[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
two-person dome tent. Harris couldn't help thinking how easy it would be to
take them out right now. Ducks on a pond. Everybody was so vulnerable and
trusting out here. What a bunch of loonies. Didn't they ever read the funny
papers? There were killers on the loose in America, lots of them.
A little less than a mile beyond, he reached the camp of another family.
Someone was already up.
He hid in the pine trees and watched. A fire had been started and was throwing
up sparks. A woman of about forty was futzing around with a rucksack. She wore
a red Speedo swimsuit and seemed in good physical shape -well-muscled arms and
legs; a nice ass, too. She called out,"Wakee, wakee!"
Moments later, two shapely teenage girls emerged from the larger tent. They
had on one-piece bathing suits, and they were slapping their lithe bodies with
their arms and hands, trying to get warm in a hurry, trying to 'wakee, wakee'.
"Mama bear and two baby bears," Brownley Harris muttered. "Interesting
concept." Maybe too close to the murders at Bragg, though.
He watched as the three women huddled for a moment around the fire, then took
off at a run. Soon he could hear a chorus of war whoops and screams, then
laughter and loud splashes as they hit the small brook that ran directly
behind their camp.
Brownley Harris moved quickly and silently through the trees until he reached
a choice point where he could watch the mother and her pretty daughters frolic
in the cold stream. They sure reminded him of the women in the massacre in
Fayetteville, outside Fort Bragg. Still, they could be the secondary target.
He returned to his camp at a little past six-thirty. Griffin had prepared
breakfast: eggs, bacon, plenty of coffee. Starkey was sitting in a familiar
lotus position, thinking and plotting. He opened his eyes before Harris
announced himself. "How'd you do?" he asked.
Brownley Harris smiled. "We're right on schedule, Colonel. We're good. I'll
describe the targets while we eat. Coffee smells good. Hell of a lot better
than napalm in the morning."
Chapter Forty-Four
Starkey took full command that morning. Unlike the other hikers on the AT, he
kept his men deep in the woods, unseen by their fellow travelers or anyone
else.
It wasn't hard to do. In their past lives they'd spent days, sometimes weeks,
being invisible to enemies who were out to find and kill them, but who
frequently ended up getting killed themselves. One time it had been a team of
four homicide detectives in Tampa, Florida.
Starkey demanded that they treat this like a real-life combat mission, in
real-life war. Total silence was imperative. They used hand signals most of
the time. If someone had to cough, he did so in his neck rag, or in the crook
of an arm. Their rucksacks had been packed tight by Sergeant Griffin so that
nothing shook or rattled as they walked.
The three of them had slathered on bug juice, then laid on the cammo. They
didn't smoke a cigarette all day.
Page 57
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
No mistakes.
Starkey figured that the kill would take place somewhere between Harpers Ferry
and an area known as Lowdown Heights. Parts of the trail were densely forested
there, an endless green tunnel that would be good for their purposes. The
trees were mostly deciduous, leafy, no conifers. A lot of rhododendron and
mountain laurel. They noticed everything.
They didn't actually make camp that night, and were careful not to leave
evidence that they had been in the woods at all.
Brownley Harris was sent on another scouting mission at seven-thirty, just
before it got dark. When he returned, the sun was gone and darkness had fallen
like a shroud over the AT. The woods had a kind of jungle feel, but it was
only an illusion. A state road ran about half a mile from where they were
standing.
Harris reported in to Starkey. Target One is approximately two clicks ahead of
us. Target Two is less than three. Everything's still looking good for us. I'm
pumped."
"You're always ready for a hunt and kill," said Starkey. "But you're right,
everything's working for us. Especially this friendly, trust-your-neighbor
mindset all these recreational hikers have."
Starkey made the command decision. "We'll move to a point midway between
Targets One and Two. We'll wait there. And remember, let's not get sloppy.
We've been too good for too long to blow it all up now."
Chapter Forty-Five
A three-quarter moon made the going easier through the woods. Starkey had
known about the moon beforehand. He wasn't just a control freak; he was
obsessive about details because getting them wrong could get you killed, or
caught. He knew they could expect mild temperatures, low wind and no rain.
Rain would mean mud, and mud would mean a lot of footprints, and footprints [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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two-person dome tent. Harris couldn't help thinking how easy it would be to
take them out right now. Ducks on a pond. Everybody was so vulnerable and
trusting out here. What a bunch of loonies. Didn't they ever read the funny
papers? There were killers on the loose in America, lots of them.
A little less than a mile beyond, he reached the camp of another family.
Someone was already up.
He hid in the pine trees and watched. A fire had been started and was throwing
up sparks. A woman of about forty was futzing around with a rucksack. She wore
a red Speedo swimsuit and seemed in good physical shape -well-muscled arms and
legs; a nice ass, too. She called out,"Wakee, wakee!"
Moments later, two shapely teenage girls emerged from the larger tent. They
had on one-piece bathing suits, and they were slapping their lithe bodies with
their arms and hands, trying to get warm in a hurry, trying to 'wakee, wakee'.
"Mama bear and two baby bears," Brownley Harris muttered. "Interesting
concept." Maybe too close to the murders at Bragg, though.
He watched as the three women huddled for a moment around the fire, then took
off at a run. Soon he could hear a chorus of war whoops and screams, then
laughter and loud splashes as they hit the small brook that ran directly
behind their camp.
Brownley Harris moved quickly and silently through the trees until he reached
a choice point where he could watch the mother and her pretty daughters frolic
in the cold stream. They sure reminded him of the women in the massacre in
Fayetteville, outside Fort Bragg. Still, they could be the secondary target.
He returned to his camp at a little past six-thirty. Griffin had prepared
breakfast: eggs, bacon, plenty of coffee. Starkey was sitting in a familiar
lotus position, thinking and plotting. He opened his eyes before Harris
announced himself. "How'd you do?" he asked.
Brownley Harris smiled. "We're right on schedule, Colonel. We're good. I'll
describe the targets while we eat. Coffee smells good. Hell of a lot better
than napalm in the morning."
Chapter Forty-Four
Starkey took full command that morning. Unlike the other hikers on the AT, he
kept his men deep in the woods, unseen by their fellow travelers or anyone
else.
It wasn't hard to do. In their past lives they'd spent days, sometimes weeks,
being invisible to enemies who were out to find and kill them, but who
frequently ended up getting killed themselves. One time it had been a team of
four homicide detectives in Tampa, Florida.
Starkey demanded that they treat this like a real-life combat mission, in
real-life war. Total silence was imperative. They used hand signals most of
the time. If someone had to cough, he did so in his neck rag, or in the crook
of an arm. Their rucksacks had been packed tight by Sergeant Griffin so that
nothing shook or rattled as they walked.
The three of them had slathered on bug juice, then laid on the cammo. They
didn't smoke a cigarette all day.
Page 57
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
No mistakes.
Starkey figured that the kill would take place somewhere between Harpers Ferry
and an area known as Lowdown Heights. Parts of the trail were densely forested
there, an endless green tunnel that would be good for their purposes. The
trees were mostly deciduous, leafy, no conifers. A lot of rhododendron and
mountain laurel. They noticed everything.
They didn't actually make camp that night, and were careful not to leave
evidence that they had been in the woods at all.
Brownley Harris was sent on another scouting mission at seven-thirty, just
before it got dark. When he returned, the sun was gone and darkness had fallen
like a shroud over the AT. The woods had a kind of jungle feel, but it was
only an illusion. A state road ran about half a mile from where they were
standing.
Harris reported in to Starkey. Target One is approximately two clicks ahead of
us. Target Two is less than three. Everything's still looking good for us. I'm
pumped."
"You're always ready for a hunt and kill," said Starkey. "But you're right,
everything's working for us. Especially this friendly, trust-your-neighbor
mindset all these recreational hikers have."
Starkey made the command decision. "We'll move to a point midway between
Targets One and Two. We'll wait there. And remember, let's not get sloppy.
We've been too good for too long to blow it all up now."
Chapter Forty-Five
A three-quarter moon made the going easier through the woods. Starkey had
known about the moon beforehand. He wasn't just a control freak; he was
obsessive about details because getting them wrong could get you killed, or
caught. He knew they could expect mild temperatures, low wind and no rain.
Rain would mean mud, and mud would mean a lot of footprints, and footprints [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]