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“Yeah. Almost certainly.” He wanted to run, but knew better.
“Okay. You get going. I’ll put down some additional tracks in the snow, and when they leave, I’ll trigger some traps. Try to slow them down.”
“Don’t put yourself in their sights, man. They’re dangerous.” He’d always hated having others at risk for his benefit, and the older man deserved a quiet retirement.
The man barked a rough laugh. “Naw, this is fun. Haven’t gotten to do anything like this for a long time. Besides, I can’t think of a better person to help than Deb. Love your cupcakes.”
“Thank you. You’re welcome to anything we left in the cabin. We won’t be back.” She sighed.
She was right, but it was still generous. The food alone would be a huge treat, if the mobsters left anything. “We’ve got to go. Thanks again.”
“You’re welcome. Take care.”
“You too!” Deb called, too loudly.
But he wouldn’t bother saying anything, because it was done. They scrambled down the slope, both of them slipping and sliding. At the halfway mark, he flipped the monocle down, the landscape shifting to shades of green. Deb fell against his back, but pulled away immediately. “You might want to flip the eyepiece down.”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot. Thanks.”
His feet and legs twinged along with his back by the time they reached the trailer. Deb leaned against the side, panting. He undid the lock, and pulled the back ramp down, exposing the ATV. A big black bag covered most of the cargo area, with a five-gallon fuel can strapped behind the seats, and the license plate was covered with something black. He yanked his backpack off, then pulled Deb’s off too, sliding them under the webbing holding the bag in place. “Come on, hop in the passenger seat. Strap in. This will be rough, dusty and noisy.” He held out a hand to help her up the ramp.
Deb placed her small fingers in his, and he led her to the front. She pulled a helmet off the seat and climbed inside. He pulled the harness across her body. “It fastens on both sides and between your legs.” He clicked the side buckles, letting her get the one on the seat—dangerous territory there. He gently pulled the headband from her hair, and slid it into her backpack.
At the driver’s side, he unfastened the rifle from his vest and clicked it into the vertical holder between the seats. The helmet didn’t have an attachment point for the low-light monocle. Better to squint into the wind than drive blind. He put the headband back on, put the helmet between the seats, buckled the five-point harness, and examined the straightforward controls. The only issue would be turning the lights off; a lot of these machines were designed for safety and that meant always-on lights.
He grabbed the bottle of earplugs from the front console, handed a pair to Deb and inserted his own. The only remaining question was where they were going. He undid the harness, got out and grabbed the sat phone from his backpack—a stupid mistake. He should have let Wiz know they were leaving, but the mountain man distracted him.
On the phone’s screen, a series of texts from an unknown number rolled by until he clicked on the one labeled “Safe House.” He pulled up the entry, finding coordinates and directions. They’d backtrack up the Nez Pierce Trail—the most dangerous part of the drive because they could be easily spotted on the main road—and then turn south on the highway, passing Painted Rocks Lake and entering a ranch just to the south. He enlarged the map, then handed the phone to Deb. “Hang on to that!” Her hands clenched around the black rectangle.
He started the machine—a deafening roar in the confines of the trailer. Backing out, he slid it into drive, turned the lights out, and put the hammer down. Bumping and jerking, they careened along the narrow road, then he slid around the corner on to the slightly wider forest road to the cabin. He didn’t know where the bad guys were on the road. If they spotted an ATV with no lights, they’d be likely to turn around and follow. Especially if they had more than one vehicle.
But if he turned the lights on, looking more like joyriders or hunters, they’d definitely be spotted as they drove down the switchbacks, and the bad guys would set up an ambush. They’d shoot out the tires, and probably shoot him, too, assuming Deb would be the passenger. And if the ATV contained hunters, the mobsters wouldn’t lose any sleep over killing innocents. He was better off keeping the lights off and hope the enemy drove good vehicles with modern soundproofing.
If a vehicle turned and followed them, he’d have to take side roads and throw them off, hoping the road didn’t end at a cliff, and going around any gates in their way. Driving illegally was better than dying, and it was unlikely Mr. Ranger would be patrolling at this time of night. They’d have to catch him first, anyway, an equally unlikely event since Forest Service law enforcement drove pickup trucks, and would have to open the gates.
He drove fast as possible down the dirt road, slowing for the blind corners—hitting a deer or elk was their biggest risk. Reaching the pavement, he turned north and turned the lights on. Hiding on a well-traveled road was practically impossible.
He turned on to the West Fork Road towards Painted Lakes, breathing a sigh of relief. But seconds later, headlights appeared in his rear view mirror, quickly growing larger and brighter. He sped up, trusting his reflexes to keep them from hitting animals, and tried to remember a good side road. Signs flashed, showing the lake was just ahead. At the lake’s head, the road forked, snaking around both sides of the lake. Michael smiled, knowing exactly where he could go. Remaining on the highway, he slid around the left-hand turn and the lights in his rear view mirror disappeared. He turned off the ATV lights, put his monocle back down, and stepped on the gas.
Deliberately turning the ATV from side to side to raise dust, he drove a half a mile, then turned left, leaving the highway, and onto Little Boulder Bay Campground Road. The road would take him above the lake, then reconnect at the boat ramp. With any luck, the vehicle following him would keep going on the road, and they’d return to the highway long after their pursuers had passed. Towards the end of the road, he’d stop and search the highway for vehicles before returning to the road. If the enemy knew the area, they could easily figure out where they’d gone and ambush them, or turn around and follow them, but the road wasn’t as straight forward as the maps made it look.
The road grew rougher, bouncing and jolting them against the harnesses. He was sure Deb was squealing, but he couldn’t hear her over the engine, and didn’t dare take his eyes off the track. He held his left eye shut as much as possible, but both watered with the dust and high speeds. If they’d had more time, he’d have rigged the monocle into the helmet with duct tape. He careened around the corners, and pulled onto a long driveway that ended at a hay shed. As a bored teenager, he’d spent a lot of hours driving the backroads in the area with friends and that experience was paying off big time. He drove around the back of the hay shed, turned off the motor and took out his earplugs. Engines growled, and vehicle lights flashed, then passed on the road below them. Another set of lights rolled along the highway around the lake. Both vehicles disappeared, continuing south. Michael waited.
Deb put her hand on his arm. “What are we waiting for?”
“They might come back, or they might keep going. Twenty minutes should prove it either way.” He held out his hand. “Can I see the phone?”
“Sure.” She gave it to him.
He checked; no new texts had come in. He typed, “Left cabin. Chased on way to safe house, but will lose them before arrival.”
A few seconds later, a text came back. “Ack. Overhead not available. Move when safe.”
“What does that mean?” Deb pointed at the screen.
“The drone can’t fly right now. We have to rely on stealth.”
Another text came in. “Another lollipop loop available on Hughes Creek. Contacting the ranch for secure alternatives.”
