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NEVADA:
Jim enters the security building and gathers the members of his team. “Has anyone seen Preston’s men?”
Sam raises his hand. “The last time I saw them was at the end of my shift, about two hours ago.”
“All right. Check in with our rovers and find out where they are. They might try to take that thing in the foundry. That cannot be allowed to happen. I want eyes on them at all times. I’m headed over to Essex’s to check on Preston. Keep me informed on what’s going on.” He turns and walks out of the room, knowing his people are competent ex-military personnel.
It only takes a few minutes to reach the living quarters. He parks outside the main entrance and walks inside to the man behind a desk. “Is Preston still here?”
“No, I saw him leave through the side exit right after you drove away.”
“Okay, thanks.”
Jim hurries out through the doorway and speaks into his microphone. “This is Jim. Has anyone got eyes on Preston?” The answers are negative. “Who’s on duty at the foundry?”
“That would be Rafferty”, the dispatcher answers. “Rafferty, this is dispatch, report in.”
Jim can’t believe this is happening. “Shit! All right. I want three units to meet me at the foundry.” He climbs into his SUV, squealing the tires as he spins it around on the concrete.
His heart sinks into his stomach when he sees Rafferty’s body lying face down in the middle of the road next to a patrol car. He parks and leaps out of his vehicle, dashing over to his man. Blood clots the hair on the back of his head, but it doesn’t appear to be a bullet wound. He reaches down to his neck and feels a steady, slow pulse, then slowly rolls him over onto his back. “This is Jim. I’m on the road to the foundry and I need the medics. Rafferty is down, but alive. He might have a concussion.”
Jim studies the fresh tracks leading toward the foundry. One of his SUVs, and a dual wheeled truck. Probably the one with the hoist. They don’t have too big a lead, but he needs backup, and can’t leave the compound unsecured. This is my responsibility, damn it. How am I going to explain this to Alex? He reaches into his pocket and brings out Ramey’s phone number.
***
Preston thinks it fortunate that his men hadn’t discarded the shipping crate. He sits in his vehicle, staring at the back of the flatbed truck, while his men part the chain-link fence. He drives past the vehicle, leading the way across the open desert to the nearest road. At least, that’s what his GPS indicates.
They’re only ten miles from the fence, when Preston loses sight of the truck. He turns around and goes back, and sees his men trying to dig the vehicle out of the soft sand in the bottom of a small washout. He compares his GPS location with a folded map on the seat, which shows he’s headed in the right direction. The problem is, he threw this plan together on a moment’s notice and neglected to get a satellite image of the terrain.
He climbs out, stopping to grab the end of the winch cable as he walks to the front of the truck. His men attach the hook to the truck and he goes back to his vehicle, then puts it in reverse. The tires tear the ground up without success, and he barely manages to get his rig onto solid ground.
The second attempt is to dig the sand out from the front and rear tires, but it only makes it worse. He knows nothing they try is going to work. Damn! “All right. Camouflage the truck and crate with sand and brush until we can come back with the right equipment.”
When he’s satisfied, Preston waves the group over to his SUV. He takes one more look at the camouflaged wooden crate before climbing in behind the steering wheel and heading out across the desert.
***
NAS FALLON:
Ramey hears his secretary’s voice through the intercom, announcing a call from Coburn, and grabs the receiver. “Yes, Jim. My Marines should be there soon.” His shoulders slump when he hears the news about Preston and the device, and he leans back in his chair. “How long ago? All right. I’ll take care of it.”
He sits up and punches another number for the Operations Officer. “What aircraft do you have over the area south of Essex’s compound? I’m looking for a flatbed truck with a twenty-foot wooden crate on the back. There should be an SUV traveling with it. Let me know when you find it.”
***
THE DESERT:
Two hours later, Preston is forced to stop by a five-foot deep gully. He checks the map and he’s headed in the right direction, but the forty-foot-wide washout isn’t shown. He climbs out and jumps onto the hood, then stands on the roof to look around. The gully appears to go on forever from west to east.
He jumps down and studies the map, while his men get out to take a break. The nearest road is only seven miles past the opposite bank. No doubt, Coburn’s men will be following his trail, so he can’t turn back. The only other road is fifty miles to the east, probably crossing this gully.
He looks at a slender young man. “Charlie, go across and make sure we can get out on the other side.”
Preston relieves himself while he watches the boy scurry down over the edge and run across to the other side. When Charlie waves that it’s okay, he drives over the edge. Loose dirt and sand cascade around him as the vehicle slides to the bottom, where the ground is firm.
When he reaches the other bank, he sees it’s too steep for this model SUV. He leaps out of the car for a closer look, then spins around, daggers flying from his eyes as he gets in Charlie’s face. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“Hey, I’ve driven my four-wheel-drive up steeper inclines than this one.”
Preston continues to glare at him. “Is it as big as this one?”
“Well, no.”
He resists the urge to smack Charlie on the head. “Get in the damn vehicle!”
His men dash across the gully, and two of them climb into the back seat, purposely squeezing Charlie in the middle, with Carl up front this time. Preston climbs in behind the steering wheel and backs up. “We’ll follow this gully until we can find a place to get out.”
Preston heads east along the rutted dirt, which slows his progress. In other sections, he’s forced around boulders and piles of tangled vegetation. He thinks the depth of the gully will decrease, since the water flows down from the mountains to the west. Instead, the farther he drives, the more it becomes higher and steeper. After three hours without a way out, he’s tempted to turn around. Two hours later, he wishes he had.
He parks and shuts down the engine, then climbs out to study the wall of tangled vegetation, thick branches, and massive clogs of dirt and rock blocking his way.
***
Ramey answers his phone. “Yes?” It’s the operations officer. “I see. Yes, keep looking. It has to be out there somewhere.”