man was done talking, at least willingly. Kier surmised that he was terrified of his own people. Kier and Jessie exchanged looks, and he knew she understood the ploy. They needed information, and Kier would do anything short of physical torture to get it.
"She's the only FBI. Me, I'm kindred spirit to Goyathlay. You would know him as Geronimo, not Tonto." Kier watched the man through slitted eyes as he spoke. Popping the man's own stiletto, Kier touched the finely honed blade with his index finger. "Uh-oh," he whispered, glancing to the side.
Another gunman had just appeared no more than one hundred feet away. There were going to be lots of men. In seconds, he and Jessie could be trapped.
Their captive's radio crackled. "Every man should be converging on the crash site. Sector seven, northeast corner, seven clicks in, nine clicks down. Stay with procedure. Roll call," the voice said. "Smith."
"Whiskey," somebody answered.
"Jones," the voice called again.
"Scotch," the next man answered.
"Jackson."
"Port."
A name and a password response, Kier figured.
"Jenkins."
"Bourbon."
"Miller."
There was a pause. Their man was Miller. Now they were in trouble.
"Miller, you out there?"
"Unzip his coat," Kier whispered.
He had a plan. Shadow Man Two had turned his back to the wind and was urinating. Good, should keep him occupied.
Jessie raised a brow, and then did as Kier requested.
"Roll over," Kier told the man.
"Has anybody seen Miller?" the voice called over the radio again.
It was the third time. With Miller lying facedown, Kier removed the cuffs, stripping off the thin, white outer coat. Underneath, the man wore a dark, down-filled arctic body suit, which provided the insulation.
"Now the white pants," Kier said.
"They won't come off over his boots," Jessie said as she began pulling at the laces.
The man in the distance was zipping his pants, then talking on the radio. Holding Miller's radio close to his ear, Kier heard the other man speak.
"Jones, here. Miller was near me. He was to my left. May have gone on ahead."
"They'll shoot if I stand up without my whites," Miller said.
"What are you gonna do?" Jessie put the cuffs back on him with a cold, efficient click.
"Something helpful I hope." Kier was bigger than Miller, but still managed to fit into the suit. He pulled up the hood, put on the goggles, and slid the helmet over the hood just as Miller had done.
"I think we should stay together."
"Can't—they'll find us."
"If you're going to run a distraction of some sort, I need to get these volumes to a safe place."
"Exactly. That's the only evidence there is of whatever is going on here."
"How shall I get out of here. And where will I meet you?"
"I would advise staying right here for ten minutes or until you hear a gunshot, whichever happens first. Best to get out of here when they're distracted. And they'll be distracted."
A dark look crossed her face.
"I'm going to do it without killing anybody," he added, attempting to reassure her. "I need his knife, his radio card, and his watch."
She slapped the items into his hand with a concerned frown.
"Why?"
Kier handed her Miller's silenced pistol after chambering a round. "Safety is off. How about I borrow yours?"
Jessie now pointed both pistols at their prisoner as if she didn't trust just one and told him to roll onto his belly. Then, holstering her own pistol and keeping the silenced weapon, she unlocked the cuffs.
"Lie on your gut with your arms around that tree."
He cursed elaborately as she fastened his wrists on the side of the tree opposite his cheek, which was now pressed against the rough bark.
"I love you too, sweetie," she whispered in his ear.
The other man, the one called Jones, had completely disappeared. Circling around, Kier supposed. Jones would be looking for tracks. Soon he would discover their trail. Their tracks would be visible for a good hour or so before they became misshapen impressions that only a careful eye would
"She's the only FBI. Me, I'm kindred spirit to Goyathlay. You would know him as Geronimo, not Tonto." Kier watched the man through slitted eyes as he spoke. Popping the man's own stiletto, Kier touched the finely honed blade with his index finger. "Uh-oh," he whispered, glancing to the side.
Another gunman had just appeared no more than one hundred feet away. There were going to be lots of men. In seconds, he and Jessie could be trapped.
Their captive's radio crackled. "Every man should be converging on the crash site. Sector seven, northeast corner, seven clicks in, nine clicks down. Stay with procedure. Roll call," the voice said. "Smith."
"Whiskey," somebody answered.
"Jones," the voice called again.
"Scotch," the next man answered.
"Jackson."
"Port."
A name and a password response, Kier figured.
"Jenkins."
"Bourbon."
"Miller."
There was a pause. Their man was Miller. Now they were in trouble.
"Miller, you out there?"
"Unzip his coat," Kier whispered.
He had a plan. Shadow Man Two had turned his back to the wind and was urinating. Good, should keep him occupied.
Jessie raised a brow, and then did as Kier requested.
"Roll over," Kier told the man.
"Has anybody seen Miller?" the voice called over the radio again.
It was the third time. With Miller lying facedown, Kier removed the cuffs, stripping off the thin, white outer coat. Underneath, the man wore a dark, down-filled arctic body suit, which provided the insulation.
"Now the white pants," Kier said.
"They won't come off over his boots," Jessie said as she began pulling at the laces.
The man in the distance was zipping his pants, then talking on the radio. Holding Miller's radio close to his ear, Kier heard the other man speak.
"Jones, here. Miller was near me. He was to my left. May have gone on ahead."
"They'll shoot if I stand up without my whites," Miller said.
"What are you gonna do?" Jessie put the cuffs back on him with a cold, efficient click.
"Something helpful I hope." Kier was bigger than Miller, but still managed to fit into the suit. He pulled up the hood, put on the goggles, and slid the helmet over the hood just as Miller had done.
"I think we should stay together."
"Can't—they'll find us."
"If you're going to run a distraction of some sort, I need to get these volumes to a safe place."
"Exactly. That's the only evidence there is of whatever is going on here."
"How shall I get out of here. And where will I meet you?"
"I would advise staying right here for ten minutes or until you hear a gunshot, whichever happens first. Best to get out of here when they're distracted. And they'll be distracted."
A dark look crossed her face.
"I'm going to do it without killing anybody," he added, attempting to reassure her. "I need his knife, his radio card, and his watch."
She slapped the items into his hand with a concerned frown.
"Why?"
Kier handed her Miller's silenced pistol after chambering a round. "Safety is off. How about I borrow yours?"
Jessie now pointed both pistols at their prisoner as if she didn't trust just one and told him to roll onto his belly. Then, holstering her own pistol and keeping the silenced weapon, she unlocked the cuffs.
"Lie on your gut with your arms around that tree."
He cursed elaborately as she fastened his wrists on the side of the tree opposite his cheek, which was now pressed against the rough bark.
"I love you too, sweetie," she whispered in his ear.
The other man, the one called Jones, had completely disappeared. Circling around, Kier supposed. Jones would be looking for tracks. Soon he would discover their trail. Their tracks would be visible for a good hour or so before they became misshapen impressions that only a careful eye would
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