Lee Child: MatchUp

“That means they’re handled then,” he said quietly. “If Stone is on his own, that makes our odds a little better.”

“I didn’t quite get that,” Sister Anselm said.

“Doesn’t matter,” Ali said. “Are you and Martin staying on the maternity floor for now?”

“They’ve lifted the lockdown, but since we’re already here, it can be reinstated at a moment’s notice.”

“Has Martin said anything more?” Bravo asked, speaking loudly enough so Sister Anselm could hear.

“Not so far. His doctors are keeping him heavily sedated for the time being.”

“Keep us posted,” Ali said, ending the call. “What will happen to the man and the woman?”

“An eye for an eye,” he responded quietly. “That’s the way it works in our world. May God have mercy on their souls. As for Anson Stone? My sister just sent me a file. The Archer is exceptionally dangerous on every level. He’s ex–Special Forces, and that was before he took to the bow and arrow.”

“Can I read it?” Leland asked from the backseat. “It’s always a good idea to know thy enemy.”

Bravo nodded and handed over his cell.

Leland scanned the file, nodding to himself, then returned the phone to Bravo. “Invaluable. Thank you.”

They drove in silence for more than an hour, through darkening clouds and thickening snow. Steering with confidence, Ali guided the nimble-footed vehicle up one trackless road after another, with each branch narrower than the one before. Even though they were under a thick canopy of pine, enough snow had filtered down that there was at least four inches on the ground when Ali finally stopped and cut the engine.

“We’re here,” she said. “As close as we can get, anyway. The cavern is going to be another mile or so in that direction. From here on, we walk.” She pulled out a compass. “The snow canopy is playing havoc with the GPS. But I’ve been in snowstorms before.”

They left the Cayenne and headed north, straight into the teeth of a rising wind that galloped over the mountains to the north and west. It bore down on them with a gathering ferocity, cutting visibility to nothing more than a few feet.

Ali pressed forward with confidence.

Bravo followed on her heels with Leland Brooks behind him. Despite the sharply steepening and narrowing path, he noted that the spry old man had no difficulty keeping up.

“There were mines up here?” he asked, huffing with exertion at the unaccustomed elevation.

“Not this far up,” she replied. “The really big strike was back down at Jerome. Even though people had known the ore was there for centuries, it couldn’t be profitably extracted until someone finally invented the narrow gauge railroad. Men, horses, mules all died attempting to bring the riches from up here down to market.”

A rumble of thunder rolled around overhead, accompanied by a sudden flash of lightning. The flash illuminated their way in bizarre and lurid colors.

“Lightning in a snowstorm,” she said. “Highly unusual, and bad luck for us. This one’s about to become a doozy.”

The snow fell in diagonal sheets, driven so hard by the wind that it stung their faces, forcing them to continue half blinded. Their progress slowed. The snow piled up at an alarming rate. It was already above their ankles. Drifts had formed in some spots, driven against the rock face calf high.

“Let’s keep going,” she advised. “We’ll be able to shelter inside the cavern and wait it out.”

They reached a particularly hairy stretch where both Ali and Bravo slid back twice. Looking behind him, he noticed that Leland had fallen behind.

“Are you all right?” he called.

“You go on,” Leland yelled. “I’ll just rest here a minute and then catch up.”

He and Ali plodded on.

She stopped time and again to check the compass, and each time he was convinced they were hopelessly lost. He’d fallen behind by a few steps when she suddenly disappeared completely, melting into a gash in the cliff wall that had been entirely invisible in the swirling snow.

He followed.

Inside, he removed a Maglite from his pack and used it to examine the interior of the cave. Dark stains on the floor testified to what had happened here. It shook him beyond measure to know that this was where his people had made their last stand against the Knights. Here and there he caught sight of bloodied bits of cartilage that told him this had also been the scene of Martin’s appalling torture.

He said nothing to Ali.

“If the veil is here,” she said, “where do we start looking?”

A sound broke the silence.

The soft skitter of a pebble or boot heel against rock.

SISTER ANLEM WATCHED AS MARTIN price, in his bed of drug-blunted pain, stirred briefly, opened his eyes, and stared upward into her face.

“Welcome back,” she said, squeezing his hand. “My name is Sister Anselm. You’re in St. Jerome’s Hospital in Flagstaff, Arizona. You’ve been gravely injured, but an excellent surgeon has taken care of all that. Your job now is to rest and let your body heal.”

Instead of calmness a look of urgent dread flashed across his face. “Bravo Shaw. I must speak with him at once.”

His voice came out thin and reedy. Some words dropped to little more than whispers, others disappeared altogether, forcing her to piece them together like a patchwork quilt.

“Not to worry,” she said. “Father Shaw has been here already. He’s discovered where you were when you sent that last text, and he’s probably there by now.”

“In the cavern? Oh, no.”

“Please be still,” she begged. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay. You don’t understand. It’s a trap,” he whispered, and she bent closer to hear his words. “I hid the veil. I didn’t tell the Archer.”

He stopped, panting.

Monitors indicated that his pulse raced.

“The Archer will be there waiting for him. You . . . must . . . warn him.”

“I will,” she said. “You mentioned a boulder earlier. Something about a boulder.”

“Inside the cavern,” he said. “On the floor . . . a boulder that moves.”

His eyelids fluttered.

His heart rate spiked and he slid back into unconsciousness.

She reached for her iPad. The day before, Martin Price had been able to send a text message from somewhere inside that cavern. Now, falling to her knees, she prayed that the reverse would also be true.

ALI FULLY EXPECTED LELAND TO step into the cavern. But he was nowhere to be seen. Instead, an arriving text dinged on her phone. She glanced down at the message.

ARCHER’S THERE. TRAP.

Before she could pass the warning along to Bravo, the figure of a woman materialized in the entrance of the cave behind them. She was dressed all in black. Assuming a bowman’s stance, she sent an arrow whirring into the cavern. Bravo ducked to the ground, shoving Ali down with him an instant before the arrow ricocheted off the cavern wall an inch from her right cheek.

Their attacker reached for another arrow.

BRAVO LAUNCHED HIMSELF FORWARD AND slammed his left forearm into the woman’s head, then raced past into the snowy void at the cavern’s mouth, hoping to engage the Archer.

To his surprise, the woman didn’t give chase.

Behind him, though, he could hear the sounds of a one-on-one battle as Ali engaged the Knight he’d thrown off-balance. He hoped he’d given her enough of an opening.

Another vague outline, far larger than the first, appeared out of the snow. He shifted right at Anson Stone, striking him before his adversary had time to notch an arrow.