But nothing happened.
I didn't time it right. All I did was blow a hole in the tank. Now the gas is escaping, but if the fire doesn't reach it-
The ground shook. Even with his hands over his ears, the roar of the explosion stunned him. A shockwave jolted him, knocking him even closer to the ground. As the canyon walls captured the roar and thrust it back in a massive echo, Cavanaugh yelled, "Now! Run to the trees!"
He grabbed William, and thrust him up the side of the streambed. Jamie and Mrs. Patterson ran next to him, chunks of smoking metal and burning wood thudding around them.
"Faster!" Cavanaugh yelled, ignoring something hot that fell on his left arm.
Any moment, he expected a bullet to knock him flat. But more chunks of metal and burning wood kept falling, and he kept charging, and at once, yet another explosion shook the canyon, its shockwave so powerful that it threw Cavanaugh and William onto their chests.
"Jamie?" Cavanaugh's ears rang. "Mrs. Patterson?"
"We're okay! What was that?"
"I think it was the helicopter!"
Cavanaugh tugged William to his feet and pushed him, urging him to run. Cavanaugh's body armor made him feel suffocated. Another hot object struck him, this time on his neck, but all he cared about was the forest looming before him as he and William burst through undergrowth into the trees. He yanked William down with him and waited tensely for Jamie and Mrs. Patterson to crash through bushes and dive behind trees, landing next to him.
Only then did bullets from the opposite side of the canyon wallop into the woods. Too late, Cavanaugh thought in triumph.
The shots faltered, ending.
"They know the explosions can probably be heard all the way to Jackson," Cavanaugh said. "The smoke's above the canyon now. Police and emergency crews will be coming. The shooters need to get out of here."
He let thirty seconds elapse and decided it was safe to peer between trees. What he saw made him inhale sharply. The exploding propane tank had indeed caused the helicopter to explode. The combined force had flattened the lodge. Burning timbers were everywhere, igniting the grass.
25
"You prick!" the spotter yelled. "You swore you could do this!"
"How was I to know the target would-"
With a look of contempt, the spotter drew a handgun and shot his companion four times in the face. Then he took out his knife and cut off the sniper's fingertips.
"That's what I know," he said.
The act wasn't impulsive. It wasn't motivated by anger. The truth was, he'd been ready to kill the man, whether the attack was successful or not. The sniper had exemplary professional habits before an assignment, first-rate preparation, but afterward, he drank and talked too much. His usefulness had come to an end. In fact, the execution was the only thing about this assignment that felt good.
"Abort," he shouted into his walkie-talkie. "Abort. Abort. Abort." PART TWO:
1
"Those last four shots are too low-pitched to be from a rifle," Jamie said, puzzled.
Cavanaugh nodded. "Sounds like they came from the ridge where the sniper was. But we're too far away for anybody to expect to hit us with a pistol from there. It doesn't make sense."
Jamie studied their surroundings. "We need better cover."
"Right. For all we know, there's still at least one shooter on this side of the canyon. Keep down," he told William and Mrs. Patterson. "Move back."
Deeper into the woods, they found a depression circled by trees and squirmed into it.
"Mrs. Patterson, face this way," Jamie said, watching the elderly woman take her small Ladysmith revolver from her apron. "Aim toward the trees."
"William, you face this way." Cavanaugh unholstered his pistol and gave it to the attorney. "Keep it pointed away from us. Don't pull the trigger unless I tell you."
Cavanaugh and Jamie sank low, every quadrant occupied.
"When I get out of this-" Emotion made William's voice thick. "-I'm going to take shooting lessons. Karate lessons. Every damned lesson I can find. I won't feel helpless like this again."
"I'll be glad to teach you," Cavanaugh said, trying to distract William from his fear. "Especially about Fairbairn."
"Fairbairn? Who's he?"
"But here's your first lesson. Stop talking. We need to be quiet so we can listen if someone's sneaking up on us."
"Oh." William's face turned red with embarrassment. "Yes."
They waited and watched the forest. Cavanaugh's need to protect helped distract him from his rage. He wanted to get his hands on whoever had ordered the attack, to slam that person's head against a rock until bone cracked and-
No. Fantasies about revenge were a liability. Anger got in the way of clear thinking.
Concentrate on keeping everybody alive.
A minute passed. Cavanaugh's ears continued to ring because of the explosions and the shots he'd fired. He worked to filter out that sound, to listen beyond it, trying to detect any noise in the forest.
Ten minutes. Fifteen.
Sweat oozed from under his body armor. His back hurt from the force of the bullet that the armor had stopped. As he aimed toward the trees, his heart thumped against the ground.
There! A branch snapped deep in the trees. Cavanaugh steadied his rifle in that direction. Another branch snapped, and now Cavanaugh's finger slid onto the trigger.
He relaxed as an elk poked its head from the underbrush, its antlers blending with the dead branches of a tree behind it.
Maybe this is going to be all right, he thought. The elk wouldn't be wandering in this direction if somebody with a rifle is out there, creeping toward us.
Then another elk appeared, and Cavanaugh became more hopeful.
At once, the animals bolted, their hind legs kicking as they crashed through the forest. Somebody is out there. Cavanaugh again touched the trigger. But then he realized what had spooked the elk. Not somebody creeping among the trees.
A noise. Far away but getting louder. A high-pitched cluster of sirens. The police and the emergency crews were finally coming.
Cavanaugh studied the forest one more time and murmured to the group, "I think we're going to make it."
"Whatever pressure you put on me, I can take," William said.
"What?"
"I went to Harvard law school. Nothing's more brutal than that. I'm holding you to your promise to teach me. And while you're at it, who the hell is Fairbairn?"
"When this is over, I'll tell you." Taking refuge in his protector's role, Cavanaugh distracted William from present fears by projecting him into the future.
2
They stayed within the forest, moving southward along the edge of the smoldering meadow.
"You think the sniper might still be on that ridge?" William kept glancing in that direction.
"He might have risked staying, in case we get careless when help arrives. It's better if we don't step into the open."
When the sirens stopped, Cavanaugh turned toward the silence. Through a gap in the trees, he saw scattered, burning timbers: all that remained of the lodge. To subdue another burst of fury, he focused on movement within the smoke, relieved to see that five of his horses had survived. They gathered nervously near the one that had been killed. Sickened, he shifted his gaze toward the countless bullet holes in his car, its windows starred, some of them shattered. Thinking of Angelo's body inside it, he felt his fury intensify.
Immediately, the horses bolted as a highway patrol car, dark chassis, white roof, flashers on, emerged from the lane. Even at a distance, Cavanaugh detected the shock on the face of the uniformed driver when he saw the damage.
Then a forest-service fire truck emerged, and its occupants looked stunned, also.
They managed to move the van that was blocking the lane, Cavanaugh thought. A further idea struck him: Or maybe some of the gunmen drove it away.