by Wolf Wootan
Their bodies were touching and Sam felt Bo’s body stiffen. Had he hit home?
“Preposterous!” she exclaimed, but her mind was racing. Sam could be right! “Besides, it could be a coincidence. We might have been at the wrong place at the wrong time. How would anyone find our campsite?”
“Your cell phone? It’s a government issue satellite phone, right? It broadcasts your location at all times so the Feds know where you are if they need you,” opined Sam.
“Shit! You’re right! I should call my boss right now and ask him what the hell is going on!” moaned Bo.
“You have it with you?” groaned Sam. “Then they still know where we are! Shit! We have to get rid of it! And certainly no calls to anyone until we know who’s after who! Where is it?”
“In the duffel bag. You’re being too freaking paranoid, Crown! That phone may be our only way out of this mess!” hissed Bo. He knew she was pissed at him when she called him “Crown.”
Sam was already rummaging through the duffel bag. He found the phone and took it out of the bag.
“Is there a ranger station anywhere around here that might have a phone?” Sam asked her while he examined her phone.
“Used to be. About five miles from here—all uphill. Why?”
“I need to make a phone call, but not on this phone. I’m going to go toss this into that canyon over there. Maybe it will throw them off for awhile. Be right back. While I’m gone, get some warm clothes on and fix those blankets so we can wrap up in them. We’re gonna be here till first light.”
He slipped out of the cave and disappeared into the dark. Bo was furious! Sam was being ridiculous! But . . . if he was right about the phone, she was facing a scary situation. Was there another mole in the FBI they hadn’t found? One in JTFE? Was this attack made by whoever was paying for the stolen secrets? She couldn’t even formulate the thought that it was actually the FBI. Surely a call to her boss would have been safe, wouldn’t it? He could send a chopper and a team of agents to pluck them out of here, and find out who was behind this attack. Too late now! Her phone was gone. She hoped Sam knew what he was doing.
Damn him!
She pulled on a sweat shirt and exchanged her shorts for a pair of jeans, then arranged one blanket on the floor of the cave. She was startled when Sam suddenly appeared next to her.
“Damn! You’re quiet!” she hissed. “Scared me half to death!”
“Luckily, my ’Nam skills are coming back fast. I didn’t see nor hear anyone out there, but that doesn’t mean anything. Let’s get warm and try and get some rest so we can find that ranger station as soon as it gets light enough to travel.”
“I guess that’s our only option now. First, I need a cigarette. Can you kind of block that entrance so your bogeymen won’t see the flame?” said Bo with a touch of sarcasm.
Sam pulled on a sweat shirt and pants while Bo puffed on her Benson & Hedges.
“Don’t be mad at me, Bo. Just humor me. If you still feel strongly about this in the morning, we can work our way back down to the campsite and talk to the Sheriff’s people. But I’d still rather know who and what we’re dealing with before we surface.”
“OK, Sam. Truce for now. Let’s try and get comfortable—though it will be difficult in this frigging cave.”
They lay down on the blanket in the spoon position and pulled the other blanket over themselves. Sam threw their jackets over their legs for extra warmth, then snuggled into position. Sam cupped one of Bo’s breasts in his hand and pulled her close against his body.
“How’s that?” he murmured.
“What? This miserable place, or the fact that you’re feeling me up?” snickered Bo.
“I’m just trying to relax you—take your mind off our situation.”
“Dream on, buddy! I’m not taking these pants off tonight! It’s too damned cold!”
***
As the blackness of the cave lightened to gray, Sam awoke with a start and reached for the Winchester. His fingers were tingling because he had slept on his arm, cutting off circulation. He flexed his fingers a few times. For a long beat he thought he was in ’Nam. He could hear the familiar sound of a chopper outside his hole. Then he suddenly realized where he was—still snuggled against Bo. But . . . that was definitely a chopper out there!
He squeezed Bo’s breast and whispered in her ear.
“Bo, wake up! Quietly!”
“Mmm,” she replied as she pushed back against him. “Your horniness knows no end! You’re insatiable!”
He grinned in spite of himself.
“I’ll take a rain check for now. We have trouble. Hear that chopper?”
“Oh, shit! But . . . maybe it’s a search party looking for us?”
“Maybe. Not likely. I’ll go sneak a look while you pack the duffel,” he said as he sat up and rubbed his eyes. He put on his short hiking boots and his jacket.
“I’ll be right back,” he told her as he slipped out of the cave with the rifle in his hand.
Bo folded the blankets and packed the duffel bag, then laced up her short boots. She checked her pistol, donned her shoulder holster, and slipped on her jacket. She was ready for whatever was out there.
Ready for what? she thought. Who’s out there? Maybe Dad has the rangers looking for us. They would have discovered our empty, bullet-riddled tent when they checked that fire. Those other guys wouldn’t still be hanging around. Would they? Where would they get another chopper?
***
Sam slipped back into the cave and leaned the Winchester against the wall.
“Do you know a way to that ranger tower without us being seen from the air?” he asked.
“Why? What’s out there?” she gasped.
“A big, black Bell chopper. Just like the one I shot down. It’s down in the canyon where I threw your phone. They’re obviously homing in on it.”
“Not rangers looking for us? Damn! No FBI letters on the chopper?”
“Not that I could see. We can’t trust whoever it is. Get me to the phone and I’ll try and get us out of here safely. Then we’ll try and find out what the hell is going on!” exclaimed Sam.
“I hope you’re wrong about who’s out there, but let’s play it safe. Follow me,” replied Bo as she started for the cave’s exit.
It took them three hours of climbing, resting, and hiding to cover the five miles to the ranger tower. They had heard the chopper only twice during their trek. They hadn’t heard it for the last hour. When they spotted the tower, they hunkered down under a pine tree and Bo retrieved the binoculars from the duffel bag and watched the tower for a long minute.
“I can’t see anyone there. Here. You take a look,” said Bo, handing the binoculars to Sam.
He confirmed her opinion.
“I hope the phone up there works,” mused Sam. “I thought I was in better shape. Every muscle in my body aches! Maybe I should have made a call before I tossed your phone.”
“I have a few aches of my own. When I was younger, a climb like that was nothing. Who’re you gonna call?” asked Bo.
“The only one I can trust right now,” he responded without really answering her question. “We’ll move to that copse of trees over there, then I’ll go up to the tower while you cover me with the Winchester. I’ll give you some hand signals we can use to communicate with. If something goes wrong and we have to split up, where’s a good place to meet?”
Bo thought for a moment, then said, “About a mile to the south there’s a small creek that runs east and west. Go downstream to the first waterfall—about a mile or so, depending on where you intersect the stream. There’s good cover there. But . . . what could go wrong?”
“You never know. Best to plan for everything. Keeps you alive. Where’s the closest place to set a chopper down? Or a light plane?”
Bo thought, What’s he up to?
“About a half-mile south of the waterfall I told you about, there’s a flat, grassy meadow. I know hunters land planes there occasionally du
ring hunting season. It’s pretty safe,” mused Bo.
“Good. Thanks! Let’s do it!”
Bo had a queasy feeling. Was there really a phone up there? What would they do if there wasn’t one?
Bo watched diligently while Sam made it to the base of the tower. It rose some 20 feet from the ground on four legs secured with crisscrossed 2' by 6' wooden ties. A wooden ladder led to the small cabin on top. Bo signaled to Sam that everything looked clear and he scurried up the ladder and into the 6' by 6' observation cabin. Wooden shutters on all four sides were closed and latched from the inside. He opened one set so he could see Bo. He waved.
There was a small cot against one wall, a tall stool with a back, and a built-in writing surface. There was a black phone mounted on a vertical post. He picked up the handset and listened. No dial tone! Then he spotted the box with the hand crank on it. It was there obviously to generate power for the phone—a radio phone.
There was a map of the area on the built-in table. It was covered with thick, clear plastic. The tower’s location was marked on the map, so Sam was able to find the meadow that Bo had mentioned.
Well, here goes! thought Sam as he started cranking and dialed a number tucked away in his memory. It was a toll free number that reached his father’s satellite phone. After three rings, a voice answered, “Hello?”
“Dad! It’s Sam. Listen closely. I need help! This is not a secure phone, so we need to be terse. Write down this lat and long.”
Sam read off the latitude and longitude of the position of one corner of the meadow from the map, then continued, “Can you get a plane or a chopper there ASAP to pick up me and Bo?”
John Crown knew better than to waste time asking questions about why Sam needed help. He said, “Where is that location? I don’t have a map handy.”
“A few miles south of Durango, Colorado,” replied Sam.
“OK. That’s close to New Mexico, isn’t it? Give me three hours. Be there then, Sam. Password is ‘Excalibur.’”
“One last thing, Dad. Becky could be in danger. I’ll explain why later. Can you kinda make it hard to be found for a couple of days? I don’t want to ruin your vacation, but . . .”
“I can handle that, Sam.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
The line went dead as John disconnected, not wanting to waste any time chatting—especially on an open line. Sam gave Bo a thumbs-up sign and closed the shutter doors and began his climb down the ladder. That was when he heard the familiar sound of the chopper again. He scurried to the bottom of the ladder and signaled to Bo to hide and head for their rendezvous point. Then he dove into some nearby bushes.
A black chopper appeared and took a swing around the ranger tower, then hovered for a moment. Sam lay perfectly still.
Damn! Another chopper? Or the same one I saw earlier? thought Sam, remembering that the phone he had used was a radio phone, not a land line. Could they have equipment that detected the use of that phone? Who are these assholes? Did they hear my conversation? Or just detect the signal? They may put someone on the ground to check it out! I better hightail it out of here and meet up with Bo!
He checked his watch. They had to be at the meadow at 1:13 P.M. The chopper began descending. Sam remembered he was unarmed. Bo had the rifle and her nine and she was gone. He was in trouble.
Chapter 47
Saturday, July 7, 2001
Colorado Mountains
Bo reached the waterfall meeting place by 10:45 A.M. and concealed herself in a place where she could watch for Sam. She was familiar with this mountain, but Sam wasn’t. She hoped he didn’t get lost—then what would she do? She wondered if the people in the chopper had seen him? She was very nervous. She had to pee! She looked for a spot where she could safely drop her pants. What would she do if Sam didn’t show up?
***
Sam got away from the tower without being seen, but he stopped and watched as a man was lowered to the ground to check out the tower. He moved slowly south, looking for the stream Bo had told him about. His old jungle instincts had returned in full force so he felt more at ease with his environment. He found the waterfall at 12:35 P.M. and approached it slowly, looking for signs of Bo. He knew that she would be there before him. He saw no obvious signs.
Good! he thought. If I can’t spot anything, neither can anyone else. Where are you, mountain lady?
Bo appeared suddenly and motioned for him to follow her. He caught up with her and took the duffel as she headed downstream, walking in the shallow water along the bank. When they reached a large tree that had fallen across the stream, Bo ran across it to the other side of the creek. Sam stayed close behind her. She sat on a log to rest and he joined her. They kissed briefly.
“They put a man on the ground to check the tower,” he whispered as Bo lit a cigarette. “They must have equipment that detects radio signals. We hadn’t heard or seen them for two hours, then there they are!”
“Who the hell are they, Sam?” wailed Bo as she exhaled some smoke and batted at it with her hand to disperse it.
“We’ll talk about that when we’re safe. Let’s have a slug of water, fill our canteen in that stream, and get to our pickup point,” replied Sam.
“Someone’s picking us up?” she queried, eyebrow raised.
“Let’s hope so.”
Bo put out her cigarette, field-stripped it, and got rid of the evidence. They filled their canteen and Sam followed Bo again, enjoying the view of her firm butt and her strong, long legs.
From the edge of the clearing, Sam could see the area where hunters had landed airplanes before. The glade was about a mile long and a half mile wide, big enough for small propeller-driven planes to get in and out. They heard the plane before they saw it. Sam looked at his watch. It was 1:02 P.M.
Sam said, “The time is right. I hope that’s our ride and not the bad guys again. At least, it’s not a chopper. We don’t have to lie to this guy, but we don’t need to offer a lot of info either. Unless it comes up specifically for some reason, let’s not mention that you are an FBI agent. It might spook him.”
“Why? Who is he?” asked Bo.
“I don’t know. All I know is he will get us out of here. There’s the plane. He’s making a pass over the field. It looks like a Piper Saratoga. Let’s go out and be seen. He’s looking for a man and a woman, so look female.”
“What should I do? Flash my boobs?” laughed Bo.
“Just open your jacket and thrust ’em out. No need for you to strip,” chuckled Sam.
The two of them walked out into the open, Sam carrying the duffel bag, Bo the Winchester.
“Keep a sharp lookout. This could still be a trap,” warned Sam. “And that chopper could still be nearby.”
They stopped and waved their arms on the plane’s next pass. The pilot waggled his wings and circled around into the wind and dropped his gear and flaps. It was a single-engine Piper Saratoga II and was painted blue on the bottom and white on top. It touched down like a feather, made a 180 degree turn, and taxied back towards them so the pilot would be facing into the wind for takeoff. Bo and Sam trotted over to it. The right-side door opened and they looked up into the barrel of a .45 Colt automatic. Bo nearly fainted.
A trap! she thought.
“Excalibur!” Sam blurted out, hoping this was really their ride.
“Good,” grunted the pilot. “Get in quick. I want to get out of here!”
Bo exhaled, but her heart was still thumping.
They climbed in, stowed their gear, and buckled up in two seats in the cabin behind the pilot. He was rolling before they could catch their breaths. He was off the ground after a takeoff roll of 1200 feet and cleared the trees easily as he banked toward the south. There were headphones with boom mikes at their seats, and the pilot motioned for them to put them on, which they did.
“We’ll be able to communicate a little better this way, folks. Now, this is your pilot speaking. Thank you for flying Ziggy Airlines today. You’ll find refreshments
in the console on the right. You’ll have to serve yourself—my stewardess didn’t make the flight today,” chuckled the pilot. “Please keep your seat belts fastened in case we get into a pickle.”
The pilot laughed again, then continued, “Now that we got through the bullshit, let’s get down to business. My name is Ziggy Zancroft. I was told to take you two wherever you are going.”
“Hi, Ziggy,” said Sam. “I’m Sam and this is Bo. Just head south for now while I brief you on some things. Keep your eyes peeled for a big, black chopper. They’ve been hunting us and are probably armed and dangerous. Also, I’m pretty sure they can home in on radio transmissions, so stay off the radio as long as you can.”
“What kind of chopper?” asked Ziggy.
“A Bell 430,” answered Sam.
“Well, that feller could outrun us. This baby can only do 175 knots. I’m leveled off at 8,000 feet now. Where are we going, Sam?”
“Wherever we go, I don’t want to leave a trail with the FAA guys. Do you have to file flight plans, or shit like that?”
“I’m on a VFR flight plan out of Albuquerque heading for Phoenix. I don’t have to report in to anybody en route. Also, my transponder is off so radar will have a tough time finding me. I’m going to head west for awhile while you decide what to do. By the way, the guy who hired me wants you to call in as soon as we’re safely airborne.”
As Sam and Ziggy chatted, Bo checked Ziggy out. She had been scared shitless when he met them with that big gun. Sam hadn’t told her that there was a password! She would have a word with him about that later! She looked Ziggy over. He had thin, long white hair pulled back into a pony tail in a rubber band and a white walrus mustache. She figured him to be around 5' 10" and 180 pounds—mostly muscle from what she could see of his massive arms. He wore dark aviator glasses, so she couldn’t see his eyes. Bo opened the console door and took out a Sprite. Sam pointed to a Tecate beer, so she handed one to him. She changed her mind and exchanged her soda for a beer. What the hell! Her nerves were shattered!
Sam replied to Ziggy, “It’s too dangerous to call right now.”