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“But this might be my only chance,” Mara protested. “They close the road the day after tomorrow.”
“We’re still close to thirteen thousand feet elevation here,” he explained to her. “We need to get at least as far as Echo Lake before it really starts snowing.”
“Half an hour,” she pleaded.
He gave her a considering look. “Fifteen minutes. But if the snow thickens, we start back immediately.”
They pulled into the parking lot, and although the chauffeur had his pick of spots, he kept driving until he got as close to the lake as he could. Before Special Agent McKinnon could say anything, the chauffeur told him in his thickly accented English, “I will wait with the car.” Mara saw the two men exchanging meaningful glances, and realized they were both worried about the weather.
She jumped out of the SUV and walked as quickly as she could toward the lake, zipping up her jacket and fumbling for her gloves, which she soon realized she’d forgotten. It had gotten colder ever since the storm clouds had blotted out the sun, so she thrust her hands into her pockets to keep them warm. Snow flurries were swirling, but the lake was still easily visible, the cliffs and ridges surrounding it mirrored in the water’s surface.
She heard Special Agent McKinnon behind her, but she didn’t waste any of her precious seconds turning around. She breathed deeply, pulling the crisp, clean air into her lungs as she drank in the view, wanting to preserve this memory. Someday, when she was old and gray, she would bring it out of her mental photo album and remind herself of this special day—the lakes, the mountains, the meadows, the man. Especially the man, but she didn’t need to see him again to remember him. He was already imprinted in her mind...and her heart.
The wind picked up suddenly, sending ripples across the surface of the lake, carrying heavier snowflakes with it. The few small groups of people still wandering around the lake’s edge turned and headed for the parking lot. The last couple was just passing them when Special Agent McKinnon said, “We should go, too, Princess.” Perhaps he raised his voice to be heard over the wind, or perhaps the wind itself carried his voice farther than he intended. Because that’s when it happened.
“Wally! Wally! Look!” the woman of the couple said excitedly, tugging at the arm of the man at her side. “It’s her. That’s Princess Mara! I’m sure of it. I saw her on a TV special last summer!”
The man named Wally turned, camera in hand, and before Mara could shield her face he had snapped a picture of her.
“No!” Mara couldn’t prevent her cry of dismay. But even before the word left her mouth the man named Wally was staring down the business end of a SIG SAUER held in the steady hand of Special Agent McKinnon.
“Camera,” he demanded, his voice as cold as the icy wind blowing across the lake.
“What?” said the man named Wally, as he and the woman with him stared in sudden shock and horror at how quickly the incident had escalated into something neither of them had expected.
“Give me the camera,” Special Agent McKinnon said, holding out his left hand while his right hand never wavered. Mutely, the man named Wally held out the camera, which was snatched from his hand. “You’ve got three choices,” Special Agent McKinnon said, his voice as implacable as his face. “One, I can toss the camera in the lake. You’re out an expensive camera, as well as any pictures you’ve taken today. Two, I can take the memory card. Then you’ve only lost whatever pictures are stored on it. Or three, I can erase one picture. But to do that I need two hands. It’s your call.”
The man named Wally seemed too terrified to speak, but the woman with him said, in a high-pitched voice, “Just erase the picture,” and she huddled behind the man she was with.
That quickly the gun was holstered and Special Agent McKinnon stepped back a few paces. He reviewed the camera, his gaze flicking from the camera to the couple in front of him, and back to the camera. Then he pressed one button, and another. Finished, he told Wally, “Catch,” and tossed the camera to him. The man juggled the camera, but caught it. And when he looked up the gun had been drawn again.
“Put the camera in your pocket, turn around, and walk to your car. Don’t stop for any reason. If you stop, I’m going to assume you’re a threat.” He paused. “And if you ever take anyone’s picture again without permission, especially hers,” he said, indicating Mara with a tilt of his head, “you’re a dead man. You got that? And if you talk about this, just remember that means I’ll know where to find you.”
