Hannah had thrown herself to the snow when Neeley fired. Now she stood, dusting herself off and continued up as Neeley yelled to her it was safe. "Their guns can't reach this far," she assured Hannah.
For good measure, Neeley fired a round into the left front tire, blowing it out. Then she waited, keeping the truck in her scope until Hannah reached her side.
"What now?" Hannah gasped, collapsing into the snow.
"Dig a few holes, here and there," Neeley said.
"What?" Hannah demanded.
"Just dig a few holes, not too deep, just enough to disturb the snow and make it look like something's been buried," Neeley unfolded and handed the shovel to Hannah, then went back to her watch.
Hannah leaned on the handle and stared at her companion. "I'm dying."
Neeley sighed. "You'll be happy while they waste their time looking here."
"You never planned on caching anything up here, did you?" Hannah said. "You just wanted to be able to shoot at those guys who were following us."
Neeley shook her head. "I came up here to get the helicopter out of the picture and give us the high ground, but I do plan on caching the money in the park. Just not here."
"Couldn't we have just buried it in the backyard next to the perennials?" Hannah asked as she thrust the spade into the snow.
"It would be found there."
"Well, what about in the woods around town? Could have saved ourselves the drive."
Neeley was watching one of the men edging his way to the right rear of the truck, getting ready to make a dash to outflank her. "The National Park is the best place. We're guaranteed that it won't be disturbed. Any place else and they can put a shopping mall on top of your cache site before you get back to it."
Neeley drew in her breath and held it. The man started his run and she fired. The 7.62 mm round tore through his right thigh and knocked him over the edge of the road, tumbling down into the pine trees on the slope below. The other three men fired futilely with their pistols and submachineguns but the rounds fell well short.
"I thought you said the helicopter couldn't fly this high," Hannah said, pointing.
Neeley pulled her eye away from the scope. The chopper was about a kilometer away to the northeast, and gaining altitude.
"Not with all those men on board," Neeley said, "but with just the pilot and one other man, it looks like it can." She shifted the muzzle of her weapon toward the new threat. As she did so, the three men all burst from cover and dashed into the trees to Neeley's right front, eight hundred feet below. Neeley snapped a quick shot but the round ricocheted off the tarmac and the three were safe under cover.
"Shit," Neeley muttered. She looked back. Hannah had turned over snow in about a dozen places. "Enough."
The helicopter was closing, less than half a mile away. Neeley aimed and fired three rapid shots at the engine. She was rewarded by a stream of smoke pouring out of the cowling.
The helicopter banked left and disappeared out of sight downslope. Neeley turned her attention back to the trees on the right side of the slope.
"All right," Neeley said to Hannah as she broke the sniper rifle back down. "Time to go skiing. We'll head through those trees to the left." She put the gun into the case. "They're on foot and we'll be long gone before they get back down."
Hannah stared at her. "I don't know how to ski."
Neeley froze. "Why didn't you tell me that before we climbed up here? Why do you think you hauled those skis up here?"
"You didn't give me much chance to say anything," Hannah said. "It was do this, Hannah, do that. I tried to tell—"
"You've never skied?"
"Never."
"Great." Neeley looked down at the pickup truck, and then across at the trees where she knew the three gunmen were making their way, trying to get in range.
"Listen," Hannah said. "The whole idea of skiing is to get down the hill fast, right?"
Neeley absently nodded, her head filled with tactical considerations. She pulled an MP-5 submachinegun out of the pack and slipped the sling over her neck.
"Then I think this will work," Hannah said.
Neeley finally paid attention and turned. Hannah was kneeling on her parka, the smooth Gore-Tex side facedown in the snow. "See you at the bottom," Hannah said as she pushed off and lay belly down on the material.
"Hannah, don't!" Neeley cried, but it was too late as Hannah accelerated down slope.
"Shit!" Neeley exclaimed as Hannah pulled away. In another hundred yards she would be in range of the men in the trees. Neeley threw on her backpack, strapped the sniper rifle case to it and grabbed the ski poles. With a shove of the poles, Neeley was off. She headed directly for the trees to her right front.
Neeley dropped her poles as she reached the trees, trusting to the edges of her skis and her skill to keep her from doing a face plant into one of the trunks. She pulled back the charging handle on the MP-5.
Hannah was literally flying down the steep slope. She tried digging the tips of her boots into the snow to slow down, but it did little good. She notices little puffs of snows popping up in front of her and momentarily wondered what they were. Then she heard the echoes of the guns going off. Hannah rolled to her left, tumbling off the parka, but her speed was such that she continued downhill, a gaggle of arms and legs and flying snow.
Neeley flashed between two trees almost right on top of the first gunman. He heard her skis on the snow and was turning, but much too slowly as she fired a quick three round burst into his chest, slamming him against a tree, staining it with blood as he slid to the ground.
Neeley bent low at the knees, digging her left ski edges in and turned, hooking around a thick grove, then reversed course in a spray of snow. The other two men were suddenly twenty feet in front of her, turning from firing at Hannah. Neeley pulled the trigger on the MP-5 and nothing happened. She couldn't stop, heading directly for the two men. There was a small ridge between her and them and she pointed her tips straight for it, leaning forward to gain speed but also to make as small as target as possible.
Both men fired as she hit the ridge. She pushed off, into the air and flew right between them. They continued firing but the jump caught them by surprise. Before they could correct they were shooting at each other. The man on the left took several rounds in the chest from his partner. The one on the right took a round in the shoulder and pirouetted into the snow as Neeley crash-landed less than fifteen feet away.
Neeley's feet popped out of the bindings and she rolled, letting go of the useless submachinegun and pulling her Glock out of her coat pocket. The wounded man was on his knees, bringing up the muzzle of his gun when Neeley fired, doubletapping as Gant had taught her. Both rounds hit the man in the center of his forehead and he flopped back into the snow, his blood and brain spreading out below him in a red stain.
Neeley slowly stood. She checked the MP-5. Snow from the turn she had made was jammed in the breech. She looked behind her toward the open slope as she recovered her skis.
Hannah was slowing down but the plowed road was rapidly approaching. Hannah hit the ridge of snow that the plow had left. The impact knocked the wind out of her and she almost stopped but tumbled over the edge onto the side of the road. Hannah lay there gasping for air.
"You bitch!" a man's voice caught her attention from the other side of the road near the Suburban. The first man Neeley had wounded was pulling himself around the back of the truck, his wounded leg leaving a trail of blood. All Hannah had eyes for was the large gun in his right hand. He centered the muzzle on her forehead and was pulling the trigger when a small black hole appeared on his chest. It was quickly followed by several more. The sound of a gun being fired rolled downslope.