Assignment: Sunrise

Assignment: Sunrise

I.Christie

Copyright ©2006 by I. Christie

Second Copyright ©2011 by I. Christie for LuLu and Kindle

Third Copyright ©2014 by I. Christie for Smashwords

Bookcover design: Valerie Hayken

Dedication

To the memory of my parents.

Acknowledgements

Thank you so much Martha Elser for your tireless editing when you had a very busy life of your own and your steadfast encouragement. It really meant a lot to me.

Thank you Ken Kimura for your help in picking out spy toys and for telling me what will work and won't. I just hope I got it right.

Thank you April Bradley for the encouragement and enthusiasm about my writing. You're a good friend.

Namaste

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 1

A night guard, shining his lamp along the uneven ground, heard and saw nothing outside of his own world. His tuneless voice crooned to a song bleeding through his earphones as his feet crunched across the gritty asphalt.

Eyes hidden behind night vision goggles watched until the guard had treaded on to the next set of buildings before moving back behind the warehouse.

The noise from the flying sand against the backside of the building covered the sound of the small window being unlatched. After making short work to disengage the alarm the veiled figure dropped into the dark warehouse. Landing in a crouched position on the concrete floor, the figure paused to readjust the goggles. The covered head moved slowly, scanning the area for any hot objects, and then pulled out a TD-53 radio frequency transmitter detector to scan for bugs.

No change in the pattern.

But someone else’s sloppiness did not give the intruder comfort. If the gang being monitored was not so insistent on taping their own meetings with their various business associates, the intruder knew this visit would have been a lot more difficult. Warily the figure sniffed the air in the warehouse. Smells from the stacked goods and stale odors from sweaty laborers mixed with the distinct scent of marsh and ocean air, blowing in from the opened window. There was no sound from the air conditioner that had been running throughout the day to keep the heat at bay. Not sensing anything that posed a threat the figure’s attention moved back to the window to close it and reengage the alarm.

A faint whirling noise came from the thin stealth rope as it snaked out and wrapped around a steel ceiling crossbeam. Expertly it was secured and after testing the rope, the figure ably scaled onto the beam. Once comfortably seated, the interior of the warehouse was carefully inspected. Confident the equipment monitoring the ceiling was disabled the figure moved above the office and dropped another rope down. The dark figure smoothly slid down, stopping just above the office window. A pinhole video camera was installed just above the warehouse surveillance equipment. Having completed that job, the figure moved back up the rope.

Not wanting to rely on one exit, the figure’s next job was to secure a second exit located in the roof. The rusted hinges on the ceiling window required special attention without the distinctive odor of WD40.

Finished with that chore, the intruder pulled back a black strap covering a wristwatch.

Still have lots of time.

The figure dropped to the warehouse floor, leaving the rope dangling, perhaps over-confident the rope would not be seen even if the lights were turned on, or perhaps not willing to get rid of a backup exit. With bug detector in a gloved hand the figure moved around the pallets and bulky stacks of goods, using them to hide from any monitoring devices the detector registered. Just inside of the double delivery doors, a stack of empty pallets inconveniently placed gave the figure pause.

The dark head turned carefully around, looking for any monitoring devices. Satisfied the area was clear, the figure curiously walked around the pallets. A pale object lay inside the stack. The figure leaned in closer to find a folded envelope pinned between the concrete floor and the stacked pallets. A gloved hand moved cautiously through a small opening between the pallets and pulled gently at the discovery. It held firmly in place. With a knife, the envelope was cut away, placed into a plastic bag and tucked into one of the vest’s pouches. Another plastic bag came out, and with the knife blade, the dark spot on the concrete was scraped. The curled black substance ended up on a swab, placed in a plastic bag and added to the pouch that contained the envelope.

Lights flashed through the front door window, illuminating the interior as far in as the stairs to the office. From the sounds, more than one vehicle had arrived at the building. Two angry voices started arguing, followed by two doors slamming shut. The insertion of a key in the lock caused the intruder to scan for a place to hide. Hiding behind the empty pallets was not a secure option.

The sound of a click and the sudden blinding light sent the intruder dropping flat to the cement ground.

No lights! Danny Brucker’s voice barked.

What are we going to do, wait for them in the dark? Amos Anders, owner of the warehouse, sarcastically demanded.

Turn the lights on in the office where it can’t be seen by anyone that cruises by.

What’s the big deal? I own this place.

Visually the two men were polar opposites. Danny’s muscle building past time filled his clothes impressively and had no need to add gold or color to attract attention, while Amos, thin as a rail, wore flashy clothes and expensive jewelry, endearing other types of commentary.

The clanging of footsteps on the metal stairway was muted in the packed warehouse. The office hung above the cement floor with the machinery, lockers, and break area tucked underneath it. Another light came on, the main light in the warehouse went off, and a door slammed shut, rattling everything attached from the windows down to the metal stairway.

Quickly, the prowler was up and moving soundlessly into the shadows, confident there were no traps or security beams along the way to the dangling rope.

Click!

Moving hastily backwards and behind a stack of marked boxes, the dark stranger clipped a calf muscle on the corner of a carton. Collapsing onto the floor in pain, the stranger dragged and rolled until safely hidden behind some crates. While kneading the injured leg and hoping not to have made too much noise, ears strained to hear any further sounds from the direction of the window. A cold breeze heavy with salt spray brought the distinct smell of a newcomer. The strain to hear anything other than the arguing voices in the office was finally rewarded with another click. Through the stacked pallets NV goggles picked up a glow moving away from the window.

Awkwardly, the dark figure rose and limped to the dangling rope. Instead of removing it, the dark figure climbed up. Less than a minute later the intruder was stretched flat on one of the dirty steel ceiling beams looking down at the office. Eyes behind the goggles opened wide at the sight of a man suspended outside of the office wall. Minutes later the man dropped down and moved away, disappearing behind florescent green shapes of machinery.

The ebb and flow of sound from the angry voices in the office nearly covered the now familiar sound of someone opening a window. The dark clad figure studied the two visitors as they struggled to fit through the small window that was already more popular than the much larger and convenient opening commonly referred to as the ‘front door’. Just as the window was closed, the front door to the warehouse opened and three figures moved up the stairs into the office as if they were familiar with the route.

A gloved hand pressed the earpiece more firmly into place. The figure was annoyed that with the added watchers there was more of a chance that something would go awry.

Well, it’s about time, Danny’s sarcastic voice greeted the newcomers.

Y’all got somewhere else ya need to be, don’t let me keep ya, a deep Southern voice drawled. The voice sent chills skittering down the intruder’s spine. It was also a sharp contrast to the fast speech of Danny. Suddenly a jammer cut the rest of the conversation off. The interloper strained to hear the conversation coming thru the thin walls.

Just hand over the money. You keep changing the time and place like you don’t trust us, Danny continued.

Trust…now that is somethin’ interestin’ coming from y’all, the voice drawled slowly. Bo.

There was a moment of silence.

A voice said something the intruder could not make out.

That’s crap! You owe us the full price! Danny objected hotly.

Let me remind y’all, the Southern voice paused as if getting ready to make an important point. Whatever he said was lost as the rest was said with less volume.

That’s full of… Danny began to object vehemently.

The stranger heard furniture move noisily.

Ah do think we need ta get a clear understandin’ here, the cold Southern voice rose in anger. Again the voice dropped to where it could not be heard outside of the office. There was a pause and then some more murmuring. The sound of something heavy being dropped could be heard.

For the next few minutes there was murmuring with only a few angry words getting through to the dark figure. Then Danny’s voice rose in argument.

That’s just an excuse not to pay us the full price!

Ah won’t argue with y’all, the Southern voice rose also. It’s already been agreed ‘pon by yer boss. Bo.

A door opened, two sets of boot steps clattered down the stairs. The outer door to the warehouse closed and an engine started and moved away.

Something slammed onto a table with enough force to make the listener cringe from the amplified sound through the now clear earpiece.

Two days before this was going down and you didn’t tell me that Mike was out? Amos Anders exploded. Where do you get off running your own game?

Everything was well under control! Danny hotly contested.

Control is following the plan unless an unforeseen event occurs. You were to call for new instructions if you couldn’t follow the original plan. Everyone in this organization works together and has no problem following those instructions – except you!

I adapted to the situation!

You stupid, kochon! Anders sounded incredulous. The merchandise belongs to Bobby! You were the drone, nothing more! You are out of this operation! Anders stated flatly.

They are thieves…and liars! That’s how they make their money! How do you think Bobby got to be second? The buyer picked her up and on time! I’m not some amateur! There was a pause. The Feds won’t find any trace of her, he continued in a calmer and confident tone. With the recent rains there’s no evidence left around the cabin.

You hid her up in the Crest cabins? Anders asked incredulous. Enbesil! Fou? That will be the first place the law will look! Does Mike know this? If Mark Scripts looks into this woman’s disappearance... Amos Anders didn’t finish, instead continued on another troublesome thought. It’s bad enough that those idiots kidnapped another FBI protected witness, but it’s worse that they did it in our backyard again! Their private vendetta with the FBI will be a cunja on us! A safe door slammed shut and then another. Scripts’s worse than a hound dog on a scent, he muttered disgustedly.

Harper’s Pet? Mr. Shinny Badge Cop? He’s not going to find a thing and if he even gets close I’ll take care of it.

You’ll do nothing! Didn’t I just say you’re out? We don’t knock off the local police! Then we’ll have Judge Parker calling in favors. Jeeesuuuushchrist. That’s all we need is to have the Feds and every other law enforcement group here. You’re not to do a thing. Do you hear me?

There were a few moments when there was absolute silence then the sound of a doorknob being grabbed violently was heard without the aid of the microphone. The office door slammed shut and then after the noisy decent down the metal stairs another door banged shut. A heavy-duty 8-cylinder Ford truck engine roared to life and big thick tires skidded on the sandy surface before gripping.

Faint tapping came from the office.

This is Amos…yeah, they delivered, but short…Chill out. I just blacklisted your buddy. Pass it around to the others to do nothing until we get word… No, nothing… You talk to the enbesil!..I don’t care! He threatened to take out Scripts if it looks like he’s onto us…Yeah…All right, you do that…I don’t know, but when the Boss says this is gonna be home base, it’s gonna be, come hell-or-high water. Night. The phone receiver dropped loudly into its cradle.

The lights went out and a few moments later the front door was firmly closed and locked. The intruder peered down on the floor spotting two glows as they detached from behind some boxes next to the office and moved in an erratic pattern to avoid the monitoring devices, and back to the window. After two figures clambered out, the window shut with a slight bang, followed by faint cursing from outside. Patiently the dark figure waited for the other visitor to leave, who instead, landed quietly on the stair platform and disappeared into the office.

The earpiece picked up little movement. After about ten minutes, the sound of a click from the safe was heard.

The second dark figure moved out of the office, using the front door to exit. The light above the outside of the door was out so without NV goggles, not even a silhouette of his figure would be seen.

The intruder glanced at the RT device. There was nothing reading at first and then the alarm light flickered on. Whoever it was knew how to disable the alarm system and get out before the backup came on. Now, more concerned about getting out, the intruder dangled above the office where the camera had been inserted, pausing a moment when hearing a sound. The veiled head turned, surveying the area slowly.

Nothing.

Carefully the small camera was slid into a vest pocket, secured and then a climb back up the rope. Once the rope was detached and packed the intruder headed for the other rope. Dangling on the rope for a moment the dark figure wondered if escaping through the ceiling exit would be the better choice. A faint whirling noise came from the right. Twisting toward the noise, the intruder’s goggles showed the overhead warehouse crane approaching quickly and almost silently on well-greased wheels. Letting go of the rope was not soon enough as the solid bulky machine clipped a shoulder, and sent the dark clad body crashing into a stack of goods. The overhead crane kept moving on its track into a dark corner. The body bounced off the plastic wrapped toilet paper boxes, and dropped onto the hard concrete.

Knees were wobbly and the NV goggles were dangling at an unusable angle. With both hands the visor was tightened and readjusted. The tops of the nearby stacks were scanned and then suddenly a gloved hand reached up and wrapped strong fingers around an ankle, pulling the other figure down. Hands grappled, an uninjured shoulder was driven into the midsection of the recent stranger, who slid to the ground limp. A weapon dropped out of the other person’s hand. Not wanting to be discovered, the intruder kicked it away and darted behind another stack.

Loud slamming of doors and deep male voices from outside the warehouse announced the start of the monthly militia gathering. The one squeak that had not been eliminated from the ceiling exit sounded loud in the warehouse.

Hesitating to follow, the arrival of the local militia ruled out the back window and front door, so the dark figure cautiously walked between the stacks, halting when something underfoot was nearly crushed.

Quickly the object was scooped up and stuffed in a pocket. Retracing steps to the rope, a short curse was hissed when the rope was found missing. Touching the knob on the NV viewer the missing rope was shown to be curled up on the beam with part of it looped down for anyone to see in broad daylight.

The second rope shot up, and was quickly secured, tested and scaled. Once back on the beam the stolen rope was reclaimed. The dark head carefully scanned the beam. Pulling a brush out, any evidence of someone being up on the beam was brushed away. That completed, a sniper veiled head carefully extended through the roof window exit. Sensing nothing, the rest of the body was drawn onto the roof and the window quietly closed. Hugging the roof, the figure climbed down to the sandy ground.

Glancing around for company and finding none, the dark figure scaled the neighboring building to see where everyone was gathering. The wind buffeted against the dark clad figure as Kevlar gloved fingers clung onto the roof hoping not to be spotted, though thinking it was more than likely since no self-respecting militia member would come to a night party without his NV goggles. The men were gathered at the edge of the marsh.

Sliding down the side of the building, a hidden recorder was collected and tucked into a stashed backpack along with the rope coils. Pressing against the peeled and cracked exterior of the warehouse wall, a dark head peered around the corner. A black-n-white cruiser with a dog hanging out of the window approached slowly. The dog started barking and growling as the bright white light from the handheld spotlight swept across the area revealing the various SUVs, trucks and one or two plain vehicles parked around two of the warehouses. The vehicle moved off into the night with its taillights going from a point of brightness to nothing.

At the sound of movement in the area, the dark shadow took refuge behind a trash bin. It was the sudden intake of breath that was warning enough. Instinctively dropping to one knee, a rifle butt whizzed overhead and crashed into the dumpster. Before the camo dressed attacker could recover from missing his target the intruder elbowed the assailant into his Kevlar padded chest. The assailant recovered with a rifle butt to the stranger’s shoulder, but it was an anticipated move. A spin kick was made to the militia member’s midsection. He went backward into the trash bin, breaking the night’s silence with a crash and a flood of curses. The dropped rifle was scooped up and the dark figure hobbled out of sight.

Once behind the trees that marked the beginning of the marsh, the stranger slowed down. Moving through the tall grasses and breathing heavy from the adrenaline rush, ammunition was removed from the chamber of the stolen rifle. The dark veiled head moved back and forth, up and down, looking for specific hot objects nearby. Pausing for the length of time it took to shove the rifle barrel deep into the soft mud, the figure moved further into the grasses.

A voice from the right sent the intruder dropping to the mud, hoping the grasses would be good enough cover. Something apart from the natural decomposing marsh life was thick in the air.

A deep male voice from a handheld communicator penetrated the night. The voice was cursing the find of a mud-encrusted rifle and attributed it to the other team.

The smell of the salty ocean foam gusted by. Reversing direction, the dark figure headed toward the rocky beach, stopping long enough behind a dune to pull out a dark elastic band and wrap the injured leg. It took forty five minutes to get to the beach.

****

The predawn sky lit the beach area, revealing colors where there was once dark gray outlines. Agent Adison had napped on a protected ledge on a cliff overlooking the ocean until dawn not wanting to arouse curiosity if she were noticed limping back into town at such an odd hour. Her dark attire was exchanged for a long sleeved green sweatshirt that deepened the green color of her eyes. The matching sweatpants hid the calf muscle comfortably wrapped with an ace bandage. From her backpack she pulled out flat soled canvas shoes, devoid of marsh mud and dry. Studying herself in a small mirror, she wiped sand off her chin, brushed her shoulder length blond hair, and then tied it into a ponytail. She tucked the mirror back into the side pocket of her fanny pack and adjusted her water bottle. Her dark clothing and tools were carefully hidden to be picked up later.

The one hour jog back into town allowed her to warm up her cold limbs and work out some of the soreness in her leg and other body parts. Relieved at reaching her destination, Adison climbed the steps to Crimson Rose Bed n’ Breakfast, halting when a voice hailed her from the street. Turning, she brushed a stray blond strand of hair out of her face. A tall dark haired man, dressed as a jogger, even down to the neon shoes, was standing outside the bed and breakfasts’ gate with a young gawky Irish wolfhound prancing around his legs. The dog’s tongue lolled over the side of a long jaw lined with sharp teeth, panting heavily. Her master’s sweat stained shirt attested it to a grueling run. He looked military or ex. It was not just because he wore his hair short, though not marine style, but more because of the presence about him. Probably a cop now, she shrewdly appraised. There was no nervousness about him, nor wariness. Just plain self-assurance. He was familiar and he was also someone she needed to be careful around.

Ma’am, out a bit early.

On the east coast, this isn’t that early. Are early morning walks discouraged? She gave an innocent smile.

The man shook his head still smiling. No, ma’am, just unusual. Most people like to sleep in on their vacations.

Ah. Well, I do this out of self-preservation. I like to eat good food and this place certainly has a lot of tempting menu selections, she responded, keeping in tune with her cover, and being careful not to be condescending.

Yes. They have a good chef. Try Mollie’s Creations. A local favorite. Have a nice day.

You too, and thanks for the tip. She didn’t wait to watch the two move off, not wanting to show any interest in the runner.

Back in her room, a routine inspection was made to assure her no one had come in while she was gone. She had requested no maid service. Satisfied, she moved to her next task, a review of her cover. She stood before the full-length mirror behind the bathroom door, looking for what could have led the runner to pick her out. The only thing that stuck out was her canvas shoes. They were cheap flat shoes. No arch or heel support for even a walker. Silently she snorted to herself in disgust. No tourist would forget to pack tennis shoes with an arch for walking, even if it was from the hotel to a shop or two. The shoes she wore were from another wardrobe - another face.

Not able to do anything about the mistake at the moment, she pulled on surgical gloves. Removing the envelope from her pocket, she removed the sheet within. The paper had worn folds that looked like it had been folded and refolded many times. New folds in it suggested the last person to fold it had done so quickly and not being familiar with the previous pattern had created his or her own. The outside of the paper had ink marks on it, reminding Adison of a note carried in a woman’s purse. Unfolding the paper she held it up to the light. She picked off some lint and a few hairs, and put them in another plastic bag.

Carefully she unfolded the rest of the page, lying it flat under a thin sheet of plastic. It was a list of names, some she recognized.

Mike Learner -

Johnny Redfield *

Amos Anders -

Bob Mayhew X

John Melville *

Henry James *

Marvin Larimey *

Gene Blackmond *X

George Matthews *

Mike Housten *

Thomas Meadows *

Jinks Wilde *

Al Brentwith *

Bill Prost -

BJ Headers *

Sam Henry Adams -

Carl Gates *

Richard Mack *

Ed Carson X

Mentally she marked off the names she knew, Mike Learner and Amos Anders. No Mark Scripts, Harper or Judge Parker. Thirteen asterisks, four with minus signs, and three with Xs and one that had an asterisks and an X.

Putting the names to memory she focused on her next search…Crest cabins. She remembered a brochure downstairs advertising camping up at the Crest.

Adison took a shower, and while under the warm water, planned her next move and this time, with more attention to dress. She packed her fanny pack with a camera, first aid kit, a granola bar and then turned to check her dress for hiking. Critically she stood before the room mirror, checking for anything out of character. She lifted her arms to make sure her P7K3, about 7x4 inches snuggly tucked under arm pit, didn’t show and turned around to check for any lines that gave away the harness. Satisfied that only what would be seen as a bra line could be seen, she headed downstairs for breakfast and a brochure on the Crest.

****

Hey boss, I sent you a draft for the travel story. Expect a package of knick-knacks that I thought would be good examples of the local talent. I’m checking out the surrounding landscape to see what else the town has to offer. I’ll keep in touch, she reported to the answering machine.

Adison hung up the battered receiver. She pulled her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose, looking around her. The payphone was outside of the ranger’s office at the bottom of the rock steps, to the left. She avoided the use of a scrambler on her conversation because it would alert Ranger Mayhew that she was more than a travel reporter, just in case he had the phone tapped. However, she had not resisted cleaning the phone of dirt caked on the ear and mouth piece.

According to the brochure and Ranger Mayhew, the US Forestry Services oversaw a group of two dozen cabins up along the Crest, which the government rented out or long term leased. There were a few privately owned cabins intermixed, which Mayhew had not mentioned. While she was speaking with Ranger Mayhew on the possibility of renting or leasing, another ranger entered the room and mentioned one of the privately owned cabins was for sale – which seemed to give Mayhew a bit of a start. That piqued her interest so she told them that she would like to look at it, giving the excuse that owning was better than leasing. Ranger Gray Horse retrieved the key while Ranger Mayhew gave her directions.

Back in the rental car she pointed the vehicle up the winding mountain road. Twenty minutes later she was still slowly climbing, scanning the unpaved side roads for any recent passage by a heavy vehicle and making a recorded list of license plates of cars leaving the area. Adison pulled her car to the side when her rearview mirror showed a dark blue Toyota, dressed for serious back road driving, coming up fast behind her. Instead of passing and moving on up the winding road, it pulled in front of her, and slowed to a halt. She slid the tape recorder into the leg pocket of her kaki colored pants as she obediently pulled to a stop at the side of the road.

The tall runner from the morning now had a badge looped over his waistband in clear view, with a leather belt holding a holster and a very big semiautomatic. Sharply pressed creases in his pants and in the long sleeved shirt gave her the impression that whoever did his laundry was meticulous about not creating additional creases. He wore a plain blue baseball cap. He walked slowly toward her car on the driver’s side. She knew it was not because he was studying her vehicle, he would have already had the vehicle checked out before he stopped her.

He leaned down in front of her driver’s window, motioning her to roll her window all the way down.

Good morning. Are you following me? Adison asked politely.

Nope. A woman traveling alone up here though, can be dangerous. Heading anywhere special?

I was looking into buying a cabin up this way.

He nodded. His dark glasses reflected her face wearing sunglasses and a polite smile, to hide her irritation.

That would be up along the Crest.

Adison continued to smile while reading the cop’s body language.

I’m Mark Scripts, detective with the Sunrise PD and you might be…?

She held out a hand. Kay Smith. His grip was firm when he clasped her hand and then released it, not trying to relay any messages in the touch. His nails were well cared for and his hands looked like they did more than hold a gun. He was not the gardener type, but could be into doing yard work of the maintenance type. She pegged him for a solid married type, with kids. Probably two or three...and a dog.

So… he continued when she contributed nothing more, the cabin you’re looking for is straight up this road. The dirt road you want is marked with a bright yellow flag. I’ll follow you to make sure you find it. Sometimes the flag isn’t up and sight-seers get lost.

That’s kind of you. I hope it’s not interfering with something else you might have to do.

He smiled. Not at all.

Just great, she thought disgustedly.

At the road where she was to turn off she could now see why he followed her. The rental car’s carriage would not have cleared the first part of the entrance nor do well over the heavily rutted road. The entrance either was intentionally kept that way or not maintained regularly. Both could see a vehicle had passed over the road during or after the rain from two nights previous, leaving deep tire grooves now filled with mud.

Want a ride? he offered.

I would, thanks. Bet that surprised you. I think I’d like to check you out Mr. Shinny Badge Cop.

Adison locked up the rental car, and climbed up into the lifted truck’s cab, grateful she was agile. You come up here often? she asked casually, as the truck easily cleared the obstruction and moved through the mud.

Often enough.

Adison’s eyes scanned three scattered cabins for any life signs and found none. The truck bounced off in another direction, moving further into the wooded area.

That’s the Quinton’s cabin that’s for sale, Ms. Smith.

Adison turned her attention back to her driver and to where he gestured. Oh. Looks…rustic.

Det. Scripts smiled, pulling up near the cabin. The Quinton’s split up. Ed kept it out of spite but the rules are you have to keep it up and he’s been living in Europe to get away from child support payments. You’re lucky. Besides not wanting his wife to have it, he doesn’t want the government to buy it. It’s one of the few cabins that are privately owned and those that do own, are vehemently against government buy-outs, he gave her a quirky grin. He opened his door and slid out.

That’s more than what I need to know. Something push his button?

Adison climbed down from the cab. Before following the detective she studied the terrain that could hide snipers, snakes, and bugs. She was not wearing a Kevlar vest for manmade projectiles, but her hiking boots did have high tops to protect against the indigenous wildlife with teeth or other blood sucking appendages, provided they didn’t bite above her knees. At the door, she produced the key the ranger had given her but paused to look around the area before opening it.

It felt as if she was being watched…through the cross hairs of a rifle. Hearing nothing besides birds and squirrels she returned her attention to the door. Before stepping in, Adison swung the door open and peered in. The interior odor wafted out and settled on them, smelling of unclean bodies with at least one of them being sick.

Adison heard a snap as the leather secure strap on the detective’s holster was released. Det. Scripts firmly pulled Adison back with his left hand, and with his right pulled out his weapon. Moving forward he wrapped his hands around a nice big 45 Springfield 1911A that fit comfortably in his large hands extended before him in the classic cop pose.

Adison waited near the door, simultaneously listening to noises from inside and outside the cabin, ready to come to his aid if needed and ready to duck inside of the cabin if the goose bumps on her arms got worse.

Det. Scripts came back looking grim. This place is not open for viewing.

Adison stifled her look of dissention, realizing that though civilians did take pleasure in looking at something that promised to be ghoulish, they did not if the stink was part of the ambiance. For just a brief moment she entertained the idea of using her magazine credentials to get a look then realized it was not in keeping with her cover’s profile.

She followed the detective toward the cabin with smoke coming from its chimney. Adison could feel the hairs on the back of her neck rise. As she made a grab for the detective’s arm to pull him down, he was reaching back for her. With greater strength, he gave her a firm push in the opposite direction toward a big tree trunk while he rolled behind another. It all happened so fast as each of them reacted instinctively to danger. Both could hear a pop, as if someone was using a silencer.

Adison hit the ground and flattened herself behind a tree. Her insides were shaking from the narrow escape. She watched the detective move toward where the sniper had been, knowing by now he was gone. They could both hear branches snapping as if someone was running away in a hurry.

Wait here, he commanded and took off down a faint trail in the direction of the sniper. Within the forest the echo of a motorcycle engine roaring to life told Adison they would not be catching the shooter, unless he ran into a tree. Adison stood where she was letting her eyes search for any movement. A faint sound behind her had her turning quickly and dropping to one knee.

A white haired man stood before her. His eyes flickered to where the detective was and then back to Adison. Danny left four nights ago, he informed her softly. Delivered a sick women to a dozen men he met along the fire road dressed in camos. Heavy on the armament side. Someone returned this morning…just about tore the place up looking for something. Not part of either group, though. He returned about an hour ago with someone else.

The old man looked up as the detective approached.

Adison busied herself with looking at her torn blazer.

Morning, Mark.

Good morning, Sam. Back from vacation early I see. He nodded toward the cabin where they had just come from. Would have been here sooner but I got an early morning call for a body on the beach.

Murder?

A couple of teens sleeping off whatever they had the night before. Ms. Smith, why don’t you go on and wait for me in my truck. I’ll be but a minute.

Along the beach? Adison quickly replayed any unusual activity along the beach early in the morning and could not recall any. I’ll take a drive to the cliff and see just how secure my hiding place is.

Adison’s attention moved back to the men. She nodded and started to walk back to the truck, carefully placing her feet on the uneven ground, while she looked around her. She spotted a reflection from further within the woods. Turning to look at the men, she decided the conversation was going to last longer than a minute. Stepping into the shady part of the forest, her eyes attempted to see beyond the darkness of the shadows. A dozen steps further and the shadows disappeared, revealing a cabin all by itself in the center of the late morning light. From where she stood there was nothing around to show it was presently habited, though it was well cared for. There was no trash or worn path leading to the porch.

Moving in for a closer look, she approached from the porch side. The curtains pulled across most of the windows kept the interior dark from any normal peering eyes. Walking around the square building, she found a small storage shed thirty yards away from the cabin, thankful it was not an outhouse. That was promising. A solar collector was on top of the shed roof and the shed door was secured.

Four rooms. One of the few with a basement. It’s got a toilet, stall shower, new Jacuzzi, small kitchen…just got equipped with solar power too. There’s a wind generator four of us share. Battery stores inside the shed. Great for one or two people, but only if you don’t intend on staying indoors much. Gets cold in winter. It’s not insulated.

Sam and Detective Scripts had caught up with her.

Who owns it? She turned to look at Sam.

A writer. Used to do his writing up here but he’s getting on in years. He’s a widower with no kids. Chances are he’ll be selling it soon and if he doesn’t, his estate will. You interested?

Yes. Aside from her cover of coming up here to look at cabins she really was interested, though she had not the slightest idea what she would be doing with a cabin. When she did get vacations it was usually the type to let off steam at some resort where strangers only shared the carnal side of each other, provided safe sex was practiced. It was the type of short-term relationships that her job worked well with.

I’ll mention it. Got a card?

Adison pulled out her wallet and handed the old man one. Sam didn’t look at the card but put it in his breast pocket. Adison knew the detective would have liked to look at it but would probably wait until she left to ask Sam. Or would he?

The ride back to her rental car was bumpy and thankfully short. Detective Scripts was deep in his own thoughts. He dropped her off at her rental and she drove back to the ranger station to drop the keys off. The detective was close behind her and remained to speak with Ranger Gray Horse. The other ranger was gone and so was one of the two US Forestry SUVs.

As Adison left the detective and ranger talking, she wondered how she was going to go back without finding the detective back on her tail. Ten minutes down the winding hill the dark blue truck caught up with her and followed her at a respectable distance. She made sure she was driving the speed limit, which was intended to drive him crazy. About five minutes outside the Sunrise town markers he finally pulled ahead of her and sped off.

It’s about time, she muttered.

Once the truck disappeared from view, she made a sharp U-turn from one of the convenient turn-offs and headed back up the mountain with the gas pedal to the floor. The rental made a gallant effort climbing close to the speed its occupant was pushing for, knocking and gurgling from the thin air and steep terrain.

Once headed in the right direction, Adison pulled her cell phone out. By habit, the conversation scrambler was on. She had faith in the GPS attached to her cell that she would get a clear signal on her first try.

Hi, Mel, Adison here….Ah, Sam filled you in, eh?...Yeah, that pretty much sums it up. I sent you a list of names I found in the warehouse. Three names I’ve identified… Okay. So, what’s the plan now?…Okay. Got a resume ready?.. I can’t wait to see what you have me down for this time…What? She gave a short embarrassed laugh. Yeah, I told Sam I was interested in the cabin…I’ve stayed in a cabin before, she returned huffily. Well, yeah, it has an indoor toilet and running water. Adison chuckled, Yes, it’s got a real Jacuzzi. You know I wouldn’t be interested in it if it didn’t have some hedonistic amenities. Her expression became serious when the conversation switched to business. She listened for the next few minutes nodding to herself and making ‘uh huh’ noises where appropriate.

Roger, that. Bye. She folded up the thin phone and slipped it inside her pocket, making sure it was buttoned in.

Instead of driving up the road that would take her past the Ranger Station, she took another that led behind the cabins. Her topographical map of the area showed a way to the back of the cabins near a popular hiking path. Mel instructed her to have a chat with Sam, her backup. So far, she had no need to contact her backup, generally she preferred working alone.

At the bottom of one hiking trail she pulled into an available spot on a scenic turnout. Tourists were taking pictures and hikers were returning from their hikes. No one looked particularly interesting. Exchanging her coat for a sweatshirt, Adison then pulled out her fanny pack and two bottles of water to Velcro