He had thought of using Maggie’s cell phone to call Nicholas, but the man was already on alert. Besides, for all he knew, Maggie’s phone was being monitored, and reaching out to Nicholas might set something in motion before he could get back, so he had decided against it.
Not knowing how many eyes were on the ranch, Harvath lay on the floor of Maggie’s truck as she drove out one of the service gates.
A mile down the county road, she pulled onto a rutted access path and brought the truck to a stop. Harvath climbed out of the back and into the passenger seat. “How far away are we?” he asked.
“Less than a mile.”
He nodded, and Maggie put the truck in gear and resumed driving. He needed to check out that watering trough. Seeing the ill-fitting clothing of the “illegals” on the CCTV footage had set alarm bells ringing in his head.
As they were nearing the trough, Harvath signaled for Maggie to stop.
“What is it?” she asked.
“I think there’s a vehicle up ahead.”
“Where? I don’t see anything.”
“Kill the lights. Shut off the engine.”
Maggie did as she was told.
“Do you have a flashlight?” he asked.
The ranch manager nodded, opened the armrest, and handed him one.
“When I come back,” he said, “I’ll let you know it’s me by flashing the light three times; two longs and a short. If you see anyone else, shoot them.”
Maggie looked at him like he was crazy. “What are you talking about?”
“Trust me,” he replied. Then, after disabling the dome light, he climbed out of the truck and disappeared.
Creeping toward the vehicle he had seen in the bounce of Maggie’s headlights, he reflected on what he would do if tasked with assaulting Three Peaks Ranch. Surveillance would be the first order of the day, but before that, he’d need a place to hide whatever he was driving. You couldn’t just leave a car parked along a county road out here. It would attract too much attention. You needed someplace to hide it, close enough that you could cover the rest of the distance by foot.
Using an adjacent ranch that abutted your target made sense, especially if the area you picked wasn’t currently in use. The windmill was also a good landmark, easy to navigate back to.
It was the presence of water, though, that had bothered Harvath. Water didn’t attract only animals, it also attracted human beings.
Moving through the darkness, he arrived at a dark Dodge Durango that had been pulled off the road and partially hidden behind a tall clump of scrub. The doors were locked and there was nothing inside. Reaching his hand out, the hood was cool to the touch. How long the SUV had been sitting there was anyone’s guess. Twenty yards on, he could make out the silhouette of the windmill. Beneath it would be the trough that it pumped water into.
Harvath stood for several moments and listened for any sound indicating there were people up ahead. He didn’t hear any and quietly continued on toward the trough. He came across the first body ten yards on.
It looked to be a young Hispanic man who had been shot in the back of the head, execution-style. He had been dead for at least a day, probably more, and his flesh had been picked apart.
Moving onto the trough, he found five more bodies, a mix of men and women. All had been shot at close range and dumped into a shallow grave. Whoever did the burying, though, hadn’t realized how quickly the bodies would be dug up and feasted upon by scavengers.
Playing the light over the carnage, Harvath was able to re-create enough to figure out what had happened. Many illegals carried maps marked with “safe” places to camp and find water along their routes. Judging by what he saw, somebody else was already here when they arrived and it didn’t end well.
Four of the victims had been stripped to the waist. Scattered around the trough were the illegals’ few possessions, mostly in plastic grocery bags, just as Maggie had said.
Studying the ground, Harvath discovered perfect matches for the boot prints around the generator outside the guesthouse. He had seen enough.
After flattening the tires of the Durango with his knife, he rejoined Maggie, making sure to signal her with the flashlight before he got too close.
“What did you find?” she asked.
“You need to get back to the ranch as fast as you can,” he replied.
The look on his face must have said it all. Maggie didn’t ask any more questions. Firing up the truck, she turned it around and stepped on the gas as Harvath began giving her instructions.
When they reached the main county road, Maggie headed toward Three Peaks Ranch. Half a mile out, she slowed down and Harvath opened his door and leapt out.
CHAPTER 38
Harvath used the wire cutters from Maggie’s truck to cut through the game fence and slip inside. It was the one angle of attack he felt certain no one would expect.
Without knowing who or what he was up against, all he could do was envision how he would carry out a similar assault. Not only were the conditions favorable weather-wise, with heavy cloud cover and low ambient light, it was a Saturday night and most of the ranch staff was in town.
If Paris and Spain were any indication, this would be another four-man team. That seemed to be confirmed by the CCTV footage, as well as by the four dead males stripped to the waist back at the water trough.
He had no idea how long they had been surveilling the ranch, but they had accurately identified the guesthouse, and Harvath had no doubt that was the target. While Maggie had originally believed that the men had left the property, Harvath wasn’t so sure. They had done their flicker test. Now they would dig in and wait to take their objective.
Other than the olive trees in back, there wasn’t any vegetation obstructing the guesthouse. There were only two doors—the one in front and the one off the kitchen—and lots of windows. If Harvath were running this operation, he wouldn’t risk sending all four men inside. He’d take his best long-range shooter and set him up in an overwatch position.
The best place was a clump of red maples about four hundred yards north of the guesthouse. From there, you could see almost the entire structure. If he had to set up a sniper, that’s exactly where he would do it.
The breeze did little to keep Harvath’s body temperature down as he raced across the exotic game enclosure. He had picked the most direct route, cutting off one of the corners and running at a diagonal. When he reached the fencing on the other side, he had to use the wire cutters again and pull back a small section in order to slip out.
He wasn’t surprised that he hadn’t come across any game. They knew he was there long before they could see him. The breeze had been at his back the entire time, pushing his scent out in front of him like an olfactory air horn.
As he swung around in a loop, a thousand yards out from the maple trees, the wind was coming at him, no longer at his back.
Using a row of tall grasses for concealment, he continued moving forward. He was in rattlesnake country and while he tried not to think about it, he wished he had some sort of night vision gear and should have asked Maggie. If the security cameras were IR equipped, they probably had other equipment, especially for hunting at night. At this point, though, it was too late. He’d have to rely on his own natural abilities.
The dry autumn grass crackled underfoot and rattled like dry cornstalks as he moved through it. He did the best he could to minimize the noise, but it resulted in little attenuation. Very soon, he was going to have to abandon the safety of concealment for a quieter path.
Halfway to the maples, he stepped out from the grass, steadied his breathing, and listened. All the sounds
