Page 3

Hunt

A simple question about fieldwork set her off? She sure is prickly.

Whatever. I’m here to add up undocumented entries. After my penance, I can go home. I’m lucky I wasn’t fired for saving Axel’s wife in Belarus. Now, with a new FBI director, it could still happen. I need to keep a low profile.

When she glances up, I smile encouragingly. “I’m simply here to study the environment, nothing more. I promise to stay out of your way.”

“Okay. Let me see your map.” Grabbing a marker off her desk, she hovers it over the paper. “Do you mind?”

“No, go for it.”

While I watch, she highlights places without roads. “These are the deer trails. I would start there. The farmers can give you feedback about moose, rodents, and the occasional wolf. We do have a family of bobcats, but they’re shy. You probably won’t see them. The mother can be vicious if you get too close to her brood.”

I’m supposed to be an expert, so I grunt as if insulted. I wish I could share more of my real purpose, but Batt Hornsby was clear. I could only tell Dante. With him out of the picture, I’m on my own. “Thank you. I think I can take it from here.”

“Meeeeorrrrmph.” Monstro jumps off the file cabinet and butts his head against my leg as I slip into my heavy wool coat.

Squatting, I pat his head. “Behave, buddy. Never bite the hand of anyone who feeds you.”

He blinks at me, swishes his tail, and noses his water bowl to the wall until it overturns.

“You are such a monster! What did I tell you?” While the lovely customs guard grabs a roll of paper towels, I grab the door handle. “I’ll be in touch.”

“Good luck. You might want to change your clothes. The winds are picking up. Storms are moving in later this week.”

“While I appreciate your concern, I think I can manage a patch of winter weather.” As I open the door, she snorts out her disagreement.

Holy Mother of God, I’ve had enough of her attitude. “What’s your problem, O’Malley?”

“Nothing. Traipse around the forest. Do your thing. By the way, phone signals are spotty up here. Make sure you have an emergency kit because if you get lost, you could die of hyperthermia before we’d ever find you.”

Typically, insults roll off my back. However, I want to impress this woman, not appear incompetent. Worried I might blow my cover, I bite my tongue, shake my head, and slam the door on the way out.

At my hotel, the curtains remain shut so I can grab a quick nap. Upon waking, I warm up an MRE, clean my firearm, and inspect my gear. By midnight, I’m ready.

My plan is simple. I’ll set up my cams, take a few vacation days on the slopes, then return to DC. Compared to my last few assignments, this one’s a breeze. Whistling to myself, I call the FBI Special Agent in Charge of Counting Illegal Immigrants, Bartholomew Hornsby. “Hey, Batt. You told me to ping you when I started my workday, so here I am.”

When the man’s girlfriend moans in the background, I chuckle. Paybacks, pal, are a real bitch.

Adjusting my night optical device, I climb the muddy path between the thick pines. “Yes, sir. I figured you’d be waiting to hear about my progress. Dante is MIA, off somewhere ice fishing. I’m going to install the first of our surveillance this evening.”

“How long will it take? The president is anxious to have all this data before addressing Congress.” Batt sounds rattled, but I don’t blame him. Nowadays, no one’s job is secure.

I do my best to remove any doubt from my tone. “A week, perhaps two. It depends on how many paths I find. Once it snows, I can track people much faster.”

“Remember what I said. No arrests. We only need a tally.” His constant reminders make my teeth grind in the back.

What am I, five? How I miss working with Axel. Hopefully, after this assignment, my old team can be reassembled. Fucking politics have no place in the trenches.

“Understood. Talk soon, sir.” After I hang up my SAT phone, I park my car near a farmhouse where the owner had made multiple complaints.

About a mile into the woods, male voices carry on the breeze. It’s been a while but I recognize a few words of Farsi. Pulling out my cell, I hit record to translate it later.

Deeper under the brush, I count six men in white camouflage snowsuits. Shit. The buzzing overhead worries me. If that drone has thermal imaging, I will be found out.

These half-dozen night crawlers are not your average illegals. The ones on either side of the line hold AKs, wear ammo belts, and are sporting fifty-pound backpacks. Their whole demeanor screams special forces.

What the hell did I stumble into? Backing away, I pray the drone’s pilot is eating cheese puffs and watching the game.

In silence, I traverse the narrow trail. The moment my car comes into view, I breathe easier until a woman shouts, “Hands where I can see them.”

Figuring there’s a gun aimed at my chest, I lift my elbows high, fingers spread. “Don’t shoot. I’m with Vermont Fish and Wildlife.”

“In the middle of the night?” A dark-haired woman in her mid-forties wearing a star on her belt shines her fucking flashlight into my night-vision goggles.

Eyes stinging from the headache-inducing brightness, I turn my head. “Mind focusing your beam elsewhere?”

When the light fades, I lace my hands behind my back, reminding myself to be polite to the local sheriff. “Care to see my ID?”

Lips pursed, safety off, barrel pointed, she nods. “Real slow, mister.”

“Yes, ma’am. And would you mind lowering your weapon?” Tugging out my wallet, I tamp down my anger. A bunch of mercenaries walk into the United States without any questions asked, but I’m the one targeted?

While my heart races, she studies my fake identity card, taps it on her palm, and frowns. “Gurion? How come I never heard of you?”

One of law enforcement’s first lessons is to announce yourself. This woman must’ve missed that class. “How about you introduce yourself, first.”

“I’m Sheriff Loughlin. I’d like to say nice to meet ya, but it’d be a lie.” The woman has the authority to detain me, so I try to remain calm.

“Well, as for your question, I’m a new hire from Burlington. The university and our department have a grant to examine the effect of illegals encroaching on our wildlife’s habitat.” Any lie said with enough conviction is believable.

She hesitates, scratches her head, then raises her pistol. “Well, you shouldn’t be out here, so I’m arresting you for trespassing. Are you armed?”

“Sorry. The only thing that shoots are my cameras.” My pulse spikes. If those armed mercenaries show up, it could be lights out for all of us.

“Well, you’re fortunate I’m the one who found you. These forests are full of coyotes and not the four-legged kind.” Her scowl doesn’t scare me nearly as much as the men I spotted earlier.

“Thanks for the warning. In the future, I’ll be more cautious.”

“Let me be succinct. There will be no next time, Mister Gurion. Let’s go.” She beams at my feet, cuffs me, and leads us back to the road.

While I sit in her SUV’s back seat, she flicks her eyes in the rearview mirror. “By the way, did you see anyone tonight?”

She’s given me no reason to trust her, so I lie, “No, ma’am, not a soul.”