A minute later he froze, as something moved farther down the arroyo.
Something dark and low to the ground was moving toward him. It didn’t move like a man.
He unslung the Uzi, but knew he couldn’t afford to be detected until he reached Caitlin. Dropping his bags to the ground, John drew the long blade of the “Ashley Hunter” from the top of his boot and waited.
The dark shape drew more distinct and separated into two shapes that redefined their appearance and became Rottweilers as they rushed silently toward him.
The lead animal left the ground ten feet from John in a leap that took it straight at his throat. John stepped to the side and jammed the stock of the Uzi in its mouth as it passed. He let the dog rip the gun from his hand as he waited for the second dog’s leap.
The other dog didn’t leap. It came in low and sank its jaws into the flesh of his calf. In a second, it had pulled John off balance and he dropped heavily to the ground.
He swung the knife hilt at the dog as it dragged him backward through the snow. The heavy hilt made a loud crack as it struck the dog between the eyes. The animal dropped to the ground, but its teeth remained firmly attached to John’s leg.
The first dog crashed into him before he could turn to meet it. Its massive jaws closed around the back of John’s necked and squeezed down. For once John was glad he wore the thick coat beneath the poncho. The Rottweiler’s teeth couldn’t reach his flesh, yet. John twisted half around, gripped the dog’s collar, and yanked the beast off the ground. In a single heave, John hurled it into the walls of the arroyo.
John bent hurried and pried the unconscious dog’s teeth from his leg. As he rose, the massive weight of the first dog struck him as it went for his throat again. He raised his left arm just in time and the wide jaws closed on his forearm as the beast bore John to the ground.
Its jaws tightened, grinding the bones together.
Rolling, he tugged his right arm out from under him and then slammed the point of his knife into the dog’s ribs. He twisted the blade violently from side to side.
The pressure on his arm relaxed as the dog made its first sound since the attack started. It yelped once and tried to back away from John. But the strength had gone out of its legs. It sat down, swayed for a moment, and then collapsed across John’s legs. Its dark eyes stared up at him and a pitiful whine came from its throat.
John met its gaze and a wave of sorrow swept over him.
What only seconds before had been a menacing killer now lay across him like a family pet. John stroked its face with his gloved hand. “I’m sorry, boy. I know it wasn’t personal. It was just your damn training.”
But the dog was no longer listening.
He rolled the body gently off his legs which were now soaked with a mixture of the dog’s and his own blood. Blood seeped from the deep puncture wounds in his calf. John took a sterile bandage from one of his bags and wrapped it tightly about his wounds.
The second dog was still unconscious. Both dogs wore a receiver/shocker on their collars. That explained the buried wire. It was part of a containment fence for the animals. John cut a few feet from his rope and tied the animal’s feet together. It could chew through them after it woke up, but it would take it some time.
Retrieving the Uzi and taking up his burden, John limped up the arroyo.
A couple hundred yards later, he saw the glow of lights ahead. He climbed out of the arroyo, only once sliding back down the snow covered bank, and moved toward the lights. In a minute, he was crouching beneath the snow-covered branches of a juniper. Staring across a small parking lot toward the security shack at the gate to the complex, he could see a single guard inside the shack. The woman appeared to be reading a book.
John watched the tracker’s screen. Through the snow, he could barely make out the building it was pointing toward. Opening one of his bags, John took out a couple of one-pound packages. One he tossed near the guard station. The snow muffled its fall.
Well, he was close enough.
“Caitlin,” he transmitted.
“John. God, John, am I glad to hear from you.”
“I’m glad you were able to stay awake. Otherwise, I’d have never found this place.”
“You’re nearby then?”
“I’m just inside the gate. Can you give me directions?”
“Yes. We went past a water tower, and then turned onto the first street to the right. It can’t be more than a hundred yards from the gate. It’s a large building. There was a placard near the entrance that mentioned DARPA. Do you know what that is?”
John moved out from under the branches and toward the street. “Yes, Defense Advance Research Projects Agency. It’s the agency responsible for all black research programs.”
“But that doesn’t make sense. What would their connection to cyberphones be?”
John reached the street. There was only one set of recent tracks in the snow. From the tread pattern and the wide placement of the tires, he guessed it came from a Humvee. He paused to set the other package
