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Earlier in the day she had hired her own demo expert, a quirky guy named Hire Denton to get to Hinowah as fast as he could. He’d arrived several hours ago, along with a sizable inventory of various explosives.

Dorion had sized up the notch the Never Summer flowed through and the canyon just north—upstream—of it. Denton would plant five kilos of C-4 in strategic places where she had determined an avalanche would dam up the river almost entirely before the water got to the Hinowah levee. He was to be ready to detonate the packages the minute she texted him.

When they had concluded a few minutes ago that it was likely Bear and the fake soldiers were going to blow the levee to help their escape, Dorion had signaled Denton that it was time to detonate the charges he’d set.

The resulting dam meant the land to the north would fill up quickly but the lake would cover only abandoned fields and a swamp.There was enough empty space to contain the water until the county or state—or the real Corps of Engineers—got a new levee in place. Then Dorion’s dam would be slowly dismantled and the Never Summer would begin to flow again.

But the aquatic state of Hinowah and its surroundings were not foremost on Colter’s mind.

Bear, Olsen and the corporals had lost their leverage and—whatever they felt about the failure of the levee’s destruction—all that was left for them was to escape the traditional way: in a getaway vehicle, notably Bear’s pickup, still hidden in the woods.

That meant that the crew’s earlier problem persisted: crossing Route 13 under fire from Colter and Starr and others at the command post.

Olsen was the first to start, but Starr forced her back with a half dozen shots.

“Damn,” the officer muttered. Presumably because of her dismay at missing the woman, but even getting slugs close enough to drive her back to cover was an accomplishment. That was a hell of a range for a sidearm.

Then too she could rise to a firing position only very briefly; Bear had zeroed in with his telescopic sight and was placing rifle shots exactly where he wished them to go.

Colter too returned fire but his gun—with a barrel length a half of Starr’s and a tenth of Bear’s—was pretty useless for distance shooting like this.

Mayor Tolifson, who had been huddling under cover, terrified, inhaled deeply a half dozen times and, his face filled with resolve, rose fast and lifted his own Glock. Before the mayor could pull the trigger, though, Bear parked a slug right beside him, spattering rocks and dirt. The slim man whimpered and dropped to the ground.

Starr called, “Mayor. Gimme your mag.”

He stared.

“Bullets. I need your bullets!”

He wasn’t quite sure how to get the magazine out of the gun. Colter scrabbled to him, and grabbed the weapon.

Starr shook her head. “No, you keep it, Colter.”

A nod. He checked the weapon.

It was unloaded.

Grimacing, Colter called, “Tolifson, ammo? You have any ammo?”

He blinked, stared at the gun, then closed his eyes in dismay. “The office. I…I forgot to check.”

His weapon was now a paperweight.

It was then that Bear laid down covering fire for the two corporals, one of his slugs striking the gas tank of the Public Safety pickup directly behind Dorion and Lavelle. The women rose to get out of the path of the streaming liquid. Lavelle made it to cover, but Dorion slipped and slid about ten feet down the hillside, completely exposed to Bear’s weapon.

Starr called, “I’m out, Colter.” He saw the slide of her Glock was locked back.

Colter was too.

Then Bear stepped out from cover, looking toward the CP tent, understanding that his enemies were out of ammunition. He’d looked through a spotter scope and seen the locked-back receivers. He worked the bolt and aimed toward Dorion, who climbed onto one knee and drew her own pistol, a small Glock like her brother’s own. She aimed carefully at Bear, who paused.

He actually seemed amused.

She fired six fast shots the big man’s way, emptying the weapon.

They all missed.

Colter sprinted to her and helped her to her feet.