Long Road to Mercy (Atlee Pine, #1)(98)

And it indeed did appear to be the same three men from the other night.

“What are you doing down here?” barked Pine.

“I don’t see you having the leverage to ask us questions,” said the man.

“I’ve got a federal badge, that leverage enough for you? And you guys are Army.”

“Why, just because we have cammies on?”

“More than that. You’re outfitted in ACU, Army Combat Uniforms.”

He shrugged. “Hell, you can buy those uniforms on eBay.”

“But not ones with the Operational Camouflage Pattern. That’s very recent. And you’re armed with M4s.”

The man took a step closer. “What are you doing here?”

“I imagine I’m doing the same thing you’re doing. Looking for somebody.”

“Who would that be?”

“Do we really have to play this crappy game?”

“Who would that be?” he asked again.

“That would be ‘kiss my ass.’ Now let me ask you a question. How did you find me?”

“We found you the first day you came down. We’ve been following you.”

“Bullshit. I spotted you going up a side canyon. You turned back because it was getting light.”

“We turned back before we could stumble right over you. You were behind a boulder, crouching down, your pistol aimed at us. Probably thinking that a Glock against three M4s was not going to end well. For you.”

Pine looked up into the sky. “You got sat eyes all the way down here?”

“No, we just know how to track people.” He held up his weapon. “You ever been shot with one of these?”

“No, nor do I want to be. So you were following me. Why?”

“Pretty obvious. If you knew where Roth was, you’d lead us to him. After that my orders are to intercept. That’s why we’re here.”

“Okay, you intercepted. What’s the rest of the order?”

The man shrugged and attempted a smile, but it got nowhere near the rest of his face and he quickly let it fall.

Pine looked around at the men. They looked to be late twenties, early thirties. Definitely old enough to have been in wars, killed, maybe been wounded. Hardened guys, guys you’d want on your side in a fight.

Only, apparently, they’re not on my side.

“Have you been told what’s going on here? What’s really going on? What this shit is all about?”

“We know enough to do our job. We don’t need any more than that.”

“That’s another way of saying you’re burying your head in the sand.”

She never once looked at the camouflage netting, hoping beyond hope that they hadn’t noticed it.

“You’re going to need to come with us, ma’am.”

“You got a chopper? Is that your in-and-out method? Saves a lot of time over hiking this sucker.”

“Just come with us.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you. I’m a federal agent. You can’t order me to do anything. So back the hell away before I call in reinforcements.”

The man looked around and lightly shook his head, his eyes filled with mirth. “I don’t see that you have any backup. And your phone doesn’t work down here.”

“Back the hell away.”

“We have other orders in the event you refused to come with us.”

“What’s that, shoot me? I’m an FBI agent.”

“No, ma’am, right now, you’re just an enemy of this country.”

“How the hell do you figure that? We work for the same country.”

“Are you going to come with us? Last call.”

The two other soldiers raised their M4s and took aim. One for her head, the other the torso.

Nonsurvivable.

“This is nuts,” barked Pine. “I’m a federal agent. Lower your weapons and stand down. Now.”

“No can do, ma’am. Last call. Three seconds.”

Pine stood there frozen. They were really going to execute her, right on the floor of the Grand Canyon.

She made to reach for her Glock. She might be able to get off one shot.

Good-bye to everybody who cares. I’m coming, Mercy.

Shit.

The round fired. And then a second.

It had happened so fast that Pine thought she had taken both impacts.

The two guys behind the point man flinched, stiffened, and then both fell forward.

Point Man whirled, his weapon aimed on his target.

“No!” screamed Pine, drawing her weapon. “Drop it, drop it or I will fire.”

The M4 barked at the same time Pine pulled the Glock’s trigger once, her laser sight dead on the back of the guy’s neck.

Point Man dropped.

Pine, her hands shaking, slowly lowered her weapon.

Twenty yards away, Sam Kettler stared wildly at her. He was carrying a backpack and there was a pistol in his hand.

Pine looked down at the three dead bodies. Two had been shot by Kettler, one by her.

“Shit,” she hissed. “They were our guys. At least I think they were.”

Kettler scrambled forward. “Funny way of showing it. They were going to kill you.”

She looked up at him. “What are you doing here?”