Read Online The Warrior Code by Ty Patterson - Free Book Online

command had obeyed without hesitation.
    He joined a group of tourists crossing the intersection and went in the car park. It took him three passes before he could locate the Ford. It was jammed between a Ford Traverse and a Honda SUV, both of them dwarfing the car between them, offering good cover in case he had to break in.
    The car was unoccupied, clean, and he discarded breaking in when he saw the rental agency’s details.
    He noted the plate and called a number.
     
    The town of Jackson had a perennial housing shortage. Strict zoning regulations, booming house prices and steep rentals had left supply lagging far behind demand. As a result, many residents and workers lived in mobile homes or camped out in nearby Curtis Canyon, Munger Mountain or other campsites.
    A Ramon Perez had hired the car, listing his address as a campsite in Curtis Canyon – Broker got his details from the rental agency by means he refused to divulge. The campsite was empty when they drove past it.
    An hour of searching didn’t yield any other campsites; in fact, they didn’t come across any other person. Broker’s call came when he was driving back to their hotel.
    ‘Perez had given a phone number to the rental agency. I did my usual magic, and get this – I’ve traced the phone to near an RV park, not far from Jackson. The phone has been stationary for the last four hours.’
    Zeb punched in the coordinates Broker gave him, did a quick calculation, and continued heading to town. He ignored the twins’ protests, dialed another number, and by the time they’d reached the hotel, Kelly was waiting for them.
    Kelly pierced him with his eyes. ‘No vigilante action, Zeb.’ He winked. ‘None that will lead to awkward questions.’
    Zeb nodded and watched him escort the fuming women back to their room.
     
    ‘Still in the same place,’ Broker told him when he finally headed out. Darkness had fallen, and the town had transformed from its day image to its evening avatar, warm and welcoming lights and laughter floating in the sky.
    Zeb drove on a narrow road, his headlights separating light from dark. When he was two miles away from Perez, he turned them off and continued ahead in the darkness that enveloped him.
    Another mile went by, he nudged his wheels off the road and took shelter between dark shadows a hundred feet away from the road. Dark shadows that turned into a clump of trees as he neared them.
    He donned his headset, which was almost invisible to the naked eye, donned thin-feel gloves and a Balaclava mask, and dropped softly on the ground.
    He moved immediately several paces, stood still, letting himself become part of the night, and when his ki, his life force, had settled low and deep, he headed to Perez.
    He saw the dim gleam ten minutes later, and as he went closer, it resolved into a white RV with gray stripes on its sides. The RV was a couple of miles away from the main campsite and stood alone and silent. It was dark inside.
    Zeb stood and listened above the night. He drifted closer when he was sure he was alone, circled it once, and tried the door.
    It swung open easily, and that was when it came to him.
    A metallic odor hung heavy in the air, a scent he was very familiar with.
    He looked behind him once and entered swiftly, his Glock pointing low in one hand, a flashlight emitting a red beam in another. He swung the beam around and steadied it on the figure lying on the long couch in the RV.
    Ramon Perez, one of the four men Zeb had captured outside the hotel, had no expression on his face. Part of his forehead sported an ugly hole, and when Zeb peered low without touching the body, he saw a larger exit wound behind. He took several photographs with his camera, from different angles, and noted there wasn’t a powder burn. Going by the size of the hole, it appeared to be made by a 9 mm bullet, a commonly used caliber.
    Zeb looked around the RV for Perez’s phone and, when he didn’t find it, cast his flashlight over his