Remote Read Online Free PDF

responsible.”
    “I know.  But I can’t just walk away, either.  Not until I know for sure.”

C HAPTER F OUR
     
    Malcolm Tanner hummed along with the Beatles as he drove down the narrow confines of the logging road, the SUV’s four wheel drive and heavy-duty suspension handling the deep ruts and steep incline easily.  The mix he was listening to was one he’d made himself; “Maxwell’s Silver Hammer” finished and “Mack the Knife” began.
    The trees crowded in on either side, dense green rainforest growth now white with snow.  Tanner was very much an urbanite—the SUV was primarily a status symbol—but he had to admit he was enjoying these little treks into the woods.  Even the chilly November temperatures didn’t dampen his enthusiasm; he just kept the heater in the cab cranked along with the music. 
    He checked the GPS tracker on the dash again to make sure he was still heading in the right direction.  It showed his target was around a hundred yards to the east, and the logging road at this point was running north/south.  Probably about as close as I’m going to get, he thought, and brought the SUV to a halt. 
    He unplugged the GPS unit and took it with him, flipping up the hood of his coat as he got out of the truck.  It wasn’t that cold, but Tanner disliked being even a little chilly.  The coat was a Mountain Equipment Co-op jacket made of Gore-Tex and specifically designed for the Northwest’s damp climate; it was brand-new, as were the Timberland hiking boots on his feet. 
    He followed the signal through the undergrowth, his footsteps crunching on the unblemished snow.  It was mid-afternoon, but not much light filtered down though the pines from the overcast sky.
    He found what he was looking for snagged near the top of a tree.  Fortunately, the trees in this part of the forest had already been logged some time ago; most were no more than twenty feet tall, with branches that were spaced close enough together to make them easy to climb.  It took him no more than a few minutes to scramble two-thirds of the way up the narrow trunk, after which he used an extendable reaching tool tipped with a metal claw to grab the black plastic garbage bag dangling from the end of a branch.   A few limp-looking, half-deflated black balloons bobbed from a length of fishing line attached to it.
    Back on the ground, he cut open the bag with a small knife. When he was satisfied its payload was intact, he took it back to the SUV and threw it in the back, then started looking for a place to turn around.
     
    ***
Remote: Hello, Closer.
 
Jack: Hello, Remote.  I’ve been looking over that file you sent.
 
Remote: You have questions, I’m sure.
 
Jack: I do.  If you can control people’s minds, why not just have your targets eliminate themselves?
 
Remote: There are certain physical limitations to what I can accomplish, as well as practical and philosophical considerations.  Leaving pragmatism aside for the moment, let me address the deeper issues.
For one thing, don’t you find a certain aptness in evil being extinguished by those who profit from it?
 
Jack: I suppose you could look at it that way—at least in the lawyer’s case.  But a mechanic?  A dentist?  Those are innocents.
 
Remote: Are you familiar with the phrase, “All evil needs to do to succeed is for good men to do nothing”?  Those who service people they know to be evil—whether working on their vehicles or their teeth—are their silent accomplices.  They should, at the very least, shun such people.  They lose their innocence by not doing so.
 
Jack: Which justifies you using them as an instrument of vengeance.
 
Remote: Vengeance?  No, Closer.  That’s not my motivation at all—and neither, I suspect, is it yours.  I operate on a much more objective level; which brings us back, inevitably, to pragmatism. 
What I do is driven by logic.  The world is a mad, chaotic place, and I seek to decrease that insanity by