*
The helicopter was close now—closer than either of the ridges from which its echoes rebounded, to the east and west. Because of that, Dryden could finally determine the chopper’s location by sound, even though its lights were predictably blacked out. The aircraft was less than a mile to the south, and in the last minute it had halted its advance to take up a stationary hover.
That, too, was predictable.
There was a big difference between this conflict and those of the previous night: Dryden had had all day to contemplate this one. From the moment he’d settled on the cabin as a destination, he’d been aware that its primary asset was also its greatest vulnerability. The secluded forest made a perfect hideout, but failing in that function, it made a terrible place from which to flee. In a game of cat-and-mouse against satellites, desolation was a fatal disadvantage.
Usually.
That had to be what Gaul was thinking now, in any case. He would also be thinking of Dryden’s background and skill set; he would’ve taken both into account in planning this assault.
It was no surprise, then, that the chopper had gone stationary at a distance, rather than coming in for a sniper kill. Gaul would have to play it safe and assume Dryden had the means to take down any chopper close enough for that; a good .50 caliber with a nightscope would have done the trick, if aimed well enough. Dryden had in fact considered getting one. He’d decided against it on practical grounds: Taking down the helicopter in this scenario would not be a winning play.
As he and Rachel ran, he heard the chopper begin to move again, having hovered in place for maybe twenty seconds. Its new course was neither toward them nor away; it seemed to orbit their position counterclockwise, maintaining its safe distance, and after traveling a few hundred yards it halted again. Obviously men were fast-roping down out of it, probably one to three of them each time it stopped to hover. It would either deposit them in a straight-line pattern, in which they would comb across the wilderness like hunters driving game, or it would off-load them in a giant, constricting circle.
Either way, the fast-roping was also something Dryden had expected. He was counting on it, in fact, though the plan would be far from risk-free. As the chopper resumed movement after its second stop, Dryden considered the fact that there were now at least two soldiers on the ground within half a mile, running straight toward them with satellite techs speaking through their headsets.
Catching his thought, Rachel said, “I think it’s time to open the duffel bag.”
“I think you’re right.”
*
On-screen, the third specialist was roping down into the forest. Gaul watched. It was hard to make out the details, looking at the scene from such a high angle, with a heat source as bright as a chopper right above the action—
“What the fuck?” Lowry said.
Gaul turned toward Lowry’s workstation. Lowry was tapping the monitor as if it were glitching.
“What?” Gaul asked.
“Dryden and the girl,” Lowry said. “They just disappeared right in front of me.” He keyed the handset through which he communicated with the soldiers on the ground. “Continue on vector, but be advised we’ve temporarily lost the targets.”
“Bullshit,” Gaul said. “There’s gotta be a tree in the way. They’re fucking redwoods.”
“We had four birds on them,” Lowry said. “They can’t all be blocked. Not for this long.”
On the monitor displaying the widest frame, the Black Hawk was moving again, arcing toward its fourth drop point. The three men on the ground continued their sprints inward toward an objective that appeared to have vanished. Gaul’s sense of calm had vanished with it.
*
The specialty shop in Visalia sold gear for firefighters, including the two remarkable items Dryden had purchased, one large and one small—the smallest in stock, anyway. They were called proximity suits, or more commonly kiln suits. Surprisingly lightweight, at least considering their capability, they were made of several insulating layers, with an outer skin of aluminized fabric to reflect radiant heat. This kind of suit was standard issue for fire crews aboard aircraft carriers or at oil refineries, people whose jobs might at times require them to actually walk into the flames. The material was that good at blocking heat.
The suits Dryden and Rachel had just donned were rated to keep out temperatures up to 1,500 degrees Fahrenheit. With any luck they’d keep 98.6 degrees in—at least for a while.