“Everything will be obvious in a few moments.”
When Leroy reached the bottom step, a light switch clicked, and more fluorescents bathed the basement in a greenish glow. It was then the cowboy realized he was in a vast target range. Guns and other ordnance were stored neatly in racks and cupboards along the side walls. The far wall stretched a good thirty yards off into the distance. Directly ahead of him were six firing lanes. Overhead moveable tracks held paper targets suspended at various distances. They were already riddled with bullet holes.
Leroy nodded appreciatively. “You got a nice little set-up here, boss. Is this where Chopper trained your boys?”
“Yes, it is,” the preacher affirmed. The old man was seated at a desk near the base of the stairway. He gestured for Leroy to take the chair drawn up in front of the desk.
The cowboy complied and sat waiting for further enlightenment.
“Thank you for meeting me here, Mr. Hunt.”
The cowboy’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. The old man never said “thank you” to anybody for anything. He simply expected to be handed whatever he wanted as a matter of course.
“Yessir. What can I do you for?”
“I’m sorry to call you away from your other assignment on such short notice.”
Leroy found himself stifling a gasp of wonder. The old man also never said he was sorry for anything. The cowboy harbored a suspicion that he’d just stepped into the Twilight Zone.
Then the preacher smiled at him. A third unnerving oddity.
Leroy gave a wary grin in return.
“So, tell me. Have you made any progress in tracing the mastermind who controls our band of thieves?”
“I was fixin’ to when I got up this mornin’,” the cowboy said pointedly. “But then you called.”
“Oh, I see.” The preacher apparently realized his untimely demands had interrupted Leroy’s surveillance. “Well, no matter. You can pursue that lead once we’ve finished our business here.”
“Yessir,” Leroy agreed noncommittally. “But you still ain’t told me what our business here is.”
The question seemed to make the old man uncomfortable. He swept his eyes around the room and cleared his throat. “I have an immediate need to avail myself of your other skills.”
Leroy felt less annoyed than intrigued now. “How’s that?”
Metcalf gave a deep sigh. “I’ve given some thought to the concerns that you and Daniel expressed during our recent meeting.”
The cowboy sat forward. “You don’t say.”
“Um, yes. You may have been onto something important.” The old man’s voice sounded downright remorseful.
“I’m glad you come to see the light, boss,” Leroy agreed amicably.
“I believe, at the very least, I should heed your words and take some precautions to protect myself.”
The cowboy scratched his head. “You want me to be your bodyguard or some such?”
“No, you can’t guard me round the clock nor would I wish it. I have something else in mind. For the next week, I want you to meet me here every morning at 9 AM sharp for one hour. I know for a fact that no one uses this facility in the mornings.” He hesitated briefly as his eyes traveled to the bullet-riddled targets. “I want you to teach me to shoot a gun.”
Hunt let out a low whistle. He fell silent, considering the implications of everything the preacher had left unsaid. Then he peered hard at the old man. “Are you sure it’s gonna come to that, boss?”
“I hope not, Mr. Hunt.” The preacher wavered. “Yet despite my hopes, I fear it will come to that just the same.”
“Boss, if you think your boy Josh is gonna do you harm, you best take him down right now and be done with it. I can see how your own people might be squeamish to pull the trigger, seein’ as he’s kin. Don’t you fret none. I’ll do the job for you. Won’t cost you nothin’ extra.”
Metcalf shook his head. “I said I feared he might be capable of harm. I have no proof that he’s a threat to me.”
The cowboy gave a bark of a laugh. “Let’s hope your proof positive don’t come as a bullet in the chest.”
“I will not kill my son in cold blood. All I know is that he’s lied to me. If he is capable of worse than that, we must wait for him to reveal his true colors.”
Leroy rubbed the back of his neck in irritation. “Well, that’s gotta be the worst idea I heard all day. If you want to wait and see, then I got just one last piece of advice for you, boss. You best plan to sleep with one eye open from here on out.”
The preacher gave a mirthless laugh. “Sleeping with one eye open would hardly represent a change, Mr. Hunt. I’ve been doing that for quite some time now.”
Chapter 25—Making Tracks
Cassie watched her cabin mate as the woman briskly sorted through her belongings. When she had organized things to her satisfaction, she stowed her luggage in the hideaway bin below her seat and turned to face the pythia.
In a thick Russian accent, she said, “There. Everything is in order now.” The woman’s name was Olga Morozova. A fresh-faced twenty-something, she was the scout assigned to assist the Arkana team on the next leg of their journey.
The pythia found herself staring. She couldn’t help it. Olga was a rare bird indeed. She made the Jomon trove keeper’s hybrid appearance seem bland by comparison. Her naturally blond hair was so light that it bordered on platinum and she styled it with fringe bangs which accentuated her eyes. It was Olga’s eyes that contradicted the rest of her appearance. They were a vivid blue, but the eyelids didn’t possess a double fold. The shape was Asian as were her high cheekbones. Given the Arkana team’s next destination, perhaps Olga’s genetic mix made sense. They were aboard the Trans-Siberian Railway headed toward Lake Baikal—a stone’s throw from Outer Mongolia.
When the Jomon trove keeper had told the Arkana
