From here on the Bonny Pass apex, the path to Gannett Peak’s narrow, rocky ridge rose steeply up across either the Dinwoody or Gooseneck Glacier. Both of those routes involved treacherous, technical climbs, especially fighting the kind of harsh weather western Wyoming had been buffeted by the last few days. It would have been impossible to make it up that last thousand feet right now — probably for another few days, according to the Weather Channel forecast — but fortunately, Troy and Travers didn’t have to go all the way up there to “protect the peak.”
Troy knew that, but as far as he was aware, Travers did not. As far as he was aware, Travers had no idea what they were even doing here. His father had sworn he’d told Travers only that he must accompany Troy west on a crucial RCS mission — and that was it.
Maybe Travers had put two and two together by now — he was a smart man. Maybe he realized how this mission somehow involved that traditional Red Cell Seven greeting, and maybe he’d even pieced this thing together further than that. But it had been three days since they’d left the East Coast, and Travers hadn’t said a word about it. He hadn’t even asked specifically about the mission’s objective — which Troy found odd and a little suspicious.
There was probably no reason to worry, Troy figured as they slogged through the snow together. But he couldn’t help himself. It seemed like he was overly suspicious, even of people he should be able to trust. It wasn’t much of a way to live, when he really thought about it — which made the decision he’d come to, early on in the trek, easier to live with. So had the picture of Little Jack that he carried with him all the time now.
They were forty miles from the trailhead and far from anything remotely civilized as darkness descended on the Wind River Range. They’d flown into Casper three days ago; four-wheeled it west to the trailhead from that small city in the middle of the Cowboy State; been forced to hold at the trailhead for a full twenty-four hours before beginning the ascent, because of a total-whiteout snowstorm; then camped last night ten miles from here at frigid, windswept Lower Titcomb Lake. It had been one of the coldest nights of Troy’s life despite being wrapped up inside a North Face Dark Star, which, in turn, was wrapped inside a tent. But now they were finally closing in on their target. It would have been so much faster to take a chopper up here, but the weather had precluded any chance of that — and they couldn’t wait for it to clear. Troy couldn’t take the chance of someone else getting here first.
Soon after starting the trek, they’d encountered a small herd of elk on the trail. The animals were huge and amazingly magnificent. As he’d stared at them from less than twenty yards, Troy had wondered how his father could shoot one just to put the majestic animal’s head on a wall. In that moment he’d made his final decision about whether to stay with Red Cell Seven when this was all over.
Troy checked their position on the GPS device he was carrying on his belt. It was supposed to be accurate to within five feet.
“Decus septum,” Travers spoke up loudly as gales whipped through the invisible peaks above them with hair-raising howls. “Protect the peak.”
Troy turned slowly back around to face the major. The cave was less than a hundred feet away according to the device. “What did you just say?”
“Protect the peak,” Travers repeated, gesturing up and to his left. “Gannett Peak is right up there. I’m no idiot.”
“Of course not.”
“So, what are we doing here, Troy? What’s going on? I think I deserve to know. I’ve been waiting for you to volunteer the 411 for three days. But now I figure I’ll never know unless I ask. It kind of pisses me off, too.”
Troy didn’t hesitate. “We’re here to retrieve an original of Executive Order 1973 One-E signed by Richard Milhous Nixon.” Travers was right. He did deserve to know what this trek into a blizzard was about. In the last week Travers had more than proven his loyalty and dedication. Troy’s paranoia was unwarranted. “That Order established Red Cell Seven, and it’s essential that we recover it. RCS’s future may depend on the success of our mission. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you right away. I understand why you’re angry.”
Travers gazed back at Troy through the gathering darkness. “Then let’s get it and get the hell out of here. I’ve had enough snow and wind in the last few days to last me a lifetime. I’m from Alabama. I can’t stand this stuff.”
Despite the snow, they found the cave easily. The opening was exactly where Bill had described it — between two tall rocky outcroppings that formed a rudimentary arch on the right wall of the cut as they were headed toward the peak. If Troy hadn’t known the cave existed and exactly where to look for it, he never would have found it. To access it, you had to go around the side of one of the outcroppings and be within a few feet of the opening to spot it. But with the GPS device, finding it had been relatively easy.
It was only a few feet tall and wide, but once they’d crawled inside they were able to stand up with no problem. The cave was seven feet high and ten feet across. With both of their flashlights brightly illuminating the space, Troy began tracking the left wall, paying close attention to a piece of paper Bill had given him and what was scrawled on it in pencil as he moved deeper into the mountain.
Fifty feet into the cave, Troy’s heart began to thud when he spotted two initials etched on a rock at eye level — RC, for Roger Carlson — exactly as the paper and his father’s verbal directions indicated.
Troy motioned for Travers to help him, and the two men fought the rock for a few seconds before finally managing to pull it away from the cave wall, revealing a small space and a metal box behind where the rock had been. Troy grabbed the box, opened it, and pointed the flashlight down. Inside was a tightly sealed clear plastic bag, and inside the bag was the original Executive Order. Troy held the bag up so Travers could see it, too, and it seemed obvious what the contents were. Nixon’s signature was at the bottom of the page in flowing letters, and the words on the page weren’t difficult to read — or interpret.
“Jesus,” he whispered as the pounding of blood in his body intensified. He was holding a piece of history. “This is it, Major.”
“I’m sorry, Troy.”
“What?” Troy called over his shoulder as he continued to stare at the document, transfixed by its importance.
“I said I’m sorry. But I have no choice. I have to do this.”
Troy whipped around, and his mouth fell open as he realized what was happening. Travers had backed off a few steps and was aiming a Taser directly at him.
“What…what the hell?”
“I need to take that with me,” Travers said, nodding down at the clear bag and its precious contents. “But you’re staying. I’m going to tie you up and leave you in here. I’ll send someone up for you when I’m back to the trailhead. I promise.”
“I’ll die.”
“There’s that possibility. It’s a bad deal, Troy, but that’s the way it’s going to be.”
“Why are you doing this?” Troy asked incredulously.
“Stewart Baxter told me everything.”
Troy gazed at Travers, even more perplexed. “You met with Baxter?”
“Yeah, and he convinced me that your father and Roger Carlson knew about and backed the assassination attempt on President Dorn. That it wasn’t just Shane Maddux’s idea. It was a whole RCS deal. It came down from the top.”
Troy was convinced that wasn’t true and that it had originally been Maddux’s idea. But did it really matter? In the end, Carlson and his father had definitely backed the plan. “How would Baxter know that?”
“Maddux told him.”
“What?” That made no sense at all. “Baxter knows Shane Maddux?”
“Apparently, his kid and Maddux go way back. Anyway, Baxter told me all about the two original Executive Orders. Baxter had no idea where this one was, but I figured this was what we were coming out here for. Carlson spent his summers out here as a teenager, and he was a mountain climber. He knew this area very well. I checked it out. It all made sense.”
“Does President Dorn have the other original?”
“Yes.”
“You know what that means, don’t you?”
“What?”
“It means Baxter had Carlson’s wife killed.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“She’s missing. No one’s seen her for a week. Baxter must have had her killed. It’s the only explanation, Major. President Dorn may even know about it.”
“No way,” Travers said firmly, raising the Taser. “I don’t believe that, either.”
“Major, if you take this original and give it to Baxter, you’re destroying Red Cell Seven forever.”
“If RCS is trying to assassinate the president of the United States, then that’s what I should be doing. That’s what my instincts tell me, and they’re usually right.”
“No,” Troy shot back. “Think about what we accomplished in Florida. Think about how many people we saved.”
Travers swallowed hard as he gazed steadily at Troy. “It’s…it’s a hard decision. I’ll grant you that, Troy.”
“Don’t do this, Major. Forget about me; I don’t matter in all of this. But think about the country. You’re putting it in terrible danger if you take this Order to the president.”
He was sounding exactly like his father now, but Bill was right. Not about assassinating President Dorn, but about everything else. Troy understood that now. Bill and Carlson should not have backed the assassination attempt, but Red Cell Seven had to survive. It was too important to national security. What had happened in Florida had proved that to him. Maybe RCS wasn’t for him personally anymore, maybe he’d lost the edge. But the country absolutely needed the cell. It was a vital piece of the intelligence puzzle. Traditional U.S. intel units might have taken weeks, maybe even months, finding Daniel Gadanz and the death squads. Many more people would have died. More schools probably would have been attacked. The economy would have imploded. The spiral would have been catastrophic. The enemies would have won.
“You’re a good man, Major Travers,” Troy said. “Don’t weaken the country you love so much. President Dorn doesn’t understand what needs to be—”
The dart struck Troy in the side of the neck, and he dropped like a sack of dirt.
Travers slid the Taser quickly back into his belt, then leaned down and picked up the bag Troy had just dropped. “I promise I’ll have someone come back and get you, kid.” He slipped the bag into his coat pocket, grabbed a coiled length of rope from over his shoulder, and began to kneel down next to Troy’s shuddering frame. “I’m sorry, Troy. I don’t like—”
“Major Travers.”
Travers bolted up when he heard the voice coming from directly behind him in the cave. “Who the hell are you?” he demanded, turning quickly to face the person.
A man with dark good looks smiled an easy half smile as he calmly leveled a .44 Magnum at Travers from ten feet away. “I’m Jack Jensen, Major Travers. Troy’s older brother.” Jack nodded to his right as an attractive brunette moved up beside him. She was training a .44 Mag on Travers as well. “And this is Karen Morris. She’s going to be in charge of you for the next few minutes while I take care of my drooling kid brother. I’d advise you to do exactly as she orders. She’s the one who saved you in North Carolina. As I believe you saw there at the Kohler farm, she’s good with a gun. She’s very accurate and not at all afraid to pull the trigger.”