part0048

Zina had car trouble ninety miles west of Des Moines and had to stay over a day while the repair shop obtained parts. The next morning she resumed her journey to Colorado. She pushed hard and arrived in Denver late that night. The next morning she contacted the phone company and learned the prefix she was interested in covered a rural area around the small town of Little River. It took a bit of searching until she found the town on the state map. It was located in the mountains northwest of Denver.

She went to a sporting goods store and bought several items of clothing suitable for mountain terrain including boots and a pair of binoculars. Experience had taught her to prepare for every possibility. She left for Little River at eleven-thirty. Later that day Zina, followed a narrow, twisting mountain road, and after an hour of climbing, she dropped into a small valley cradled between rugged mountains, crossed a bridge, and entered Little River.

She stopped at a gas station, went directly to a telephone booth, and picked up the phone book. She looked under the letter T and found a listing for Tucker Pack Trips. She pulled out the number she had obtained from the pen register on Jason's line and compared it with the number in the book. They matched .

There was a small motel in town, but she did not want to stay that close to her target. She remembered seeing two motels in the last town about thirty miles from Little River. She drove back the way she had come and checked into one of the motels.

The next morning, Zina drove to Little River, stopped at the same gas station, filled her tank, and asked the attendant where Tucker Pack Trips was located. He told her it was about ten miles up the road and to look for a sign over the gate.

She spent most of the morning getting acquainted with the valley, giving special attention to the back roads. Before completing a contract, she always checked every possible escape route. As usual, she was meticulous in her attention to details. When she drove by the sign indicating the turnoff for Tucker Pack Trips, she noticed the gate was locked and thought it odd because all of the other gates in the area were wide open. That single clue reinforced her belief that Scott Quinn and Lauren Chandler were somewhere on the property.

Zina made a U-turn and drove a short distance before turning onto a narrow dirt road on the other side of the highway. She parked the car behind some brush, retrieved her binoculars, and walked back to the road. If she met anyone, she would simply act the part of a bird watcher on vacation. No one would ever imagine she had a 9mm pistol under her jacket. She crossed the highway and made her way through the shrubs before entering a stand of trees. When she could no longer see the highway, she turned and headed toward the dirt road to Tucker Pack Trips. She followed the private drive, being careful to stay far enough into the wooded area to remain out of sight. She located a house, crept up to a small knoll, sat behind a clump of brush, pulled out her binoculars and waited.

Two hours passed before she saw Scott walk out of the house and enter the barn. After several minutes, he came out of the barn with two saddled horses and led them to the house. A woman with short, blonde hair came outside. She mounted and the two rode toward the rear of the house, then they cut across an open area to a trail that passed by a grove of aspen trees. Zina watched until they were out of sight; then, she went back the way she had come.

Zina's pattern dictated that she always stalked her victims carefully before making a kill. It usually took only a few days, but she occasionally found it necessary to watch for as long as a month before striking. Hasty actions increased the chances of things going wrong. Her methods had worked well in the past, and she would continue using them for this contract. She was surprised she had seen no sign of other people around the house. Following her rigid rule of never assuming anything, she would check again tomorrow.

The next morning, Zina packed a lunch and drove to the same dirt road she had used the previous day. She took a slightly different route to the small knoll and settled down for a long watch. She knew such a remote location was an ideal spot for her and Merrick to make the kill, but she wanted to know how many others were on the premises, or if there were any particular daily routine. It seemed obvious that at least a man named Tucker resided there, but what about a wife, children, or frequent visitors ?

She waited for three hours before she saw anyone. Just after one o'clock, Scott Quinn came out of the house and crossed to the barn. A few minutes later, he led two horses to the house and the blonde came out. They mounted and left in the same direction they had gone the day before. Zina rolled over and sat up. It was the same pattern as the previous day—almost to the minute.

She watched the house for another thirty minutes, but there were no signs of movement. She rose and made her way through the trees, but instead of heading back to her car, she climbed a ridge and stopped on a small ledge that offered a sweeping view of the area. Zina made mental notes of important landmarks and drew a rough map of the surrounding region. She then took out the binoculars and made several sweeps up and down the entire area, paying particular attention to the terrain that lay in the direction her target had taken.

She scanned across a meadow, stopping suddenly to focus on two riders who had entered an open area below the meadow. From their attire, she knew it was Scott and Lauren. Zina watched them and felt surprised by a feeling of jealousy that swept through her. Even at this distance, she could sense the strong bond between the pair. She had never experienced a relationship with such obvious depth. When it came to men, she thought life had parceled out assorted misfits just for her. She forced the thoughts from her mind. This was business.

The sky darkened and she heard the faint rumblings of thunder. Though it appeared the storm would stay to the south, she headed back through the trees to her car. She stopped at the edge of town, grabbed her notebook, entered a phone booth, and flipped the pages, stopping at a particular entry: V. M. - Aspen. She dialed the number and asked for Victor Merrick .

“We found them,” she said. “I think they're about three or four hours from where you are, but I'm not sure.”

“I'm impressed. Cade is every bit as good as I've heard.”

“Yes,” Zina replied flatly. “There’s no one better.”

“I want to get this over with quickly,” Merrick said. “Where are they?”

“Just outside a small town called Little River. They're way back off the road with no other houses around. It’s an ideal situation.”

“How soon can you leave?” Zina asked.

“I was just waiting for your call. We can leave in thirty minutes.”

“How many men did you bring?”

“Seven, including myself. There's not a chance in hell of them getting away again.”

“One more thing: I suggest you stay in the same town I'm in. Cade is nearby, but we never stay in the same motel.”

She gave Merrick directions, then hung up and drove to her motel. After dinner, she took out her map and made another copy, then she outlined two options for making the kill. Her first choice depended on the targets following the same pattern they had used the last two days. The alternate plan was to kill them at the house, but that obviously involved more risk. Satisfied with her preparation, she put down her pencil and stared at a barren wall. If Scott and Lauren went for another horseback ride, it would be their last.

A little after ten-thirty, Zina heard two cars stop in front of her room. She grabbed her pistol and went to the window. The light was not good, but she recognized one of Merrick's men. She opened the door and saw several men carrying bags toward rooms farther down the walkway. She motioned for Merrick to come inside.

He made no attempt at small talk. “What's Cade’s plan? I want this whole thing laid out for me.”

Zina gave him details about the location of the house and showed him a map of the surrounding area. “They apparently go horseback riding several days a week. There's an open area a little over a mile from the house that has good cover. It’s ideal for an ambush. We think you should put men on both sides of the trail and wait for them to show. Cade will use a rifle with a scope to take out Quinn. As soon as he fires, I'll shoot the horses. After that, the woman is yours.”

“Hell, that sounds easy enough.”

“Isn't that what you want?”

Merrick ignored her question. “Are you a good enough shot?”

“Deadly,” Zina replied sharply, her dislike for Merrick ticking up another notch. “One more thing. It would be best if you took the bodies a mile or so into the woods and buried them.”

“Good idea. What time do we start?”

“It's imperative to Cade that no one ever sees him, so he'll leave early. He wants you to meet me at eleven o'clock.” She gave him a map and pointed at her markings. “There's a dirt road right here. I'll be standing behind cover. When I see you, I'll step out and direct you so your cars can't be seen from the road; then I'll guide you to the ambush site.”