McKinney brought them down a road winding along the bottom of a ravine, which then opened into a canyon that followed a frozen creek. There was patchy snow in the pine forest around them, but only occasional ice on the dirt road. They bumped along at twenty miles an hour for a while until McKinney came around a curve and suddenly saw a man materialize out of thin air alongside the road. It took her a moment to realize that it was a soldier in a camouflage suit, lowering what appeared to be a mirrored shield. The combination of the two had given him something approaching invisibility. The soldier carried a large white sniper rifle in the crook of his arm, and signaled her to halt with the other as they approached.
McKinney brought the SUV to a stop and looked to Odin.
“It’s us.” He got out, and she did likewise.
A Polaris ATV was already coming down the road ahead with another sniper on it, rifle strapped over his back. The first man had pulled back the mask on his ghillie suit to reveal Foxy, grinning as he pulled his long hair out of his face. He slapped Odin on the back. “Startin’ to worry about you guys.”
“Everyone accounted for?”
He nodded. “Now that you two have arrived. But there’s news too: Hoov says the mission’s over. Task Force Ancile is supposed to stand down and return to FB.”
“Stand down? On whose orders?”
The driver of the Polaris had stopped, engine idling, and pulled back his own ghillie suit hood to reveal Smokey. He nodded in greeting to McKinney.
Foxy shouldered his rifle. “Colonel sent word over JWICS. Says you’re to report when you get in.”
Odin exhaled as he contemplated this, sending a plume of vapor out over his beard.
Foxy looked dour. “They’re shooting us down in more ways than one.”
“We’re still on mission. . . .” Odin headed back to the SUV.
“What? What do you mean?”
Odin marched toward the truck. “Let’s get to the house.”
* * *
Smokey and Foxy led the way on the Polaris, a mile or so down the dirt road where the ravine opened out to a small valley surrounded by wooded hills. The road forked, with the right branch descending toward the valley floor, but they followed the Polaris to the left, uphill to a big chalet built into the hillside and surrounded by sparse pine forest. The first-floor walls were of fieldstone, but stout logs formed the next two floors, with a pine-needle-covered slate roof and dormers rising above that. There was another Forest Service SUV parked near a closed garage door.
McKinney looked up through the windshield as she pulled to a stop.
Odin gestured as he got out. “Old FBI safe house. They used to debrief Russian and Cuban defectors here in the sixties and seventies.” Odin opened the cargo bay and grabbed the raven cage.
Smokey and Foxy had already pushed through the tall oak doors into the foyer of the old chalet. “Hoov!”
McKinney and Odin followed them into a musty three-story entry hall lined with mounted elk and deer heads, balcony railings, and a large staircase. There was a huge fireplace on the far wall, and although it was cold in the house, there was no fire lit. Stacked along the wall were a dozen or so green Pelican equipment cases.
McKinney then stared up at a large antler chandelier hanging on chains overhead. “This place is a vegan’s nightmare.”
“Who’s vegan?” Hoov entered the room from an interior door and nodded greetings.
Odin dispensed with pleasantries. “Get me an uplink to the colonel ASAP.”
“On it.” Hoov departed just as Ripper entered from a different doorway with Mooch. “Hey, Sarge.” She was now wearing a flannel shirt, jeans, and hiking boots. “Is it true we’re standing down?”
“No. How’s our security?”
“We’ve got boom cameras topside and an RF-transmitter sensor perimeter established at the ridgeline, but there hasn’t been any movement. No overflying aircraft.”
“Have you swept the place?”
She nodded. “Nothing.”
“Good.” Odin deftly tossed his Forest Service campaign hat over a deer head’s antlers. He then put the birdcage down and opened its door. “Huginn, Muninn. Explore.” They hopped out of the cage.
McKinney couldn’t help but notice that everyone was armed with pistols in nylon thigh holsters and scoped assault rifles hanging barrel-down on straps over their shoulders and combat harnesses with spare clips. “We expecting trouble?”
Odin spoke without looking up. “We’re always expecting trouble.”
McKinney heard a loud caw and looked up to see the ravens perched on the antler chandelier. “At least someone likes the decor.”