C. Box - Force of Nature

Joe felt a twinge in his scalp. “When was this?” he asked.

“Yesterday afternoon,” the father said. “He left last night before it started to snow. I’d normally say he’ll be back up soon because of this snow, but the way he left, I kind of wonder. It was just weird. Richie’s an elk-hunting fool, and I’ve never seen him just want to up and leave like that.”

Joe withdrew the notebook from his breast pocket and asked the father for Richie’s full name, address, and contact numbers. Neither the father nor the son knew much more than Richie’s last name and the part of Powell, Wyoming, he lived in, but the driver said his wife had those details. Joe closed the notebook. He knew that, if necessary, it was enough information to find Richie in a state with as few people in it as Wyoming.

“You gonna call him?” the son asked Joe.

“Maybe.”

“Tell him he still owes me for that case and a half of Coors he drank up here.”

“I’ll try to remember that,” Joe said, sliding the notebook back into his uniform shirt.

He left the father and son wondering what was going to happen next and went back to his pickup. No cell signal. No radio reception. Joe dug a card out of the holder in his glove box and walked back to the hunters and handed it to the father.

He said, “If you’ll promise me something, you can consider this your lucky day, because I don’t have time to write you up right now and you’re both in clear violation. Tonight, if you haven’t seen me come back down the mountain, call nine-one-one. Tell the dispatcher we met and which road we’re on. Let her take it from there.”

The father asked, “That’s it? Just that we met you?”

“Yup.”

Joe said, “Get your vehicle out of the road and take it back into your designated hunting area and make that call tonight, and for now I’ll look the other way.”

After thanking him profusely and reversing the ATV into the brush so Joe could get by, the driver looked at the card and said, “So you’re Joe Pickett?”

Joe nodded.

“I’ve always heard you wouldn’t give a guy a break.”

“Like I said, it’s your lucky day.”

As he left them, he glanced into his rearview mirror to see them talking excitedly to each other and gesturing toward where the elk had run. He had an inkling that once he was gone they’d ignore him and go after the elk and probably get stuck somewhere in pursuit.

He shook his head, vowed to look out for them and give them a ticket if he ran into them again, and ground up the road until they were out of view.

He hated not doing his job properly, even given the circumstances. But if they made the call to dispatch as they’d agreed, at least someone would know where he was last seen.

And he thought about something Nate had said.

Recruit local tribesmen.

Although he’d been to the top of this road only once many years ago, he thought he remembered where he could find the old miner’s cabin. What he didn’t know was what was up there that might spook a dedicated elk hunter off the mountain hours before the tracking snow had arrived.

“God, the mountains are beautiful,” Haley said as Nate drove the white Tahoe toward the Bighorns, which were lit up with a full blast of morning sun that contrasted the fresh snow on the meadows and peaks against miles of dark timber. She said it as she reloaded the magazine, one by one, with 6.8-millimeter cartridges for the Mini-14.

Nate grunted. He noted that now that the mask was off, she showed a confident proficiency with weapons that she’d kept under wraps before.

“So this is where you live?” she asked, meaning the general area.

“Most of the time,” Nate said. “When I’m not living in a cave.”

“Do you realize how pathetic that just sounded?” she asked with a shy smile.

“Yes.”

“Maybe after this you won’t have to run anymore.”

Nate let that hang for a moment, then turned toward her. “There’s a difference between running and dropping out.”

“Sorry.”

He wasn’t sure how he wanted to play it, but the more he thought it through and ran different scenarios through his mind, he kept coming back to his original inclination. It had worked with the two operatives on the mountain in Colorado, on the highway outside of Jackson, and countless times over the years on special operations.

Nate said, “We’re going to go right at him.”

“Pardon?” she said.

“There are lots of ways to do this,” he said. “We could find a position and observe him-make sure he’s there and try to figure out how many guys he has with him, then make a plan. Strike at night, flank him, that sort of thing.”

She nodded.

“For all we know, though,” he said, “Nemecek has set up his usual electronic perimeter. He’s likely got sensors, cameras, and motion detectors at all the key points around his camp. He’ll know if someone is moving in on him, and he’s a master at dealing with those kinds of situations. Hell, he taught me. And in the worst-case scenario, he just drives away and we never get a crack at him. In that case, this could go on forever.”

Haley shook her head. “I can’t imagine trying to live a normal life and knowing he’s out there,” she said.

“Welcome to my world,” Nate said.

“So how are you going to confront him?” she asked. “We don’t know how many we’re up against or who they are.”

“We have an advantage, though,” Nate said. “We know how he thinks. He trained us. We know that anybody we encounter could be one of his. The only man in this valley I can absolutely trust just flew away on an airplane. Everyone else is a potential threat.”

The gravity of what he said seemed to make her withdraw from him as she considered the possibilities.

“But the longer we wait and plan, the longer he has to devise a countermove,” Nate said. “I’m thinking right now he’s confused. He doesn’t know we’re out here and he doesn’t know what exactly happened to the two operatives in Idaho. He thinks they’re coming to meet up with him-that’s what I made that guy back there tell him-but he’s been out of cell or radio contact with them since then. No doubt Nemecek is waiting to hear from them when they arrive, and he’s probably trying to raise them over the phone.”

“Will he be suspicious?” Haley asked.

“He’s always suspicious,” Nate said. “He’s probably even figured I got the upper hand on his boys somehow. But what he can’t know is that you’re with me. So when he sees you, he’ll be confused, at least momentarily.”

“I see,” Haley said. “I’m bait.”

Nate smiled a cruel smile. “You can still get out,” he said. “It isn’t too late.”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” she said. “I just want to know what you’re thinking, so I can do my job right.”

He thought that over for a moment, then methodically laid out his plan of attack.

YARAK meant a condition of being hyperalert, he told her.

“Engage all your senses and push them out to their limits,” he said. “Don’t think- react. Don’t consider consequences or collateral damage. If you see me go down, don’t hesitate. If you hesitate, you’re dead.”

She shook her head, obviously doubting her ability to do it.

Then she asked, “And if I go down first?”

“I’ll miss the hell out of you,” Nate said. “But that’s after I’ve blown Nemecek’s head off.”

“God, you can be so romantic,” she said.

“Shut up, Haley,” he said sharply, shocking her. “ Concentrate. Remember what I just told you about being hyperalert until this is over.”

“Why are you yelling at me?”

He gritted his teeth, and said, “I’m trying to keep you alive. I’m trying to show you, but I don’t think you’re listening. For example, what do you know about our situation right now that is different than a few minutes ago?”