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Target site? Leslie hoped they’d say where it was. In case she got out of here in one piece, she wanted that information to give to Hank.
“Let’s redistribute everything like you said and get all the trucks loaded,” Stryker agreed. “You can pair the drivers up like you said so there’s one riding shotgun with every load. Plus, each cab should carry a backup person. Just in case. You never know if we might run into the wrong people and we aren’t taking any chances on getting these loads highjacked.”
“Good idea,” Vern agreed. He looked around at the others. “This is an important event we have planned here. I can’t stress this enough. It’s big. Really big. The biggest thing we’ve ever done. We have people joining us there from all over the country.” He looked at Stryker. “You did a good job reaching out, quietly, to get everyone together.”
Stryker nodded. “Thanks. My pleasure. We’ll stick it to those fuckers,” he growled. “They’ll be nothing by the time we take over.”
“When we’re done,” Rusty added, “the fat pigs who are running this country for themselves will know not to fool around with true patriots.”
“I checked at the target site, and everyone is already there, waiting for us to arrive. I’ll call back and check on the place for us to stash the trucks until we’re ready to make the move. We need to make sure there are enough buildings to keep them hidden.”
Enough buildings? Hidden? What the hell?
Holy crap. What was going on? What exactly did these people plan on doing? Was there some major event where they could make a big statement with their activities? She’d gotten the idea now that whatever this was had to do with a revolt of some kind against this country. She didn’t know a lot about people who wanted to destroy the country in which they lived. Especially one like the United States, which offered so much freedom and so many opportunities for people.
But she wasn’t stupid, either. She kept up with the news, and she’d read about anarchists. She knew that historically to be an anarchist was to be a critic and opponent of the capitalist system. Their opposition often took the form of violence as they were determined to destroy the existing system and create one of their own.
“I think I’d better check in and make sure everything’s okay on that end.” Vern pulled a satellite phone from his pocket. “I’m getting a full report on the situation there. Then we’d better move up the timetable. We still have to finish loading the explosives into the trucks and get them to the site of the event. I’ll put out the word that the rest of the crew should get moving up here and give them the new timetable.”
“We’d better be damn careful,” Stryker reminded him. “It’s kind of hard to sneak all those trucks out of here, even at night.”
“I know. I’m the king of being sneaky. And if we take them over the crest and down one of the other roads, we can make it work. We just have to be very careful with all those explosives.”
Explosives. Right.
A chill raced down Leslie’s spine. If that’s what all these trucks were filled with, one mistake and they could blow the entire Wind River Mountains to kingdom come. And kill a massive number of people. She had to get out of here, but how the hell was she going to do that?
Very slowly, while everyone else was occupied with their discussion, she inched herself along the cave wall until she was hidden by one of the massive trucks. Maybe if they didn’t see her, they’d forget about her.
Oh right. That was a joke.
But she wasn’t stupid. She’d figure out something. Besides, by now, people would be looking for her, especially Beck and that mouthwatering hunk of male flesh Roman, who looked like he wanted to lick every inch of her body.
If—no when—she got out of this mess, she wanted all the details about what was up with Mr. Sex-on-a-stick. Meanwhile, she had to pay attention to what was happening here.
Stryker nodded at Vern. “You’re the boss. And the king. We all know that. Call the guys, and let’s get moving.” He looked at his watch. “We’ve got about six hours before it gets dark enough to start.”
“It will be tricky,” Vern warned him.
“We can do it,” Stryker assured him. “We just have to be organized. Also, we can use some of the smaller trucks, drive them to a landing point and then consolidate until we have the cave emptied.”
“I don’t like it,” the man with his long black hair tied in a ponytail said. “We change everything because some broad stumbles into our area, and everything can fall apart.”
Vern shoved his phone back into his pocket. “Everything can fall apart if we don’t change. What did we learn over in the sandbox? Everything is fluid. Be ready to adapt. Right? And also, don’t leave evidence. I’m not the one who tossed a cigarette butt out the window so we had to go back and collect it. And mess up the shoulder of the road while we did it.”
“You think they’re going to examine the road?” the man sneered.
“I think if they’re smart, they’ll examine everything. So, before you open that smart mouth of yours again, stop making mistakes. Now. Let’s get our shit together. We’re on a timetable here. The biggest event we’ve ever tackled is in four days, and we have to finish loading the trucks, get them out of here without calling attention to ourselves, get to our destination on time, and set off the biggest explosion this country has seen.”
“And we can’t let the opportunity slip by us to make this statement,” Stryker added.
Leslie’s ears perked up as she filtered pieces of their conversation. The sandbox? Had they been over in Iraq? Afghanistan? Were they former military? Paid contractors? Either way, her danger factor just ran up another notch. And a big explosion? That must be what all the dynamite was for. These were definitely the kind of people who would dispose of her in a second unless she could do them some good. She’d have to figure out what that was. And quickly.
And what kind of evidence?
Come on, Beck. Pay attention. Find me, already.
* * *
