No, it was against SOP, but he had no choice. What he was going to do
was keep going until he was around a curve or far enough away so
anybody who might be in the SUV would think he was gone, then he would
pull over and backtrack on foot. He was dressed in jeans, black
running shoes, and a dark green T-shirt, with a dark green windbreaker,
so he'd be practically invisible in the trees.
He had some bug dope in his kit, though the mosquitoes didn't usually
bother him that much. He had his little SL4 flashlight from Underwater
Kinetics, and he had the Phillips and Rodgers with its six rounds, a
speed strip with six more rounds zipped into his jacket pocket. What
else did he need for a walk in the Alaskan woods at night?
The idea of action filled him with sudden purpose. As the road curved,
he killed the lights and coasted off the shoulder. He pulled the car
behind a patch of scrub brush--not perfect, but what cover was
available. He switched the dome light off before he opened the door,
and as soon as the trunk light went on, he grabbed it to block the
glow, and collected his kit bag with his free hand. He fished out the
flashlight and stuck it into his back pocket, found two more speed
strips of ammo and pocketed those. Found the bug dope and a packet
of
E
waterproof matches, too. He remembered to shut off his virgil, then
started working his way back along the treeline toward the SUV. It was
maybe three-quarters of a mile back. It would only take a few minutes
to get there. He'd scope out the scenario and see what he could figure
out.
He could call Net Force or the local state cops and give them a sitrep
after that.
Man. He'd never expected this, but he was in it now, and he'd have to
follow up and see it through--whatever it was... Ventura glanced at his
watch. Just past 0200. He had given them the clue by killing the
lights, but the kidnap team still hadn't spotted him. He frowned. Were
they really that bad? And where was the genuine attack, if these four
were only faking? Were they that good, that his people hadn't spotted
them?
He called the surveillance team.
'Where is my black man?'
'Still heading toward the gate. He passed the Mercury Falling point a
minute ago. Should be there soon.'
They'd be long gone by the time anybody came through the front gate and
got here.
'All right. Let me know when--' He cut it off as he spotted the
threat.
Two seconds later, Morrison saw it, too.
'Look!'
One of the kidnappers had left his vehicle and circled around one of
the trailers. The man was twenty-five, maybe twenty-eight meters away.
Dim as it was, it was only his darker form against the lighter color of
the building that gave him away. Was he sight-or hearing-augmented?
