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  ‘Namir’s tracking all these phones. He tracked Abbas’s cell. He’s using jammers, too. Sophisticated devices that can shut down a sat phone, too.’

  ‘In the entire forest?’

  ‘No. They have a radius. The good ones, military-grade, the kind the FBI uses … those have a range of one hundred and fifty meters.’

  ‘You should turn off that cell,’ she said, moistening her lips nervously.

  He looked at the device in his hand, a plan forming in his mind.

  ‘No. We’ll leave it on.’

  ‘They’ll find us.’

  ‘That’s the plan.’

  They made contact with the enemy just before ten am on Wednesday.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Zeb was following Sara Ashland when he smelled a whiff of smoke.

  He tugged her hoodie and made her stop, holding a finger to his lips.

  He sniffed. Yes, no doubt. Cigarette smoke.

  He saw her breathe deeply too, recognition dawning in her eyes when she placed the odor.

  ‘It could be campers,’ she whispered.

  Hikers had been on his mind. He had deliberately chosen his camp to be far from any travelers. However, the wilderness had many visitors. They were bound to encounter a few.

  Namir will kill them.

  He motioned her to the ground and tried to get a wind direction.

  The smell came from their left.

  He pulled out Khider’s phone. Removed its battery and SIM card, and crushed the device.

  They started crawling slowly, him taking the lead.

  Barely fifty yards had passed when bushes rustled ahead.

  He held up a hand to stop her and pointed with his index finger to a thicket.

  Turned his head around to watch her insert herself carefully in the bushes.

  He resumed moving, faster, now that he didn’t have to worry about her.

  Got to his feet when he was out of her vision.

  Used trees to shield himself.

  Two men came from behind a dense bunch of pines, their eyes on something one terrorist held.

  No time to think.

  He was moving even before his brain had processed what his eyes saw.

  They were close, almost shoulder to shoulder, their HKs dangling from their shoulders.

  Their eyes lifted when they sensed him.

  Zeb flew at them, his HK swinging around in a wicked arc.

  Its barrel crashed into the first killer’s neck. He dropped the tracker to the ground, a cry bursting out of his lips.

  Zeb kneed him, and smashed his rifle’s barrel on the back of his neck.

  The second killer was reacting.

  Swiftly.

  His mouth opening to warn the rest of Namir’s men. His body taking several steps back to give himself room.

  His HK swinging around. Turning to aim at Zeb.

  Zeb threw away his weapon and pounced at him.

  His left forearm came up, beneath the hostile’s gun.

  Deflected its barrel just as rounds burst from it and sprayed the branches above them.

  His fingers jabbed at the shooter’s eyes. A scream that escaped Namir’s man died away in a choking gasp when Zeb’s elbow crushed his neck.

  The beast roared to life suddenly, flew through Zeb’s fingers and rammed the killer against the nearest tree.

  Zeb smashed the man’s head against the trunk.

  Once. Twice. Until his body sagged.

  Zeb let him go and stood back, breathing lightly.

  Five down.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Sara Ashland’s face turned white and a shiver passed through her when he returned and threw the shooter’s weapons under a bush.

  ‘Two men? They are …’

  ‘They won’t trouble us anymore.’

  She blinked rapidly and jammed her hands deep in her pockets—but not before he noticed them trembling.

  He didn’t comment. He knew what she was going through. He had experienced it himself and seen it in many victims.

  Shock came first, when a parent or a close relative was killed in a brutal manner.

  Then came grief.

  Rage and anger came last.

  In her case, she’s had no time to go through all those emotions. And now she’s with me. She isn’t sure if we will see another sunrise.

  He toyed with the tracker he had taken off the two men.

  ‘Is that what I think it is?’

  ‘Yeah. See,’ he turned the screen to her and tapped buttons. ‘That green dot. That was Abbas’s phone. They must have been wondering why it went offline suddenly. That’s why they didn’t notice me.’

  She looked nervously behind her. ‘There are many more, still. They could be close.’

  ‘They are nearby, but not that close. I think I know how they are working.’

  He squatted and reached out for a stick.

  He cleared the ground of leaves and drew a rough map of the wilderness.

  ‘This was where my camp was.’ He jabbed at the ground.

  ‘This is where I reckon you were.’ He made a cross to the east of his camp.

  She nodded. ‘I guess so. Your map-drawing skills … you don’t have any.’

  He jerked his head up to see a small smile appear on her lips and disappear just as fast.

  ‘This was the bank.’ He drew a curved line. ‘We ran here, and now we are here.’

  ‘I thought we had left them behind. But Namir’s turning out to be smarter than I thought,’ he acknowledged. ‘He and his men followed in our direction. In the dense forest, he got them strung out. Maybe groups of two or three, about 200 meters apart. Each group carrying a tracker. Following Abbas’s phone.’

  ‘Why 200 meters?’

  He produced the cellphone jammer the second killer had been carrying.

  ‘Because of this baby. It blocks phone signals. This one has a range of 200 meters. This is hard-to-find gear. Only American and British Special Forces use these. Mossad as well. Namir’s groups are carrying one of these, too. To block any calls I make or receive.

  ‘You don’t have your phone, though.’

  ‘They are assuming I might have another. Good thinking on their part.’

  Her body grew tense, her hands twitched, her voice dropped to a whisper.

  ‘If they are just 200 meters away, they could be coming. They would have heard the shooting.’

  ‘Yes. I want them to come.’

  Chapter Thirty

  She looked at him like he was crazy, but dropped to the ground when he began crawling.

  She hissed in anger and fear when he started heading in the direction from which the dead gunmen had come.

  ‘That’s where they are. That line of men you drew.’

  ‘Yeah,’ he whispered. ‘They’ll be expecting us to run.’

  ‘There are still sixteen of them.’

  ‘No.’ He raised a hand to silence her. Explanations could come later.

  Namir won’t send all sixteen at once. He doesn’t even know if I am alone. He’ll deploy one or two groups. Four or six men.

  He counted time and distance in his mind.

  Ten minutes since the fight.

  Normal walking speed of adults, five kilometers an hour. Eight hundred meters in ten minutes.

  But these conditions are different. They’ll first call their killers. See if they are alive.

  Then track their phones. Khider’s, too. They will move cautiously, stop every now and then.

  They’ll discuss among themselves. Namir will give them orders.

  So, twenty or thirty minutes to get to the dead men.

  He started seeking cover after ten minutes.

  Anything dense and thick, at ground level.

  There were ponderosas ahead. Thick trunks, large enough to shield both of them. Gnarly branches that snaked out, blocking the sun.

  He stopped.

  Why hide in the bushes?

  She bumped into him from b
ehind and looked at him angrily.

  Move, she mouthed.

  He raised his hand and pointed to the branches.

  Can you climb?

  Another eyeroll was his answer.

  She didn’t need any help.

  She grabbed a branch, powered herself up nimbly, and went up high in the tree, lost from his sight.

  He went ahead ten meters. Stopped just after a small rise, next to another giant trunk, with bushes and knee-high growth to hide him.

  There was no hard cover to protect him, but that wasn’t the point.

  He prayed she couldn’t see him. Wouldn’t watch what would happen next.

  Because there was no mercy in him.

  His pulse slowed as he waited. Sound amplified.

  He stretched out and brought the HK to his shoulder.

  No ghillie suit for camouflage. However, his jacket was olive-colored, his jeans brown. They would blend in.

  He sighted the rifle and waited.

  Somewhere high above, a bird screeched. An animal grunted.

  Black bear?

  And then, a footfall sounded. Soft. Careful.

  From the direction he had guessed.

  He didn’t celebrate when a head peered from around a tree.

  This wasn’t party time. It was killing time.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The man was twenty feet away. His bearded head didn’t move much. His eyes scanned the ground carefully.

  They skipped over Zeb’s hide and roamed beyond and behind.

  He seemed to make some kind of hand signal, and then clothing rustled and another man joined him.

  Their lips moved. One of them raised a cell to his mouth and spoke softly, too far away for Zeb to overhear.

  They spread out, making their way carefully, their guns ahead of them. One man holding his tracker in his left hand.

  Not using the jammer. Because they need to stay in touch.

  Zeb could hear them breathing as they passed on his right. He could have taken them out.

  There’s one more team, however. At least.

  The second team appeared when the first was nearly out of sight.

  Two more men, both bearded, farther away from him, to his right again.

  They were keeping an eye on both the first team and the terrain ahead of them.

  He waited.

  Time was on his side.

  The battleground was of his choosing.

  He was confident they wouldn’t find the girl. No one would.

  Not even me. Climbing a tree wouldn’t occur to anyone.

  The men at the rear came closer, and then started veering off, to keep that angle between them and the first team.

  They paused for a moment, conferring with each other. Their chests presenting to him.

  Zeb took the shot.

  A short burst, left to right, from waist-high to head.

  A second burst, right to left, from head to waist.

  He was moving even before the men had fallen.

  Bending low. Running toward them. Firing another burst when he passed them. And then he was diving, as the first team reacted.

  He rolled as the first burst of fire sprayed behind him.

  His HK came up, long bursts firing in the direction of the attackers.

  Moving continually, slithering and sliding, keeping them pinned down.

  Fast mag change. A desperate roll as a round gouged the earth in front of him and sprayed dirt in his eyes.

  Finish this quickly.

  He reached a tree trunk, sheltered behind it, and went through his options.

  A shout from deeper inside the forest reminded him more men would come soon.

  He snapped a glance around the bole.

  Both men hurrying in his direction.

  Spread out. Twenty feet away.

  Wood chipped from the trunk when one of them fired in his direction.

  He was planning to dive to the ground and fire in one roll. It could be suicidal, but it was the only alternative.

  ‘I am here.’

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Sara Ashland called from behind the first team.

  Zeb flashed a quick look.

  The team stopped. One man flicked a glance back. The second turned his head at an angle.

  That was the only distraction Zeb needed.

  ‘Down!’ he roared at the girl, and his HK chattered.

  He unslung the second one with his left hand, and triggered it, too.

  Twin streams of lead, racing through the forest, thudding into flesh and wood, extracting screams from the men and ripping out branches and leaves.

  He ran out, ducked over their fallen bodies and grabbed spare magazines from them.

  Fired into the body of one man who was still alive.

  Grabbed the girl’s hand as she rose from behind a tree.

  And fled.

  Northeast. In the direction of Erilyn. Away from the dead men.

  He heard shouts in the distance: the rest of the terrorists. The sounds grew distant and then faded as he urged the girl to go faster, while looking back occasionally to check for pursuers.

  They ran hard for half an hour, after which she started flagging.

  He started looking for shelter, something that would hide them, where they could rest.

  They passed an abandoned hut someone had constructed in a small clearing.

  Saw her questioning look but ignored it.

  No huts. That will be the first place they look.

  They slowed to a walk. And then he saw it, a few seconds before she did.

  They were on a downward slope, firs and pines extending down the hill ahead of them.

  But at some point there had been a landslide at this spot, and boulders, some of them chest-high, had rolled down to where a grove of trees stopped them at the bottom.

  The rocks, with rotting trees piled up against them, formed a natural alcove.

  .

  He reloaded his HKs automatically, his eyes sectoring the possible hide.

  It looked good.

  He approached it cautiously and spotted a small opening between two rocks. He had to crouch to go through it and then crawl beneath a trunk, but once inside, the space became wider and higher. A natural cave. Not fully enclosed, but good enough to shelter the girl.

  She followed him inside, a tight squeeze.

  ‘Will we spend the night here?’

  ‘No. Just a few hours.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Food. We need something to eat.’

  ‘Hunting? I’ll come with you.’

  He thought of arguing but didn’t. She’ll be safer with me.

  He rolled beneath the rotting trunk and crawled outside again.

  His jacket caught on the boulder’s rough surface, his rifles clanking. He freed his outerwear and was rising, then froze.

  An HK was pointed straight at him.

  Two inches away from his neck.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Sara Ashland gasped when her eyes fell on the terrorist.

  He was grinning through his beard, his eyes dancing.

  ‘I got you.’ Thickly accented English.

  He started reaching into his jacket with his free hand.

  Zeb made his move.

  One hand shoved the girl away, to safety.

  His other hand flew up, its palm jerking the barrel towards the sky.

  The killer fired reflexively, the bullet burning a hot furrow into Zeb’s jacket as it grazed his left shoulder.

  Zeb ignored it.

  He body-slammed the shooter, crushing him against the boulder.

  A hoarse shout escaped Namir’s man.

  He struggled, punched, kicked, and tried to get control over his HK.

  Zeb ignored the blows. Compartmentalized the fiery lance that shot through him when a flailing hand jabbed his wound.

  He caught the man’s chin.

  And smashed his head back against the rock.

  The
assailant’s thick, shaggy hair absorbed most of the blow.

  Zeb headbutted him, just as the killer’s knee rose, seeking his groin.

  He twisted. Took the blow on his thigh, and headbutted the terrorist again.

  His forehead broke his attacker’s nose.

  The man howled and punched Zeb in the throat.

  Zeb’s vision went dark momentarily, but he counterattacked.

  He caught hold of the terrorist’s rifle barrel and yanked, catching the killer caught off-guard.

  As he stumbled forward, Zeb punched him in the mouth with a bent elbow.

  The man’s howl became a scream.

  His lips split. His teeth broke.

  His cries turned feeble when Zeb crushed his head repeatedly against the rock.

  Then they stopped.

  Zeb looked around for a fraction of a second.

  Sara Ashland was still on the ground, shaking her head in a daze.

  No other terrorist came crashing through the forest. No alarmed or angry yells sounded.

  He picked up the shooter and heaved him across his shoulder.

  ‘Get back inside,’ he told the girl. ‘Use the HK if you have to.’

  He carried the dead gunman back the way he had come. Deep into the cover of the trees.

  A wide, meandering circle, all the while looking out for other hostiles.

  He dumped the body in a clearing half a mile away from the rocks.

  He took the man’s cell, sprinted another half-mile, and fired several times into the sky.

  Ten men down.

  * * *

  Namir will track his phone and hear the shots. They will assume the dead man is on our trail.

  A diversionary tactic.

  Enough to buy us time.

  I hope, he thought.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Zeb was pleased when he saw no sign of the girl on his return.

  There were no signs of a struggle. No traces of blood on the rock.

  She’s erased the tracks. Cleaned up the boulder.

  ‘It’s me,’ he called out softly. He heard her rustling inside.

  Her eyes were wide, her lips thinned, when he entered and rested against a rotting trunk.