5
Chital, Pakistan. It had been in the rugged mountains due north of Chital, across the Kunar River, high up along that narrow strip of Afghan land that separated Pakistan from Tajikistan, where Jack had last worn full Arabic garb and carried an AK-47 rifle. Now, as Jack crouched in the darkness overlooking New Mexico Highway 502, just west of the intersection where Highway 30 curled away toward the sleepy town of Espanola, a whisper of déjà vu caressed the nape of his neck.
The Arabic clothing, the AK-47, and the weapons selected for this raid had all come from the special locker Jack had uncovered at the remote hideaway, which had formerly been used by one Carlton “Priest” Williams. That weapons locker had been one of many unusual discoveries Jack had made upon tracking down the site the day after he had killed Priest.
Priest had always been overconfident. It was one of many unprofessional aspects of the ex-Delta Force commando that Jack had despised upon first meeting the man. That overconfidence produced sloppiness, which had resulted in the insurance form Jack had found in the glove box of Priest’s truck. That form had revealed the truck was stolen from a man named Delbert Graves. A quick check of public records revealed that Graves was a hermit survivalist who owned a small ranch deep in the high country northeast of Los Alamos along the boundary of the Santa Clara Indian Reservation.
How many months it had been since Priest Williams had killed Delbert Graves and appropriated the man’s property as his hideout, Jack could not determine exactly. By the state of decay of the corpses Jack had found in the dry well near the main house, Priest must have been using it off and on for almost a year. There was little doubt that Priest had kept the place secret from everyone, including his unknown employer.
In addition to a collection of women’s bodies, there were two male corpses. One of these was probably that of the unfortunate Delbert Graves. Jack had recognized the other male corpse, despite the rot. Now he knew what had become of the assassin Abdul Aziz, for whom numerous agencies of the US government were still searching.
Here tonight, Jack’s earlier decision to avoid relaying the information of Priest’s hideaway to the people at the NSA was about to pay dividends.
Jack glanced down at the dimly illuminated display of his watch. 01:03. The drive from Kirtland Air Force Base to Los Alamos took an hour and a half under normal circumstances. The refrigerated truck carrying Priest’s corpse would be traveling the speed limit on roads that had little traffic at this hour. That meant that it would be turning off New Mexico Highway 84 onto Highway 502 right about now.
Pulling a small infrared flashlight from his belt, Jack flashed it twice, signaling Janet to begin the cell phone transmission. Then slipping his goggles into place and adjusting the infrared laser sniper-sight, Jack settled deeper into his hide position to wait.
The wait would not be a long one.