Shadow of Betrayal

Quinn backed the BMW down a gap between the rocks, following its contour as it curved around one of the hills. Once he was sure the car could not be seen from the road, he stopped.

Quinn popped the trunk, then they both got out and met at the rear of the BMW. From a case in the back, they each chose a firearm— Quinn taking his SIG, and Nate grabbing the Glock.

“Comm gear?” Nate asked.

“Yes,” Quinn said.

Nate tossed a set to Quinn.

“Thanks,” Quinn said.

As soon as he had his earpiece in and mic secured, Quinn pulled out his own equipment backpack and donned it.

He stopped before he closed the trunk and looked up at the sky. While it was still afternoon, their proximity to the mountains meant the sun would pass out of sight in the next hour or so, putting this part of the valley into a deep shadow. That could be helpful while they did their recon, but it might also make getting back to the car difficult.

He reached back in and moved a couple of the boxes out of the way until he found what he was looking for. It was a black hard-plastic container not much bigger than an old-fashioned cigarette case. Inside were four plastic squares stacked together. They were each about the size of a business card cut in half, and an eighth of an inch thick. To their right was a small panel built into the box housing a single button. It was a homing device. All the squares were linked to the device and, when on, would guide the bearer back to the box. Quinn removed two of the squares, then touched the button on the panel, shut the box, and placed it back in the trunk.

“Here,” he said, tossing one of the squares to Nate. “It’s going to be dark soon. We may need a little help getting back.”

Nate pocketed the remote, then they headed out across the hills toward the road that led to Yellowhammer.

“I doubt they’ll have audio sensors, but we should keep conversation to a minimum just in case,” Quinn said after they’d been walking for several minutes.

“Copy that,” Nate said.

The hike wasn’t an easy one. Everywhere there were rocks, most the size of small cars, some the size of a house. Red and gray, vertical and horizontal, stable and loose, it was like the set for an alien planet out of some sixties sci-fi show. Star Trek, maybe. Or Lost in Space. Boulders balanced on top of boulders, others jetted upward and leaned against each other like books on a shelf. Where enough rocks gathered together, they formed the hills.

Quinn tried to lead them through the lower passes, but at times they were forced to go higher on the hillsides to find the easier route.

After fifteen minutes, Nate took over the lead. Quinn kept an eye on him, looking for signs of fatigue or struggle, but his apprentice pressed on as if both his legs were whole.

“I see the road,” Nate said a few minutes later.

He was about thirty feet ahead of Quinn. He had crouched down near the top of the next hill.

“Empty?” Quinn asked.

“Seems so,” Nate said.

“Any sign of sensors?”

“Hold on,” Nate said.

Nate pulled out the sniffer.

“I’m not picking up anything,” Nate said. “But the road’s just at the edge of this thing’s range.”

He set the sniffer down and removed a pair of small but high-powered binoculars out of his pack. Quinn watched as Nate moved his head from right to left, then returned to a spot just off center and stayed there for a moment.

“There’s something down there that might be a motion sensor,” Nate said. “Come take a look.”

Quinn climbed up beside him and pulled out his own binoculars.

“Where?” he asked.

“See that rock that’s leaning about twenty degrees to the left?”

“Yes.”

“All right,” Nate said. “Now go another ten feet to the right, and closer to the road, maybe three feet from the edge. Mounted on top of a small rock.”

Small was relative out here. The small rock Nate was talking about was the size of a recliner. There was a bump on it that seemed out of place. Quinn adjusted his zoom to get a better look. It was hard to tell, but there was no question that it was man-made. A square box with a little rounded dome on top. He retrieved his camera and shot off several images so they could take another look at it back at the motel, then match it up to a specific product.

“This is about as close to the road as we should get. If we go down there, they’ll know it right away.” Quinn looked back behind them. “We can parallel it from over here.”

“Okay.”

“Keep the sniffer on.”

“I guess this means we’re at the right place, at least,” Nate said.

“Doesn’t mean anything yet.”

They started out again, this time heading toward the Sierras, always keeping a mound of rocks between them and the Yellowhammer road. Every five minutes they would check the road again, and each time they spotted more of the sensors.

“That one looks brand new,” Nate said at one stop.

The sensor he was referring to was only a dozen yards away, at the base of the hill they were perched on top of.

Quinn held his hand out, and Nate gave him his binoculars. One look at the device confirmed Nate’s assessment.