I turned then and walked away from them. As I reached the top of the path, I heard a motor rev and glance back down at the cove in time to see a boat cutting out into the open water. They were both heading for Kauai.
I didn’t know if I felt good or bad about that.
We were on our own against this storm. This could get interesting.
FORTY-ONE – Tracking (Danny)
We found four dead unarmed Qi Jia soldiers covered by a net—an actual net—of leaves in a ditch at the base of Knights Peak. Had the bomber been hiding here? Had he been alone? We left the bodies as they were, given that we were only a few hundred yards from the plateau crawling with angry troops, and followed a series of oval, slipper-like, prints leading southwest. Sometimes there were three sets, sometimes four. They weren’t always clear, and we lost them in grass patches, but we were able to pick them up again until we got to a large grass yard near a burnt-down farmhouse.
It was almost dark at this point, and we were looking for any signs of life on the property—a light, a movement… anything. We saw none. A couple hundred yards beyond the crumbled farmhouse there was a small shed and a two-story old barn. Between the farmhouse and barn we could see a swing set, a doghouse, and an intact propane tank. The tank was partially obscured by a stack of hay bales, and there were other hay bales scattered randomly around the property. As a trained Marine sniper, alarms were going off in my head. There were too many places the bomber could hide and wait. We couldn’t afford to step out into the open, forsaking the cover of the forest, and expose ourselves to whoever might be out there. It was possible they knew they were being followed. It was equally possible they’d set a trap for us. Given there were no signs of pursuit behind us, we elected to wait for total darkness.
I decided we needed to stay together. Splitting up could allow us to be picked off one by one. If the bomber—or people—we’d followed knew we were here, they’d have to come for all of us at once. They’d have to be able to fight all of us at once. Thanks to our sniper encounter on the ridgeline, we all were now armed with Qi Jia Berettas and night-scoped, infrared-equipped rifles. The fight was finally semi-fair, from our perspective.
On the other hand, we couldn’t cover the entire property from this one spot. I also knew we were only a little more than a mile from the building the mystery man had blown up. A couple hundred soldiers would be all over these woods by morning, probably even with aircraft and radar assistance. Sitting still was not a long-term option.
I’d been trained in many operational skills as a sniper, and stealth was always paramount. I’d had to infiltrate buildings full of people without being noticed. I’d crossed properties undetected by soldiers and guard dogs. It was one thing to know your enemy and to know what to be on the lookout for. It was another entirely to have no idea what you were up against. Four sets of tracks indicated—obviously—four people. But were they all armed? Were they all traveling together, or had the bomber followed an old trail to mask his escape?
I was now kicking myself for not looking at the dead soldiers a little closer. It would have been useful to know how they’d died—by knife, gun, broken neck, or whatever. But there’s been no time. Even now we were short on it.
The night’s heavy cloud cover was a blessing. If the moon was out, we couldn’t tell. It was dark. Dark dark. At 10:00 p.m., I decided we needed to approach the house and check for a basement. There was one, but it was empty, and the barn didn’t seem to have any subterranean compartments. From the barn we scoured the entire property and finally saw something we hadn’t been able to see from the opposite side of the property—from our earlier scouting position in the forest. Behind the propane tank—fifty yards or so from the back door of the farmhouse—there appeared to be a door in the ground behind the stack of hay bales. We were about to inspect it closer when we saw the door lift a couple inches off the ground. A minute later it dropped back down. A storm cellar. And someone is definitely in there. Ten minutes later it lifted again. Apparently, whoever was in there was able to peek through the bales of hay to check for any signs of pursuit. But he couldn’t see in our direction. I flipped the infrared switch on my scope, but it didn’t show me anything, even when the person lifted the door. That could only mean one thing. Whoever was in there had something to block infrared. Hayley wouldn’t have it—wouldn’t even know about it—but Lazzo might.
I turned to Blake and Keena. “Blake, I need you to come with me. Let’s go check that cellar out. Keena, I want you to sit here and keep a rifle on that door. If things go south, you start shooting and cover Blake and me till we can get out of there.”
“Dan, if we start shooting, the soldiers are going to come fast,” Blake whispered.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that then.”
Blake and I moved out from the barn, slowly creeping toward the cellar door. We were about twenty yards away when it lifted again. We froze, guns locked on the door, assuming we’d somehow alerted the occupant or occupants. It rose a little higher this time, but a minute later it closed again. I breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe we’re still good. If they had something to block our infrared, surely it would have an adverse effect on their own radar monitoring—if they had any. I motioned for Blake to swing wide to the right and to cover me from there. I was going all the way in.
When he was in place, I slowly knelt and moved into a prone position, inching toward the door. I was within five yards of it now and could feel my heartbeat pounding in my ears. Easy. Easy, Danny. Four yards. Three yards. If the door lifted again, he’d see me now for sure. I was only two yards away. Now one yard. The barrel of my rifle was only inches from the top of the cellar door. I was now lying as still as humanly possible. It felt like an hour but was actually only minutes later when the door slowly lifted again and I saw a head wearing night-vision goggles peer out. His head rotated all the way around until he was staring directly down the barrel of my gun.
I expected him to drop the door immediately, but he didn’t. He jumped a little and then calmly said my name. What the hell?
“Danny?” he repeated in a deep African accent. He spoke with unusual poise for someone who had to be pissing his pants with a gun barrel in his face.
“What?” I whispered back, unwilling to reveal my name to someone I didn’t know.
Then I heard another voice in the cellar. “Is that Danny?”
I’d know that voice anywhere. “Hayley?” I strained to see into the cellar.
“Danny, yes, it’s me.”
There’s no way! “Hayley, are you okay?” I still couldn’t see her.
“Yes, hang on a second.” I could hear the joy in her voice. “I need to unhook the tripwires. Eddie, help me with this.”
Eddie? “Did you say Eddie?”
The door swung open, and I rose up on one knee, looking down into the cellar. Hayley came flying up the stairs and tackled me, knocking me straight onto my back. She was laughing—I was laughing. I knew we needed to be quiet, but I couldn’t help it. “Hayley, I—”
She finished the sentence for me. “I never thought I’d see you again!”
“Hayley, we need to get inside.” I motioned in the darkness to Blake and Keena in the barn.