Read Online Red Snow by Michael Slade - Free Book Online

campaign among its forces, so the world was not quite as unprepared as it had once been. Still, the supervirus would wipe out most of the human population, in a world ill-equipped for the double whammy of the smallpox-Ebola time bomb.
    “Time for bed,” Mephisto said. “A big day tomorrow.”
    “When do I get to see what’s in the box?” asked Scarlett.
    “Curiosity killed the cat.”
    “Meow,” she purred.
    “I guess it won’t hurt to give you a peek, since you’ll be the one to let loose the monster.”
    With Scarlett watching, Mephisto eased Pandora’s box out of its watertight case.
    Pausing for suspense, he raised the lid.
    “Do you grasp the irony?”
    “No,” she replied.
    “What’s the second most recognizable logo in the world?”
    “McDonald’s Golden Arches?”
    He shook his head. “The scarlet uniform of the RCMP. Canada’s the only country with a cop as its national symbol. The image is trademarked.”
    “So?”
    “What’s the most recognizable logo in the world?”
    Scarlett clapped her hands.
    “Wicked!” she said.
    Mephisto smirked.
    “Wicked indeed,” he concurred.

Blue Murder
     
    The next day
    Whistler awoke to a sky full of snow and the need to rethink plans. Only diehard skiers and boarders would spend the day on the slopes. Olympic hopefuls would give it a try—after all, that’s why they were here—but if the forecast delivered, most would forsake the whiteout for indoors. And the El Dorado Resort would mine even more gold than expected. Eureka!
    “Good morning,” Jenny answered the phone in her perkiest voice. “Hospitality.”
    “Give me the manager.”
    “I’m sorry. Mr. Hawksworth is currently engaged.”
    “Interrupt him,” snapped the female caller.
    “Perhaps I can be of assistance,” Jenny countered, deflecting rudeness with patience, as she’d been taught.
    “There’s a dead man in your hotel. Do I get to speak to your boss now? Or would you rather I grab his attention by screaming blue murder in the lobby?”
    “One moment, please,” Jenny said, just as lively as before. Then she got up from her desk, knocked on Hawksworth’s door, and barged in to alert the hospitality czar.
    “Impeccable” was the best word to describe Niles Hawksworth. He was a spiffy-looking gent in an elegant Armani suit, whose clean-shaven scalp emphasized his handsome face, as if hair was a distraction used to hide flaws. No detail was too small for the hawk-like eyes, and no function too big for the military tactician in his soul. In short, Hawksworth was a consummate hotelier.
    “Not now, Jenny. I’m not to be disturbed. Didn’t I make that clear to you?”
    “Yes, Mr. Hawksworth, but—”
    “No buts about it. The Olympics are a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for any hotel. If ‘Going for the Gold’ is a success tonight, the El Dorado will be the place to be come February. A reputation like that will draw the elite for decades.”
    “But, Mr. Hawksworth, there’s a dead man in the resort!”
    The hospitality manager blinked.
    “Who says?” he asked.
    “The pushy woman on line one. She insists on speaking with you.”
    “A dead man! Good Lord. We can’t have Olympians spreading that news at ‘Going for the Gold.’”
    Handing Jenny pen and pad to record what was said, he punched on the speakerphone.
    “Niles Hawksworth, hospitality manager.”
    “There’s a dead cop in room 807,” mumbled the caller. “Have Special X figure it out.”
    *     *     *
     
    Scarlett slammed down the receiver and smiled to herself. With a gloved finger, she emptied her mouth of the gauze pads she’d used to muffle her voice.
    Let the games begin, she thought as she opened the door to the confining phone booth.
    *     *     *
     
    Meanwhile, the clock ticked on …
    About seventy miles south, in the heart of Vancouver, the Omega Countdown Clock ticked off the seconds remaining until the Winter Games began, on February 12. Back when that towering