“Mr. Kreiss?” she said.
“We asked you not to go solo on your daughter’s disappearance, remember?”
“I remember.”
“Well, let me reiterate that request. And of course, if new information does turn up, let me say again that you need to bring it to us.”
How would two guys skulking around at night on a closed federal ammunition plant, setting man traps and shooting at people, strike you?
he wondered.
“Of course, Agent Carter.”
“Yes. Of course, Mr. Kreiss.”
“Thanks again for the heads up. I owe you one, Agent Carter.”
“Hold that thought, Mr. Kreiss.”
He grunted, clicked the phone off, and got back out of the truck. He positioned a small motion detector on the hood of the pickup, pointed down the lane in the direction of the county road. It would start beeping if anything came down the dirt road toward the cabin. He took a canvas tool bag out of the passenger side and went behind the trailer. The dogs were circled on the concrete floor of their pen. One was drinking lots of water, while the other two were nipping at their flanks.
Fifteen minutes later, he was driving back out onto the county road.
On the front seat beside him, he had some personal documents he’d lifted from a desk inside, enough to confirm that the occupant was Jared McGarand, a telephone company repairman. He also had taken a .357 Magnum he’d removed from the bedroom bureau’s top drawer. He had found a .45 auto in Jared’s night table but left that alone. The man liked big guns. He’d refilled the dogs’ water buckets before he left; they were going to be very thirsty later on. He had mounted a cigarette carton-sized battery-operated box on the roof of the trailer, out of sight behind two vent pipes, and installed a listen-and-record device on the lone telephone.
He turned onto the county road and headed back toward Blacksburg.
He had been tempted to tell Carter about the Ramsey Arsenal, except that he thought he could do a better job of finding Lynn than some posse of semi hysterical feds, at least until he knew what the connection was between these two midnight gomers and Lynn’s hat. He would have to find a way to pay Carter back for the favor of that warning; she absolutely did not have to do that, especially after having to take a meeting with Bambi Bellhouser and Chief Red in the Face. She’d probably called him because they pissed her off. He almost hoped they would be stupid enough to come out to his cabin, although he doubted a couple of horse holders like that would ever venture too far away from an office. In the meantime, he had some preparations to make before returning to the arsenal tonight. He wanted to get into the industrial area just at twilight, because those two had shown up the last time about an hour after sundown.
This time, he wanted to be closer to that far end of the main street.
Maybe he would be able to track them into a specific building.
That evening, Browne and Jared were delayed by a traffic accident on the Route 11 bridge over the New River. It was almost eight o’clock before they got to the entrance of the arsenal. Jared was in a bad mood, having found his three hunting dogs sick in their pen when he got home from work.
“Dog crap all over the place,” he complained.
“Had to hose it for half an hour. Dogs sick as babies.”
“All three? Must have been bad feed.”
“They got the same as always. They still ain’t right.” He drove through the concrete barrels and down the fire road with his lights off. There was a sliver of new moon up, which gave enough light to see the road and the high fence.
“You get that counter put up?”
“Yep. It’s just inside the inner gates, waist-high.” He pulled the truck into their regular parking place, between four bushy pines.
“With them side fences, won’t be no critters settin’ it off. I got a line on some more copper, but it’s gonna take some cash money.”
“All right. We’ve got nearly thirty pounds of pressure in the truck tank now. I’ll be shifting over to the big pump at fifty psi.”
They got out and stood at the edge of the trees to night-adapt their eyes. There was a slight breeze blowing pine scent at them, and the railroad tracks gleamed dully in the dim moonlight.
“I did one other thing ‘sides that counter,” Jared said. His
grandfather looked at him.
“I set me up a deadfall along the main street—wire trigger.
Left the wire down for now. We get something’ on that counter, I’ll set the wire when we come out.”
“We get a hit on that counter before we even go in, we’re not going in,” Browne said.
“I may come back tomorrow during the day and do some hunting. Can you get some time off? Bring your dogs?”
“I can if there ain’t a lot of tickets up on the western lines. Don’t know about them dogs.”
“All right,” Browne said, picking up the bag of food and water for the girl.
“Let’s go check your toy.”
They walked up the spur to the security gates, stopping a hundred feet out to watch and listen. Then they stepped through the flap of fencing and Jared walked over to the side fence and squatted down next to a high weed. He straightened back up and came back to where Browne was standing.
“We’ve got us a visitor,” he whispered.
“Counter’s showin’ one.”
“And that wasn’t you leaving, after you set it?”
“Nope.”
“Damn,” Browne said, keeping his voice low. He had been hoping that the intruder the other night had been a onetime thing.
“How far up is your wire?”
“Between the ammonia plant and the shell-casin’ dip station. There’s two hydrants, face each other across the main street. Got some pipe stock racked up on the overhead steam pipe crossovers between them two buildings. He hits that wire, it’ll avalanche his ass.”
Browne pulled out his gun.
“You go up there, set your wire. I’ll follow, fifty feet behind you. Then we’ll back out, reset that counter to zero.”
“What about the stuff for the girl?”
“Not tonight. Not if there’s a chance there’s someone in there. Let’s see what your trap does first. We have to find out who this is, why he’s here.
We’re too close for any mistakes now.”
Kreiss was on the roof of the last building on the right side of the main street, listening to his cone. He was much closer to the power plant this time. The main street came over a low hill and turned slightly to its right as it approached the power plant, so he did not have a perfectly straight acoustic shot all the way to the rail gates at the other end. But if anyone came walking up over that hill, like they did the last time, he would be in position to hear their footfalls and then this time see into which building
they went. There was enough moonlight tonight that he could use high magnification binoculars rather than a night-vision device. He had put the stethoscope up to his ears when he first heard the truck approach the rail gates over the hill.
He’d been tempted to look around the complex of buildings when he first came in, right at sunset, but decided he would be better off getting set up in a good vantage point. Besides, there were nearly a hundred buildings, large and small, plus several wooden sheds that seemed to have been deliberately built down in circular earthen depressions. A methodical search would take hours, if not days. He was dressed out in a black one-piece overall, with the mesh head hood, gloves, and both packs. His plan was simple: watch to see where they went,
