Chapter 35
Cole killed the engine two miles from the mining camp, pulling the rental SUV off the narrow access road and into a stand of trees that would hide it from casual observation. Behind them, Timothy did the same with the second vehicle, parking it parallel to Cole's to create a makeshift staging area.
The silence after the engine died was profound, broken only by the wind through branches and the distant cry of a bird. Cole sat for a moment, hands still gripping the steering wheel, forcing himself to breathe slowly and think clearly despite the fear clawing at his chest.
Janice was out there, somewhere in that mining camp or the wilderness beyond it. And every second he spent sitting here was another second she was in danger.
Frazier's hand landed on his shoulder, firm and grounding. "We'll get her out. But we go in smart, not stupid."
Cole nodded, released the steering wheel, and climbed down, walking to the back.
He reached for the weapons brought from Montana.
He checked the M4 and then confirmed that the Glock 19 was secured at his waist. He then verified that his ear radio had a signal so he could stay in contact with the compound and ran through a mental checklist.
Frazier appeared at the driver's side window, already pulling on gloves against the cold. "Ready when you are."
The cold hit him immediately, but he'd dressed for it with layers under his heavy coat, insulated gloves, and boots rated for this weather.
But the chill still found ways in, reminding him they were operating in wilderness that could be as dangerous as any human threat.
And that there was no way Janice was dressed for this environment. That thought only fueled his anger.
He touched his radio and called the compound. "We're two miles out, going in on foot," Cole said without preamble.
"Copy that." Logan's voice was calm, controlled. "Sadie's tracking Janice's pendant. She's moving, Cole. Not in the main camp anymore. Heading east into the forest."
Cole's jaw tightened. “She might be trying to get to the creek to cross. What about the federal agents?"
"Twenty minutes out. FBI and EPA both have warrants. Once you get Janice, pull back and let them handle the arrests."
"Understood." Cole looked at Timothy and Frazier, both of them waiting for direction. "We're moving in."
"Be careful," Logan said simply.
They moved out, slipping through the forest with purpose but without the rigid military formations Cole had left behind years ago. This wasn't a combat mission. This was a rescue. Get in, get Janice, get out. Simple. Or at least it should be simple.
The terrain was difficult, with deep snow in places, hidden ice in others, fallen logs, and dense underbrush, forcing them to move carefully. But for these Keepers, it was just another day at the office.
Timothy led the way, finding paths through the worst of it, keeping them moving steadily toward the camp.
Frazier brought up the rear, occasionally glancing back to make sure they weren't being followed.
And Cole moved between them, his mind split between the physical demands of the hike and the constant worry about Janice.
"How's she doing?" Cole radioed, keeping his voice low.
Sadie's voice came back, tense. "Still moving but not moving fast. Pattern erratic. She might be turned around or confused about where to go."
"Or being chased," Frazier muttered.
Cole's chest tightened, but he kept moving. Through gaps in the trees, he could start to see signs of the mining operation… disturbed earth, tire tracks, small buildings in the distance.
And then he heard it—a gunshot, distant but unmistakable.
Timothy stopped, crouching low. Frazier moved up beside Cole.
"Fuck," Timothy said quietly.
Cole's blood went cold. "Logan, we've got gunfire."
Logan's voice remained steady. "Federal agents are pushing their arrival time. Fifteen minutes now. Stay alert."
They moved faster, sacrificing some caution for speed. Another shot rang out, closer this time, followed by shouting—male voices, angry and urgent.
Cole's training warred with his fear for Janice. Every instinct screamed at him to run toward those shots, but rushing in blind could get them all killed.
"Spread out a bit," he said quietly. "Keep eyes open for anyone with weapons."
They advanced, and the mining camp came into view through the trees.
Cole dropped behind a fallen log, taking in the scene.
The camp looked mostly deserted. The workers had probably scattered when shooting started.
He wondered whether the mine employees were usually armed or whether Penson had his own protection team.
Three men stood near a supply shed, armed with rifles, scanning the far tree line. They wore the Northern Summit jackets he’d seen at Penson's house. And their body language said they were looking for something. Or someone.
"I count three armed men," Cole said into his phone for Logan's benefit. "They're hunting for someone."
"That would be Janice," Sadie's voice came through. "Her tracker just changed direction. She's heading more southwest now. Still moving fast."
A woman's scream cut through the air, sharp with terror. Not words, just pure fear.
Cole was moving before he consciously decided to, his body responding to that sound with every protective instinct he possessed.
"Cole, wait—" Timothy called after him, but Cole didn't stop.
He burst from cover, running toward the sound of that scream. Behind him, Timothy and Frazier scrambled to follow, to provide backup, but Cole's entire focus was on getting to Janice.
One of the armed men spotted him and shouted. Cole saw the rifle coming up, aimed at him. He dove behind a bulldozer as the shot cracked through the air, the bullet pinging off metal somewhere above his head.
"Dammit," he muttered, pressing himself against the massive machine. So much for a quiet extraction.
"Cole, you've got more coming," Frazier called out. His rifle fired once, the sound making Cole flinch. "That one's down. Shoulder shot. But at least three more are emerging from the bunkhouse."
Timothy's voice was calmer. "Most of them look like regular workers. Scared, confused. But a few are definitely armed and looking for a fight."
Cole risked a glance around the bulldozer's tire. The camp was erupting into chaos with unarmed workers running for cover, a few armed men taking defensive positions. This was escalating fast.
"Logan, what's the ETA on those federal agents?" Cole demanded into his phone.
"Ten minutes," Logan said, his voice tight with frustration. "Can you hold that long?"
Cole wasn't trying to hold territory. He was trying to get to Janice before something terrible happened. "Sadie, where is she?"
"Three hundred yards west of your position, still moving."
"Timothy, Frazier, I need to get to her," Cole said. "Can you keep these guys occupied?"
"We've got your back," Timothy confirmed. "Go get your girl."
Frazier fired again, and Cole heard cursing from somewhere in the camp. "Another shoulder shot. That's two down. The rest are getting smart, staying behind cover."
Cole took a breath, then ran. He sprinted across open ground, using the confusion and the covering fire from his friends, heading for the tree line where that scream had come from.
Bullets snapped through the air, but nothing came close. He reached the forest and plunged into the trees, following the direction Sadie had given him.
"Janice!" he shouted, not caring about stealth anymore. "Janice, where are you?"
Branches grabbed at his coat as he ran. His boots slipped on ice beneath the snow, nearly sending him down, but he caught himself and kept going. Every second felt like an hour.
"She's two hundred yards ahead of you," Sadie's voice said through his phone. "Heading south."
He adjusted course, pushing through thick spruce. Another gunshot rang out, close enough that he heard the bullet hit a tree somewhere to his left.
And then he saw them. Two women, stumbling through deep snow about a hundred yards ahead. One was Janice. Even bundled in an oversized coat, he knew her. The other was a woman he didn't recognize. They were holding hands, pulling each other forward through drifts that came up to their knees.
Behind them, maybe fifty yards back, three men with rifles were closing in.
Cole dropped to one knee, bringing his rifle up. The nearest man was raising his weapon, aiming at Janice's back.
Time seemed to slow. Cole's breathing steadied, his finger found the trigger, and he did what years of experience had taught him. He took the shot.
The man went down, his own shot going wild into the snow. The other two scattered, looking for cover.
"Janice!" Cole shouted, already running toward her. "Get down!"
Both women dropped flat into the snow as bullets cut through the air where they'd been standing.
Cole kept moving, using trees for cover when he could, closing the distance. His radio crackled with voices. Timothy reported two more armed men giving up, tossing their guns to the ground. Frazier radioed something about ammunition, but it all faded into background noise.
All that mattered was reaching Janice. Thirty yards. Twenty. He could see her face now, pale with cold and fear, her eyes going wide as she recognized him.
"Cole!" His name on her blue lips sent relief flooding through him.
Ten yards. One of the men behind her rose from cover, his rifle tracking toward where she lay in the snow.
Cole fired, the shot catching the man in the leg. Not fatal, but enough to take him out of the fight. The man spun and went down, his weapon falling into the snow.
The last pursuer turned and ran back toward the camp. Cole radioed for the others to watch for him.
Cole reached Janice and dropped to his knees beside her, his hands running over her, checking for injuries, for blood, for any sign she'd been hit.
"Are you hurt? Janice, are you okay?"
"I'm okay," she gasped, her teeth chattering. "Not hurt. Just cold and scared."