By afternoon, he came across a trail beaten through the grass. The blades were bent toward the north and appeared to have been trampled by several men. As he followed it, he noted that they did not always walk in tandem. Many times the impressions would separate, indicating that they were walking abreast. During those times he counted four distinct sets of prints, one much larger than the others. The big man he had been assigned to follow had undoubtedly made these. Since he was alone when he left the Fir Bolg compound, Glass surmised that he must be following the other three men.
He took out his binoculars and scanned ahead. The area was still clear, with the closest trees about a mile distant. As he walked, he continually checked his surroundings by turning in a compete circle. A couple of hours later, he stopped and took a drink from his canteen. The sun was falling away toward the western horizon. He checked his watch; it was 4:58 p.m. He had been following the trail for about three hours and estimated that he had travelled around ten miles from the mountain.
A giant oak tree with limbs drooping almost to the ground was just ahead. The trail led directly by it. He decided to rest there for a few minutes and eat one of the Snickers bars he carried. When he reached the shelter of the tree, he shrugged off the rifle and pack, sat down and stretched his legs out. Comfortable, he took off his boonie hat and used it to wipe the sweat from his forehead. Because of his camouflage clothing and face paint, anyone looking in his direction would see only a tree. A number of birds were chirping and flittering about in the overhead foliage. He found the sound comforting. He let out a breath, closed his eyes and listened while he chewed the sweet treat.
Another two hours at most, and it would be dark. He considered his options. One, he could continue to follow the trail and possibly lose it in the dark. Using a mini-light was out of the question; too easily seen from a distance. Two, stay put and rig a tripwire across the trail with a flash-bang flare to alert him if the target returned. Under this option, the tree would provide shelter from the rain, if any. Three, continue on until dark, then rig the flare. After thinking about it for a few minutes, he decided on option two.
He crumpled the candy wrapper and stuffed it into his pocket. After he had rested a few more minutes, he removed a spool of thin black wire from his pack. Next he produced a short, tubular flare with a spike on one end. He tied one end of the wire around the tree trunk about three feet high then stretched it two hundred feet across the trail to the base of a huge boulder. Nearby, a smaller rock jutted up out of the ground. He pulled the wire taut around it and pushed the flare's spike into the ground. Cutting a five-foot length of wire from the spool, he wrapped one end around the main wire and tied the other end to the flare's pull-pin. To make sure that a minimal amount of force would be required to set it off, he loosened the pull-pin a little.
Satisfied with the setup, he got to his feet and started back toward the tree. As he walked, he checked the wire's height above the ground. It was three feet high; perfect to allow small animals to pass underneath but low enough to be tripped by a man. Larger animals, like deer, would be a risk he would have to take.
When he was again beneath the tree's canopy, he took out his radio and called Kriss. "Lonesome boy to Mama Bear."
"Go ahead, Bobby. Copy you but weak," came the static-laden reply.
"I'm ten or so miles north of you. Have followed the trail to this point but am stopping due to darkness. Intend to spend the night here," Glass replied.
After a few seconds, Kriss said, "No visual?"
"Negative. Following signs of four men moving north. One is the big man."
"Copy. Use caution and keep in touch every hour."
"Copy that, Mama Bear."
Glass put the radio on the ground beside him and leaned back against the tree. He pulled the rifle across his lap and un-holstered his Glock pistol. The sun was just beneath the horizon, leaving the terrain in pale twilight. The birds had become quiet, and the air was growing cool. He pulled the collar of his jacket up around his neck, prepared to endure a monotonous night.
Matt and Jake slowed from the off-and-on trot they had been maintaining for the last five miles. Needing a break, they continued along at a brisk pace while they regained their stamina. They carried no equipment except their utility belts and guns, hoping that the lighter load would enable them to move faster than Kasdan. One of the vreels had passed overhead two hours ago and had lit them up with its searchlight. Dropping low, the pilot had given them a thorough scrutiny before recognizing them. Satisfied of their identity, he had logged their course and moved eastward to begin a new search track.
"How much distance do you think we've closed?" Jake managed to ask between labored breaths.
Matt swallowed a few sips of water from a bottle he carried in his pocket then passed it to Jake. Due to his smaller size, the run had not taken as much toll on him as it had Jake.
"I don't think he can be over three or four miles ahead," he answered. "Maybe we should start veering off and try to cut his trail. If the land continues to be as open as it is now, he won't have anywhere to hide for an ambush."
"You may be right," Jake said. "If it were me, and nobody had caught up with me by now, I'd abandon the ambush idea and redouble my efforts to reach the Fir Bolg compound."
"I agree," Matt answered. He looked up at the crescent moon. It had moved across the sky and was low in the west. "It won't be much longer before sunrise," he said. "If we don't catch him before that, we may lose him completely. I know Taylor's a resourceful woman, but I can't help being upset."
Jake could see that Matt's emotions were running close to the surface. "Let's keep moving as fast as we can," he counseled. "Veer off and keep our eyes open."
The two men resumed their trot. Twenty minutes later they found Kasdan's well-beaten trail. Jake knelt and ran his fingers over the wet grass. "This is it," he announced. "He's headed southeast. There's just one set of tracks, so he's still carrying Taylor." He shook his head and said, "He must be some tough cookie to have carried her this far."
"Believe me, he is," Matt responded. "And he's a maniac to boot. Let's move!"
Kasdan had not stopped since seeing the airship searchlight. His breathing was labored and his energy level had dropped significantly. He considered allowing Taylor to walk but discarded the idea. She would do everything in her power to delay him. He stopped and lifted her off his shoulder. After lying her on the ground, he sat down beside her. "It won't be much longer now, Taylor." When she failed to respond, he kicked her a soft punch in the buttocks.
"What was the point in that, John?" she managed to say. "I don't have anything to say to you except that you'd do well to let me go. I don't think I can go much further over your shoulder."
He gave that some thought. Carrying her this far had been a monumental task and was taking more out of him than he could afford. He estimated that he was well ahead of any pursuit, and the Fir Bolg fort was only about two hours away. After a couple of minutes of silence, he said, "If I let you walk, will you give me your word that you won't cause any trouble, or deliberately hang back?"
She jumped at the offer. "You have it. I want to get to wherever we're going as badly as you do; probably worse if my stomach is any indication."
Without comment he removed the loop from around her neck and untied her feet. "I'm going to untie your hands, so don't move. If you try anything, I'll knock you cold. You understand?"
She nodded. "Yes. Can I stretch a little?"
"So long as you don't try to get up. And don't remove the blindfold."
"I won't."
He let her go through some stretching for a couple of minutes to restore circulation then said, "Lie on your back and put your hands in front of you. I'm going to retie them in front so you can keep better balance when we continue."
She complied, holding her hands out with wrists crossed. Using the short rope that had been around her neck, he bound her wrists, leaving a four-foot tether.
"We'll rest anoth
er five minutes. No talking," he warned her in an icy tone.
Taylor read the implied threat in his voice and stayed quiet. By now Matt and Jake would have figured out what happened and were taking steps to find her. The way Kasdan was acting led her to believe that they might be somewhere close behind. In any event, there was nothing she could do in her present predicament. When the five minutes were over, he jerked on the rope.
"Get to your feet," he said. Taylor struggled to a standing position. "We're going to walk fast, but if you feel the rope go slack, stop and wait for me to tug you forward. And don't make me drag you along, or I'll put you back over my shoulder."
That was the last thing she wanted. He jerked the rope and they started forward. She stumbled but was able to regain her balance. They were moving at a fast pace, and being blindfolded caused her to stagger a number of times over uneven ground. They had been underway less than twenty minutes when Taylor felt the rope go slack. She stopped and stood still. Five seconds later, Kasdan's steel fingers closed around her forearm.
"Don't say a word or make any noise," he hissed into her ear. "There's someone ahead, standing under a tree. I saw him move."
Taylor sucked in a sharp breath. His fingers tightened. "Whoever's there is not looking for you," he whispered, "so don't get any wild ideas. It's probably one of the locals out hunting. Sit down."
She complied.
"If you cause any trouble, you know what will happen."
She remained quiet.
Kasdan dropped to his belly and crawled toward the tree. When he was as close as he dared, he squinted into the shadows. The moon had almost set, but what was left of its faint light revealed the dark form of a man standing beneath the tree, apparently relieving himself. After a few seconds he put his hands behind his head and bent backwards, stretching his muscles. Kasdan remained still, barely breathing. Finally, the man walked to the base of the tree and sat down. Unwilling to risk a confrontation, Kasdan backed away to where he had left Taylor.
Uncertain about Kasdan's whereabouts, Taylor had not moved or made any sound. She knew him well enough to know that his implied death threat was not a bluff. Unable to see, she concentrated on listening. There was some insect noise, and a little breeze swept past her ears but nothing else. Without warning, she felt the rope jerk.
"Get up," Kasdan whispered. "Keep low and stay quiet. You know what will happen it you don't."
Instead of leading her with the rope, she felt his powerful fingers close around her wrist. Inside, her spirit wanted to cry out for help, but she knew it would invite instant death. She remained silent and staggered across the rocky land beside him.
Without knowing it, Kasdan was within fifty feet of the black trip wire. Walking parallel to it, he pulled Taylor along toward a huge boulder a short distance away. Passing around it on the back side, they turned away from the tree and disappeared over a low rise.
Chapter 22
Close Encounter
Matt and Jake were moving fast when they struck the invisible trip wire. There was a loud bang as the flare exploded and shot into the air, blinding them with white light. Jake, quick to realize what had happened, yelled for Matt to get down. Both men hit the ground near a huge boulder. Matt's heart hammered in his ears. Neither of them moved a muscle. Their eyes were still recovering from the flare when they saw a man standing under a large tree off to their right. Five seconds later, the light went out and left them in darkness. Yellow circles and white splotches danced in front of Matt's eyes as he fought to overcome the blindness. He felt Jake's elbow poke him in the ribs.
"Get behind the rock," the big man hissed. "Quick!" Half climbing over each other, they crawled toward the boulder. Five feet before they reached it, a sledgehammer blow followed by a loud boom knocked the heel off Jake's left boot. A sharp pain shot up his leg, stabbing into the knee. The army ranger jerked his leg forward and doubled his speed toward the boulder.
When they were safely behind it, Matt said in a labored voice, "That was a flash-bang flare and gunfire! Why would Kasdan be carrying something like that?"
Jake didn't answer right away. He sat down and examined his boot. The rubber heel had been ripped off, and there was a dark mark across the sole. Matt did not see Jake's face blanch in the darkness as he massaged his leg. He looked up at Matt.
"I don’t think it's Kasdan," he said. He took out his mini-light and switched it to red before turning it on. There was a crease in the sole of his boot that he could lay his finger in.
Matt saw the heel was missing. "What happened?"
"Unless I miss my guess, a very large bullet did this." He tapped the crease. "Probably a fifty caliber from the sound of it."
Matt blew out a quick breath. "A fifty…who…?"
"I don't know, but it sure ain't the Fir Bolg."
Matt's night vision returned as they talked. "I'm going to take a look," he said. He flattened himself against the ground and crawled to the side of the rock. He peered around the edge, but saw nothing under the tree's wide canopy; the man was gone.
"Be careful, Matt," Jake warned. "Fifty's don't come in handguns. Whoever it is has a rifle."
In twenty years on the Atlanta police force, Matt had seen his share of SWAT weaponry, including fifty caliber sniper rifles. Such guns usually had a range of over a mile. He thought it over for a minute, then said, "You know what you're saying?"
"Yeah. Military Special Forces, who else?"
Before Matt could answer, they heard another deafening explosion and a chunk of rock flew off the bolder just above Jake's head. A rock fragment struck him in the forehead and he fell sideways, blood trickling down his face. The sound came from south of the rock. They scuttled to the opposite side and hit the dirt. Jake wiped a drop of blood away from his left eye. They drew their pistols and lay as flat as they could.
Glass froze when he heard noise coming from the northeast. It sounded like someone running, breathing hard. He snapped up his rifle and peered through the night scope. Two men, one very large, were heading toward the far end of the trip wire. From the size of the big one, he surmised that it must be the man whom he had been following. The other one was unknown. He could make out their forms through the rifle's scope, but the green images it produced were not well enough refined to reveal clothing detail. He watched them hit the wire and set off the flare. The sudden light washed out the green image coming through the scope, but it cleared almost at once. He saw them drop to their stomachs and crawl for cover behind the boulder.
Glass lost no time. Sighting on the large man, he squeezed off a shot. The report split the air like a lightening strike. Though the big gun was fitted with a flash hider, Major Kriss had seen no reason to add a silencer. His thinking was that the noise it made when fired might be to their advantage if they had to use force dealing with barbarians. Glass saw the man's leg jerk, but it had not been a crippling shot. He kept crawling toward the rock.
Obedient to his training, he jumped to his feet and took off across the moor toward higher ground to the southwest. No doubt they would have calculated where the shot had come from, and prudence dictated that he take up a new position. Thirty seconds later he slid to a stop a hundred yards from his previous location. The slight rise in the land put him at least ten feet higher than the rock.
He sighted in on the two men hiding behind it. The smaller one dropped to his belly and crawled toward the north end. The big man stayed put, but hugged the boulder so close that a kill shot could not be guaranteed. He aimed just above his head and squeezed off another shot. He saw the bullet strike, and watched the target fall over. Before he could chamber another round, both men had scurried out of sight. He continued to peer through the scope, but could not see them. There was nothing but open ground behind, and to both sides of the boulder, so there was no way they could escape. Since he occupied the high ground, and they had no idea of his actual position, he decided to wait them out. Dawn was only an hour or so away, and would improve his advantage consi
derably.
He pulled out his radio. "Hello Mama Bear," he whispered.
A few seconds later a low voice answered, "Go, Bobby."
"Target acquired. Shots fired, but no luck yet. Subjects are concealed behind a big rock. No movement."
"Location?" came the response.
"Best guess, ten miles northwest of you."
"Keep me advised. We are moving."
"Roger that." Glass put the radio on the ground in front of him and rested his chin on the stock of his rifle.
Matt saw the blood running down Jake's face. "You okay?"
Jake wiped some of it away with his fingertips and looked at it. "It looks worse than it is," he said. "You know how these head wounds bleed."
Matt was silent for a minute or two, then said, "We can't just lay here. Unless there's two of them, he's moved away from the tree. That last shot came from a new direction."
"Standard procedure," Jake said. "If he's military, he'd never stay in the same place from where he made the first shot."
"What do you think he's doing here? He must be from Apache Point."
Jake was silent for a moment, then said, "This is only scuttlebutt I picked up from some of the big brass back at A.P., but it fits this situation. They never revealed anything directly, nothing you could get your teeth into, but they implied enough for a reasonably intelligent person to figure it out. There's a special military unit that's occasionally deployed to correct certain situations that have gone bad."
"Gone bad?"
"Yeah, you know how things work sometimes. Maybe you have an agent that decides he's not going back to the future. He decides he's going to stay in the field and make a kingdom for himself here in the past. Things like that. This unit is supposed to take care of those kinds of situations. Sort of a cleanup squad, you might say."
Island of the Star Lords Page 22
