When he came upon the villagers, they were sitting on the bank of the stream, drinking water and trying to catch their breath. Sambako moved up and down the line of weary refugees, tending to their needs. Marcus found Temebe at the head of the line and signaled to him that they needed to talk quietly.
The two men stepped away from the rest of the group and squatted next to the bubbling water. Marcus spoke to him in French. “The bad guys are tracking us hard. I just killed a scout about half a mile back from our group.”
Temebe looked up at him. “I knew it could not be long before they caught up to us..”
“I got this off the scout.” Marcus held up the small radio. “If these hills don’t block the reception, we’ll be able to hear them coming.”
“If their scout was that close behind us, then the main party will be within a mile or less behind him.” Temebe looked back toward the women, children, and elderly huddled in small groups along the banks of the stream. “I am not sure we can make it. Our twenty gunmen are brave, but they are not skilled.”
Marcus was silent for a moment, his eyes hard and serious. “You take them to the border, Temebe,” he finally said. “I will hang back and slow Sergei’s men as they approach. There are some decent laying-up positions back there from which I should be able to hold them off for a good amount of time.”
“Are you sure?” Temebe asked, his voice grave.
“It’s the only way I can think of right now,” Marcus replied. “Unless you have a phone that can reach the Legion or the Royal Marines for an air strike in the next few minutes.”
“Okay,” Temebe answered. “We’d better get moving. There are still another three miles to the border, and they may try to follow us beyond that.”
Marcus stood and tightened on the web gear he had taken from the rebel scout. He had six magazines for the rifles, and two more for the dead man’s 9 mm pistol, which he now carried. He also kept the two hand grenades and the radio, and jogged south toward the approaching enemy.
As he passed the line, Sambako rose and faced him.
“My brother, where are you going?” the minister asked.
“I will be right behind you,” Marcus replied. “Just follow Temebe up the stream. Whatever happens, don’t worry about me. Thanks for everything you have done.”
He started down the trail, then stopped and turned back to his friend. “I have thought about what you said yesterday, and have made my peace with God, as best I can. I hope He smiles on me like He did for David.”
Marcus nodded at Sambako and moved out.
Chapter 36
House on Panorama Drive
Fairbanks, Alaska
20 December
03:40 Hours
It was more than an hour before the biohazard team allowed the crime scene unit to enter the house. They too donned protective suits against the threat of contamination by the deadly bacteria.
Adem’s remains had been taken out, wrapped in several layers of protective material, and placed in a hermetically sealed vehicle that backed up to the door of the house. The biotechs took every precaution to ensure that no trace of the infectious substance was left behind, and had scoured the room and all of the places past which his body went with a heavy-duty bleach solution to decontaminate the house. To ensure the complete encapsulation of the substance, they removed everything from that room in tightly sealed wrappings, even the floorboards.
Trooper Wyatt was among the crime scene team members, along with two FBI agents and two Alaska Bureau of Investigations agents. Typically, a chem/biohazard scene would not be entered so soon. Johnson convinced the powers that be that they had to get the remaining operatives fast or there would be a lot more trouble.
According to Sergeant Choi, there were at least two other North Koreans who were unaccounted for. According to the relatively fresh tire tracks in the snow leading from the empty side of the garage, the two missing men had left before the raid.
The CSI team said the tracks belonged to an SUV, probably a Ford Explorer. Choi was brought to the scene and questioned about vehicles by Forester. Choi said he had seen some of the men driving in a brown or dark red SUV, but he didn’t know enough about American vehicle models to be able to tell what kind it was.
The two FBI agents were searching upstairs while ABI took the garage. Wyatt and Edwards scoured the kitchen and main floor for any sign as to where the two men may have been headed.
In the kitchen, Wyatt noticed a phone book on the counter. A pencil stuck out from between its pages in the restaurant section. A blank pad of yellow sticky notes sat next to it.
She didn’t recognize the names of the restaurants. She closed the book again and took a look at the cover. It was not a Fairbanks phone directory. She should have noticed that right away, due to its thickness. This was the city Yellow Pages directory for Anchorage.
She opened it back up and looked at the ads on the page. The pencil had been stuck in the section of Italian restaurants in the Anchorage area. Lonnie glanced over to the note pad beside the book. A faint indentation was barely visible on the top page. She took the pencil and rubbed its graphite tip side to side across the yellow pad.
Emerging from the paper against the dark background of the pencil’s shading was the impression of a seven-digit phone number. Wyatt ran her finger down the long list
