Craig shook his head. “That takes more planning than Malloy would have time for,” he objected. “And how would he get a homeless man out here? He drives one of the vans up, usually. There’s another player.”
“Norton?” Angie asked.
Craig considered that. “It seems farfetched until you realize he’s out here with a bunch of trigger-happy reserves hunting us,” he said wearily. “So yeah, I can see him and a couple of reserves — maybe even meeting up with Malloy and his last few clients — to hunt a human being. Fuck.”
Mac studied him, thought he was probably telling the truth. Probably.
He chugged a can of Mountain Dew. Added another to Craig’s backpack, and shouldered it. He picked up his rifle and slung it over his shoulder.
“Fuck man,” he muttered. “What do you have in this sucker?”
“Getting old there, Marine?” Craig said. “Can’t handle a 40-pound backpack?”
Mac grunted. He could. Didn’t mean he wanted to. “Let’s go,” Mac said to Angie. She studied the map Rand had given her, along with the coordinates, and the compass. And she led the way out of the camp.
Mac focused on following her. He would have to trust she knew where she was going, he thought. Hard to do. He was used to being squad leader, not packhorse.
“This group had tougher terrain to cross,” Angie said. “We had a pretty flat walk to the first target. They didn’t. If they turned too soon, they ended up having to go down a ravine and up again. If they went a bit farther they could avoid that, but they probably wouldn’t know that. Since our goal is to find them, not necessarily the target, we’re going to have to figure out which route they took.”
Mac grunted. Bunch of newbies with inexperienced leaders? Oh, they’d end up in the ravine, he thought sourly. And then they’d be in the low position, with high positions all around. Joy.
“Ten to one, they got themselves trapped in the ravine,” Mac said.
“I’m watching for evidence of when they left the trail to go cross-country,” Angie said. “But, if they’re trapped in the ravine, do we go in after them? Or do we circle around the rim to take out whoever has them trapped?”
“Good question,” he agreed. “Really good question. Listen for shots. Then we decide.”
It took them 40 minutes to reach the place the other group left the trail. They hadn’t tried to hide it, why would they? Mac set the pack and rifle down, stretched his shoulders. He peered at the map over Angie’s shoulder.
“We’re here,” she said, tracing the route with her finger. “They’re not at the bottom of the ravine, but they’re not at the top either. I haven’t heard any shots either. Have you?”
“No,” he said. He didn’t know what that meant. He considered firing a shot off and seeing if he got a response. And then he thought about how many deputy reserves Norton could have out here. Probably not all of them, he thought. Surely not all of them could be trigger-happy fanatics willing to play war games at the Sensei’s command? Or were they playing under Norton’s command? What was it Janet had said? At some point Norton would challenge Sensei for top dog. Something to consider, but not right now.
So enemy assessment? Twenty? Even 10 would outnumber them. Especially because he was afraid to shoot back.
“Let’s follow them,” Mac said with a sigh. “Our goal is to rescue them, not engage with the reserves. Not if we can help it.”
Angie nodded, and waited until he picked up his pack and rifle. He pulled his Glock from his pocket and held it in his hand. He didn’t like the feel of this at all. He followed her as she headed into the thicket.
She was quiet on a trail, he thought. No wonder Bryson wanted to hire her. He hadn’t been kidding. The biggest problem was he was nearly a foot taller than she was. Things that she went through or under hit him in the face. And carrying a gun in his hand made it hard to dodge.
Angie stopped. Mac halted behind her. She looked around, finally went to her left. And gasped.
Mac stepped around her and looked at a dead man who had been pulled off the track. “Ah fuck,” he said. It was one of the trek guides, too; he mourned his death. He didn’t deserve to pay this high a price for a bunch of fucked-up men who thought they were going to be kings when the end times came.
It also just turned this into a different battle. Sending injured men back to Seattle was one thing. Covering up the murder of a local young guide was completely different. And the only way to do that really was to kill them all. They weren’t looking at war games any more. They were looking at a massacre scenario. Clean up.
Angie was biting her lip as she looked at him. “Cleve Dawson,” she said. “Nice kid.”
Mac smiled. She was only a few years older. He sighed. “Where are the rest of them?”
Angie looked around, found a small trail. “Do we just leave him?” she said in a low voice.
“For now,” he said gently. “Bryson will have to bring in a jeep to take him home. But he will.”
She nodded and followed the trail.
Another 20 minutes, she stopped again, looked around. Her eyes narrowed. “Mark?” she called softly.
“Here,” a voice called back. She moved in that direction. Mac put his finger on the trigger. The hairs on the back of his neck were telling him this would be a great trap. No different than that target had been. He looked around carefully. He didn’t see anything. Sometimes it really was paranoia, he thought.
Mark and his team of four were huddled behind some downfallen logs. Two of them were injured. One in the leg. Mac grimaced. “Get down,” Mark warned. “We’ve been trapped here. They’ve got a
