The sensation of being caught flooding her body, Faith faltered, “Uh,” before gathering her composure. “Yes, that’s...that’s what I meant. Send them all to me. So, Chase,” she hurried toward the kitchen, “what other grub did you pick up for us?”
∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞
.
Chapter 25
Uh-Oh
FIFTEEN HOURS LATER
13 MAY—12:29 A.M.
Standing at the edge of a cliff near the top of the resort mountain, Devlin leaned left and peered over the side to see snow below, a quarter-moon’s faint rays reflecting off the whiteness. Her body tingled. “That,” her stomach muscles convulsed, “looks a lot further than seventy-five feet.” She cranked her head toward Randall. “You said it was only going to be seventy-five feet.” She peeped down at her destination again. “That has to be more than seventy-five feet.”
Thirteen hours ago, after having spent the previous two hours discussing options on how best to sneak into the cabin housing Michael Crane, Devlin, Randall, Faith, and Chase had gone separate ways. While Chase had left the chalet to gather equipment and make extraction arrangements for the assaulters, the others had gotten several hours of sleep, Devlin and Faith claiming the bed and Randall crashing on the couch.
Upon awakening at the sound of Chase’s return, the still-groggy trio had joined the CIA man to go over the items he had obtained as well as the parameters and timing of the forthcoming mission.
Having completed the preparation work a few hours later, all that remained was to wait for the ski resort’s last lift of the night, 11:45, which Devlin and Randall had taken to the top of the mountain. They had then skied to the orange snow fence he had spotted earlier, where they then scaled the barrier and hid in the trees until the hill’s high-powered lights shut off thirty minutes later.
Now, having discarded the oversized winter jacket that he had requested from Chase, and subsequently used to hide a backpack, weapons, climbing equipment, and other gear on his person, “I believe I said seventy-five feet...” Randall tugged on a rope he had tied to a tree before approaching Devlin while uncoiling the rope, “give or take.”
She confronted him. “Give or take usually means a few either way, not a hundred.”
“You’re exaggerating. It’s not that far down.” He stopped undoing the rope and squinted at her. “You’re not afraid of heights, are you?”
She swallowed. “No. But I do have an aversion to cracking open my skull on jagged rocks.”
He chuckled while affixing the rope to the rappelling harness secured to his waist and upper thighs. “I imagine most people would.” He tossed the rest of the 150-foot rope over the cliff and took the next few minutes to triple check his and Devlin’s descending apparatuses.
The duo had ditched their jackets, skis, boots, and poles and were now decked out in a combination of black tactical gear and climbing equipment—ski hats under helmets, thigh-holstered pistols, rifles slung across their backs, chest rigs, hiking boots, leather gloves, rappelling harnesses.
Satisfied with his work, Randall stood on Devlin’s left. Both faced the orange snow fence. “Once again,” he held a brake in his right hand, “hook the rope with your left thumb...”
She followed his instructions.
“...then grab the brake handle with the same hand.”
She did.
“Pull back to release when you want to,” he paced backwards, “go down.”
She mimicked him.
“When you let go of the brake,” he let go of the brake handle, “the rope will catch automatically and,” he tried to move but was unable to take another rearward step, “you’ll stop.”
She practiced the maneuver a couple times and nodded at him. “Got it.”
Randall powered up the Armasight PVS-7 3P night vision goggles attached to his helmet and lowered them over his eyes. “Any questions?” He put his back to the terrain below, positioned the balls of his feet on the lip of the cliff, leaned back, and squatted a bit.
Devlin adjusted her own Armasight NVGs, “Just one,” before assuming a stance like his.
“What’s that?”
“As you know, I’m a fairly headstrong woman.”
“Uh-huh.”
“With that being said...how in the world did I,” she cast a quick look down and faced him, “ever agree to something like this?”
He snorted out a laugh. “I thought you told me rappelling was number one on your bucket list.”
“Nope. This never crossed my mind.”
“Well, now you can say you’ve walked down the side of a mountain. Anyway, this is easy. Wait until you and I are jumping out of an airplane together and parachuting into hostile territory.”
She dragged out her next word. “Yeah. That’ll never happen.”
He smiled, “Never say never,” and poked his chin at her. “Go slow getting over the side.”
Devlin worked the brake, listed backward, and took a first, awkward step down the cliff.
Randall did the same, only his initial drop was much more graceful that hers was.
After a few tentative paces, she picked up speed.
Ten feet on her port side, he stayed even with her.
The twosome navigated fifteen feet of near-vertical terrain.
“You’re right.” Her right hand on the rope above the brake, Devlin work the device with her left hand while walking backwards and scanning the green, artificially illuminated landscape below through her NVGs. “This isn’t so bad.”
Randall gave her a quick peek before returning his attention to his footholds. “I told you. It’s fun.”
“Well, I wouldn’t exactly say that.”
Twenty feet down, the angle of descent steepened.
Her thigh muscles tightened while she traversed the change.
He looked over at her. “Just stay calm and take it one step at a time. You’re doing great.”
Seeing the rope tangled fifteen feet down, she stopped and whipped the line twice.
He pulled up. “Trouble over there?”
“It’s caught on something.”
“Hold on.” Randall shoved his body away from the rockface, swung over to her in one bound, took control of her rope, and snapped it a few times.
The tailing end straightened.
“There you go.”
A loud crack came from above.
Devlin and Randall looked up.
A large rock bounced off the cliff.
He pushed her. “Get against the wall!”
She pressed herself to the rough rocks and tucked her head.
He scaled the rope, covered her
