He made a mental note to kiss Nick and Vance right after he punched both of their lights out for letting him fall so far. About ten feet above him, he could see where his primary rope had come to its end.

Knowing, or actually hoping, Nick and Vance would be doing their best to pull him back up to the ridge, Scot summoned what strength he could and tried to right himself. His body was weak and sore, but it complied. As he swung back into the face and dug in with his crampons, Scot promised himself that very soon he’d take that long overdue vacation.

23

Back in the helicopter, Scot accepted Vance and Nick’s excuse for letting so much slack on the safety line escape. He also decided not to punch both of their lights out.

As Vance explained it to Scot while he lay exhausted yet safely supine back upon the ridge, Scot’s slam into the face of Squaw Peak had caused what they all feared, a secondary avalanche. It was small and came to a stop well before it could cause harm to anyone below in the valley, but Scot had acted like a magnet for the falling snow and ice, which piled on top of him and exponentially increased his weight upon the rope.

Pitons were popping left and right, and both Vance and Nick thought for sure they would be yanked over the edge. Neither of them ever even considered letting go; that just simply wasn’t an option. They were able to finally dig in and get control of Scot’s fall at the very last minute. The burn marks in their gloves attested to their courage and Scot’s extremely good fortune. He wanted to kiss the guys, but before he could, a voice from the Deer Valley helipad came over the headset. It instructed the pilot to return to the pad to shuttle an FBI team to a crime scene in nearby Midway.

“Midway?” Scot leaned forward and said while tapping Vance on the shoulder. “That’s just the other side of the mountain, isn’t it? What do you suppose is going on over there?”

Vance was reading Scot’s mind. He radioed back to Deer Valley asking where the FBI team was to be taken. As the information was relayed across the headsets, the pilot nodded that he knew where it was, and Vance pointed for the pilot to go in that direction.

“Lemme guess. You’re going to take responsibility for this one too?” queried Nick.

Scot only smiled and asked the pilot if there was a pass or anything like that connecting the area around Death Chute to the farm they were headed toward in Midway.

“There are a couple, but only one that could be considered a pass in the sense that it can be completely traversed,” replied the pilot.

“Do me a favor and follow it,” said Scot.

Vance turned in the copilot’s seat and asked, “What are you thinking?”

“Just a hunch.”

“Great,” said Nick, leaning his head against the window of the chopper and staring up at the ceiling, “another hunch. Let’s see if we can get fired on this hunch, or better yet, maybe we can actually get killed this time.”

“Not a chance,” said Scot as he placed a thankful and reassuring hand on Nick’s shoulder. “When the helicopter touches down, I’m getting out and you’re going back to Deer Valley.”

“Too bad,” said Vance, turning back around in his seat to look out the front. “This was just starting to get interesting.”

Before jumping out of the helicopter, Harvath thanked his friends and asked the pilot to do him a favor and make sure the FBI got to enjoy some of the Wasatch Mountains’ scenic beauty on their way over. The pilot laughed and gave him the thumbs-up.

Scot straightened up once he was sure he had cleared the rotor blades and walked over toward the three Wasatch County Sheriff’s Department Suburbans parked in front of the Madduxes’ farmhouse.

“FBI?” said a deputy sheriff as Harvath approached, digging his credentials from his pocket.

“Secret Service. I’m Agent Harvath, head of-”

“The president’s advance team. I remember reading your name on the memo that came around about the visit. I’m Ben MacIntyre, deputy sheriff. You working with the FBI on this?”

“Yeah. Whenever the president is involved or we think there may be some sort of connection, we tackle these things together,” lied Harvath right through his teeth. “Why don’t you fill me in on what you’ve got.”

Deputy MacIntyre removed a small notebook from the breast pocket of his coat and started reading: “About seven-thirty this morning we got a call from the daughter of the old couple that lives here, Joseph and Mary Maddux. Apparently, after church yesterday, they passed up on the normal Sunday dinner at the daughter’s house because the father wasn’t feeling well. The daughter tried to check in with them a couple of times last night and couldn’t get ahold of anyone. She thought maybe they’d turned in early and, being older folks, just didn’t hear the phone.

“So, this morning she tries again, several times, and there’s still no answer. Worried that they might have been in an accident or something, she called our office and asked if we’d swing by.”

“Your office?” asked Harvath. “Why didn’t she come herself?”

“She lives down in Orem,” said the deputy, referring back to his notes. “It’s a pretty long drive up here, especially with the weather. Plus she works and didn’t think the boss would let her. A couple of our guys know, or I should say knew, the Madduxes, so they didn’t mind coming out.”

“Knew? They’re dead?”

“Yup, Mr. Maddux was shot close range to the head, and Mrs. Maddux suffered multiple gunshot wounds.”

“Have you contacted your sheriff?”

“Yes, sir. He’s been over with your people in Deer Valley working that avalanche, but now he’s on his way back here with the FBI. We also have our medical examiner on the way as well as a homicide team coming up from Salt Lake County. The highway patrol and the state park rangers are buttoning down all the roads around here.”

“Well done, Deputy. You did everything by the book. As I was already in the air, I was routed here first. Has anyone touched anything inside?”

“Nope, the first officer on the scene had his winter gloves on and only took them off to check for a pulse on each of the victims. He tracked a little snow inside, but we’ve laid down some plastic, so that ought to lessen contamination of the scene.”

“Good job. I trust your sheriff told you no one else was to be allowed in until he arrived with the FBI?”

“He certainly did.”

“Good. Make sure you send them in to me when they get here.”

“Sir, my orders are that no one gets in until the sheriff and the FBI get here.”