“Whenever possible, a sniper should work from a hide, since such a position affords a certain amount of free movement without the danger of detection and also protection from the weather and enemy fire.”
—US Marine Corps Scout/Sniper Training Manual
Heavy dew covered the grass when Anne and Houston arrived. They got out of the car and Jimmy O walked to them. Houston glanced at Anne, hoping O’Leary wouldn’t have his usual effect on her.
O’Leary nodded and offered them a thermos of coffee. “Hell of an hour to get up,” he said. “Especially if you’re nocturnal—which of course, I am.”
Houston smiled. Obviously, Jimmy was going to be on his best behavior.
“I got your stuff in my car,” Jimmy said.
“Thanks.” Houston agreed with him about the hour. Six o’clock was early to be out in the woods. However, intuition told him that time was short and he needed to hone skills he had not used for a long time.
Gordon Winter unloaded the gear, piling it on a blue tarpaulin that he had spread on the damp grass. “Some weird-looking shit here,” he said, holding up the Ghillie suit. “Looks like something Joe Shit, the rag picker, would wear.”
Houston had not heard that expression in years—not since the Marines. “When were you in?” he asked.
“I got out in ninety-nine.”
“What did you do?”
“Army Ranger.”
“And now you work for Jimmy.”
“Well, there ain’t too many jobs you can do as an ex-grunt. It’s kind of restricted.”
“That’s a lot of bull and you know it. You could’ve become a cop.”
“Cops got too many regulations and shit . . . just like the military.”
“I know where you’re coming from.”
Houston bent down and sorted through the equipment. He arranged things functionally. Weapons in one area, Ghillie suit in another, miscellaneous things, such as compass and topographical maps in a third. He saw several plastic masks that looked like the ones hockey goalies wore, except these had goggles covering the eye openings, and four jars of colored balls. He held up one of the masks and one of the jars and said, “What are these for?”
“I didn’t think you’d want to use live ammo so I got these,” Jimmy said. He held up a paint-ball gun. “I brought a mask for each of us. We wouldn’t want to have someone’s eye shot out, would we? There should be four different colors there, that way we’ll know who shot who—neat, huh?”
Houston took one of the guns, inspected it for a few seconds and then screwed a CO2 cylinder into the butt.
Anne took a red paint ball out of its jar and studied it for a few seconds. “These things look like they could hurt . . . ”
“Only if you get shot,” Houston answered. “The object of the game is simple: shoot but don’t get shot.” He saw doubt on Anne’s face. “They may raise a bruise or two, but they aren’t lethal.”
Houston put on the Ghillie suit, letting it hang like a shroud, then took out a map and a compass. Once the paint gun’s hopper was filled from a container of green paint balls, Houston charged it with CO2. “Give me a half hour, and then come after me.” He spread the map and pointed to an elevation on it. “To simplify things, I’ll be somewhere along this ridge. All you got to do is find me before I find you . . . ”
Houston noted that Winter was grinning.
“Be like old times,” Winter said.
Houston was surprised at how quickly old behavior and habits returned. He found an old logging road that led up to the ridge and followed it for just under twenty minutes. It would be at least a half an hour before his pursuit would arrive, and he needed that time to find a good hide.
Houston camouflaged his Ghillie by inserting local flora into its web-like covering. He wished he had a full-length mirror to see if he had distributed the material evenly. Deciding that given the situation, he had done as well as possible, he concentrated on finding a suitable location—one where he had a clear line of fire at the trail. Jimmy and Anne were city-dwellers, not used to moving through the woods, and he was confident that they would stick to terrain that they could traverse with minimal effort.
Winter would be his biggest challenge. Even though it had been years since he had been in the army, Rangers were highly trained and skilled. He would most likely avoid the easily traveled trails and come through the bush.
Houston found a fallen tree and approached it, checking for things such as hornet nests. The last thing he needed was to be attacked by swarms of angry stinging insects. Once he was sure there were no natural enemies to deal with, he backtracked and used a pine branch to brush away his footprints and any discernible signs of his passing. Satisfied all was as good as he could make things, he settled into his shooting position, pulled the Ghillie suit hood over his head and waited.
Twenty minutes passed before he saw Anne and O’Leary slowly working their way up the trail. Houston sighted in on Jimmy O and waited for him to get within the CO2 gun’s range. Jimmy’s eyes were glued to the ground, searching for signs of Houston’s passage. Then three things happened simultaneously. Houston shot O’Leary in the chest. The paint ball’s impact stood Jimmy up, a large green paint smear on his protective clothing. Houston’s new cell phone vibrated, breaking his concentration and Gordon Winter shot him in the ass.
Houston ignored the pain and fumbled through the loose folds of the Ghillie, searching for his phone. He wondered who could be calling. Only Anne and Susie knew the number. He pulled it out and looked at the caller ID but didn’t recognize the number. He flipped it open and said, “Houston.”
“Daddy?”
“Susie, where are you, babe?”
The familiar raspy voice came on the line. “Don’t worry. She’s in good hands, Mikey.”
“You’re a bastard.”
“Calling me names ain’t gonna help things one bit.”
“What do you want?”
“You know what I want . . . directions to the killing ground are in your mailbox—and Mike?”
“What?”
“Don’t take forever. I’ll be looking for you in three days—no more. If you aren’t there by then your little girl and I will play hide-and-seek. Am I making myself clear?”
“Crystal. I’ll see you then. In the meantime—”
“She’ll be fine. I don’t have those desires anymore. It seems that at one time, my equipment got a bit overheated—another debt I owe you. Go check your mailbox. There should be an envelope there with detailed directions and instructions . . . follow them to the T or there will be consequences. Need I say more?”
“No, I got you.”
After Houston ended the conversation, he looked up to see his companions watching him.
He told them about the call.
“When do we leave?” Anne asked.
“I’m leaving tomorrow, after the evening rush dies down. I don’t want you going with me. This is no game.”
“You’re forgetting that I’m a cop too—not to mention the fact that I’m in far better shape than he is.” She pointed to O’Leary.
“But you’re not a sniper.”
“The last I heard neither are they.”
“This is going to be in the bush where you move a few feet in an hour. You crawl and hope you don’t make a sound. It’s the ultimate game of hide-and-seek—only, losing could be fatal. Other than me, the only other person here with the type of training and experience needed for this is Gordon.”
Anne was not to be swayed. “Let me put it to you in the military terms you’re so familiar with. Maybe then you’ll understand. I’ll go as your reserve. I can stay in the background until you send for me.”
“And if I can’t?”
“We can’t allow him to get away. One way or another he has to go down. Besides, if you’re hurt, Susie will need all the help she can get.”
Houston sat back. “Sounds like you’ve made up your mind.”
“It seems that way, doesn’t it?”
“What are my options?”
“None. Like the old saying goes: when it’s inevitable, relax and enjoy it.” Houston laughed. “I never expected to hear that from you.”
Anne smiled. “I’ve been waiting years for the right chauvinist to use it on. Pack your stuff, John Wayne. We should let Dysart know that it’s going down.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“He’ll want to throw all the manpower in the department into this. Can you imagine what the political repercussions would be if a bunch of armed cops invaded Maine? Hell, it would take more than three days to get the two states to coordinate—and then Maine would want to send in their people.”
Anne remained silent.
“I’m not going to do anything that will put Susie in more danger than she’s already in. I’ve got to do this his way.”