She sensed more than heard movement on the front porch, and her heart began hammering in her breast. Then she heard a low, pained moan, and she almost screamed, thinking it could be her husband making that sound. She darted to the front door, stopping herself just in time as she remembered what Ryan had long ago trained her to do. She flattened herself against the wall beside the door but not too close to it, then waited, gun hand up and ready, counting seconds.
“It’s okay, Mandy,” she heard Ryan call softly. “Open the door.”
She twitched the dead-bolt lock and threw the door open. A large shadow walked through carrying something even larger in its arms. “Shut the door and lock it,” her husband said. She did as he bade her, then followed him as he carried his burden through the dark hallway into their lamp-lit bedroom and gently lowered it onto the bed.
“Oh, my God!” Mandy covered her mouth with one hand to prevent herself from saying anything more. She barely recognized the young man bleeding on their bed as Steve Tressler, their nearest neighbor. His face was a bloody mask, as if it had taken a terrible beating. And there were three wounds she recognized as gunshots tracing across his chest.
She dropped the gun she was holding onto the bed and stumbled to the bathroom, grabbing towels off the shelf and knocking a couple onto the floor in her haste. When she got back to the bedroom, Steve had a death grip on Ryan’s shirt. Ryan was bent over, Steve’s other hand in his and his ear pressed to Steve’s lips, which were moving between gasps for air. And then she saw it—one long, shuddering breath, and Steve’s body went limp.
“No!” she whispered, appalled.
Ryan stood up, his face hard, cold and deadly, the way she’d seen him look six years before. Blood stained his shirt where Steve had gripped it, and he slid something into his jeans pocket, but she couldn’t see what it was.
“Pack some clothes and things for the kids,” Ryan ordered in a voice she hadn’t heard in six years, and it sent icicles down her spine. “You’ve got ten minutes.”
Mandy didn’t hesitate. She’d been there when her home had been turned into a raging inferno by members of the New World Militia. She’d been there when Ryan and Cody had confronted and killed David Pennington, the militia’s founder. And she knew when Ryan looked and sounded like that, questions—and answers—would have to wait.
* * *
They drove through the stillness of the night, the children fast asleep in their car seats. “Where are we going?” she asked finally.
“Walker’s cabin.”
“Why there? Why not Sheridan or Buffalo?”
Ryan didn’t answer at first. Then he said, “Because I need to get you and the kids out of harm’s way. And because Walker will be there tomorrow, with a couple of other agents.”
Mandy felt the stirrings of anger. “How do you know that?” she asked, trying to keep a lid on her temper. “What haven’t you told me?”
Ryan’s voice was harsh in the darkness. “I called him this afternoon and asked him to come up here.”
She breathed deeply. The fear-induced adrenaline that had kept her going at fever pitch for the past hour had finally drained away, and she felt weak and shaky. But not too weak to remind her husband, “Six years ago you swore you’d never keep secrets from me again. So you’d better start talking—fast.”
* * *
Cody jolted awake when the phone rang beside his bed. He fumbled the receiver to his ear and darted a quick look at his alarm clock. After midnight, he thought. Who could be call—
A deep growl sounded in his ear. “DEFCON One.” A click at the other end told him the caller had hung up. But he knew that voice. And he was pretty sure he knew what the code phrase meant.
He bunched a pillow behind him and lay back against it, staring at the phone in his hand, deeply perturbed. Callahan wouldn’t call him at this time of night unless something had happened, something deadly important he needed to warn Cody about.
Cody looked at the phone in his hand, then punched in a number every agent in the agency had memorized, but which few had ever been called upon to use. Cody never had, either, until now.
The phone rang for a few seconds before it was answered by a crisp voice, unmuffled by the dregs of sleep. “D’Arcy.”
“It’s Special Agent Walker, sir. Sorry to wake you, but you did say to keep you posted, and something has come up.”
“That’s okay. What is it?”
“Callahan just called me. He said two words—DEFCON One—then hung up.”
There was a distinct growl at the other end. “How soon can you get up there?”
“It’s a six-hour drive, but we don’t have everything we requisitioned yet. I was told we’d have it first thing in the—”
“Get your team mobilized and be at the agency in one hour. I’ll make a call—if everything you need will be ready in the morning, it can be ready and waiting for you now.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m also going to send up two more teams—one to Buffalo and one to Sheridan—as backup, just in case. They’ll be a few hours behind you, so I don’t want you to wait for them, but don’t hesitate to call for help if you need it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And, Walker, one more thing.” There was a pause at the other end. “I know you don’t agree with special rule eight.”
Cody was surprised into asking, “How did you kn—”
“It’s my job to know everything,” D’Arcy replied. “You might not agree with it, but I also know you’ll follow it...if you have to. Go with your gut.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Get going,” D’Arcy said. “You’ve got fifty-seven minutes.”
* * *
Cody’s team assembled in the ready room on the fifth floor, just down the hall from his office. He noted with approval that despite the late, or rather, early hour, both Keira and McKinnon were alert and sharp, as if they’d had eight hours of uninterrupted sleep. They were both dressed casually in jeans, sweaters and sturdy hiking boots, as he was, with the warm jackets they’d need in the mountains when they got close to Black Rock thrown over the backs of their chairs.
Both agents already had their Bluetooth earphones in place, and Cody fitted his in his ear as he briefed them quickly. He really didn’t have a lot that was new to share, other than Callahan’s warning and D’Arcy’s order, but he reiterated the plan they’d come up with earlier that afternoon, making one change.
“Two vehicles and three drivers means we can drive in shifts, and each of us can get a little sleep on the way,” Cody said. “McKinnon, you’ve got the GPS coordinates for my cabin already loaded?” McKinnon nodded. “I want to drive one of the vehicles on the last leg—I don’t care which one. Even with a GPS it won’t be easy finding the turnoff, so I might as well lead the way. You two sort out who drives when.”
They left just before two in the morning, Cody driving the SUV and McKinnon driving the pickup truck, with Keira trying to sleep in the cab of the truck her partner was driving. Cody had been very careful to make sure no one followed him from his apartment to the agency, and he did the same thing now, just in case. He drove with part of his mind on the road and making sure he had no tail, but another part wondering what could have happened to make Callahan call him in the middle of the night. And what did that mean for Mandy and their three children?
They stopped to switch drivers at a gas station about a half hour before Wheatland,