The moods of the three SWAT officers were greatly subdued as they rode back to their camp, wondering what they would find when they arrived. After the cessation of the gunfire, there had been no additional shots, but that was no guarantee that the perpetrators were not lying in ambush for them. They would have to approach with caution.
By unspoken consent, no words were passed between them as they neared the camp, preferring not to advertise their presence with conversation or any undue noise. Working as a team on the job had given them silent communication skills that they now applied. In addition, they kept the horses in the thinner parts of the forest where they would not rustle leaves and twigs as they passed, but there was nothing they could do about the dull clopping sounds of hooves on the hard ground.
They were nearing the camp location when T. J. suddenly reined in his horse and raised a cautionary hand to prevent any verbal questions about why they had halted. The others stopped behind him, and all three listened intently to the sounds of a vehicle making its way through the brush. He glanced over his shoulder at the grim faces of his friends, then they turned in the direction of the sound. The horses turned their heads toward it, ears flicking forward, and Midge, stopped in the brush behind them at alert attention.
Moments later, a flash of color drove past, visible through the foliage, and they recognized it as a jeep. There was no doubt in anyone�s mind that the person or persons in the jeep had been responsible for the gunfire they had heard.
Slowly, the rugged vehicle cut its way through the brush, heading in the direction of the marijuana field. The occupants did not seem to be aware of the three horsemen watching from the denser part of the forest, so the officers waited quietly until the sound of the jeep had faded away before nudging the horses into a walk again.
As they neared the campsite, T. J. reined his horse to a stop and dismounted, deciding that it would be prudent to tether the animals well back in the trees. Street and Luca did the same, and they tied the horses securely.
Panting wearily from the long jog from the other pond, Midge stayed close to her master�s side, but as they started walking cautiously toward their camp, the dog suddenly came to alert attention. With ears lifted and nose twitching to detect scents that the humans could not, she looked apprehensively around the wooded area. A low growl rumbled deep in her throat.
�Quiet, Midge,� T. J. commanded, keeping his voice low.
She looked at him anxiously, but after a pleading whine she promptly obeyed. She continued to look anxiously around, searching for the presence that she knew was there but could not see. The horses felt it too, and shifted uneasily on their tethers.
Well concealed atop the rocky bluff, the Watcher smiled, satisfied. The men were too preoccupied to consider the fact that the dog�s senses were better than theirs, and that she knew someone was there. He did not move a muscle, observing the dog and her companions with interest. For several moments, Midge continued to survey their surroundings, then, turning abruptly, she bounded after her master, who had proceeded with the other men toward the camp.
Without speaking, the officers cautiously approached the open area where they had erected their tents, placing their steps carefully to avoid snapping twigs or rustling leaves. As a precaution, T. J. put Midge at �heel� and again gave her the command to be quiet.
When they reached the edge of the tree line, they paused cautiously to observe the clearing where they had placed their camping gear, searching for any sign that danger might be present. Midge�s ears were still up, sensing that something was very wrong. When they were satisfied that it was safe, they stepped into the open to survey the damage.
Everything was destroyed. The tents, riddled with bullet holes, had collapsed under the firepower of the automatic rifles and now lay in tattered heaps of shredded canvas. The cooking pots and pans had suffered extensive damage, dents in the heavier skillets and holes in the lighter pots. The sleeping bags were shredded and the air mattresses deflated. The grill had been tossed from the fire pit and the ashes and logs strewn about haphazardly.
With her tail carried low and the hackles standing up along her back, Midge tiptoed among the debris, sniffing anxiously as she detected the strange scent of the men who had done this. The odor of gunpowder lingered in the air.
No one spoke as they walked grimly among the debris that had been their camp, examining the destruction. Nothing was salvageable, but the message was clear: Get out!
Suddenly, one of the horses whinnied, a loud shrill call that seemed to reverberate through the still air, and all three officers stopped and turned toward it. Out of sight of the humans, the horse had apparently become anxious and called out a reminder that it was still there. Grimly, they exchanged glances, certain that the whinny would be heard by the shooters.
The Watcher was certain of that too, and quickly decided that he had to do something about it. Rising to his feet, he followed the path back down the sloping ground and approached the horses. The nervous animals turned toward him, ears alert, and sidestepped away from him. One horse snorted in protest and shied away from the hand that reached for the reins. One quick jerk, and the knot was open. One by one, each horse was similarly freed, and the man took off his cap and waved it at the skittish horses.
All four horses wheeled away from him, and burst into a panicked gallop, crashing through the trees toward the campsite.
Street, Luca, and McCabe whirled toward the sound of thundering hooves as the horses burst into the clearing. All three men stepped in front of the stampede, waving their arms in an attempt to stop the horses, but the panicked animals merely swerved around them. Helplessly, they watched as their means of transportation thundered past them, galloped across the clearing and vanished into the trees on the other end of the meadow.
Instinctively, all three of the young officers started to give chase, knowing that the horses were their only ride back to civilization, but they had only gone a few dozen yards when they pulled up and stopped, realizing the futility of their actions. Midge bounded excitedly ahead of them, then stopped and turned around, as if wondering why they had stopped. No words were spoken between the men, but the same thought had occurred to all of them: There was no possible way that they could catch the horses.
For several moments, they stood gazing at the tree line where the horses had entered, listening to the clattering of their shod hooves on the rocks, until the sounds became too distant and faded away. All three were breathing heavily, more from anxiety and frustration than from exhaustion. What do we do now? expressions were tossed between them as they considered the dilemma they were now in, then they looked apprehensively around them, at the trees and shadows which seemed to close in on them, menacingly.
Finally, Luca sighed heavily and spoke the words they had all been thinking. �Okay, what are we supposed to do now? A bunch of drug dealers have murdered someone, possibly a law officer, shot up our camp and it was probably them that scared off our horses, and we don�t have a weapon between us except a filleting knife.�
�Which is in the pack on Daisy�s harness,� Street sighed, then added, �Along with the map.�
�I stand corrected: we don�t a weapon at all between us,� Luca amended his statement.
�Well, we certainly can�t go back to the camp,� T. J. said, turning around to face the destruction in their campsite. So far, there was still no sign of the armed men, but he knew that would probably change within minutes. �It�s almost certain that those guys heard the horse whinny as well as the commotion of them running through the camp. They will probably turn back, realizing that we�ve returned. They could even be there in the trees waiting for us right now. I think we have no choice but to walk out of here on foot.�
�We�ll have to stay under cover as much as possible,� Street added. �Out here, we�re easy targets.� His eyes studied their campsite, but like T. J. he saw no indication of the shooters. �Let�s get out of the open and talk about this.�
Quickly, they sprinted into the trees at the nearest entry point. The horses were long gone, and would likely make their way back to Bob�s stable. They were mildly reassured that Bob would realize that something was wrong and would send help, but in the meantime they were on their own, outnumbered and outgunned, against a dangerous enemy.
The high bluff that had flanked their camp could be seen farther back in the trees, and T. J.�s training and the execution of his job dictated that the best place to be was the high ground. Tilting his head back, he looked up at the bluff, and realized that the summit would give them a good view of the camp. He gestured toward it. �Let�s get up on that bluff. We should be able to see the camp, and if these guys come back, we can safely observe them and see what we�re dealing with. Then we can decide what we need to do.�
Luca nodded. �Sounds reasonable.�
Street nodded. �I agree.�
As quietly as possible, they picked their way through the undergrowth, seeking a suitable place to climb the bluff.
At last, they found a narrow path that led up the sloping ground among the rocks, twisting and turning as it snaked upward toward the summit. Without speaking, they automatically followed it. Realizing where they were headed, Midge brushed past their legs, determined to take the lead, and she reached the top well ahead of them.
The climb was fairly easy for them, having kept in excellent condition for their jobs, and when they reached the top they turned to look back down the path they had ascended.
�Is it me, or does that look suspiciously like a trail?� Luca asked.
�I was thinking the same thing, but I was hoping it was just me,� T. J. responded.
�I�d say it�s definitely a trail,� Street confirmed. �But we�ll have to worry about it later. T. J., since you�re used to finding the best spots, you lead the way.�
T. J. took the lead, with Midge still trotting ahead of him. He snapped his fingers to attract the dog�s attention, then patted his left leg, a silent command to heel. With a soft sigh, Midge lowered her head with disappointment and obediently moved beside him.
The trees grew thick on the summit of the bluff and the slopes, and as they picked their way cautiously toward the edge nearest their camp, they stepped as quietly as possible in an attempt to avoid giving away their location. Finally, T. J. crouched down and gave the �down� signal to Midge, pushing his hand, palm down, toward the ground. The dog dropped onto her belly and watched anxiously as the three humans crept toward the rocky edge.
There were plenty of trees between the bluff and the clearing and much of the camp was obscured by the limbs and leaves, but there were gaps that offered a suitable place for viewing the campsite. Lying down on their bellies, propped up on their elbows, they settled down to watch, and discovered that the camp was no longer empty.
Four men were walking slowly among the tattered tents and packs, kicking aside the fabric with their boots to see if anyone was hiding under them. All four were dressed casually in denims and work shirts, but the weapons they carried at the ready were anything but casual.
T. J. exhaled in a way that under normal circumstances would have been a whistle, but this time was simply an exhale of air through pursed lips. �Thompson submachine guns,� he whispered. �These guys mean business!�
The three SWAT officers glanced at each other, grimly, understanding that these were the men assigned the task of guarding the marijuana, and were the likely killers of the man who was lying near the other pond.
They heard the electronic crackle of a walkie-talkie, and one of the men raised it to his lips. �Yeah,� he said. His voice was faint, but just detectable to the officers who watched.
The electronic voice came back over the instrument, its message chilling, �We found hoof prints near the field. Looks like they found the body and the merchandise. You�re going to have to find them and kill them. Do not let them get away!�
T. J. briefly lowered his forehead onto his wrist in reaction to the death order, then raised his head again and glanced at his friends. Street shook his head, grimly.
�You heard him,� the man with the walkie-talkie said. �We find them and eliminate them.�
They spread out, looking at the ground for clues to the whereabouts of their prey. Finally, one of them gestured with his rifle in the direction that the horses had gone, and they started walking across the meadow.
�They�re following the horses,� Luca said, quietly, realizing that they themselves had almost gone after them.
�Yeah,� T. J. agreed, solemnly. �Damn, I wish I had my rifle! I could probably take two of them down before they realized what hit them. That would level the playing field somewhat.�
No one answered. There was no need to. They totally agreed.
Partway across the meadow, the four men stopped and appeared to be discussing their course of action against the campers who had unintentionally stumbled onto their illegal operation. They were calm and unhurried, as if confident that they would find and eliminate their prey.
�I wish I could hear what they were saying,� Street remarked, quietly.
After several moments, two of the men continued toward the trees where the horses had gone, while the other two turned back toward the campsite.
�They�re splitting up,� T. J. said, then asked the question they were all wondering, �Do you think they�ll kill the horses if they find them?�
�Probably,� Luca answered. �They know the horses will head for home. Hopefully, they will stay far enough ahead of them that they can�t catch up.� He fell silent for a moment, pondering an unanswered question. �I don�t get it,� he said at last. �They�re obviously looking for us; two following the horses like they expect us to be with them and two coming back just in case we�re not with them. If they knew we had returned to the camp, wouldn�t they have sneaked up on us? I mean, what�s the point of freeing the horses and driving them through the camp like that?�
All three men were silent for a moment, thinking about that.
�Unless they aren�t the ones who released them,� T. J. suggested at last.
�That means there�s someone else out here,� Luca said. �I bet he�s the one who sneaked into the camp last night. If he was one of them, they would have dealt with us long before now.�
�Yeah,� Street agreed. �You�re probably right. So, who is this other guy, and what�s he doing out here? And why did he release the horses?�
They looked at each other again and shook their heads, unable to come up with an answer.
Turning back toward the camp, their eyes continued to follow the two men who returned to their camp and seemed to be looking at the ground, as if searching for tracks to follow.
Luca folded his arms on the ground in front of him and rested his chin on the back of his hand, watching as the two men perused the trampled grass and soil in the camp. He would never have been able to pick out one footprint from another, but he knew that an experienced tracker would be able to do just that. �Do you think they�re skilled at tracking?� he whispered.
�Probably not,� T. J. answered, promptly.
Luca and Street turned their heads to look at him. �Why�s that?� Luca asked.
�Because if they were, they would have realized that we left the camp chasing the horses and then never returned to the camp before we went into the trees.�
The other two men nodded in agreement. �Makes sense,� Luca said.
In the camp, the two men finally gave up their study of the ground, and one of them raised a walkie-talkie to his mouth and spoke into it. They could hear the electronic sound of the voice from the other end of the conversation, and they cocked their heads and listened intently, trying to make out the words. This time, the man was farther away, and their voices were muffled.
�Did you catch any of that?� Street whispered when the communication ended.
�Not a word,� T. J. replied.
�Same here,� Luca agreed.
Finally, the two armed men apparently decided that there was nothing to be learned from examining the items in the camp, and they slowly moved off to their right. Their posture was alert and attentive, their eyes sweeping the area around them as they continued to search for clues to tell them whether their prey were on the horses or if they had used the horses as decoys.
All three of the SWAT officers felt suddenly uneasy, but it was Street who spoke the words: �They�ve got us between them, now. I think we should find a place to lay low until dark. Then we can travel with less risk of being seen.�
Carefully to avoid knocking any rocks down the face of the bluff, they scooted backward away from the edge before standing up. Placing their feet cautiously on the loose rocks and twigs, they crept back into the brush for cover. T. J. signaled Midge, and even though she did not understand the desperate situation they were in, she sensed their nervousness and seemed to understand that she must be quiet and obedient, for she promptly obeyed his hand signals and remained at his side as they pushed deeper into the undergrowth traveling down the gently curving back slope of the bluff.
The forest was denser in this area. Vines, snaking along the forest floor, snared their ankles, rotting limbs that had dropped from the treetops provided unstable footing beneath last years accumulation of leaves, and small saplings were shooting upward, searching for light, so they were forced to keep their eyes low, watching for tripping hazards as they picked their way through the woods. There were no sounds of gunfire, so the men had not yet found the horses, and the SWAT officers could only hope and pray that the animals would make it safely back to Bob�s stable.
The sun continued its trek across the sky at an agonizingly slow pace as Street, Luca, and T. J. proceeded deeper into the forested slopes and valleys of Bob Carver�s enormous expanse of undeveloped land. For a long time, the only sound was the rustling of dry leaves on the forest floor as they walked through it and the monotonous whirring of cicadas in the tree tops. Curiously, they saw no rabbits or squirrels, yet the area seemed to be a perfect place for populations of small wildlife.
After a long time, they stopped to rest, leaning against trees rather than sitting down. While the rested, they listened intently, trying to catch the sound of a human foot passing nearby. They heard nothing except the ever present sound of the cicadas and the trickling sounds of a nearby creek.
�There�s a stream up ahead,� Luca said, keeping his voice low. �I wonder if the water is safe for us to drink?�
T. J. shook his head. �No way of knowing. It could contain any number of contaminants and bacteria. However, if we are out here more than another day, we may not have any choice but to take our chances.�
Pushing himself away from the tree, Street instigated the continuation of their journey through the woods, moving toward the happy gurgling sounds of the stream that they could not yet see, until at last they saw the jagged edges of the bank.
Reluctant to move into the less dense areas, they approached it with caution and paused at the edge of the tree line. From their position, they could not see the water at the bottom, for it had a high bank carved out of the ground many years earlier by higher, fast moving water, but they could hear it, a soothing sound as it trickled over the rocks.
Deeming it safe, they left the cover of the trees and walked to the edge and looked down at the gently running meandering ribbon of water that had carved a long cleft into the earth, some eight feet deep. It had once been a very wide, deep creek, but now it was reduced to a mere trickle at the very bottom of the shallow ravine. A flat bank of pebbles and rocks stretched on either side of the narrow stream, reaching toward the sides of the ravine. The sides were steep, but T. J. pointed to a spot on their right.
�I think we can get down over there.�
They moved toward it, and T. J. took the lead, picking his way slowly down the steep ground. The soil was loose and the footing unstable, but he managed to make it down without mishap. Midge was not so lucky. In her haste to catch up with her master, she lost her footing and rolled most of the way. She jumped up and shook herself off with an expression that Luca swore was doggie embarrassment. Looking up at T. J., she offered a tentative wag of her tail, and he stroked her head with a smile of amusement.
�That first step�s a doozie,� he told her.
Luca started down next with Street behind him, and both made it down safely.
Crossing the bed of pebbles, they knelt down beside the stream to splash their faces. The water was cold and refreshing, but they did not drink, knowing that the water was probably unsafe for human consumption. Midge splashed blissfully into it, lapping loudly with her tongue.
�Let�s walk down here in the streambed,� Street suggested. �Our tracks will be harder to follow in the gravel than in the soft dirt.�
No one commented, but as one they turned and started walking along the streambed, the gravel crunching under their shoes. T. J. was careful to look behind them, verifying that they were leaving no discernable trace of their passing.
The streambed widened and narrowed in places as it meandered through the countryside. Sometimes, they were forced to step into the water to navigate narrow passages, other times they were able to walk three abreast.
After nearly half an hour, they paused to rest for a few moments. Here, the creek bed was around five feet deep, very wide, and heavily eroded. On their left, at the top of the bank, an ancient tree grew right at the edge in the eroding soil, its gnarled, exposed roots, extending outward toward the stream. The wind and water had washed away the soil, forming a small, cave-like cavity which yawned beneath those snarled, twisted roots, yet it seemed large enough to be investigated as a possible hiding place. All three stooped to peer between the two most widely spaced roots. Additional roots snaked throughout the cavity, but there appeared to be just enough room for three men and a dog to hide inside.
�What d�you think?� Luca asked.
�I think I need to rest a while before going on,� T. J. replied. �And this looks as good a place as any. At least we�re somewhat hidden from those killers.� He shrugged. �Well, better than we would be out in the open, anyway.�
They turned to Street for his input, but he merely nodded in agreement.
Luca, the smallest, slipped inside first and stepped up onto a small ledge of earth, then sat down, his back pressed against the cool soil. T. J. stooped and slipped inside next, and sat down on the ground just below Luca, his back against one of the many roots that jutted down into the soil, anchoring the tree to the ground. Midge crowded in beside him and snuggled down at his side, her chin resting on his thigh. Street cast a wary glance in all directions before joining his friends and colleagues beneath the root-cavity.
It was close and cramped quarters hidden there among the tangle of roots that jutted down out of their natural ceiling, but all three were grateful for the opportunity to sit down and rest in relative safety.
T. J. turned over his wrist to glance at his watch, and announced quietly, �It�s almost six thirty. It�ll be dark in a couple of hours.�
�With any luck, those guys will settle down for the night,� Street said. �At the very least, we�ll have the darkness to help conceal our movements.�
Inside the close quarters of their hiding place, the three officers settled down to rest and wait for nightfall. They could see outside between the thick, ropey roots and knew that anyone walking along the creek bed would likely see them, but they hoped their pursuers would pass right by at the top of the embankment without realizing that they were there.
They were uncertain how long they had been there when they were alerted to an unwelcome presence by the sound of pebbles crunching under heavy boots. Rousing themselves to full alertness, they watched as one of the heavily armed men walked along the edge of the water, eyes averted, looking for tracks in the soft soil at the water�s edge. Occasionally, he stopped and squatted down to observe something interesting, then proceeded, still keeping an attentive eye to the ground.
As he neared the tangle of roots in which the three officers were hiding, he uttered a soft, �ah-ha!�, and knelt down to closer examine a track he had found at the water�s edge. With a jolt, they realized that Midge had probably left her paw prints in the muddy soil at the stream�s edge.
Luca, T. J., and Street watched apprehensively as the gunman rose to his feet and slowly advanced toward them. As luck would have it, he stopped directly in front of the tangle of roots, turning slowly as he scanned the area, searching for his prey. The Tommy gun rested against his hip, muzzle down but ready to bring into firing position.
On reflex, the three SWAT officers shrank back into the dusky recesses of their cave-like depression, watching attentively as the drug dealer scanned the area. Desperately, they hoped he would keep his back to them. He was large and muscular, built like a grizzly, and probably weighed well over 200 pounds, a formidable opponent, even for all three of them together.
As if aware that he was being watched, the man slowly turned toward them. Seated nearest the opening of the roots, Street launched himself at the man before he could raise the gun into firing position, and the two of them sprawled on the ground. The automatic rifle leaped from the startled man�s hands, and landed in the stream with a loud splash. T. J. and Luca burst from the hideout to assist their friend, but the drug dealer managed to drive Luca back with a well-placed kick to the shin. Luca stumbled back with a painful curse, his hands going to the injury.
As the SWAT unit�s long rifleman, T. J.�s first instinct was to go after the rifle, the one object that could level the playing field somewhat, but as he rushed toward it, he saw that Street was getting the worst end of the fight. Skidding to a halt on the loose gravel, he left the weapon where it was and rushed into the fray while Midge stood back barking frantically. Setting aside his pain, Luca also jumped back into the fight.
The man was even stronger than they had anticipated, and he managed to throw Street off, sending the SWAT officer reeling backwards to land heavily on his back in the gravel. Grabbing Luca by the front of the shirt, he flung the smaller man to the ground and pinning him to the ground by the neck with one big, beefy hand, he withdrew a hunting knife from a sheath at his belt with the other.
�He has a knife!� Street croaked a warning, still trying to draw in enough air to combat the suffocating sensations of having the breath knocked out of him.
T. J. grabbed the man�s wrist from behind in an effort to prevent the downward plunge that could end Luca�s life, and it became a tense arm wrestle as each man struggled against the other.
Suddenly, the drug dealer yelled with annoyance, and T. J. saw that Midge had jumped into the fight. Realizing that her human friends were fighting for their lives against this stranger, she had latched onto the hem of the man�s pant leg and was tugging on it with enough force to pull him part way off Luca. Distracted, he viciously kicked the dog away, but after a yelp of surprise, she scrambled to her feet and latched onto him again, this time sinking her teeth into his calf. He yelled again and attempted to swipe at the dog with the knife, but Luca had the wrist securely in both hands and forcibly held it at arms length.
While Street jumped back into the foray and seized the wrist as well, T. J. knew he had to end it, and he was the only one in a position to do so. Quickly, he wrapped one arm around the man�s neck and twisted his head sharply to one side. There was a sickening crunch, then the attacker went limp, his body completely covering Luca.
T. J. helped throw the body off the younger officer, and Luca scrambled to his feet. The three men stood silently for several moments, staring down at the dead drug dealer, all of them gasping for breath. Midge backed up, still barking.
�Is everyone okay?� T. J. asked.
Street�s hand was on his chest, and nodded, �Just had the wind knocked out of me.�
Luca slapped T. J.�s arm with appreciation. �Thanks, man. For a moment there, I thought I was a goner!�
The three officers finally allowed their bodies to relax for several moments, and then they became of aware of Midge�s frantic barking.
�Midge, quiet!� T. J. commanded.
The dog instantly became quiet, but the damage was done. They heard the crackle of the walkie-talkie that was lying nearby.
�They�re over by the stream. I can hear their dog barking.�
The officers looked at each other in alarm.
�We need to get moving!� Street said.
T. J. snatched the rifle from the stream, grimacing at the water that poured from the magazine. �Damn it.�
�We have to get out of this creek bed,� Street said, drawing their attention away from the rifle. �They�ll be heading this way.� He nodded toward the rifle. �Is it salvageable?�
T. J. sighed heavily, and shook his head. �With proper cleaning, yes. Right now? Not a chance.� He pitched it back into the water. There was no point in burdening themselves with a weapon that was useless to them.
Luca bent down and retrieved the hunting knife. It had a long sturdy blade, and might come in handy.
As they walked past it, Street bent down to retrieve the walkie-talkie. The conversations of their pursuers would be helpful in staying ahead of them. Then, the three men and the dog proceeded downstream and found a good place to climb back out on the other side.
They had not gone far when they heard the crackle of activity on the walkie-talkie, and a course voice said, �They killed Warwick. His rifle is in the water, but they took his walkie-talkie. We�re going to have to minimize our use of the talkies, and use alternating frequencies in the pattern laid out by Hart. Does everyone understand?�
The remaining two men voiced their understanding, and the radio went silent.
�These guys are good,� Street said. �I had hoped they wouldn�t think about the missing walkie-talkie.� He hefted it with disappointment, then tossed it into the brush. It was useless to them now.