by Gary Ponzo
They patched each other up with camouflage and rubbed black wax on their faces. When Matt was satisfied with the results, he picked up his bag and said, “Now we’re going to find a good spot to get invisible.”
Matt motioned to a group of bushes that were thick and low to the ground. He dropped his bag and instructed Steele to set up next to him.
The sun was nearly set, but Matt knew there was still too much twilight for the night gear. He slid his rifle from its case and began working the scope into place. He was in his element now. Every move had been rehearsed over and over. Besides quarterly training, Matt had been on an average of twenty sniper assignments a year for the past eight years. It was the part of the job that made him the most comfortable. He could be invisible, yet strike the biggest blow for the good guys. He stopped to take a quick check of the location. He looked, listened, and smelled his surroundings, but found nothing that concerned him.
Matt went back to adjusting his scope when he heard Steele say, “There’s something strange about this place.”
Matt saw her gazing through a pair of field glasses at the cabin, then went back to examining his site. He was familiar with virgin nerves. On his first sniper job, he nearly peed in his pants as he fired the first shot. He didn’t want to appear cocky, but he couldn’t afford to waste time looking for ghosts either. “What don’t you like?”
“Do you see all the cut down trees around the building?”
Matt turned his head just long enough to see the tree stumps surrounding the cabin. “What about them?”
“Well, like I told you, people cut down the trees to deprive a fire of fuel around their home.”
“Yeah.”
“If these people went through all the trouble of chain-sawing all of those trees. .then why is there still a cord of wood leaning up against the house? And why is there still a pile of kindling next to the wood?”
It was a good question.
“And another thing,” she continued. “Do you see the roof? It’s not made of the shingle material you normally see up here. A few years back it became fashionable to pitch the roof with lightweight steel panels. They last forever and have no maintenance. Even though it looks like redwood, those panels are made out of metal. They can’t burn.”
Another good observation, Matt thought. He put down his rifle and reached for his binoculars. With the two of them gazing at the cabin through binoculars, Steele said, “Why would someone with a metal roof clear out all of the trees around their place?”
“You have an idea?” he said.
She ducked down next to Matt and whispered. “Yes.” She turned and pointed toward the woods. “I think this is an ambush. I don’t think there’s anybody inside of the cabin. I think that the area was cleared out so we would be sitting ducks. Those two stones are in perfect position for a perimeter attack on the cabin, but if the enemy were behind us. .” She looked at Matt as if she was going too fast for him. “Do you understand?
“Yes, of course.” It was flimsy, but plausible. Oliver Stone would have loved it.
“You have to warn the others.”
Matt had to look away. He was having trouble thinking straight and his feelings for Steele were damaging his focus. He gazed into the woods as if he was considering her theory, but he was really buying time. There was no way he was going to break the radio silence over her borderline premise.
“Hey, are you going to warn them, or not?”
Matt brought his eyes up to meet hers. “Listen, what you bring up are good points, but maybe you’re reading too much into it. It’s possible that there’s a simple explanation.”
“Such as?”
“It’s possible that the owners cut the trees down first, then later added the steel roof.”
“What about the wood?”
“Again, it could have been placed there long after the forest fire.”
Her eyes drifted toward the ground. “You think I’m just a nervous R.A. frightened by my own shadow.”
Matt looked straight at her, but said nothing. She needed some kind of support and Matt groped for the right words without patronizing her. He looked at his watch. It was 5:55. Just five minutes before Nick would begin the assault on the cabin. He opened his palms. “All right, here’s what we do,” he handed her his rifle. “You know how to use one of these?”
She shot him a look.
“Okay, okay. You stay here, while I go back and tell Nick about your observations.”
She smiled again and then it hit him. She could manipulate him with just a look. This both excited and frightened him.
“Stay low,” he demanded. Then pointing toward the cabin, he said, “And keep your focus on the target. Don’t move a muscle until I get back.”
She glanced over her shoulder at the woods. “Okay, hurry back.”
He grabbed his Glock and put the silencer in his pocket. As he turned to leave he felt her gentle touch on his arm. She whispered, “Be careful.”
Matt felt like he was back in high school again. His cheeks were flush and a smile lingered on his face as he crept back toward Nick’s position.
A few minutes later he was making sure his footsteps could be heard as he walked into the clearing that surrounded the boulder Nick and Dave Tanner hid behind. He held his hands up high while he approached the two agents who were training their pistols at his chest.
“It’s Matt,” he whispered.
Nick’s face screwed up into a scowl. “What are you doing here?”
Matt lowered himself to his knees next to Nick. He told his partner about Steele’s thoughts on the unusually large clearing around the cabin, the roof and pile of wood. Nick got to his feet and peered over the boulder at the silent cabin with Matt over his shoulder. They both returned to their knees.
“She seems to think that it’s an ambush. She thinks they’re behind us in the woods.”
Nick appeared to be giving the idea some thought. He pressed his hand to the ground as if he was feeling for the warmth of a previous visitor. Before he could say anything, he reached for the cell phone in his pocket. Matt didn’t hear it ring, but he knew it would be set on vibrate.
Nick put the phone to his ear and listened. His face dropped into a deep maddening glower. A minute later he returned the phone to his pocket and looked past Matt’s shoulder into the woods.
“Who was that?” Dave Tanner asked.
Nick was squinting now. “That was Silk.”
Matt was beginning to feel anxious. He waited while Nick worked it out in his head.
Nick reached down and gripped the handle to his duffel bag. “Get your gear,” he said. “We’re going to the other side of this boulder.”
They scurried around the large rock, leaving themselves completely exposed to an attack from the cabin.
“Are you going to tell us what’s going on?” Tanner asked in a high voice.
Nick rummaged through his duffle bag. “Shit, where’s the infrared scope? Do you have it, Dave?”
Even in the dark Matt could tell that Nick looked pale. A bead of sweat seeped down his temple. Nick growled, “The Sheriff couldn’t be with us tonight because he was on a manhunt-remember? He had a killer to catch.”
Matt didn’t like the sound of it already.
“Well,” Nick spat out the words, “he is currently sitting in a chair in a barber shop in downtown Payson getting a haircut. According to Silk he seemed to be yucking it up with the boys in the shop.”
Matt was trying hard to piece it together. “You think he set us up?”
Nick found the infrared and slid the narrow tube over the edge of the rock like a periscope. The bottom of the tube fed into a handheld device with a green screen. As he pushed some buttons on the device, he said, “We’ll find out in a minute.”
All three men watched the screen come to life. Nick slowly twisted the tube from right to left, all the time paying attention to the display in his hand. It remained a constant green field for a full minute. Suddenly,
a tiny red blob came into view. Even though it appeared small on the screen, Matt knew it was too large to be a small animal. Nick wasn’t ready to pronounce anything until they saw the appendage move in such a way that there was no mistake. It was a human. “Son of a bitch,” Nick murmured.
Frantically, Nick pulled the arm to his headpiece directly over his mouth. He pushed a button and spoke with a low, urgent voice. “Carl, get to the other side of the rock. They’re not in the cabin, they’re behind us. Use the infrared scope to find them.”
Matt couldn’t hear Carl Rutherford’s response, but Nick jammed it immediately. “I don’t have time to explain. Do it now!”
“What if they’re in the cabin also?” Dave Tanner asked.
Nick shook his head. “No, they’d be catching each other in the cross fire. They probably have the building rigged to explode and soon as someone tries to enter.”
Nick pushed the transmitting button on the headpiece again and said, “Do you see them?. .Good.”
Dave Tanner kept working the infrared. “I’ve got two of them coming our way. Less than 100 yards.”
Matt had already strapped on his night visor and was ready to take out the two attackers in the woods when a thought suddenly jolted him. Jennifer. She was alone in his makeshift nest without any cover, or communication.
As if they had telepathy, Nick turned to Matt and said, “Steele. Where is she?”
Matt was sucking in deep breaths now.
“Seventy-five yards,” Tanner announced.
Matt looked down at his watch. “Listen,” he said, “give me three minutes before you start firing.”
Nick looked at him with narrow eyes.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Matt snapped. “You know I’d do the same thing for any FBI agent left out there on an island like that.”
Nick’s face softened. He nodded. “Okay,” he said, pointing a finger at Matt. “You’ve got three minutes. But you know how vital a first shot is. Understand?”
Matt knew all too well. If the squad were able to fire first they would get fairly open shots at the unsuspecting goons. But if the soldiers fired the first shot they would be in a more defensive mode with better cover.
Matt nodded. He screwed his silencer onto his Glock and lowered himself. As he was leaving he heard a familiar line. “Be careful,” Nick said from somewhere behind him.
Matt crawled at a smooth, rhythmic pace, keeping his limbs tucked in. Depending on the distance he hoped to be mistaken for any number of animals, even under the scrutiny of night vision glasses. He was moving lateral to the KSF soldiers, careful not to arouse any attention. He thought about Jennifer waiting for him to return, waiting for him to tell her she was safe, that there was no boogey man out there trying to get her. But he couldn’t. And when the first shot was fired, he knew he never would.
On his headset, Matt heard Nick berating Carl Rutherford for jumping the gun, but it was too late. A burst of gunfire came from Nick’s position behind him and he realized that he had to run now. He was only thirty yards away from his nest when he stopped cold and hit the ground. In his haste, he’d forgotten the most basic rules of engagement: find the enemy before they find you.
He lowered his night vision glasses and searched the woods surrounding his nest. Gunshots echoed off of the mountain range all around him and he couldn’t tell where they were coming from. None of the shots were coming his way, so he stayed perfectly still and found what he was looking for. Two soldiers were tucked behind trees with rifles and Matt could see the flash of their muzzles firing directly into Jennifer Steele’s position. He quickly unscrewed the silencer from his Glock. He needed accuracy more than stealth. As he lined up his shot he noticed something he’d never encountered before-his hands were clammy with sweat. His breathing became sporadic as he lined up for a shot. With a shaky hand, he caught the soldier off-guard and clipped him in the shoulder. Matt’s second shot was a kill to the head, finishing off the first soldier.
He suddenly lost all control of his training. Instead of concentrating on the enemy, he followed the direction of the second attacker’s muzzle flash. It was a semi-automatic rifle and the rounds came blasting out with such rapid force that he was compelled to see what damage they had caused. It took just a second to find Jennifer Steele. She was on her stomach with her back to the attacker. She was facing the cabin with Matt’s rifle tucked under her arm, diligently following his instructions. He was close enough to see her torso jerk spastically with every round that peppered her body. She never even had a chance to turn and defend herself. Now her head shuddered so violently that Matt could see her ponytail bounce with each fatal headshot. His stomach fell like a free-falling elevator.
Matt turned back toward the soldier and aimed his Glock for the kill. As he tried to locate the target his vision suddenly became blurry. At first he thought he’d been shot and blood was seeping into his eyes. He wiped his eyes clear and looked down at his hand. To his amazement he found something he’d never experienced on the job before. Tears.
Unable to stop the flow of moisture to his eyes, he managed the best shot he could. It was good enough to knock the rifle from the soldier’s hands. The attacker left the weapon and ran, using trees to cover his trail. Matt tried futilely to get another shot off, but he was seeing double now and didn’t waste the ammo.
He scrambled toward Steele, his gun flying from his hand as he hit a tree stump. He approached her body with a morbid sense of loss. Jennifer Steele lay in a crumpled heap. The lower half of her body was hidden under thick undergrowth and her arms were contorted like a discarded rag doll. Her head was tucked between two fallen logs that had served as perfect cover for an attack from the cabin. Through the dim moonlight, he could see her ponytail dangling lifelessly from the back of her cap. His rifle was just under her armpit, the front end lifted on its tripod. She never saw it coming.
Matt noticed that the gunfire had ceased and heard Nick’s voice in his headset.
“Matt, Dave’s been hit. I’ve got to get him out of here-you okay?”
Matt rubbed his eyes dry. “Yeah.”
“What about Steele?”
Matt swallowed. He choked on the words. “She’s. . um. . down.”
The way he said it Nick must’ve know what he meant. There was a moment of silence while Nick gave Matt privacy to deal with the loss. “I’m sorry.”
Matt felt a sense of betrayal. Steele wasn’t the frightened greenhorn he made her out to be. She was simply aware of her surroundings. He had the strange desire to say goodbye, to apologize for his blunder.
Suddenly, he heard a click behind him and realized that he had made more than one mistake that night. He turned and faced his destiny. The KSF soldier he thought had run away simply double-backed on him. The rifle was wedged into the terrorist’s shoulder and from ten feet away he already had pressure on the trigger.
At that moment, the thought that flashed through Matt’s mind was that he would be finally be reunited with Jennifer Steele. He squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself for death. When the shot was fired he was surprised how painlessly the end came. He felt his entire body floating weightlessly as if he were being lifted from all of his anguish. The gunshot still rang in his ears as an aftereffect of his previous life. It became dead still and the only sound he heard was a nearby thud. When he was brave enough to open his eyes and discover his fate, he saw an angel. The angel was smiling at him, warmly, as if she knew him all of his life and was simply waiting for him to return to her. The angel was Jennifer Steele.
The only difference he noted in Steele’s appearance was the short hair that sprouted recklessly from her head like a porcupine. Matt looked down and saw the KSF soldier lying dead in front of him. He blinked hard, then twisted around to see Jennifer Steele’s body still lying next to him. He did a double take back to the angel, then to the crumpled remains of Steele. He tugged on Steele’s ponytail and came up with a capful of pinecones. He felt her shirtsleeve and pushed down
on the leaves and pine needles that had replaced her arms. A crooked smile crept across his face.
“There are two kinds of FBI agents,” Steele said, “the ones that follow their instincts, and the dead ones.”
Chapter 32
President Merrick stood facing a map of Arizona in an office fifty feet below the Oval Office. Turning, he searched for a window out of habit, like opening the refrigerator without an appetite. There weren’t any windows in the bunker, so he chose a map to let his mind wander. He sipped from a mug of coffee with the presidential seal attached, examined the dot on the map that was Payson, and shook his head.
Behind him, his phone line blinked with an open extension to a domestic event conference currently convened at the Pentagon. He was so overwhelmed with information and suggestions that his brain was beginning to freeze up. He needed a moment to reflect and allow his head to clear. He had countless decisions to make and time was dwindling.
There was a knock on the door; Samuel Fisk poked his head through the narrow opening. “He’s here,” Fisk announced.
“Great,” Merrick said. “Send him in.”
Merrick heard the man enter his office and decided to let him sweat for a moment. His thoughts remained thousands of miles away while he stood with his back to the man and listened to his erratic breathing.
At the sound of an anxious cough, Merrick squeezed a hand over his eyes. “Sit down, Bill.”
Bill Hatfield dropped into the leather chair with the dead-legged thump of a boxer trying to go the distance.
President Merrick finally turned and saw his Chief of Staff cowering like a dog who had just peed on the carpet. Hatfield refused to make eye contact and that just fueled Merrick’s anger.
“Look at me, Bill,” Merrick demanded. “I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me the truth. You’re only getting one chance at this so don’t blow it.” Merrick placed the mug on his desk and pushed up his already rolled up sleeves even further. “Did you leak the Payson location to Miles Reese?”
