with special silencer for noise suppression, setting it up firmly in the packed ground at their feet. He then steadied the spotting scope on its tripod near him and handed Rachel yet another digital tool.
“This is a Kestrel 4500 wind and weather meter. If the wind whips up a little in about an hour, you’ll see the differences it makes in a 1500 meter shot without correction. It also reads wind direction, temperature, relative humidity, altitude, and a bunch more items you’ll get used to checking,” Nick explained. Both Rachel and Jean were listening raptly to him while glancing at the sniper rifle with a mixture of excitement and fear. “I have six four-inch- thick cast iron plates anchored at various spots against the rock wall over there. See if you two can find them through your scope and binoculars.”
Once Nick showed Rachel and Jean how to make minuscule movements, in scanning for targets within invisible quadrants, they were able to pinpoint each of the plates within minutes. Nick took three earmuff type protectors out of his pack and helped Rachel and Jean put theirs on. He also handed out safety glasses.
“My silencer here will reduce the noise so it won’t bother Deke at all. The ear covers are for safety. I’ll hit the plate all the way on the left first. The spot in the middle, gouged out the most by prior shots, is my target. I’ll hit the target first and then the dirt near it. Try and gauge how far off my miss is. Tell me when you have the target in sight. Don’t look away from the target. You will hear the discharge and a moment later see the hit.”
Nick donned his vest with shoulder pad and made ready to fire. Rachel and Jean told him they had the target in sight. Nick fired. The plate jolted from the concussion. Nick had hit the plate inside the already gouged middle. He shot a second time and dust kicked up near the plate.
“You hit two feet to the right, and three inches below center,” Rachel said.
“Very good.” Nick was impressed with Rachel’s concentration in spotting the missed hit amidst the dirt explosion. “How’d it look to you Jean?”
“I saw a lot of dirt fly. I think I blinked.”
Nick laughed. “It happens.” He noted that Deke had taken up a position next to him in spite of the sudden sound. “The barrel heats with every shot and accuracy diminishes slightly. You two take turns spotting and calling out the target you want hit. I’ll fire at your choice. Keep glancing down at the wind and weather meter Rachel so we can track gradual changes over the next half hour.”
After completing all he had planned for the day, Nick packed up his gear, and passed out cold water and trail mix. Deke received a small plastic bowl of water and some food Nick had packed in a baggy. When they were ready to begin hiking back to the Escalade, Nick showed them the digital compass built into the Kestrel 4500. He also pulled out his plain plastic Sunto compass, going over the differences.
“We’ll map our way out here day after tomorrow using a terrain map,” Nick added, fending off Deke, as the dog snapped at the loose pack straps waving around as Nick moved. “I think we made a good start today.”
“I hope we have some kids in the neighborhood,” Jean said. “I’m getting tired of hanging out with you two. This Terminator stuff’s pretty cool, but it’s hard work.”
“Maybe you’ll meet some locals at the waterslides. I never paid much attention to the neighbors around my place so I’m not sure if they have kids or not. As the good Terminator, I’m hurt you no longer wish to hang out with me.”
“Don’t worry, Mom’ll help you over the rough spots.”
“Jean!”
Chapter Eight
“This is wonderful.” Rachel gestured at the inside of the cabana, featuring plasma television, refrigerator, and ceiling fan. “Thanks for the wardrobe, you pervert.”
Nick glanced over at Rachel from his lounger next to her, admiring the black bikini with very little material.
“Jean can be a bit difficult when she has her mind set on one thing and it doesn’t work out.” Rachel laughed. She looked out at the giant pool with splashing children and adults with what Nick thought was satisfaction. “At least you found a place with lots of kids.”
“Tell me about it. How was I to know they closed the ‘Wet & Wild’ back in ‘04?”
“Are we taking a big chance coming here?”
Nick shrugged. “I have the beard going a little. With this ball cap, I doubt any book fans will recognize me. It’s not like I’m a movie star.”
“I don’t know.” Rachel turned on her side, lowered her sunglasses and peered speculatively at Nick. “You look pretty good in swim trunks, Psycho, six pack and all. Navy blue is your color. Growing the beard does make a difference, especially since you razor trimmed it. I was surprised you had a whole other identity here.”
“It wouldn’t do much good to hide out in a place under my real name.”
“Ouch! I was just making conversation. What in the world made you pick Roscoe Weatherby?”
“Roscoe Nikolas Weatherby to you. It took me a while to establish the residence and driver’s license under the Roscoe name, so show some respect. Don’t forget, you’ll have to pick out a different name if you’re asked around here. I was thinking you can get away with Rachel Weatherby.”
“I like it.” Rachel reached over and stroked Nick’s thigh. “Jean’s excited. She ran into a little girl and her brother who live around the block from you on Ketchikan Street. They knew Fort Bowie Street right away when Jean mentioned it. The brother’s her age and the sister is only a year and a half older.”
“Oh good.” Nick shook his head, looking up at the sky, his thigh feeling as if it were on fire. “This is what happens when I assume facts not in evidence, like the need to not volunteer information to strangers. My bad.”
“I was playing around with them in the pool and I happened to mention your house was on Ft. Bowie. I’m sorry, Nick.”
“Forget it. Stop stroking my thigh.” Nick turned toward her, breaking contact. “Any more of that and I won’t fit in my trunks. We’ll get better at this. I have to think like I’m not alone. It takes some getting used to. You didn’t meet the parents and invite them over for dinner or anything, did you?”
“No!” Rachel reached for Nick, but had her hand enveloped in his instead. “I said hello to their Mom. They pay for access to the Excalibur pool. She wasn’t real friendly after hearing we had rented a cabana. How are you paying for all this, Nick?”
“I have credit cards to go with Roscoe, but only as a reference when they demand it. I pay cash. Trust us psychos to be flush with cash. We’re also paranoid to a fault about leaving financial trails. I keep a fund here at the local Citicorp bank, too, under my Roscoe ID.”
“I want you,” Rachel whispered.
“I’m not that easy,” Nick responded casually while trying to keep from jumping Rachel right there in the cabana.
“Huh?”
“You never questioned me at all so far about my taking you and Jean out in the desert.”
“I’ve accepted my need-to-know position.” Rachel pulled Nick’s hand over to her bare side. “Being two steps behind in this from the beginning gave me an inferiority complex.”
“I like your instincts.” Nick ran his hand lightly over Rachel’s hip. “There’s nothing inferior about you. This will hurt a bit, but Rick gave up the Sarasota safety deposit box location and your maiden name on it.”
Rachel swung her legs over the lounger and sat up, grasping Nick’s hand in both hers. “What do you know?”
“I know Tanus wouldn’t have killed Rick until he gave up the location. It’s only in the movies that people endure torture without breaking. If you hadn’t gathered Jean up and gone to the cops immediately, Tanus would have had you down in Sarasota with the key. He’d have had someone with a knife at Jean’s throat until you opened the box for him.”
