THE DEVIL COLONY

'I'm sorry, but you'll have to face what you did.'

She climbed into the saddle behind him. 'But I didn't cause the explosion.'

He twisted to face her. 'True. But, aborted or not, you were still about to commit an act of violence. There will be consequences. But don't worry. I'll be at your side... along with a slew of Native American lawyers.'

His words failed to dim the fear shining in her eyes.

There was nothing he could do about that. The sooner he got the child under custody, the safer she would be. As if it had heard his thought, the bell beat of a helicopter thundered out of nowhere. As he scanned the skies, a pair of scared arms circled his stomach. He never had a child himself, but the simple gesture warmed through him, igniting a paternal need to protect this frightened girl.

Off to the north, a small military chopper crested out of the neighboring valley and flew slowly over this one, dipping lower as it cleared the ridge, plainly searching. It looked like an angry and persistent hornet. Even without the military green of the craft, Hank recognized it as one of the Utah National Guard helicopters, even knew it was an Apache Longbow.

He took the name of the chopper as a good omen, not that either of them were Apache. He nudged his horse toward the edge of the pine forest, toward an open meadow.

Might as well get this over with.

Those arms tightened around him.

'Just stay low,' he told her. 'Let me do all the talking.'

He kept Mariah to a slow walk, her flanks rolling as they headed toward the sunny spread of grass. He didn't want anyone being surprised. Even before they reached the edge of the dense forest, the chopper banked abruptly and swung toward them.

Must have infrared aboard. Picked up our body heat.

He walked the mare out of the forest and into the open glade.

The helicopter dove toward them, nose dipping, blades cutting the air with a deafening chop. The noise was so loud, he could only stare as twin rows of grass and soil blasted upward, silently chewing across the meadow toward their position.

At last, he heard the rattle of the chopper's chain guns.

What the hell...?

Shock and disbelief froze him for a breath.

They were being fired at.

With a yank of the reins, he swung Mariah around.

A shout burst from his lips. 'Hold tight!'

Chapter 5

May 30, 5:14 P.M.

Washington, D.C.

'Still no luck tracing your niece's cell,' Kat announced as she stepped into Painter's office. 'But we'll keep trying.'

He stood behind his desk, checking the contents of his packed briefcase. The jet was set to take off from Reagan National in thirty minutes. It would get him to Salt Lake City in four hours.

He studied Kat's face. A single crease across her forehead expressed her worry. He shared it.

It had been over half an hour since his niece's frantic call had suddenly cut off. He'd been unable to raise her again. Had she dropped out of cell reception? Had she turned off her phone? Kat had attempted to track the cell's trace but clearly was having no better luck.

'And there's still no word of her being captured out in Utah?' he asked.

Kat shook her head. 'The sooner you get out there, the better. If there's any news, I'll call you midflight. Kowalski and Chin are already waiting topside for you.'

He snapped closed his briefcase. Before the desperate call, he had planned on putting a team out in the field in Utah. He wanted someone from Sigma on hand to determine the true nature of that strange explosion. Chin was the perfect choice-and Kowalski could certainly use some field time as a member of an investigative team.

But with that one phone call, matters had become personal.

He picked up his briefcase and headed toward the door. For the moment they were keeping knowledge of his niece to as few people as possible, maintaining a need-to-know basis. Kai already had a large enough target on her back.

As an extra precaution, Painter purposely neglected to inform his boss, General Metcalf, the head of DARPA. That slight was done to avoid a lengthy explanation as to why Painter was heading out into the field. Metcalf operated strictly by the book, an inflexible posture that continually tied Painter's hands. And considering the personal nature of his trip, Painter figured it was easier to ask for forgiveness from his boss than to get permission.

Plus he and Metcalf had not been on the best of terms of late, mostly due to a private investigation Painter had started six months ago, an investigation into a shadowy organization that had plagued Sigma since its inception. Only five people in the world knew about this secret research project. But Metcalf was no fool. He was beginning to suspect something was up and had begun to ask questions that Painter would prefer not to answer.

So maybe it was best to get out of D.C. for a while anyway.

Kat followed Painter into the hallway.

As they exited his office, a man stood up from a seat in the hall. Painter was surprised to see Kat's husband, Monk Kokkalis.

Given his craggy features, shaved head, and boxer's build, few suspected the sharp intelligence hidden behind that brutish exterior. Monk was a former Green Beret, but he'd been retrained by Sigma in the field of forensic medicine, with a secondary specialty in biotechnology. The latter came from personal experience. Monk had lost one of his hands during a prior mission. It had been replaced by a wonder of prosthetic sciences, employing the latest in DARPA technologies. Outfitted with all manner of countermeasures, it was half hand, half weapons system.

'Monk, what are you doing here? I thought you were running shakedown tests on that new prosthesis of yours.'

'All finished. Passed with flying colors.' He lifted his arm and flexed his fingers as proof. 'Then Kat called. Thought you might need an extra pair of hands in the field. Or at least a hand and one kick-ass new prosthetic.'

Painter glanced to Kat.

She kept her face fixed. 'I thought you could use someone with more field experience joining you on this trip.'

Painter appreciated her offer, especially because he knew how much Kat hated Monk being away from her side, especially now that she was about to give birth to their second child. But in this case, Painter refused for a more practical reason.

'Thanks, but with the escalating tension out on that mountain, I think a smaller, more surgical team might be best.'

As he watched the crease in Kat's forehead relax, he knew he'd made the right call. While he was gone, he fully trusted Kat to fill in as the temporary director of Sigma-and he knew that with Monk nearby, she would remain focused. Her husband was both her anchor and the very water that kept her afloat. Monk slipped his arm around his wife's waist, resting his palm on her full belly. She leaned into him.

With the matter settled, he headed down the hall.

'Be careful out there, Director,' Monk called to him.

Painter heard the longing in the man's voice. It seemed the offer to accompany him might not have solely originated from Kat. Likewise, Painter's decision to leave Monk behind was not entirely for Kat's benefit. While the man was certainly her anchor, he served that same role for one other, a teammate who was having a very tough few months.

And Painter suspected it would get worse.