"I don't know, exactly," Hannah said. "The opening's about five or six feet across."
"That's one of the new pipes. They're using them in the Gibraltar Dam system expansion," Gearhart said. "Both of you stay where you are. We'll triangulate the call and pick you up."
Hannah looked over at Grand. He had reached the pipe and was examining the base. After a moment he climbed inside.
"Sorry, Sheriff, but we won't be here," she said.
"Listen to me," Gearhart said. "My SWAT teams are moving into that area. You pop out somewhere and they may not be able to distinguish between you and their prey."
"We're the ones on two legs," Hannah said. "I'll leave the phone here. You can follow the signal while we follow the cats."
"You may not get to follow anything," Gearhart yelled. "Those pipes have been flushing regularly since the rains started-"
"We'll be okay," Hannah said.
The young woman set the phone on a flat rock beside the drain and climbed into the opening. She wondered if Gearhart had been concerned about their well-being or about the possibility that they might interfere with a kill shot.
The pipe was large enough for Hannah to stand. She splashed over to Grand, who was on his hands and knees about a yard in. He was using the back of his left hand to divert some of the flow as he studied marks on the floor of the pipe.
"What is it?" she asked.
"More claw marks," he said.
"Two sets?"
Grand nodded. "Both cats came in here, though there aren't any marks on the lip."
"Which means?"
"The cats didn't climb into the pipe. They jumped from somewhere outside and landed a yard inside." Grand stood, though he had to bow his head slightly. "The leap was precise and powerful."
"Just like when they disappeared into the sinkhole."
"Exactly." Grand sloshed ahead.
Hannah followed, her sneakers soaked with icy water. Even so, her feet weren't as cold as the backs of her shoulders. The chill of fear trickled down to the small of her back and settled there.
There had been awe in Grand's voice but it was tempered by concern. Hannah wasn't sure whether the scientist was worried about the power of the animals or whether it was something else, whatever it was he'd alluded to back on the mountaintop. But as she walked deeper into the pipe, the sounds of their footfalls splashing off the circular walls, she decided this much: She would give Gearhart the benefit of the doubt. He was worried about them.
Somehow, just thinking that made Hannah feel like she and Grand were a little less alone.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Sheriff Gearhart ran over to the chopper as soon as it landed. Special Ops senior officer Frank Lyon was the first one out of the helicopter. He was followed by Deputy Kline and Dr. Thorpe.
Gearhart was edgy. He wanted this action ready to go now. Chief Deputy Valentine had just radioed to say that he'd located the cell phone by tapping into the signal from three different points-the sheriff's office, the police station, and a car with the highway patrol. The spot where the three lines overlapped was where the cell phone was located, a place three miles southwest of Divide Peak, nearly one thousand feet up in the foothills. Gearhart instructed Valentine to radio the exact position to the chopper pilot.
Reaching the helicopter, Gearhart pulled the Special Ops senior officer aside. The sheriff had to shout to be heard over the roar of the rotor. "Did Valentine brief you?"
"He told me the pilot saw big cats."
"They may be all or just part of whatever's hitting us," Gearhart said. "Apparently, they've been located in the Gibraltar Dam drainage system."
"In it?"
Gearhart nodded. "Jim Grand and Hannah Hughes are there. They've been following the cats. Their last known position was southwest of Divide Peak. You've got night-vision gear?"
"Yes, sir."
"Okay. I want you to go back up. We'll get you the exact locations of the drain openings as soon as we have them. In the meantime, crisscross the area. See if you can find these things."
"If I do?"
"If it's an animal, take it out," Gearhart said.
"If it's not?"
"Don't let the sonofabitch get away," Gearhart said.
"He's yours," Lyon assured him.
The Special Ops leader hustled back to the chopper. A minute later he was airborne.
Gearhart went over to the line of boulders beside the sinkhole. Dr. Thorpe had booted her laptop and they began studying her maps, including those of the municipal water districts. Deputy Kline had water district supervisor Dean Rede on the phone and was using Thorpe's maps to find out exactly where each of the pipes opened up.
Though things were ready to pop, Gearhart felt like he was on a leash. In Vietnam he'd been able to turn everything he had on enemies, from M40 sniper rifles to napalm, from surgical strikes to blanket assaults. Here, as in Los Angeles, it was tough to get the job done. There were too many rules and too many special interest groups.
But he promised himself that this job would get done.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Though Grand was mentally and physically spent, there was something vitally alive inside of him. Whether it was a survival instinct, naked curiosity, or both, it kept his senses and limbs running at top speed.
Curiosity was certainly a large part of it. Grand had to fight being distracted by the creatures-by the wonder of them, by the questions he had about them, by whatever had apparently roused a pair of saber-tooth cats from eons of hibernation. He had to remember that he was the hunter and they were the prey. If Grand allowed his moat to weaken, if he let the roles become reversed, then he and Hannah would die.
And there was something else that concerned him even more than the cats. Something about the painting in the lower cave. A suggestion that danger was greater than what they'd see. Far greater.
Grand was able to move quickly in here. The pipe was on a slight up-slope, and he was able to straddle the water as it flowed down the center. There was debris in the water- branches, water bottles, the occasional drowned field mouse and rattlesnake. That meant the grate had also been torn out from somewhere up ahead. He hoped it was an old break, that the cats weren't so far ahead they were already in the mountains or in other tunnels.
The water flow was becoming heavier the farther they went. Grand didn't know how often the system was flushed, but he suspected it would get pretty rough in here before long. He picked up the pace.
At least Grand didn't have to look back and check on Hannah. He could hear her splashing through the middle of the pipe. Whatever the young woman's motives for being here, whether it was altruism, journalism, or a combination of the two, Hannah Hughes had a great deal of courage and stamina. Despite the danger, she was here, and that inspired a maelstrom of emotions.
Protectiveness. Respect.
Affection.
Grand hadn't felt that toward a woman since Rebecca died. When the feelings first started, turning his head to look at her, for no reason other than to look at her, he felt that he was being disloyal to his wife, experiencing warmth toward another woman. Back on the mountain he had tried to justify it, telling himself that Hannah's presence helped to keep his instincts sharp. That if anything happened to her he would blame himself. And that was true, as far as it went. Now, he couldn't lie to himself. Hannah wasn't just a jump start for his survival skills.
He cared for her, more and faster than he'd expected. He didn't know what Rebecca would have thought; all he knew was that if the roles were reversed, and Rebecca were alive and alone, he would feel happy for her. He would know that he had a special, irrevocable place in her life.