A whole lot of maybes, like Kyle said earlier, but his theory made sense.
“All right. Six camps. We’ll each take two. I’ll ride Chimney’s bike. Kyle, take my jeep, and Sahdev can drive Nicole’s car. You brought Miles’s walkie-talkies, right?”
Kyle nodded and hopped to his feet. “Yeah. I’ll get ’em out of the jeep.”
Like everything Miles had purchased for his doomsday retreat, the walkie-talkies were top-of-the-line, military-grade devices that used encryption to prevent anybody—like Pastor Bill’s henchmen—from eavesdropping.
“If we find Bill’s hideaway, we’ll need to get the lay of the land. Should be prepared to stand watch overnight. We’ll need jackets, some food, a couple of bottles of water. Weapons, of course.”
I turned to Sahdev. “You ever handle a gun?”
“Yes. I doubt I’m as proficient as a former soldier, but I’ve been trained.”
Got to admit, his response surprised me. Surprised Kyle too, from the way his brows shot up.
Don’t know why I’d assumed the soft-spoken doctor was unfamiliar with weapons. Even though they swore to do no harm, there was no real reason why a healer wouldn’t want to protect himself or defend others. I might have known him for only a few days, but in that time Sahdev always stepped up, was always willing to do the hard thing. Guess it made sense that such a man would be willing to do violence in the name of the greater good.
“All right. Gimme a minute.”
On a hunch, I walked into Chimney and Nicole’s bedroom and opened the closet. Groped along the top shelf until my hand touched a metal box. I pulled it down, set it on the bed, slid the latch, and found myself staring at Chimney’s Walther P99 AS pistol.
Shit, man, what were you thinking?
Back in Portland, Chim kept the Walther in a gun safe, far away from his two curious boys. Nicole would have skinned him alive if she knew my friend kept a weapon in an unlocked box in the closet. A dumb move on his part that paid off for me.
I checked the closet shelf again and found a shoulder holster. Grabbed the pistol and a couple of 15-round magazines, then headed back to the front room. Sahdev slipped the holster over his shoulders and handled the Walther with enough confidence to set my mind at ease.
Kyle took the shotgun.
Tied Hector to the porch rail and left him bowls of food and water.
We loaded up and went our separate ways, each following directions to two church camps.
Didn’t want the engine noise to give me away, so I stopped a quarter mile from the first camp and hid the bike behind a tree. I kept to the tree line as I made my way toward the camp’s perimeter.
I struck out. The place was a morgue. No signs of life, other than the busted windows that showed that somebody had ransacked the buildings. I retraced my steps back to the Road King and headed toward the second camp, almost an hour away.
Stowed the bike again and made my way on foot toward The Golden Rule Church Camp, sticking to the shadows beneath the trees. My caution paid off. Had to duck behind a fallen log when a pickup drove past me, heading in the direction of the camp.
I approached cautiously and spied two men standing guard at the gated entrance to the camp. A tall, chain-link fence surrounded the property—probably intended to keep animals away from the campers—but now a line of defense for Bill’s cult.
Camp Golden Rule. I snorted. Do unto others, huh, Bill?
If anybody had failed to live up to the golden rule, it was the phony pastor. The lying, scheming, son of a bitch thought he could steal Mac away from me. Just wait. I’d give the fucker what he deserved, do unto him the way he did unto me.
I crouched down behind a bush and pulled a small pair of binoculars from a pocket. Couldn’t see many people milling about the property. They were probably at dinner, since it was past 7 p.m. Didn’t need to spot Bill or Nicole or any of his deacons to know that this was the right spot.
I radioed Kyle and Sahdev to tell them what I found. We decided that they would meet up at the cabin, then drive the jeep toward the church camp, parking out of sight on a small service road I’d spotted half a mile from the place.
They emerged from the forest just before sunset. After a quick consultation, we separated and took up positions along the perimeter of the property. Unless something inside the camp spurred us into action—catching sight of Mac—we’d meet up in the morning to compare what we learned during our reconnaissance of the place.
I settled in for a long night of watching and waiting. The temperature dropped as soon as the sun set. Didn’t mind. The chill air kept me alert.
The moon played peekaboo behind a thin blanket of clouds. Every fifteen minutes, a guard inside the fence walked past my location.
About an hour before dawn, a dark figure slunk from the trees twenty yards to my left and dashed toward the fence. The man dropped to his knees and took what looked like a camp shovel from a backpack. Working quickly, he dug a hole, placed something I couldn’t identify in it, then refilled the cavity and tamped the soil flat. He took a handful of leaves from his pack and scattered them over the spot, concealing his handiwork.
When he turned and sprinted back toward the woods, a break in the clouds allowed me to get a better look at him. He was tall and lanky, wearing a hoodie with the hood pulled tight over his head. Moonlight glinted off the night-vision goggles strapped to his face.
Damn. Why hadn’t I brought mine? The goggles gave him an advantage running through the woods in the dark. I’d half a mind to give chase anyway—find out what he was up to—but quashed the impulse. Couldn’t risk breaking my ankle stepping into a hole or tripping over a tree root. Not when Mac needed me at one hundred percent.
Contacted my friends to tell them what I saw. We decided to stay put, hunkered down in our hiding places. I sucked down half a bottle of water and ate a bag of peanuts.
The sun rose and the camp came alive, men and women bustling back and forth. The women all wore long skirts, like something out of an old western movie. The men dressed in modern clothes, wearing mostly jeans and buttoned down shirts. Didn’t recognize a soul, but my gut told me that Mac was somewhere inside the camp among these people.
Past noon, Sahdev’s voice crackled over the radio. “I saw Nicole. She was carrying what looked like a heavy bucket of steaming water.”
Little more than an hour later, Kyle radioed in. “I saw Nicole. She was walking fast across the campground. Had a girl with her. It looked like the same girl who came to the cabin to help her out. Hannah, I think her name was.”
“Do you think Nicole knows where Kenzie is?” Sahdev asked.
“Maybe. She’s tight with the pastor. Gimme a few minutes to think. Over.”
I sat back on my haunches, considering my options. Guards walked past my position every fifteen minutes. I could probably make it over the fence without being seen, but then what? Dumb luck would determine what happened next. I’d have to search the camp without being spotted by any member of the congregation who might be walking by, and then track Nicole down when she could be anywhere on the property.
Don’t like plans where the critical elements are dependent on luck. Chewed it over for a while, but couldn’t come up with a better plan.
I radioed Kyle and Sahdev. “I might need to hop the fence and find Nicole. See if she knows anything about Mac.”