The Breach - Ghost Country - Deep Sky

knows where it is,” Karl said. “And he has the key in his pocket. For now I’ve left it there, to keep him confident.”
    Karl was standing outside the front of the restaurant, far from the hiker’s hearing range. He explained his plan into the phone. When he finished, the man on the other end of the call remained silent, considering it.
    The breeze had picked up since earlier, coursing down from the north through the gap where the highway transited the range. The sun, also farther north, shone blood red along the gravel ribbon.
    “If your idea doesn’t work,” the man on the phone said, “then what you’re suggesting will be a terrible sacrifice.” His voice sounded hollow over the satellite connection.
    “If it does work, it’s worth it,” Karl said. “Regardless, it’s the only way to get what you want now.”
    More silence. Karl knew to let it play out. As he waited, he turned and stared off to the south. The hiker had guessed correctly about one thing: Tangent would send help by way of the Air Force, probably a C–17 Globemaster coming out of Elmendorf with its ass on fire, a couple Special Tactics teams ready to bail off the ramp. Elmendorf was in Anchorage, four hundred miles south, give or take. If the C–17 had lifted off within ten minutes of the call—a near certainty—it would be here within the hour. But because the hiker had told Tangent about the helicopter, Karl knew there was something else coming from Elmendorf, moving a hell of a lot faster than a cargo jet. Maybe three times as fast.
    The man on the line finally spoke. “All right. Do it. When do you want the helicopter?”
    Karl did the math. Even accounting for some unpredictability, the timing should be good enough.
    “Go ahead and call them now,” Karl said. “Tell them to take off right away.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
    Alone with the sound of Paige trying to hold on, Travis found his mind returning to the attack that had knocked him unconscious. He didn’t think he was misremembering it now. The details were clear. The gun in his hand had suddenly pulled itself down—but not just down. Down and forward. There’d even been a twist in the motion.
    As if a human hand had grabbed it.
    Then, half a second later had come the blow to the side of his head, from someone who must have been standing out of sight behind him.
    But how? Travis had been in this small room from the moment the big guy in the John Deere hat had led him to it. There’d been nobody here. There was no closet to hide in, and the window had been closed. How had the attacker gotten behind him, unless he’d been hiding under the bed?
    Even in that case, Travis knew there was some deeper flaw in the picture. Something more fundamental. But for the longest moment he couldn’t put his finger on it.
    Then he remembered.
    The sunlight—coming from the northwest, almost straight into the room through the window. While he’d stood there with the gun leveled at the doorway, his own shadow had been projected on the wall just inside the room, hard and sharp as a picture on a movie screen. Anyone behind him—anyone within five feet of him in any direction—would have been shown there as well. He could not possibly have missed it.
    So what the hell had happened here?
    In his mind he saw Paige in the clearing again, holding the Whisper, telling him humans hadn’t created it. Saying it like it was the most normal thing in the world. The most normal thing in her world, anyway.
    What else was normal in Paige’s world? What capabilities did her enemies have? What the fuck were they up against here?
    A sound broke the moment. The last sound he wanted to hear. Rotors. This was it, then. Two minutes from now, he and Paige would be dragged from the building, onto the aircraft, and then they’d be winding through the valleys at low level, probably on nobody’s radar. Maybe these people would have drugs and instruments to keep Paige alive for a while, and wake her up for a new marathon of agony.
    Unless he killed her first.
    There might just be time. If he contorted his body the right way, he thought he could get himself seated upright against the wall, and be standing without much trouble. His ankles were bound, but he could reach the bed in a couple jumps. Then just smother her with his shoulder. As weak as her breathing was, it would be simple.
    He could make those moves. Could he make that choice? Jesus, could he do that to her? Logic, hard and clear, told him he’d