Chapter 26
Twenty-Six
Flat on the ground in the unforgiving underbrush, Ryder peered around it. He gently released her but continued to press into the ground while lifting his gaze to watch what happened next. Sarah looked too. Moving in tight formation, three men stormed into the cabin, ready for trouble.
Not good.
They must have expected to find Ryder and Sarah inside because of the late hour and the cold night. Talk about impeccable timing. Ryder and Sarah were fortunate to be here by the lake.
“What do we do now?” she whispered. “We can’t leave and make a run for it. We left the map and vial inside. Now they know what we know.”
“What about your burner?”
“It’s in my pocket.”
“So they don’t know everything. The map won’t mean anything to them if they don’t know the mountain, and the vial .
. . let’s hope they aren’t stupid enough to open it.
” But if they were after Sarah to stop her from finding the payload or to follow her and secure it for themselves, they already knew what they were after and what was at stake.
He released a slow breath. He always had his pistol on him, but he wasn’t sure about her. “You still packing?”
“You’re not suggesting that we try to take them, are you?”
“It’s a good way to find out who’s after you. Now that I know your past, these trained hunters make a whole lot more sense.”
“They wouldn’t know about my role with the CIA unless they’re connected to the agency somehow, and even then, very few know. And even if they knew, the CIA doesn’t do ops in this country.”
“And yet here you are,” Ryder said.
“Not working.”
“Was that man in the store—was he CIA?”
“Former boss. Retiring.”
“You telling me these men in the cabin aren’t CIA?”
Sarah shook her head. “It’s not likely.”
“Why is that?”
“The CIA’s focus is foreign intelligence.
They can’t legally conduct domestic law enforcement or routine ops against US citizens.
Domestic ops are handled by the FBI, unless there’s an international threat or some kind of joint task force in which the CIA is involved.
” She hesitated. “And these guys don’t feel like that. ”
Ryder leaned in. “But . . .”
“But I know exceptions happen. I just don’t think this is one of them.”
“I don’t know the agency like you do, but this is a high-stakes scenario, given what we now know, so there’s a chance this could be sanctioned. Even so, I’m with you. It feels off.” He was listening to his gut again, and this time, that might get them both killed.
“That first day, after the mudslide,” she whispered, “I thought I saw a former colleague, but I had to be seeing things because he could not be in Mercy Ridge.”
“Not officially,” Ryder said.
The door of the cabin burst open, and the three men marched out, guns ready to hunt.
“Time to go.” Ryder crawled with her, descending the hill near the lake, guiding her carefully around the edges to the other side where the undergrowth thickened.
Only when they were deep enough in shadow to crouch safely did they finally break into a run.
He couldn’t risk turning on his flashlight.
He slowed behind a massive stack of boulders, pressing a hand to Sarah’s shoulder as she caught her breath, her chest heaving in the cold night air.
“They know we’re out here,” he whispered, “so they’re not stopping.
And if they have thermal imaging—FLIR, drones, scopes, whatever—we’re lit up like beacons out here, especially on this cold night.
” He exhaled hard, glancing up through the black silhouette of trees.
“Honestly, I’d be shocked if they weren’t geared up with it.
It’s standard. Not sure how they missed us to begin with.
They don’t have to see us, they just have to follow the heat.
Maybe the over-stoked fire from the cabin just saved our lives.
” His jaw clenched. “We’re outmatched, Sarah.
No supplies, no shelter, and we can’t outrun tech like that. ”
Her voice shook as she whispered, “How are we going to make it?”
Ryder glanced around the boulders, the slope, the tree line beyond. “We get under cover. Rocks, water, deep enough tree canopy, anything that breaks the heat signature. If we keep moving out in the open”—he shook his head grimly—“we won’t make it to dawn.”
“But we can’t survive without supplies. You’ve said to always carry survival gear.”
“And that hasn’t changed. We’re circling back around to the cabin. You can slip inside and grab everything and slip out while I stand guard,” he said.
“That sounds dangerous.”
“It’s a chance we’ll have to take,” he said.
“I don’t like this. Not one bit. How did they find us, even?”
“They somehow found out about the cabin. Someone could have told them.” The thought of how that information could have been extracted sickened him. He could count on his right hand how many people knew this place.
“Let’s go,” he said. “Time’s wasting.”
The ground shook with another slight tremor, as if to emphasize his words. He led her deep into the woods until they could see the cabin from the protection of the dense forest. He’d seen three go in and three come out.
Hiding in the shadows of the thick cover, he waited and listened. Ryder spotted two men searching out by the lake.
Where is the other one? “Change of plans. You stay hidden right here. Do not move, even if you see someone. Stay put. I’ll get in and out without anyone knowing.”
“No—”
“This . . . this is what I was trained to do.”
He didn’t wait for her to argue and slipped silently into the night, aiming for the side of the cabin, aware that one or all three could be on their way back there after someone finally realized that Ryder and Sarah could do exactly this—get their stuff and escape.
He made it to the cabin and pressed his back against the logs to catch his breath.
To wait and listen. Then crept forward, avoiding the thin slice of moonlight that could reveal his presence to anyone who wasn’t looking for a heat signature.
For now. Though the cabin itself would block him from the men at the lake.
If Sarah stayed hidden in the thick part of the woods, she would be safe for now too.
The scent of woodsmoke filled the air, and he couldn’t help but wonder if that had been half the reason someone found them.
They could have gone a different way with trying to stay warm.
Wasn’t his first mistake.
Their hunters probably had no plans to stay in the cabin tonight.
He struggled to understand how they traversed the mountain at night without the right guide.
Maybe they’d camped nearby, reasoning that Ryder would end up here.
Maybe that shot on the mountain had been intended to herd him here.
He was overthinking, and he could figure that out later.
The pursuit team was searching. He had minutes. Maybe less.
He reached the side window that he’d struggled to shut earlier, crouched to wait and listen before assuming the cabin was empty.
Boots scraped against floorboards. His breath caught. Someone had gone back inside. Not good.
“They left their stuff,” the man muttered, his voice gravelly and congested like he had a cold.
“They’ll be back.”
Great. More than one remained inside the cabin. He was in trouble. Had he miscalculated how many men had gone into the cabin to begin with? He could’ve sworn he’d seen three in total go into the cabin, three come out, and then two by the lake.
“Not if they know we’re here,” Gravelly Voice said.
A radio squawked. “Check the woods again. They might’ve circled back, or they could be escaping, and we can’t let that happen.”
“They left the map.” Gravelly. “We don’t need them anymore.”
“That’s right. We’ve got you. But we still can’t let them escape.”
“You don’t know that we don’t need them.” Gravelly sounded desperate. And . . . familiar.
That voice . . . he recognized it. You’ve got to be kidding me.
Boots clomped as someone made for the door.
Okay, Ryder wasn’t going in the front door.
He didn’t want to face off with these guys.
Not here. Not now. These men weren’t Tangos in a war zone.
He wasn’t authorized to take them out, and he wasn’t about to turn this into a full-blown operation, especially since he was rusty at best.
But they likely had skills, and they could also have permission. This could be an official operation to track down and secure or take out the perceived threat.
And right now, that threat was coming from Ryder and Sarah—a former Navy SEAL and a former CIA intelligence operative who were trying to find a cache of bioweapons.
How had he let it come to this?
Ryder’s pulse ticked higher. He pushed the blankets out of the way, eased the window open—thankfully, the old hinges made no sound—and slid inside.
He landed light on his feet and crouched behind the ramshackle sofa without making a sound.
The fire crackled in the woodstove, which added some sound to cover up any noises he might accidentally make.
They must have stoked it. Thank you very much.
Maybe he wasn’t as rusty as he thought. He calmed his breathing. One breath. Two.
The other man paced the room.
The table had been overturned, and Ryder’s pack had been rummaged through. But there—by the edge of the hearth—the metal box sat open, the folded map beside it, and the vial still sealed and gleaming faintly under the flashlight beam left behind on the floor.
Every movement calculated, he crawled forward on hands and knees.
Voices moved toward the back of the cabin and in the direction where he’d left Sarah, and that told him he was running out of time. The man who remained behind stepped out on the porch, holding his SAT phone. Who are you working for?
But his movement gave Ryder just the opening he needed.
He snatched the vial, slipped it into his jacket pocket, then the map, folded hastily.
His pack was halfway across the room. He belly-crawled over to it and shouldered it.
At least two of the men had left their packs behind—maybe they had intended to stay the night and to question Ryder and Sarah.
He moved over to their packs and grabbed one—the additional supplies could prove useful.
The floorboard creaked beneath him.
Too loud.
He froze.
Footsteps on the porch halted. No words. Ryder imagined the man waiting and listening. Possibly giving hand signals if someone else was out there too.
Another man had returned. “Probably a rat.”
“Biggest rat I’ve ever—”
Then a sudden shout outside—“Movement at the tree line!”—drew the men toward the door.
God, please don’t let that be Sarah.
But this was his moment. He darted to the window, boosted the packs, and dropped them slowly then followed them out. He landed hard but rolled behind shrubs with the packs, careful to avoid the pocket where he’d stashed the vial.
He crouched low, scanned the woods—and nearly choked with relief when he spotted Sarah, right where he’d left her. Keeping low and in the shadows, he closed the short distance to meet her at the base of a tree.
“We’re good. Can you carry my pack? I lifted an extra one, and I’ll carry it.” He quickly assisted her. “Let’s move.”
“But they saw something in the tree line.”
You have no idea how glad I am that wasn’t you. “Not us. A deer or other wildlife fooled them, if we’re lucky. We don’t have long.”
Sarah behind him, he led her carefully through the trees, skipping the path they’d taken earlier and keeping deep in the undergrowth. The cold bit at his cheeks. When the darkness was absolute, he took a moment to retrieve night-vision goggles from his pack on her back.
Behind them, shouting erupted. “Gone! They were here!”
“Fan out!”
“They’ve got the vial!”
Sarah stumbled. Ryder caught her elbow and pulled her up. “Keep going. We’ve got to vanish. No trail. No light. Just follow me.”
“Where?”
He didn’t answer. Not yet. He’d wanted to get back to town. Get somewhere safe and figure this out. But time had run out. Additional supplies would be optimal, but they could survive on what he’d packed, if necessary, and the supplies he’d boosted. Because the only place left was higher.
Toward the wreck.
And whatever waited for them at the crash site.