Soon they could see the town of Estes Park ahead, and behind it the white peaks of the Continental Divide. Looking down into the town, Neeley could see that the old Stanley Hotel, where she and Gant had spent some nights a long time ago, had undergone a renovation. It was the hotel Stephen King had based the one in The Shining upon, something Gant had found amusing considering there was a McDonalds less than a quarter mile down the road from the entrance to the hotel.
As they passed through Estes Park, Hannah bound the last of the money. She was immersed in black bundles. "Hope we don't have an accident," Hannah said. "This would be hard to explain."
Neeley hardly heard her. She was playing with the control for her side mirror, angling it up. "We've got company."
Hannah spun about, but the road behind them was clear. "Where?"
"Above us," Neeley said. "There's a chopper above us."
Hannah tried looked to look but couldn't see anything. "You sure it's following us?"
"I'm sure. It's been shadowing us since we passed Lyons."
"Great," Hannah said. “Who are these guys?”
“The Cellar,” Neeley said.
“You’ve told me that,” Hannah said. “But who is exactly is this Cellar? Some super secret part of the CIA?”
Neeley shook her head. “I don’t think the Cellar is part of the CIA. I think the CIA may be part of the Cellar. Or they’re totally separate. I don’t know.”
“What now?” Hannah asked.
"I'm getting tired of following their lead," Neeley said. "Time to take the initiative. I'm going to make them play on our terms. First thing is to get that chopper down on the ground."
"How?"
In reply Neeley pointed at a sign that indicated that the entrance for the Rocky Mountain National Park was less than five miles ahead.
"So?"
"Trust me," was Neeley's answer.
The entrance to the Park was barricaded and the small booths were empty. A sign hung on the metal bar said the park would be opening Memorial Day weekend, which was still several weeks ahead. Neeley drove the truck off-road to the right of the gate. She regained the road on the far side and they headed into the park.
Hannah twisted her head as they entered a large meadow with mountains on all sides. "What are those?" she exclaimed as several large brown animals crossed the road in front of them.
"Mountain sheep," Neeley said. She was looking in her mirror. The chopper was hanging in the air several miles back. Neeley pointed across the meadow toward the snow-covered peaks while they waited for the sheep to cross. "See that thin line up there?"
Hannah craned her neck and stared. "Yes."
"That's Trail Ridge Road. That's where we're going."
"How high is that?"
"At that point? About twelve thousand feet."
"And then?"
"And then we take care of business."
They rounded the far end of the meadow and the road began going back and forth in long, forested switchbacks. Hannah sat silently and watched the scenery change with the climb. The first traces of snow started as they passed Many Peaks Curve. Despite the fact that the road had been plowed since the last snowfall, Neeley had to shift into four-wheel drive to deal with patches of snow blown across the asphalt. Hannah took a look out her window at the meadow, which was now over two thousand feet below them.
"See the chopper?" Neeley asked.
Hannah nodded. "It's over the meadow." As she continued to watch, the aircraft touched down briefly on the road they had traversed ten minutes earlier, bounced back up into the air, then settled down on the road, this time to stay.
"It's landed," Hannah said. "What's wrong with it?"
"Helicopters have low ceilings," Neeley said. "If they've got more than two or three guys in that thing it won't have the power to go much higher. They'll have to find some other means of transportation and that will give us enough time."
Neeley made another switchback and the meadow disappeared from view. Soon they passed a sign indicating they were going through twelve thousand feet in altitude. To the right, Hannah could see all the way back to the town of Estes Park beyond the park's entrance and four thousand feet down. The helicopter in the meadow three thousand feet below looked like an ant. To the left, the side of a mountain stretched up another thousand feet, the slope covered in several feet of snow.
Neeley pulled the pickup truck over. "We go up from here," she announced. "That's Sundance Mountain. We'll cache the money near the summit. It's only another thousand feet."
Hannah eyed the snow-covered slope and shook her head. "Uh-uh. No way."
Neeley handed her a set of small metal snowshoes, ski boots and a heavy parka. "Put these on. The boots are an old pair of mine. They should fit you. The snowshoes attach to them."
"Listen—" Hannah began, but Neeley cut her off.
"Do it. Now!"
With a grimace, Hannah put on the heavy plastic boots and began strapping the snowshoes to them. Neeley took the black bundles of money and shoved them into foot and a half sections of eight inch PVC piping that she'd purchased. She screwed caps onto each end and then sealed the ends with duct tape.
Neeley stuffed a folding entrenching tool and the PVC pipes into a backpack. She took out one of Gant's weapons cases and attached it to her backpack. She slung an MP-5 submachinegun over her shoulder and put extra magazines in the pocket of her parka. "Here," she said, extending the Berretta 9mm pistol to Hannah. "Stick this in one of your pockets."
Before Hannah had a chance to protest, Neeley handed her a set of skis. "Balance them on your shoulder. Let's go." Neeley kicked the toe of her snowshoe into the plowed snow on the side of the road and began climbing. Hannah stood there, skis in hand for a few moments, and then grudgingly followed.
After two hundred feet, Neeley paused and looked back. Hannah was fifty feet behind. Neeley scanned Trail Ridge Road. She spotted a Park Service Suburban coming their way, a thousand feet below and four miles away. She opened the weapons case and took out the sniper rifle that she had used in the Bronx. She quickly bolted the two parts together. She had taken off the suppressor earlier. She removed a 10 round magazine with a thin piece of red tape wrapped around the bottom, indicating these were hot loads, not the blue taped sub-sonic rounds. She slammed it home.
Neeley put her eye to the scope and twisted the focus. The men inside were dressed in black fatigues and had weapons. They must have stolen the parked vehicle from one of the closed Ranger Stations. Someone was staring back at her with binoculars from the rear seat of the truck.
"Let's go!" she called out to Hannah.
Hannah didn't have the breath to reply. It was like climbing a never-ending sand dune with boards strapped to her feet. She could feel sweat pouring down her back and her lungs were straining in the thin air to grab oxygen.
Neeley picked up the pace. The slope they were climbing was concave. There were trees on both sides, but their position at the center was clear. Neeley didn't figure it would help telling Hannah the reason there were no trees here was because it was an avalanche area. The top of the mountain was really a four hundred yard wide ridge, completing the top of the concave slope. When Neeley got within fifty meters of the top, she halted. She threw her pack down in the snow. Hannah was a hundred meters behind.
Neeley took the two ski poles and stuck them in the ground forming a waist high X. Sitting on her backpack, Neeley placed the forward stock of the rifle on the junction of the poles and put the scope to her right eye. She zoomed past Hannah's tortured face. The Suburban was less than a quarter mile from the pickup.
Neeley pulled back the bolt on the Accuracy International, chambering a round. She zeroed the crosshairs on a point on the front windshield and pulled the trigger. The round hit the shatterproof glass and an explosion of cracks emanated from the impact point. About two inches to the left of her aiming point Neeley calculated as the truck slid to a halt and four men piled out, crouching on the far side of the Suburban, pistols and submachineguns drawn. Neeley made the necessary adjustment to the scope so that it would be zeroed.