Chapter 4 - Descent into the Basin
The two patrol cruisers were hidden behind a thick stand of juniper trees half a mile down the trail. They walked the remaining distance on foot, boots crunching softly over pine needles and dry twigs. The air grew damp as they descended into the river basin, the sun blocked out by the thick canopy of ancient firs.
Claire took point, moving with a disciplined, low-profile stride that betrayed years of tactical field work far removed from cleaning cars. Marcus trailed two paces behind her, his service weapon unholstered and held tight against his thigh. Vance and the younger Miller brought up the rear, their breathing heavy in the still, cold air.
“How far?” Vance whispered, his boots slipping slightly on a patch of wet moss.
“Three hundred yards,” Claire murmured without turning around. “The cabin sits in a natural depression. You can’t see the chimney until you’re twenty feet from the front steps. That’s why he picked it.”
Deputy Miller clutched his rifle tightly, his knuckles white. “My uncle always said he retired because of his knees. He told everyone he wanted peace and quiet after twenty years in federal procurement.”
“Procurement is just a polite word for cleaning up after ghosts,” Marcus muttered under his breath.
They reached the edge of the tree line. Through the dense branches, the weathered timber walls of the cabin came into view. It looked quiet, almost peaceful, nestled against the gray rock face of the cliff. But the telltale hum of a hidden generator vibrated faintly through the damp earth beneath their boots. A single satellite dish was crudely bolted to the side of the stone chimney, angled sharply toward the southern sky.
Claire knelt behind a fallen log, gesturing for the others to drop low. She pulled a small thermal monocular from her tactical vest and pressed it to her eye. The screen glowed faint green, outlining the heat signature through the thick wooden walls.
“He’s not alone,” Claire whispered, her voice tightening. “There are two distinct heat sources inside. One is sitting by the stone fireplace. The other is moving around the back room near the server racks.”
Vance crept up beside her, peering through the brush. “Who’s the second person? Does the file give a name?”
Claire lowered the monocular slowly. Her face was tight, her jaw set so hard a muscle twitched near her temple.
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“It’s not an agent,” Claire said, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “It’s the director who signed my suspension orders.”
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