The sun had risen as he pulled to a stop at what he calculated to be five miles from his final destination.
He looked around. He had passed civilization about two hours ago and was officially in no-man’s-land. He hadn’t even seen another house in a half hour. The terrain was both rocky and lush. The roads—well, there didn’t seem to be many of them. And the ones there were had gone from asphalt to gravel and now to dirt.
Robie checked his watch. He had gained one hour by entering the central time zone. He hoped it was worth it. He was tired, but not exhausted.
He rolled down the window and breathed in the crisp air.
He had traveled over mountains and flatlands.
He was back in the mountains.
Arnie had said Roy West had worked at the agency. Reel had apparently been interested in a document that Robie assumed West had authored. This meant something to Reel. Something important.
And where was Reel? Already here?
He looked around again. Lots of places to hide. If the place he was going to was this remote, there was no way he could get to it unseen if he just continued to drive.
So he had to leave his truck behind.
He liked to be on foot better.
A truck was a big target at which to shoot.
Robie parked his vehicle well off the road, changed into cammie gear, and also blacked his face. He slung his gear pack over his bag and set off. He had memorized the directions to West’s house. He was going to treat this like any other mission.
But unlike every other mission, he didn’t have a clear goal when he got to his destination. He didn’t know if West would turn out to be a friend or foe. He had no idea if he had just driven into a trap somehow orchestrated by Jessica Reel.
The terrain was rugged, but he traversed it easily. He had trained for years for missions like this. And even at age forty he floated over the rock and through the hilly terrain with the agility of an elite athlete in his prime.
He counted down the miles in his head. As he drew closer to what might be ground zero his grip tightened on his primary weapon, his sniper rifle.
He had two other weapons in his pack, with enough ammo to take on a lot of guns on the other side. The weapons had been chosen for different scenarios.
His MP5 was for close-quarters battle against superior numbers. Its auto-fire selector could lay down opponents at a ferocious rate.
His Ka-Bar knife was for killing hand-to-hand. He could use it to slice or gut with equal efficiency.
His Glock rode in the shoulder holster. He never went anywhere without the weapon. It was like his third arm.
And he had a special type of ordnance in his gear pack. It was his fail-safe.
He reached a clearing and took the opportunity to snag his binoculars from his gear pack and take a good long look around from the vantage point of high ground.
There was not much around here that he could see other than nature. Then he spied it. A chimney poking out from a break in the trees. There was a dirt road full of switchbacks running up to it. He couldn’t see the house attached to it.
Robie saw no smoke coming from the chimney, but the temperature wasn’t that cold, so someone could still be there without needing to build a fire. And in his mental map that house was his destination, the abode of Roy West.
He kept looking in a wide arc through his optics. He finally set his binoculars down and looked through the scope on his sniper rifle, which was far more powerful than the binoculars.
He wasn’t just looking for West or whoever else might be with him. He was looking for Reel. For Robie was now certain of one thing.
The woman was here.
He could just feel it.
CHAPTER
40
THE MAN STEPPED OUT OF the cabin.
Roy West was around forty, a wick under six feet, and a sturdy two hundred pounds. His fingers were long and leathery, his face the same. A mustache and beard covered his lip and jaw respectively. He had on Army combat boots, jeans tucked into them, a flannel shirt, and a corduroy vest with built-in shotgun shell holders.
He drew a remote from his pocket and hit the button. The laser trip field powered down and disappeared. He had parked his Jeep in a spot that the laser field would not intersect.
From her hiding place Reel watched him approach the vehicle, following every step he took. She had been right, the place was booby-trapped. West was carefully pacing out a zigzag path to the Jeep.
As he touched the door of the vehicle Reel said, “We need to talk, Roy.”
He whirled, the gun appearing in his hand seemingly from thin air.
The MP5 fired on full auto before he could point his pistol at her. The rear door of the Jeep was shredded by the barrage, which pierced the metal and tore up the inside of the vehicle.
West threw himself on the hood of the Jeep.
“Next burst goes into you,” said Reel. “Gun, down. Now. Not asking again.”
West dropped the gun.
“Turn to me, hands over head, fingers laced. Eyes down. You look up, a bullet goes into your right eye.”
He turned, his fingers wrapped around his head, his gaze down.
“What do you want?” he said, his voice shaky.
“Walk over here. Just don’t trip on an IED.”
He looked startled at this comment, but walked toward her, clearing the minefield and stopping two feet from her.
“Can I look up?”
“No. Get on the ground, facedown, arms and legs spread.”
He complied.
She stood within a foot of him but still behind cover.
“I’ve got a guy in the cabin with a rifle trained on you,” he said.
“Don’t think so.”
“You can’t take that chance.”
“Yes I can. I’m standing behind a tree. And if your ‘guy’ didn’t show himself after my bullet barrage, he’s a chickenshit and not worth my time worrying about.”
“Who the hell are you and what do you want?”
“Who I am is irrelevant. What I want to know is this.” She pulled a sheaf of papers from her duster and tossed them in the dirt next to him.
“Can I look at it without you shooting me?” he asked.
“Just move your arms very, very slowly.”
He did so and gripped the pages. He pulled them close and read down the first page.
“So what?”
“You wrote it?” she asked.
“What if I did?”
“Why?”
“It was my job. My old job.”
“I checked into your new job. You run your own militia.”
West snorted. “We’re not a militia. We’re freedom fighters.”
“Who are you fighting for freedom from?”
“If you have to ask you wouldn’t understand the answer.”
Reel frowned. “The big bad government? You live in the middle of nowhere. You have your guns. You’ve got your own place. You’re off the grid. No one’s bothering you that I can see. So what’s the problem?”
“It’s only a matter of time before they come for us. And believe me, we’ll be ready.”
“You know what your paper said. Do you believe it?”
“Of course.”
“You think it could actually happen?” she asked.
“I know it could. Because we’re so lackadaisical about security. Only they didn’t have the balls in D.C. to admit that. It seemed to me that the higher-ups wanted the assholes to attack us. One of the reasons I quit. I was disgusted.”
“So you think this is the path to a peaceful future?”