And it was probably how his old instructor had lost half his face. No, he had to take care of this another way. Joe slowly turned over the mud-encrusted explosive device and looked at its underside. The top half fit cleanly over the bottom, almost like an oval-shaped shell. A thin ridge separated the two parts, a ridge just wide enough for …
Joe looked at the short blade in his left hand. It seemed about right. He’d know soon enough.
He slowly loosened his grip on the mine. The spring-tensioned top half rose slightly …
He stopped. Hopefully, the thicker part of his blade would catch and keep it from rising any more. He probably had only a few more millimeters to play with.
He loosened his grip even more.
It didn’t move. The wedge was holding.
He held his breath.
So far, so good. Here goes nothing …
One … two … three!
He let go.
And the pedal held in place.
He let out his breath. He cradled the mine in both hands. He bent over and carefully, gently, placed it on a large rock.
He backed away and moved toward a denser area of brush. Climbing would be harder this way, but less likely to yield another nasty surprise.
He wiped his brow and realized that his face and hair were soaked with perspiration. As he slid through the brush, he looked up at the reconstructed skull, still glowing in the lights trained on it. What other traps did Walsh have waiting for him up there? It wouldn’t take much, of course. A rifle scope and a decent perch would do the trick. But the psycho had also shown an affinity for explosive booby traps.
So … How to get that reconstruction without getting shot or blown up?
Joe stopped. There might be one way to pull it off.
He shrugged off his backpack, unzipped it, and pulled out a thin, plastic bag. He tore into the bag and unfolded a six-by-six piece of mosquito netting. Joe pulled it taut between his hands. Thin, light, and reasonably strong. He put it on the ground and surveyed the trees around him. He unsheathed his knife and sliced off two thin branches, each about eight feet long. After a quick pruning, he attached the netting between the branches with wire from his backpack.
He held the two branches in his hands and practiced twisting and turning them for a moment. Not the most ideal contraption, but it could work.
He unholstered his gun and turned toward the reconstructed skull on the hillside. He’d have to get as close to it as he could while still maintaining a line of sight to the rock with the rigged land mine. This would require a near-perfect aim and split-second timing.
And a little bit of luck.
CHAPTER
10
Eve crouched low as she moved through the bushes, muttering a curse as every step crunched and crackled. If only she could move through the woods as silently as Joe. With all the racket she was making, how could Walsh not know she was coming?
She stopped, looking up at the reconstruction. Where would Walsh go to keep watch over his prize? Her eyes darted around the area. If it were she, where would she go? She looked up.
Of course.
A tree.
But which one? There were hundreds. Thousands. But she could immediately discount many of the smaller trees, and the ones without low-hanging branches to provide an easy foothold for climbing.
That still left a sizeable—
Boom.
An explosion rocked the woods, just a hundred yards west of her.
Joe!
Her head jerked toward the blast, which momentarily lit up the night sky. Oh God, Joe had been heading in that direction. Had he run straight into Walsh’s trap?
Maybe not, she prayed. There was a chance—
She had turned back toward the reconstructed skull.
The skull was gone!
It was like some kind of magic trick. It had been there just moments before, and now the two battery lanterns were aimed at …
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
She smiled.
Joe.
* * *
Walsh stared in disbelief at the spot where the skull had just been. The land-mine explosion had practically knocked him out of the tree, and by the time he recovered, Eve’s reconstruction had vanished.
There were two paths up there, and he’d secured both with explosive booby traps. And if anyone tried another route to the skull, he was ready with his rifle.
Except in the few moments after the land mine exploded behind him. Dammit. Had Eve or Quinn used his own explosive as a distraction?
Very clever, but it wouldn’t make any difference. Eve Duncan wasn’t leaving this forest alive.
Walsh slung his rifle over his shoulder, and he jumped to the ground.
* * *
Success!
Under the cover of darkness and the thick underbrush, Joe yanked his mosquito netting free of the two branches and wrapped it around the reconstructed skull. He’d been taught to fashion his mosquito net to capture small game in survival situations, but he’d never thought he’d one day use it to snag a human skull.
Thanks, SEAL Training Sgt. Peter Fallon, USN.
He’d dislodged the short blade from the mine with a single bullet, which bought him just enough time for a long-reach grab for the skull.
Joe bundled it under his arm and ran through the woods, dodging the obvious paths that might hold even more booby traps. After a few minutes, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Without breaking stride he glanced at the display. Eve.
He answered. “I have the skull.”
“Good.” Walsh replied. “And I have Eve.”
Joe stopped. “Walsh.”
“Oh, yes. And you also know there’s only one way I could have Eve’s phone.”
“Walsh,” Joe said slowly and precisely. “If you’ve hurt her, I will kill you in the most painful way imaginable.”
“Such violence. Joe Quinn the caveman, swinging his club to protect his mate … Does that kind of thing still work in this day and age?”
“Put her on the phone. Now.”
“So demanding … Especially when I’m holding all the cards.”
“Now.”
Eve’s voice cut in quickly. “Joe, take the skull and get the hell away from—”
She was abruptly cut off, and Joe heard what he was sure was the sound of a blow being struck. Walsh returned on the phone. “I never bluff, Quinn. I don’t need to.”
Joe looked toward the ridge where he’d last seen Eve. She had to be somewhere near there. He started moving as he spoke into the phone. “Then what do you want?”
“You’re holding it. Bring that skull back to me.”
“And you’ll let Eve go?”
“We’ll negotiate.”
“Why in the hell should I believe you? You already had the skull before this night ever began.”
“Conditions change. You brought about that change. Well done, by the way.”
“We’ve both been trained in the same school. If you hurt her, I’ll show you why I graduated cum laude.”
“You’re quite capable. I get that. Bring me the skull, and we’ll talk.”
Eve’s voice cut in again, this time in the background. “Joe, don’t! Get out of here.”
He pulled the phone away from his ear, but he didn’t hear Eve’s voice in the open air. They had to be farther away than he thought. He quickened his pace.
Walsh’s voice was muffled for a moment as he said something to Eve. Then he returned. “I suggest you do as I say, Quinn. Eve is starting to annoy me.”
“Where do I bring it?”
“There’s a small clearing just on the other side of the ridge.”
“You’ll be there?”
“Where I’d make myself a target? Be serious. But that’s where I want you to be. We’ll be close enough to see you. Do as I say, and you’ll see Eve.”
“I’d better see her unharmed. I’m warning you.”
“What happens to Eve in the next fifteen minutes entirely depends on you. Do as I say, Quinn.”
Walsh cut the connection.
* * *
“If you want to live through the night, you’ll let me go,” Eve said quietly. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with. Joe is in his element out here.”