I happen to like Jarod and will keep writing about him so that the title of this group will be what it was intended to be A PretendersHaven.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Walstaff stood for a moment, and then bundling himself up, ran outside. The wind was picking up, and the local population was rushing inside, but he didn't care.

He had the location of the Station in his gloved hands and he shoved it into his pocket. Thankfully the Snowmobile still had enough gas to get there and back. When he returned, he would have Jarod with him and perhaps a cushy position in the Centre, perhaps the Tower.

He deserved it for what he went through.

There was a short wave radio in the Snowmobile as well as a radio phone. He turned on the former and twisted the dial until he got the local station. It called for blizzard conditions. The citizens were advised to stay inside. It repeated the same information in Inuit and French.

However when he estimated the speed of the wind —learning about flying sure paid off. You found out about weather conditions and patterns —it would take an hour to get to the Station and an hour to get back, plenty of time before the full storm hit. That left him about twenty minutes to get Jarod.

And then he started thinking. Did the Centre man send in the video to their inside men at the Station? He ran back inside. The body had not moved which was good. He had killed him. Walstaff checked the communications centre and found that indeed it had worked. Whoever was there would believe he was actually Jarod's father.

He changed his plans. Once he got there, he would hug Jarod and get him outside. Once outside, a sharp blow to the Pretender's head and a call to the Centre and his position would be assured.

He put on a ski mask, reattached his hood, ran outside, and started the Snowmobile. Someone yelled at him, "Don't be a fool!" but Walstaff ignored him and ten minutes later was out in the tundra.

Since the Snowmobile had a locator, he didn't have to worry about getting off course. What had to worry about was running into some Polar Bears or going over a thin bit of ice that covered a lake.

He had the number of the Centre in his pocket and wondered if the radio phone could contact them. He made the necessary connections and was soon talking with Mr. Lyle.

"So you're Walstaff," said Lyle in his unassuming voice that fooled many. "Did you complete your assignment?"

"Yes. I just had to get my picture taken, got sent up here. Now how long is this going on?"

"Where is Lux?"

"Lux?" That must mean the Centre employee up here? I have to think fast. "Lux is busy fixing up loose ends. He's checking to see if the Station received the communiqué."

There was silence and then Raines got on the phone. "Excellent Walstaff. That's what I expected Lux to do. Now we suspect that Jarod will get in touch with his father. . Here are the directions."

Walstaff listened to them and learned that he was to go to a small motel near where Osbourne's daughter ran a flight school. Jarod would no doubt go in there for a cup of coffee. He was to join the Pretender, make with the father and son routine and when he got him outside, the Centre sweepers would descend.

Meanwhile they would take care of the real Major Charles.

However Walstaff didn't like the idea of sharing his capture of Jarod with anybody. He turned off the radio phone and continued his journey towards the Station.

He used the top button on his jacket and looked around at the scenery, what there was of it: white, white, and more white and it wasn't getting any better.

The blizzard engulfed him five minutes later. He wiped his face but couldn't see a thing in front of his eyes, not even the indicator, but he knew he was almost there. He also felt as if his face was numb.

He checked his watch, he still had five minutes before he got to the Station. So far everything was fine, but he was getting a little tired. He pulled the blanket closer around his body.

Suddenly the blades of the snowmobile ran into something. Walstaff turned off the motor, and got out. The blades had dug into a snow bank. He got out the shovel and started to dig around, but it was no use. The bank was of solid ice. Disgusted, the actor wrapped an extra scarf around his neck, put on some extra gloves and started towards the Station

But as he walked towards it, his feet started to bog down. He should've used snowshoes like the natives up here did, and that Station seemed to get farther and farther away. He checked the watch again.

"What?" he explained. The watch had stopped. And then he remembered. In his haste to get to the assignment, he had picked out his regular watch, not the moisture resistance chorographic one designed for Arctic Temperatures. Already he started to feel sleepy.

Just a little way longer. A few more steps. The snow's blinding my eyes. My boots are feeling heavy.

He couldn't keep his eyes open. He walked mainly on instinct. The footprints in the snow seemed rather familiar. I wonder who that is. Maybe if I talk to him, I can...

And that was all.