Day 19

Jimmy pushes off the tree he is leaning on and comes over. I stretch, trying to work the stiffness out of my shoulders and back. Buck is up as soon as I move, and starts looking for the perfect tree to do his 'morning-constitutional'. Cut is still snoring, so I give him a little gentle jab with an elbow. A grunt, something mumbled, then more snoring. That boy can sleep anytime, anywhere. But I know how to get him up.

I motion to Chief, telling him to sneak around the tree-trunk behind Cut. I get a questioning squint, but he does it, and I do the same. Then I flip the safety-switch on the MPK. Just a real low, metallic click, and Cut is on his feet, the .45 ready in his hand, so fast it even startles me.

But now I get it! Cut is cussing, calling me everything but a 'white man', and the look I get from Jimmy isn't too favorable either. Guess he didn't know that ol' Cut is a little jumpy on that part, or...wait a minute! He doesn't hear that click, so... Man, that's something that could turn out quite dangerous in our situation. At least for him anyways.

"Cut, shut up a minute. I just thought of something."

"Oh, yeah? Like how the hell you gonna scare the shit out of me next?"

"Sorry! Got you up though, didn't it?...Anyway, Jimmy," I touch his arm because he is looking over at Buck. "Jimmy, pay attention a minute. This is important. Do you know why he jumped?" I ask, indicating Cut.

Chief shifts an uneasy look between Cut and me, then shakes his head.

"Oh, shit, Chase!" Cut grasps it immediately. "Now there's somethin' we ain't thought about. I know he'n somehow feel a shot being fired, but this, he couldn't know."

"Right!...Jimmy, you saw me flip the safety on the gun, didn't you?"

An affirmative nod, but with kind of a curious squint.

"Look, when I do this," I move the switch back and forth a couple of times, "it makes a sound. Don't have me try and explain what kind, because I couldn't. But it does make a sound. Not very loud, but enough to alarm someone if they're close to you."

"Like the hammer on the .45," Cut breaks in, the Llama still in his hand. "Remember, I told you 'bout that?"

"Yes, and the breech?" Chief answers.

"Right! Guess I kinda forgot to mention the safety. Never thought about it."

"Good thing we come across it then," I muse. "That might've caused some trouble."

"Still could, Chase," Cut mumbles, and Jimmy flashes him an irritated glare.

"Possibly. But now that he knows about it...look, Jimmy," I regain his attention, "if you flip the switch real slow, kinda holding on to it, there is almost no sound at all. So if you sneak up behind somebody...just remember that, okay?"

"No problem!" He finally grins wryly.

"Alright, Chase, so what's your plan now?" Cut changes the subject.

"Hell, we never come up with one, since you's more worried about your stomach than anything else yesterday."

"Yeah! Jimmy, you got any of that jerky left?"

A smirk and a few signs from Chief and a "Well, hell!" from Cut.

"Okay, guys," I scan the area, "guess we better get this show on the roll."

"So how we gonna work it, Chase? Wait here for Billy'n them, or have us a little fun with that bunch up at the camp?"

"Ain't quite sure just how funny that would be, Cut," I answer somber. "Didn't seem like they's much for playing around."

"So we wait?"

"Well..."

"Well, what?"

"I'd like to check out what's going on, see what we're up against. Just don't wanna let 'em know we're here yet."

"Shouldn't be a problem. We know where all your little obstacles are..."

"Oh, shit!" I interrupt, a thought suddenly popping into my mind. "I fucked up, Cut."

"How so?"

"When I cleared out up there..."

"Don't tell me you left that damn map, Chase?" he cuts me off.

"Yeah, man. And if they made it all the way in, which I figure they did..."

"So much for that!"

"Yeah! Damn, Cut, I'm sorry!"

"Nothin' you'n do about it now. Just wonder if they got the idea to set up a few of their own? Or relocate yours, or somethin'."

"Could be. Guess we gonna find out."

"Guess so! Maybe we oughta split up, and go check around a little."

"Well..." I scratch my head.

"Now don't start that again," Cut smirks. "Look, we better find out quick, before Billy gets here. Wouldn't wanna end up lookin' stupid."

"Got a point," I muse. "Alright! Jimmy, you know what to look for?"

An affirmative nod.

"Good! Which side you want, Cut?"

"Left!"

"Jimmy?"

Just a nonchalant shrug this time.

"Well, take the right then, I'll take the middle. Stay low and keep a careful look-out for them jerks down there. Don't get any closer than a hundred yards to the camp. We meet back here in, let's say no later than two and a half hours, okay?"

"Sounds fine with me," Cut agrees. "Just keep your finger on the trigger, and watch your ass. Jimmy, all clear?"

Chief gives us a nod and a 'thumbs-up'.

We synchronize our watches, 6:07 a.m. Buck tries to follow as I take off through the brush.

"No, boy!" I kneel down and rub his head. "You gonna have to stay for now. We'll be back in a little while, just gotta check out a few things. Lay down."

He whines, but follows the command.

Shit! I can't risk, having him come running after me. He's got a mind of his own, and if he gets a notion to go... Then an idea crosses my mind.

"Buck, listen real careful."

He tilts his head and looks up at me with big, wide eyes.

"I want you to go find Billy. Remember? Billy? Big guy...always smells like he fell into a bottle of after-shave? Think you'n find him for me, Buck?"

I know it sounds stupid, talking to a dog in this manner. But Buck isn't just any dog. He is my dog. I trained him, starting when he was only a couple of weeks old. And I know he remembers Lieutenant Hughes, for the simple fact that LT's Canoe-brand aftershave is something he is absolutely crazy about. Apparently I am right, considering when I say the name 'Billy', Buck starts to wag his tail in excitement.

"Good! Go find him, Buck. He oughta be just about on his way up here by now. Go down there. Go, get 'im."

Another wag and an affirmative "whoof", then he is off, down the path in a flash.

Good! Just hope LT don't mind the wet welcome he's in for if Buck really finds him.

#####

The wires are gone. Damn! Every single one of them, at least in the two-hundred yard area I check out myself. I am perhaps ninety yards below the camp, more crawling then walking, scanning every square inch for possible traps. I can tell where the ones I had set up used to be located. Used to be!

It is quiet over by the cabin. Totally quiet. Too quiet! I raise my head just a little above the bushes, straining my eyes, watching for any kind of possible movement in or around the cabin. Nothing. Weird! Didn't think they'd leave so soon. What time is it? Shit! 7:59 am! I gotta head back, or Cut's gonna get worried. No tellin' what he'll do, if I don't show up on time.

The way back is much faster, and though I stay low and move careful, at least I don't have to worry about running into any kind of trip-wires or traps. The area as far as I inspected is clear. I make the seven-hundred yards in less than thirty minutes, being the first to arrive back at our starting point.

Chief comes in, just about two minutes after me.

"Find anything?" I inquire when he sits down on the tree-trunk beside me.

"Nothing," he answers scarcely, still looking at me though like he is expecting another question.

I make it rather a statement. "There is no one up at the camp."

"I know!" is the affirmative answer.

"Well, I guess we wait for Cut and see what he found. What do you think?"

I get merely a quiet nod in reply and don't say anything else either. Waiting—again!

Ten minutes—fifteen minutes—Nothing! Where the hell is he?

"Jimmy!" I have to regain his attention since he is playing with the hammer on his Llama, cocking and un-cocking it slowly. "I'm starting to get a little worried. Wonder where Cut is. Maybe I should go..."

"I'm right here, Chase."

It is not so much Cut's voice suddenly behind me, but rather the strained sound of it that spins me around. Shit! He is there all right. All two-hundred-thirty pounds of him, his hands up in the air, a drawn look on his face.

There are also three guys in black jumpsuits, H&K 93A3s in their hands, one of the gun-barrels pushing against Cut's back. I exhale a sharp breath, and Chief's face loses color when he turns too.

"All right," one of the guys sneers, "just put those guns down real easy, or your buddy here is going to end up with another hole in his back."

"Sorry, Chase," Cut mumbles frustrated.

"Put your gun down!" another one of the agents yells, bringing his rifle up.

"Chase," Cut starts again anyways, "shoot the hostage, remember?"

"Shut up!" The first agent gives him a sharp jab with the barrel.

I still hesitate. 'Shoot the hostage' is an understanding between us, we had reached a long time ago. It means that should either one of us ever get into a situation like this, with the success of a mission depending on it, the other would take the 'trump-card' of holding a hostage out of the opponent's hands. Sure easier just talking about it than actually doing it! I can't...

"Chase," Cut urges.

"Put your guns down!" the agent's voice is rock-hard now. "One...two..."

Chief raises his hand that holds the Llama—No! I reach over and push his arm down, lowering my MPK at the same time.

"Shit!" Cut hisses, sounding madder'n hell and the agents grin derisively.

"Get the guns and check 'em," the one with the barrel against Cut's back snaps.

I'll find another way out of this...if they give us some time, that is. I turn over the MPK, and do not resist getting searched. The Llama behind my belt and my pocket-knife is all that is taken. All I have that resembles a weapon too. A glance at Chief, his expression is completely impassive as he gives up the Llama and the SIG, but tenses considerably when the guy who is checking him confiscates the Bowie knife.

"God damn it, Chase!" Cut starts again, earning himself another jab from the barrel.

"Shut the fuck up! Let's go!" the first agent directs.

#####

Damn, I hate this feeling. The H&K is pushing hard against my spine and I move forward. Wonder how they caught him? Weird! Seems they've changed their minds about just shootin' us. Looks like he got into it with 'em, that one guy got a nice shiner on his cheek. Must've been up against all three of 'em though, otherwise he would've come out on top despite that injured shoulder.

We walk in silence, I guess each of us thinking the same thing. How the fuck could we screw up like that! The eight-hundred yards to the cabin seem much too short. I am trying feverishly to come up with a way out of this. Wonder how many there are? Why the hell didn't I see anyone up there a while ago? Did Micheals go to check out the chemicals? Wonder if Harry's still in the area?

A million thoughts race through my mind. None of them useful, none of them an answer, none of them a solution to our problem. Then I run out of thoughts and out of time when we reach the cabin.

It is empty. No one there—except us now, along with the three guys in black jumpsuits.

"Sit down!" A short command, accompanied by a jab from a gun-barrel, directs each one of us to a chair. "Put your hands behind you. Tie 'em, Lucas." Another command, and the youngest one of the agents comes up with a handful of plastic zip-ties.

Great! I hate them things. I deliberately avoid any kind of eye-contact with either Cut or Jimmy. I know full well, Cut is madder'n hell at me for not carrying out our agreement. I just couldn't. There's got to be another way.

We get tied, hands behind or backs, sitting on the chairs. Two of the agents make themselves comfortable on our bunks, with a couple cans of our beer. The younger one leaves. Guess, he's going to tell the others that they got us.

"Chase," Cut sounds frustrated.

"Yeah?" I look over. There is no attempt to keep us quiet on the part of the agents.

"Why didn't you?" He doesn't have to elaborate on the subject. I know damn well what he means.

"Because!" I answer scarcely nevertheless.

"Because what? Damn it, Chase, I thought we had a deal?"

"Mean you would've shot me, if I'd got caught?"

"You damn right I would've! Just for being stupid enough to get caught."

"Bullshit, Cut! You wouldn't have done it either."

There is no answer, and I know I am right.

We quit talking since there is nothing to talk about at the moment. Just another wait, sitting, brooding, wondering what will happen next. It doesn't take very long. The door opens again, and five people walk in. I recognize the young guy who tied us and— Harless. He ignores us completely, and steps over toward the other agents who are already in the room. Then two more, one with the black jumpsuit, and the other, wearing a fancy gray dress-suit that looks like it costs at least five-hundred bucks.