“The FBI leaked his escape to the press,” Nathan said. “We’re hoping to collar his brother, Leonard. That’s why we’re here. Leonard needs to think Ernie got away. We think they’re planning to meet at the coordinates my father gave you. We figure he’ll be arriving in about two or three hours.”
Mansfield noticed the blood soaking through Nathan’s shirtsleeve. “What happened to your arm?”
“I took one at the truck stop.”
“You were shot? You flew six hours with a bullet wound?”
“It’s not bad. It went clean through.”
“Major Reid, get a medic over here double-time.”
“Yes, sir.” The aide climbed into the driver’s seat and made a radio call.
“General, I’m fine. Really.”
Mansfield held up a hand. “Don’t argue with me, son.”
Nathan zipped it. You didn’t argue with general officers. Ever.
Mansfield pulled a large envelope from the passenger seat of his gray sedan. He spread the color photos on the hood. They were oblique shots taken from the south. “These are fifteen minutes old. I had my aide look them over. As far as we can tell, there’s no one in the area. We didn’t spot any vehicles or any engine or human heat signatures on the infrareds. It’s harder to detect them during the day, but sometimes we can. They sure chose a remote location. These coordinates are just south of the Blackfeet Indian Reservation. They were wise to stay off tribal territory. The Blackfeet are protective of their land.” Mansfield pointed to a dirt road. “This is Dutch Creek Road, it connects to Highway Eighty-nine several miles to the east. This track up here is Sweet Dam Road, it also connects to Highway Eighty-nine. It’s probably why they chose this location. They could approach the coordinates from the north or south. It also gives them two possible routes of escape.”
“This is perfect, General. Just what we need.”
Mansfield bent over the photos a little. “Point zero looks like some sort of spire-like rock formation on the south wall of the canyon. You can see its shadow here.” He stabbed a finger on the most detailed photo, the image at ten meters per inch.
“It’s easily recognized from the ground,” Harvey said, studying the other photos. Nathan knew his partner was scoping potential shooting locations and looking for an LZ to set their chopper down.
“What else can I do to help?” Mansfield asked.
“Just keep us updated if anyone approaches the coordinates.”
“We’re on that. Right now we’re checking with NORAD to see what birds we’ve got overhead. There might be some dark intervals. In all honesty, we won’t be able to reposition any of them. They’re needed over the Gulf.”
“We’ll make do, General.”
“Ernie Bridgestone,” he said slowly. “Public enemy number one. I’m glad you caught the son of a bitch. That Sacramento bombing was cold-blooded.”
“Yes sir, it was. Special Agent Grangeland probably needs a pit stop. We all do. Harvey and I also need to change into our MARPATs. Can we trouble you for some chow and coffee?”
“It’s no trouble.”
Mansfield told Reid to round up some sandwiches and coffee from the dining facility on the double. Reid jogged back to the sedan and sped away.
“Should be about ten minutes.”
“That’s fine, General, thank you.”
As they walked back over to Nathan’s helicopter, he was acutely aware of the passage of time. Although he didn’t think Leonard could get up here in less than twenty-two hours, he wasn’t 100 percent sure. A sense of urgency seized him. Did they really have time for this? If Ernie had lied about Leonard’s departure time from California, it could cost them their lives. Although the satellite images were devoid of human activity, it didn’t mean Leonard wasn’t already there, cash in hand, planting Semtex charges and trip wires. How long would he wait? A few hours? Longer? Or would he wait at all? The Canadian border would be whispering his name.
A gray aviation fuel truck pulled up to Nathan’s helicopter and the driver climbed out and attached the ground wire to a skid. Nathan made sure Jet-A was being fed to his machine.
Mansfield nodded over his shoulder. “There’s a latrine and locker room in the hangar.”
Harv and Nathan helped Grangeland extract Ernie out of the Bell and followed Mansfield to the hangar. General Mansfield carried Nathan’s duffel.
Mansfield’s medic arrived at the same time Reid returned with lunch. She sat Nathan on the lunch table where he received eighteen stitches in his arm. Nathan refused a local anesthetic, claiming he didn’t want any part of his body numb. Occasionally wincing, he endured the tightly spaced stitches while eating a turkey sandwich. The medic wrapped his lower calf wound as well. Thankfully, she didn’t comment on the crisscrossing network of scars on Nathan’s torso, even after doing a fairly shocked double take. When he noticed Grangeland staring, he feigned innocence and asked, “What?”
She rolled her eyes.
After he and Harv changed into their MARPATs, General Mansfield took them out to Nathan’s chopper and asked, “Are you sure you don’t want any backup out there?”
“Positive, General,” Nathan said. “We prefer to work alone.”
“Monitor the frequency we gave you. We’ll keep you apprised of any activity at the coordinates. And I’ll keep a squad standing by just in case you give us a nine-one-one call.”
Ten miles southeast of Dupuyer, Nathan dropped the helicopter down to one hundred feet. “Watch for power lines,” Nathan told Harv. “Did you find an LZ on the photos?”
“I think so, we’ll have to check it out. It’s about a mile-and-a-half northwest from ground zero. It’s an island of trees in our canyon and kinda horseshoe-shaped. It screens the chopper from three directions.”
“I’m dropping down to fifty feet. Keep your eyes peeled.” Nathan lowered the nose. Ten seconds later they were skimming the grassy landscape at nearly 140 miles an hour. The ground rush was intoxicating. As dangerous as it was, Nathan loved flying low and fast.
Harv worked the NavCom screen. “Adjust heading to three-four-five.”
“Three-four-five,” Nathan echoed.
“Guys?” Grangeland asked.
Harv pivoted toward the rear seats. “You okay back there?”
“I hate to be the weak link, but do we have to fly this low? I don’t feel so good.”
“Sorry, but yeah, we do,” Harvey said. “Look straight ahead, don’t look out your window, okay?”
She grunted an acknowledgement.
A small herd of elk dashed underneath them. The animals tried to stay in a group, but several peeled off in different directions.
“Keep an eye out for birds, Harv. Striking an eagle at this speed will definitely ruin our day.” Nathan’s brow furrowed in concentration. “Do you see any transmission or antenna towers?”
“Negative. We’re good to go.”
“Let’s call Malmstrom and ask for an update.”
General Mansfield himself answered the radio and reported all was quiet except for the thermal image of their exhaust. He informed them in ten minutes, they’d experience a thirty-minute blackout as the current surveillance satellite dropped below the horizon.
Harv had the 500-meter-per-inch photo in his lap. “I seriously doubt Leonard’s arrived yet. To get here before us, he’d have to drive eighty miles an hour the entire way, straight through. There’s no way he could do it and he certainly wouldn’t risk getting pulled over.”
“Agreed,” Nathan said, though he shared Harv’s apprehension. “If what Ernie said is true, then we’re beating him here by at least one hour, possibly as many as three.”
“What’s your gut on what Ernie told us?” Harv asked.
“Obviously we can’t know for sure, but I don’t think he was lying about the second set of coordinates.”
“We assume nothing,” Harv said.
“Right.”
“Think Leonard will have an RF detector?”
“Hard to say, but I doubt it. If he does, he’ll pick up our handhelds for sure, but unless it’s a contemporary
