Page 325 of Rangers Mountain Rescue

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96

Havoc

The convoy moves fast.

Too fast for comfort.

Not fast enough for what I want.

Gravel turns to dirt.

Dirt turns to open road.

Headlights cut through the dark like blades.

No one talks.

Not the team.

Not the CIA.

Not me.

Because now we know what we’re chasing.

And what it can do.

“They didn’t hit us blind,” Briggs finally says over comms.

“No,” I reply. “They were waiting.”

“Means they knew we’d find the maps.”

“Or they were tracking the CIA,” I say.

A beat.

Then—

“Yeah,” Briggs mutters. “I like that even less.”

Same.

I glance in the rearview mirror.

Black SUVs.

Tight formation.

Too tight.

Too coordinated.

“They’re riding close,” I say.

“They don’t trust us,” Briggs replies.

“Good,” I say. “Makes two of us.”

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