The old Delta Force warrior’s training and instincts were returning now. His senses were at their fullest height. By dusk, Patton was convinced there would be no second search party—at least that day. Asher was probably trying to put together a new team, and most likely having a difficult time doing so.
When full dark shrouded the valley, Patton geared up and again made his way towards the prison complex, which was north from his current position. He suddenly wished he had his night vision goggles because the ground ahead of him was going to be very tough. Instead, he let his eyes adjust to the dark. There was enough moon and starlight to guide his way.
By midnight, after trudging slowly over the terrain, Patton was halfway to his destination. He silently wished that he had the blueprints for the prison, but they had never been posted anywhere online. He was going to have to rely on his training and experience to come up with a plan for his incursion into the prison. That meant that he was going to have to spend a day scouting out the prison and its surroundings. This, in turn, meant that he was going to risk the chance at being spotted. He would have to get to the prison before dawn and find a good hiding spot.
Patton hefted and readjusted the pack on his shoulders. He groaned with pain and discomfort. He put his head down and started making his way to the place where his wife was being held hostage.
“And then he just let you go?” the woman asked incredulously, dabbing at the gash on her husband’s forehead.
He nodded, shuddering at the memory of the rifle being pointed at him. The man wielding the weapon was obviously Patton Larsen. Larsen had the chance to kill him, but for some reason, he didn’t pull the trigger. Why?
When Larsen fled the city, his face had been plastered everywhere. Hatterly, who was brand new to the Blue Creek City Security Service, had been selected to go out with the first search party. When he applied for the job, which had been one of very few available in town, he thought that he would drive around in a patrol car, writing tickets, stuff like that. Now though, he realized that he was part of David Asher’s secret police. After the incident the previous night, he thought he might be better off unemployed.
“Yeah,” Hatterly said, a sullen look on his face, “He cuffed us up and told Mike and Randy to help us into the trucks. He had us dead to rights but just let us go.”
Hatterly’s wife shook her head. Not just at the fact that her husband had been as close to death as he’d ever been, but because Patton Larsen—supposedly a monster—had just let him go.
“We’ve got to get this story out there,” she said, still dabbing at her husband’s head with a washcloth. “People need to know what’s going on.”
The man looked at his wife, shocked at her naiveté.
“Honey,” he said, a pleading look on his face, “don’t you know what’s going on here?”
Her eyes opened wide with surprise at the expression on his face. “What do you mean?”
He looked around the room conspiratorially and then leaned in close to her. “Baby, we’re practically living in a police state and I’m part of it. David Asher has taken control of everything and everyone in this town. No one can leave. People that are speaking out against him are being arrested. If you spread what happened last night around town, you’re going to be arrested.”
She turned away from him, tears stinging at her eyes. She grabbed his forearm, looking for any strength that he could give to her. Instead, when she looked in his eyes, she saw nothing but fear—fear in the eyes of the man who’d she’d always considered to be so strong. Despite the danger, Ashley Hatterly felt that news of what happened to her husband and nine other husbands, had to get out. People in Blue Creek needed to know that their true enemy wasn’t Patton Larsen, it was the man who professed to be their leader.
Patton must have underestimated his own marching speed because he reached the prison complex an hour earlier than his projections. The complex was built in the middle of the bowl-shaped depression in the hillside. Much of the geographical feature was natural, but to build the prison as large as was needed, more ground was excavated.
Patton was at the southern edge of the bowl now, looking down into the depression with his binoculars. He had a large, dry bush on his left and a large boulder behind him to keep him hidden from prying eyes. From this vantage point he could see the entire rear of the complex and what looked to be a temporary structure in the middle of a large field. It was roughly the size of a soccer pitch, but more square than rectangular.
As the day progressed, Patton became familiar with the guards’ patrol patterns and he scouted out the security features. In many places, the security was tight, with lights, finished fencing, and good sightlines between what had to be a guard post at the rear of the main structure and the temporary structure in the middle of the field. The more he looked, however, the more flaws he found. The field was uneven, which would allow for him to approach the structure from many angles. Secondly, the guard force was obviously poorly trained. There were no dogs, and when darkness began to fall, Patton noticed that much of the lighting system had not been completed yet. He hunkered down and slept for a few hours, waiting for full dark.
Around midnight a storm blew in, bringing with it a light and cold rain. It was uncomfortable, but bad weather made people complacent. While Patton would rather be at the beach, taking in the warm sun and water, he was comfortable in these conditions. He would strike at four in the morning, when the guard shift was about to reach its most tired phase. Also, it would give him enough dark to get down into the building, try to find his wife, and then get back out.
David Asher stared at the ceiling of his new bedroom, in the new mansion the people of Blue Creek had built for him. The woman beside him was snoring. He grimaced and turned away from her to his side. It was funny how the most gorgeous women in the world often had some of the worst private habits, especially when they were comfortable with someone.
There were so many things on his mind he couldn’t concentrate on anything. Rumors of the failed search party spread like wildfire through town. The rumor was that Patton Larsen had taken on ten men and beaten them. Not only that, he’d done it in a way where no one was seriously harmed—all sent home to Blue Creek to tell everyone just how merciful the fugitive was. Asher scoffed at that. He knew that Larsen had to be behind the disappearance of both Travis and Brian, the two men that he’d desperately needed to keep things running after taking out his rivals Charlie and Anna. Neither of them were around when he needed them most.
Supposedly the most powerful man in town, David Asher felt impotent—incapable of handling his business. No doubt he was becoming a laughing stock, and with these new rumors about Patton Larsen, he was beginning to feel it slip away from him. He cursed Anna under his breath. Why did she have to betray him? Why did she have to plot to remove him from power when his use was gone? Didn’t they have a good thing going?
It must have been the old man that had poisoned her against him. Part of him knew, however, that Anna probably planned to remove him the entire time. She’d been so good at using her body to get what she wanted. No matter, though. She was gone for good. He just wished he had her around for some advice right now because he really needed it.