Part Four:
Exit Strategy
1
Seth Raines drove his pick-up truck west towards the Rocky Mountains with a man in the passenger seat beside him. They cleared the city limits and moved on to I-70 quickly in light traffic, the sun rising into a clear, blue sky. Raines reached into the door pocket and pulled out a pair of sunglasses, unfolding the arms with one hand while watching the road as it rose into the mountains. There had been a light snowfall in the mountains the night before and the sun sparkled in the fresh, crystalline snow.
The road continued to climb up, snow-capped peaks high above them. It twisted through a pass before rising again into the town of Grant. As they passed through the town, Raines turned west again and, after about a mile and a half, pulled on to a track that wound up through dense woodland to a high clearing. This high up, snow covered the track and crunched under the wheels of his truck. A short distance along the track they came to a tall, metal gate. Raines stopped his truck next to a pole with a speaker on top and said his name, his breath visible in the sharp morning air.
‘Come on up,’ a voice answered as a buzzing sounded and the gates swung slowly open.
They reached a clearing after another mile of the snow-covered track. There were three wooden structures built just behind the tree line at the northern edge of the clearing. Two men in green camo jackets and jeans stepped down off the porch of the middle building, the largest of the three, and walked towards the truck as Raines stopped. The men were carrying assault rifles and wore ballistic vests over their jackets.
Raines and his passenger got out.
‘Heard about Stark,’ one of the men said to Raines. ‘Bad business.’
‘We stick to what we’re doing,’ Raines said. ‘What happens is what happens.’
‘Sure thing, boss.’
Raines’s passenger sensed something more than respect emanate from the man to whom Raines had spoken. Something like fear.
Raines nodded at the man and walked on, his passenger following behind and staring at the dark tips of the tattoos on Raines’s neck. They mounted the steps of the middle building where Raines stopped, turning to his passenger.
‘Those are sealed,’ he said, indicating the other two buildings.
The passenger looked left and right, noticing now that the other buildings had no external windows. Only heavy steel access doors broke up the otherwise featureless wooden exteriors.
‘The wood is just cladding,’ Raines went on. ‘An external shell to cover the actual building construction.’
‘I like it,’ the passenger said. ‘So it looks like any other private cabin if anyone gets interested?’
‘Correct. That’s the way we planned it.’
Raines opened the door from the porch into the main building. Inside, the space stretched up to a double-height ceiling with a large, central area that was split into an office space at the back and a modest living area at the front – with couches facing an open fire.
There were two more men inside, both sitting in the office area working at computer monitors. They were dressed in jeans and heavy cotton shirts. Only the handguns in holsters fitted round their waists gave away their military background.
Raines went to the men and leaned over, looking at the spreadsheets open on both screens.
‘Looks good,’ he said, no emotion apparent in his voice.
Raines moved to the living area and motioned for the passenger to follow. They took their coats off and sat on separate couches, the passenger looking around the room and shifting in his seat. Raines looked at the man, trying hard to keep his hatred for him hidden. In this business, he didn’t have the luxury of choosing whom he worked with. The man wore what looked like an expensive suit and a white shirt open at the neck. His black leather town shoes were flecked with melting snow.
‘Perimeter security?’ the man asked.
‘Motion sensors. We have them linked to the computers back there.’
The man frowned.
‘No fences?’
‘Other than at the front, no.’
‘Doesn’t sound very safe.’
The man picked an imaginary piece of dust from his immaculately pressed trousers. Raines noticed his accent now for the first time. He did a good job of hiding it.
Raines resisted an urge to pull his handgun and shoot the man in the face.
‘It’s completely safe,’ Raines said instead, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.
‘How?’
‘Well, I mean, you saw the fence at the gate we came in through, right?’
The man nodded.
‘That stretches both ways to sheer drops down the mountainside. So we’re covered on both flanks by the natural terrain. No one’s getting in that way unless they’re prepared for a long climb.’
‘And even if they do get up, you have the motion sensors?’
‘Now you’re getting it.’
‘And at the back?’
‘The only way in to the back is over the top of the mountain from the other side. Ain’t gonna happen.’
‘And, again, the motion sensors.’
‘Those are located a minimum of one mile from here. And we have ordnance planted in the ground and on trees a half-mile in. Either remote triggered or via tripwires.’
‘Impressive.’
Raines leaned back in the couch.
‘Anyone comes here up to no good and they end up dead.’
‘You consider the federal authorities carrying out their lawful duties to be up to no good?’
‘Especially the Feds.’
Raines stared at him but did not reply. The man turned away from Raines’s hard gaze, pretended to look around again at the interior of the building to demonstrate that he had not been intimidated.
‘Let’s talk business,’ Raines said.