“You can guess what happened next,” Carlyle said. “When Phillip Marshall and his partners bought up all that property on the mountain, they discovered that the Sutcliffe tract was right where they planned to put their base lodge. That’s when their lawyers started pressuring David’s parents to sell.”
“It was brutal,” Grace said. “They tried to hold on, but their neighbors, dreaming of what a buyout would bring, harassed them night and day for months.”
“Dave’s parents finally gave in, didn’t they?” Carlyle said.
“Gave up is more like it,” she said. “Losing their land broke them. Alice passed away in an asylum in Glens Falls. Her husband died of a heart attack in 2003. You wonder why people around here hate developers. Just get them talking about the Marshalls.”
Morris pushed back his chair. “How can you be sure there’s a connection between Sam Pasco and this current rampage?”
“It’s all about the power of memory and revenge,” Carlyle said. “After his time in prison, Sam Pasco became an outlaw. He poached his neighbors’ trees, burned down their barns, killed their cattle, and destroyed their fences and phone lines.”
“I hope they caught the bastard,” Pierce said.
“It ended badly, all right. In 1934, he was convicted of stealing lumber and served time near the Canadian border. Then, in 1940, after a property dispute, he murdered his cousin, Orlie Eldridge, and ran off into the woods.”
Carlyle turned in his chair to face Morris. “Pasco went on the run, living in caves and abandoned camps on Johnston Mountain and in the gorge. They finally traced him to a hideout just two miles from here. After Pasco ignored an order to surrender, a state trooper shot him.”
Morris said, “So you think the grandson’s been using the old man’s death to strike back at the Marshalls.”
“Subconsciously or not, Dave Sutcliffe may be relying on his grandfather’s reputation to fuel his crusade against the company responsible for his parents’ suffering.”
“They’re both nothing but murderers,” Pierce said.
“I’m not supporting what Dave did,” Grace said, “but folks who have nothing would rather die than lose their land.”
“Give me a break,” Pierce said. “David Sutcliffe couldn’t even have known his grandfather.”
“But his father must have talked about him,” Carlyle said. “People were afraid of Pasco, but they admired his refusal to buckle under to outsiders. Add to that the injustices suffered by his parents, and it’s more than enough to drive him over the edge.”
Morris stood up and put his notes in a briefcase. “It’s time to end this discussion. My Special Operations Response Team is primed and ready. I’m turning this manhunt over to them.”
“Not so fast,” Bognor said. “My office still has jurisdiction in this county.”
“You think you and Pierce can handle Sutcliffe?”
“All right, then, suppose you tell us what your plan is for capturing him.”
“We’ll establish a Command and Control center here at the lodge,” Morris said. “Once we locate Sutcliffe, I’ll have two teams dropped into the target area.”
Bognor shifted in his chair, “Ric, you want to show the Lieutenant the flaw in his line of reasoning?”
Carlyle leaned forward. “Nobody knows this terrain like Sutcliffe does. And I wouldn’t be surprised if the locals keep him informed about your plans.”
“If my men don’t take him down immediately, then they’ll flush him out of wherever he’s hiding.”
“He could be on the run for months,” Carlyle said. “Are you prepared to wait until he attacks someone else?”
“Carlyle,” Pierce said. “We’re not dealing with textbooks here. It’s a firepower problem now. Let the pros deal with it.”
“Listen to me for a minute,” Carlyle said as he walked to the map tacked to the wall. “Almost everyone around here lives in one of three valleys. This means we can concentrate our search in a few crucial areas.”
Carlyle explained that primary and secondary roads further divided the region into quadrangles, each approximately four miles long. “I assume your men are already guarding the bridges spanning the Hudson at the Glen, Riparius, and North Creek.”
Morris nodded.
“Then Sutcliffe will be forced to stay on this side of the river.”
“Terrain is irrelevant under modern combat conditions,” Morris said. “We put men and assets where we need them.”
Carlyle looked over at Grace. “You want to show the lieutenant the problem his men are going to have on Johnston Mountain?”
“If we had the Israelis working for us,” she said, “I’d say go for it. Seeing it’s state troopers, my gut tells me someone on our side is going to get killed if they take on Sutcliffe straight up.”
“That’s enough” Morris said. “Will someone please get her—”
“Wait a second,” Bognor said. “Grace, why are you so sure we’re in for trouble?”
“David’s momma was a frightened little thing. Your fancy doctors would probably call her paranoid. She made sure her husband built their place in such a way that they wouldn’t have any trespassers.”
“What exactly does that mean?” Morris said.
Grace pointed to the map on the wall. “You’ve got a three-quarter-mile hike in from the road. The spruce is thick as grass in there. You really think Sutcliffe will let you waltz in and shoot him like a dog?”
“If he’s booby-trapped the trail,” Bognor said, “You’ll have to sweep every foot of ground between the road and the house.”
“You don’t think we’ve thought of that?” Morris said.
“The last bit,” Grace said, “is real steep. Then, just before you see their place, the trail ends in a large meadow. When they cross that, your men will be out in the open.”
“What about the house?” Carlyle said.
“It sits on a small rise at the far side of that field, right up against a cliff face. You can’t be sneaking up behind him.”
“If Sutcliffe decides to take a stand,” Bognor said, “he could hold out for hours, maybe days.”
Morris said, “I’ve got two airborne assault teams and twenty troopers sitting at a command post just down the road. Some of
