“Snap, crackle, pop,” Vernon said. “Hey, Pam, give me a kiss. Oh yeah, and don’t touch the fence. I think it’s electrocuted.”
“This is bad,” Wayan Bagus said. “I should have removed the gun as well. I fear its luck has moved on.”
Emerson looked Vernon over. “I think he’s okay. He’s a little dazed from the shock, and he has some minor burns on his hands.”
“Burns shmurns,” Vernon said. “I’m good as new. Right, Pam? And by the way, don’t touch the fence.”
Riley looked at Emerson. “Which one of us is Pam?”
“I don’t think it matters,” Emerson said. “And obviously we’re not going over the fence. We’ll have to go around. Sooner or later we’re bound to come to a gate.”
Several hours later they straggled to the top of a knoll. They’d been walking parallel to the fence line, pushing through tall grass that alternated with low scrubby brush. Emerson was the first to get to the top of the small hill, and he stared out across a swath of pasture.
“That must be the gate,” he said to Riley, pointing at a little guardhouse about a quarter mile away down the fence line. He raised his binoculars to his eyes. “There’s a crude trail leading to it through a couple hundred feet of open grassland before it disappears into the woods.”
“Well, you found your gate,” Vernon said. “Now what?”
SEVENTEEN
RILEY WATCHED A JEEP WRANGLER THROUGH Emerson’s binoculars as it emerged from the woods and meandered down the barely there trail. It stopped at the little guardhouse before passing through the gate and disappearing into a thicket of trees.
“This feels surreal,” Riley said, crouching down behind the hill, out of sight from the guards. “We’ve been watching this fence in the middle of nowhere for hours. How long are we going to spy on the gatehouse?”
Emerson was lying down in the grass, using his backpack as a pillow. “Until we can figure out a way to get past the sentries.”
Riley looked through the binoculars again. Two guards wearing khaki uniforms and campaign hats manned the station. One had an automatic rifle slung over his shoulder. “There’s no way to get past those guys without being seen and/or getting shot. We should find another way.”
Emerson shook his head. “We walked the fence line for half a day. This is the only entry point.”
“It’s going to be dark in an hour,” Vernon said. “We can’t make a fire without being seen, and without a fire we haven’t got a lot of protection against the bears and wolves on account of I’m dehydrated after getting electrified.”
Wayan Bagus was sitting under a tree. “They’re wearing the same uniforms as the men who forced me off my island. If they’re anything like those men, they won’t be good hosts.”
Emerson sat up. “I have a plan. Ten years ago, a crack commando unit was sent to prison by a military court for a crime they didn’t commit. These men promptly escaped from a maximum-security stockade to the Los Angeles underground. Today, still wanted by the government, they survive as soldiers of fortune. We need to contact those guys ASAP.”
Riley grinned. “Seriously. Your plan is to hire the A-Team?”
“I have another idea, but it’s kind of crazy.”
“Crazier than asking a bunch of geriatric actors from a TV show that was canceled thirty years ago to break into a government installation?”
“How do you feel about tattoos?” Emerson asked.
“I’m not letting you anywhere near me with a needle,” Riley said.
Emerson pulled a Sharpie from his backpack. “This is more the temporary kind of tattoo. Are you ready to join the Rough Riders?”
“You think a pen-and-ink drawing of two crossed sabers on our wrists will be enough to get us into the compound?”
Emerson uncapped the pen. “No, but I’m hoping it will buy us some time and let us get close enough to overpower the guards.”
“Shouldn’t you practice first?” Riley asked.
“Excellent idea. It’s harder to draw on a human body than on paper, what with all your nooks and crannies.”
“Never mind my nooks and crannies,” Riley said.
“Understood,” Emerson said. “I’ll get to your nooks and crannies later. How about if, for now, I practice on the flat of your back?”
Riley rolled up her shirt, giving Emerson access to her lower back.
Five minutes later, Emerson stood up, capped the pen with a dramatic flourish, and surveyed his work. “It’s quite good, actually. You may want to consider making it permanent.”
Vernon and Wayan Bagus came over to look.
“What do you think?” Riley asked. “Does it look like two crossed sabers with a number one above them? Do you think it will fool the guards?”
“It is most unlikely this tattoo will fool the guards,” Wayan Bagus said.
“Too big?” Riley asked.
Wayan Bagus nodded. “Yes, that’s it. It’s too big.”
“It’s nice,” Vernon said. “I like it. It’s a real conversation starter.”
Riley twisted and turned, trying to see her back. “What the heck is this?” she asked. “It doesn’t look like the Rough Rider tattoo.”
“It’s far superior,” Emerson said. “It’s an octopus smoking a cigar. And I’ve even signed it. Now that I’ve mastered more complex forms, I’m certain I can produce an excellent version of the Rough Rider image on your wrist.”
“I need a moment,” Riley said.
“To enjoy my work?” Emerson asked.
“To stifle the urge to choke you.”
“Is it the cigar? It was a last-minute decision.”
“It’s temporary, right?”
“ ‘Temporary’ is a relative term,” Emerson said. “It should fade away in no more than two to three weeks.”
Riley decided if after two to three weeks she was still alive and not locked away in a dungeon, she’d be so overjoyed that she wouldn’t care about an octopus smoking a cigar on her back.
“I suppose you’re now going to violate my hand,” she said to Emerson.
Emerson nodded. “I’ll do my best.”
Ten minutes later, Emerson was done with the tattoos.
“I have to admit, it looks pretty realistic,” Vernon said. “But what now?”
“Riley and I are going to walk up to the guardhouse like we own the place and tell them we caught two trespassers walking in the woods.”
“Vernon and I are going to be the trespassers?” Wayan asked.
“Correct,” Emerson said. “There are four of us and only two of them, so if we can fool them into thinking Riley and I are Rough Riders, even for a couple seconds, we should be able to get close enough to distract and overwhelm them.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be in some kind of uniform?” Vernon asked.
“We’re plainclothes Rough Riders,” Emerson said.
Riley followed Emerson out of the brush and onto the Jeep path.
“This is never going to work,” Riley said.
“You have to believe.”
“I do believe. I believe it isn’t going to work.”
Emerson motioned Wayan Bagus and Vernon to get onto the path and walk in front of them toward the gatehouse.
“Hold your hands up as if you’ve been arrested,” Emerson said. “Look ashamed that you’ve been caught breaking the law.”
“It is difficult for me to look ashamed,” Wayan Bagus said, “but I can look humble. I believe it might appear similar.”
“They’re pointing at us,” Vernon said. “They see us.”
“Hello,” Emerson shouted. “We found these two miscreants trespassing in the restricted area.”
“ ‘Miscreants’?” Riley whispered. “Who says ‘miscreants’?”
The first guard took the rifle off his shoulder and pointed it in their direction.
“What are they saying?” Riley asked. “Can anyone read lips that far away?”
“They’re confused,” Wayan Bagus said. “They’re saying that there are rangers assigned to reconnaissance in the surrounding woods, but they don’t recognize you.”
“Are you sure?” Vernon asked. “I can’t hear a thing. You’re not just making that up, are you?”
Wayan Bagus steepled his fingers. “Altogether, there are eight types of illusions. Magic, a dream, a bubble, a rainbow, lightning, the moon reflected in water, a mirage, and a city of celestial musicians.”