by
Bernard Lee DeLeo
*****
PUBLISHED BY:
Bernard Lee DeLeo
Monster
Copyright © 2011 by Bernard Lee DeLeo
*****
License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. Please respect the author’s work.
Chapter 1
The FBI
“Great, here comes…” the tall black man slouching against the gray Ford began.
“Don’t say it, Tom,” his partner, a thin dishwater blonde woman cautioned. She straightened to her five and a half foot height as if coming to attention. “She’s okay, just a little short-tempered.”
“I didn’t mean anything by it, Jen. It’s this ‘her way or the highway’ business. The FBI doesn’t run well if agents get reprimanded for offering input.”
“Oh,” Jen replied in mock surprise, watching the subject of their discussion walk purposely towards them from across the dirt parking lot. “Is that what you call belittling an agent-in-charge after she issues an order on site with other agents in attendance? You’re lucky she didn’t get your badge.”
“Yeah,” Tom replied grudgingly in agreement. “That wasn’t too smart. She’s been riding me hard since then and I’m getting a little raw.”
Jen smiled over at her partner. “Suck it up, big boy, she’ll get over it. Man, it’s freezin’ in these damn mountains.”
“It gets real chilly up here this late in September, especially at seven in the morning. I bet it went down in the twenties last night.”
“How come Diane has that getup on?” Jen noted the red-haired woman approaching them had on camouflage hiking gear. “I thought we were meeting here to brief the lab boys and tactical team before they go in looking for that psycho, Hughes.”
“I don’t know, but you better drop that Diane stuff. Reskova don’t like familiarity. If you ain’t looking for a letter in your file you better show some respect.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not as dumb as you, buddy.”
Both agents waited silently, knowing how sound carried up in the Sierra’s. They were standing near an abandoned Toyota truck after having parked their rented Ford in a manner preventing the Toyota from being moved. The agents were acting on a tip given them the day before - early Tuesday morning. It warned of a man traveling with a little girl matching the description broadcast on the Amber alert. After checking the ranger station’s security tape they had driven up to the Caribou Wilderness trailhead area for which the suspect had bought a map.
They had found the Toyota truck in the Triangle Lakes parking lot. A note had been attached to the rear windshield. It stated if anyone attempted to follow Hughes into the wilderness area he would slit the little girl’s throat. If he heard a helicopter, small plane, or anything low flying, Stanton Hughes claimed he would kill the girl. The agents, Tom Barrington, and Jennifer Rutledge, had immediately contacted their superior, Diane Reskova. She ordered them to stay where they were until she arrived with a lab team and tactical force.
Without pausing for hellos, Reskova read the note still taped to the Toyota rear windshield. After a moment’s inspection, Reskova faced Barrington and Rutledge. “We’re to meet some guy AD (Assistant Director) Dreyer is sending and then follow Hughes in.”
“The three of us?” Stunned at Reskova’s revelation, Rutledge moved closer to Barrington.
Reskova sighed. “Believe me, I know how wacko this sounds. I don’t suppose either of you has any wilderness knowledge, do you?”
“I do some backpacking,” Barrington answered, “but the only formal training I’ve had was the survival stint we do at the Academy. I’m certainly no tracker.”
“Ditto,” Rutledge said. “The closest I get to the woods is when I walk to the park near my apartment.”
“My experience is about the same as Tom’s - a little backpacking once in a while,” Reskova admitted. “This guy they’re sending supposedly knows this area intimately. He’s supposedly an expert tracker. AD Dreyer told me we’re to locate Hughes’ trail and shadow his movements until they come up with a plan.”
“Why not use dogs?” Barrington asked.
“Too much noise,” Reskova replied. “Hughes would hear them coming and kill the girl.”
“You haven’t heard me moving through the woods yet, Agent Reskova,” Barrington told her. “I’m a lot of things on the trail. Quiet ain’t one of them.”
“That makes two of us,” Rutledge agreed.
Reskova smiled. “Three, actually. This tracker they’re sending is supposed to keep us close to Hughes but not so close we get made. He’ll be here by eight. He’s getting a ride over with AD Dreyer and the lab team. Dreyer will be remaining here with the lab guys and set up a base to stay in contact with us.”
“What about equipment? Tom and I didn’t know we’d be going into the woods.”
“In the back of my Saturn.” Reskova gestured toward her rented Saturn SUV. “I brought everything on the list AD Dreyer suggested. We’ll be lugging fifty-pound packs. I hope you both are the same size as your records state or you’ll have to do some alterations here.”
“I…I don’t know if I’ll to be much good to you out there.” Rutledge followed her partner and Reskova over to the SUV.
“You’ll be fine, Jen.” Reskova turned slightly towards Rutledge. “We…”
“Agent Reskova,” Barrington broke in gently. “You do know everything is pretty much up hill and in dense foliage out here, right?”
“I’m aware of the terrain in this area.” Reskova opened the rear Saturn Vue hatch and stepped back, indicating the three packs, with each agent’s name plastic tied onto one of the pack straps. “We’re that little girl’s only hope.”
“Hughes probably already killed her. If she is still alive we shouldn’t be the ones going in to track her.” Barrington pulled out Rutledge’s pack and handed it to her before removing the one with his name on it.
“Dreyer heard it all from me. He doesn’t want to send an army in after Hughes.”
“Yeah, but he could have at least sent in some people more knowledgeable in woodcraft than Tom and I are. Hughes gave us the slip two years ago and we haven’t been close to him since. He’s one of those survivalists with no ties to anyone. We couldn’t find him in civilization. How the heck…”
“We know Hughes better than any other person who could have been sent,” Reskova interrupted, pulling her long red hair back into a ponytail and wrapping it with an elastic hair tie. “The Saturn’s unlocked. Get dressed.”
“Do you know anything about this tracker AD Dreyer is bringing with him.” Barrington gestured for his partner to use the SUV. He simply began changing in front of Reskova.
“He was with Delta in the first Gulf War, Afghanistan, and then Iraq again. He’s still a Colonel in the reserves.”
“Jesus!” Rutledge exclaimed. She ducked her head out of the Saturn. “What the hell does he need us along for?”
“Jen has a point, Agent Reskova. Why not give him a satellite phone and tell him to keep in touch?”
“AD Dreyer says this guy is the best there is but he might take the law into his own hands if we’re not with him.”
“And that would be a bad thing?” Rutledge stepped out from behind the rear door.
Barrington laughed at his partner’s comment, quieting quickly at the look he received from Reskova. “The girl is probably dead anyway, Agent Reskova.”
“We can’t play it like that, Tom.” Reskova took a deep breath. “Call me Diane. We’re going to get awful close before this op finally ends. We can get formal again when we return. How do the boots feel? They’re the most important. Those
socks should keep you two from blistering up, but only if the boots are pretty comfortable.”
“Mine feel a little stiff.” Rutledge stomped around.
“Unfortunately, they won’t get much looser until we put some miles on them, Jen,” Barrington told her. “Mine are okay. The clothes are a pretty good fit too.”
“You each have three more pair of socks in your packs. How many clips do you two carry for your weapons?”
“Three,” Barrington answered.
“Two,” Rutledge followed.
“I brought you both two more each. They’re in the pack. You have a Ruger, don’t you, Jen, and you have a Glock, right Tom?”
The two agents nodded. Ten minutes later as the trio checked over their equipment and Reskova explained to Rutledge some of the finer points of backpacking, they heard the rumble of a large vehicle approaching. A plain gray truck with cab over fifth wheel turned into the parking lot. The driver parked next to the Toyota truck and shut off the engine. A man the three on-scene agents knew to be Assistant Director Dreyer exited the rear door of the truck followed closely by a man who nearly dwarfed Dreyer in size. Dreyer, dressed in fatigues with an FBI cap on, walked towards the three agents. The man who had followed him out of the truck turned into the woods. Dreyer called him back. Dreyer gestured for the man to come with him and then resumed walking towards Reskova, Rutledge, and Barrington.
“Look at the size of him,” Barrington said. “With that kind of bulk how silent can he be in the woods?”
The trio watched Dreyer and his companion approach without further comment. The big man’s walk resembled the gait of a caged lion with very little side-to-side movement. Although Dreyer’s shoes kicked up dust, the larger man’s boots seemed to glide over the parking lot surface. The tracker was dressed in well-worn fatigues with matching parka. His brown hair, cropped close to his skull, bordered a darkly tanned face. As the two men drew near, the agents saw a thin white scar line extending from the man’s lower left-hand jaw up across the bridge of his nose and into his right-side hairline.
“Diane, this guy don’t look too civilized,” Rutledge whispered to her superior.
Reskova nodded in agreement. The two men stopped in front of them. Dreyer shook hands with each of the three agents in his charge. He gestured to the man next to him.
“This is Colonel Jeremiah McDaniels. Colonel, this is Special Agent in charge, Diane Reskova, Special Agent Jennifer Rutledge, and Special Agent Tom Barrington.”
McDaniels smiled at the three agents, shaking hands carefully with each one in turn as Dreyer introduced them. “I am very glad to know you all.”
“What generation are you from the old country, Agent Reskova?” McDaniels asked in Russian.
Reskova responded in heavily accented Russian after realizing what McDaniels had asked. “Third generation, Colonel. I am sorry. My Russian is a little weak. You speak like a native.”
“May I have a look around, Ma’am? I would like to confirm where the kidnapper went into the woods,” McDaniels asked Reskova in English. “We should leave as soon as possible. I must apologize if I’m out of line but it would be a good thing to use the bathroom they have here before we leave. There will not be any facilities on the trail.”
“Good point, Colonel.” Barrington headed for the public bathroom with Rutledge close behind.
“Go ahead and check out the trail, Colonel,” Reskova answered. “How long will you need?”
“It depends on whether Hughes left a trail for us to follow deliberately as he did with his note. I’ll be quick.”
* * *
Dreyer and Reskova watched McDaniels hurry fluidly toward the woods.
“How do you know McDaniels, Sir?”
“I was in Marine Recon during Gulf War I. Delta helped us out of a couple jams. The Colonel was a Sergeant back then. Our column was moving full bore ahead past the Iraqi lines. McDaniels appeared from nowhere in front of us with his hands up so we wouldn’t shoot him. McDaniels looked like a native, albeit a big one, so our guy with the column who spoke Arabic approached him. McDaniels spoke to our guy in Arabic first and then switched to English when he was sure we were Americans. The Iraqi’s had an ambush set up. Thanks to McDaniels, we zeroed in on the coordinates he gave us and blew the crap out of them while we were still out of range. He is the best tracker on any terrain I have ever known.”
“Why isn’t he still in? What is he, mid-thirties?”
“McDaniels is still in the reserves. He had a little trouble in Iraq. He formed an attachment with one of the Iraqis in Fallujah who relayed info to him. Some of the insurgents calling themselves the Fallujah Brigade captured the guy and cut his head off. Right after, the Marines began finding Iraqi insurgents with their heads cut off in odd places. The formal word on it was the natives were tired of the insurgents and did it themselves.”
“How many?”
“Sixteen before word from some of the Iraqis about a giant snatching guys in the night reached headquarters. The Colonel was on liaison with CIA at the time because of his language skills. The CIA guys put two and two together and sent him home. The killings stopped. The army retired him to the reserves.
“Jesus,” Reskova whispered. “I understand your reluctance to send him out by himself on this.”
Dreyer grinned at her. “I could care less if McDaniels went in and brought out Hughes’ head on a pike. That little girl’s uncle is a US Senator, Frank Hokanson, from the Alameda County area. I don’t want an FBI sticker on whatever he does out there.”
“She may already be dead, Jim.” Reskova echoed Barrington’s comment to her, surprised to hear Dreyer’s cavalier attitude towards executing Hughes.
“I know that! This freak Hughes ain’t even pretending he wants something in exchange for keeping her alive. The son-of-a-bitch is doing this just to screw with us. He believes he’s untouchable. Hokanson wants in on every phase of this. I’ve been ordered to give him hourly updates until it ends.”
“Have we been able to keep this out of the media?”
“On our end, yes. The little girl’s parents and Uncle Frank may decide to out the whole thing though.”
“Hokanson knows we’re here?”
“Unfortunately yes. This parking lot could be a circus in short order - hence the need for McDaniels to take you three in immediately. By the time you’ve located Hughes and McDaniels thinks he’s close I hope to have a plan.”
“This sounds worse by the second, Jim. I’m supposed to baby-sit a military psycho, barter with another psycho for this little girl’s life and trudge around in the middle of nowhere without backup. Any suggestions before we launch into this fiasco?”
“Don’t get the little girl killed.”
“Shit,” Reskova muttered. “I…”
“I’ve found his trail, Ma’am.” McDaniels startled the two FBI Agents to the point Reskova jumped and Dreyer reached for his weapon. Both stared open-mouthed at the tracker.
“Jesus H. Christ Palomino, Colonel!” Dreyer exclaimed angrily. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what, Sir?”
Rutledge and Barrington joined the group hesitantly, seeing the looks Reskova and Dreyer were giving McDaniels.
“You know what, you prick. I’ll tie a bell around your neck the next time you pull that shit.”
“How long were you standing there, Colonel?”
McDaniels grinned. “Somewhere around the military psycho part. We should go, Ma’am. He’s hours ahead of us. The little girl was still alive when they went in.”
“How do you… oh, never mind.” Reskova gestured shakily for Barrington and Rutledge to grab their packs. She reached for hers but instead started jogging towards the bathroom. “I…I’ll be right back.”
Chapter 2
Hunting Monsters
McDaniels grabbed Reskova’s pack. “Hughes went in about fifty yards down from where the bathroom is. We’ll walk by the van and get my pack before we pick up Agent Reskova. Let me check
over your equipment and see if you’ve missed anything.”
Barrington and Rutledge handed over their packs. McDaniels rifled through the them with professional care, repacking them for weight and distribution. He returned the packs.
“They’ll do. I put your extra clips in the top flap.” McDaniels led the group back toward the van.
“Remember what we talked about, Colonel,” Dreyer warned when they reached the van.
“I understand the parameters, Sir,” McDaniels confirmed, provoking an uneasy exchange of looks between Barrington and Rutledge.
McDaniels went into the truck and emerged with a second pack. He donned the one he took out of the truck before walking toward the bathroom. With one final glance at Dreyer, Barrington and Rutledge followed at a distance. They saw Reskova emerge from the rustic bathroom facilities. She spotted McDaniels and remained in front of the bathroom as she saw the three were coming towards her.
“Did you see Diane’s face?” Rutledge whispered to Barrington. He was busily trying to adjust the straps on her pack as they walked.
“Yeah… makes you wonder what the hell we missed.”
“Probably better we don’t know.”
“I’m not sure pretending we see no evil will help us out here,” Barrington replied as they reached Reskova.
McDaniels held her pack by the straps. Reskova let him help her into it. She adjusted the straps and cross belt support. She looked up at McDaniels when she was sure she had the pack adjusted properly.
“I guess he didn’t go in at the trailhead, huh?”
“No Ma’am, he went in a little ways down from here.” McDaniels pointed at a dried out tree husk lying in the brush about fifty yards away. “Hughes went in near that downed tree.”
“Why wouldn’t he go in at the trailhead where there are still plenty of recent tracks to help him confuse us,” Barrington asked.
“Two reasons,” McDaniels replied, leading the way toward the fallen tree. “The first is he wanted us to know where he went in. I’m sure he figured the FBI would get someone who could find his trail.”
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