Watson was single, childless, and enjoying his life as a pilot instructor when approached by Dr. Alexander Ross in the mid-2000s. Ross had heard of the SEAL’s reputation, not only as one of the best soldiers ever to rise through the ranks, but also as a man of brilliant intellect. The fact that he’d been able to obtain his college degree in under three years spoke for itself.
It took a number of flights between Reagan National Airport and RDU, but the Oracle was eventually able to bring the former soldier on board by making one major promise, that Watson could continue to live in Raleigh and work as a part-time flight instructor. The future operative had said it was one of the terms he wouldn’t negotiate, and Ross was more than happy to oblige.
Realizing it had suddenly grown darker, Zane glanced over his shoulder. The sun had dropped below the mountain ridge behind him, leaving splashes of lavender and fuchsia in its wake. Nightfall was only minutes away.
His stomach now growling insistently, he sloshed through the water and onto the bank. Turning north, he walked along the stream, stopping at a grove of willows where he’d hidden Slater’s ATV.
After placing the trout in a bucket, he stripped off his waders and replaced them with hiking boots. As he placed the rod behind the seat, he caught something in his peripheral vision. A red light was blinking in his tackle box.
The phone.
Zane shook his head and let out a sigh. The Oracle had probably left him yet another long-winded diatribe in voice mail. The last operation in Switzerland and France had caused an uproar on both sides of the Atlantic, and Ross couldn’t seem to put out the fires on his own. The constant contact had become so annoying that Zane had begun tossing the phone into his tackle box each morning.
Let Carmen help him this time.
But as he turned to walk to the front of the ATV, he stopped. In the recesses of his mind, something bothered him about what he’d just seen. A few seconds later, he realized what it was. His voice mail and text notifications were always green. This light had been red.
He reached into the box and snatched the phone out. After unlocking the screen, he frowned. Slater had asked him to download a mobile application that communicated with the security system of the lodge, and a notification from that application indicated that one or more sensors had been triggered.
“Probably a deer,” he muttered.
But as he was about to clear the notification, Zane remembered reading that while a large mammal might occasionally set off one of the sensors, they were calibrated to filter out most wandering animals.
An odd feeling pinched Zane’s gut as he scrolled through the phone’s icons. After finding the app, he opened it and stared at the additional information displayed on the screen. His brow furrowed immediately.
That can’t be possible.
And yet that’s exactly what the screen showed: a total of seven sensors had been triggered, two along the main road leading to the lodge and another five in the forested perimeter to the south.
Seven?
He frowned. The data was pregnant with significance. Not only did the numbers concern him, but the triggers from multiple directions were telling as well.
Zane slid the phone into his pocket and reached back into the box. After lifting the false bottom, he retrieved the matte-black Glock 21 hidden underneath. He then pulled out a tactical suppressor and snapped it into place, tucking the weapon into his belt.
As Zane climbed into the front seat of the four-wheeler, one thought was seared into his consciousness.
The lodge was under attack.
CHAPTER THREE
“This is Ross,” said the distorted voice on the other end of the phone.
Zane pressed the device tightly against the side of his head and shouted, “Ross, it’s Watson.”
He was pleasantly surprised that he’d been able to reach the Oracle. Cell reception was hit-and-miss in northern Idaho, especially in the valley.
“Who?”
“Watson!”
The ATV bounced out of a pothole, nearly throwing the phone out of Zane’s hand.
“Watson? I can just barely hear—”
“Ross, I don’t have time to explain,” Zane said. “I know Garet is out in the field, but—”
“You’re breaking up. I can’t…” Finally, the Oracle’s voice disappeared in a burst of static.
Zane held the phone in front of him. The signal bars showed no reception. He cursed and tossed it into a cup holder on the ATV. He had a satellite phone back at the lodge, but ironically he’d left it there to avoid contact with the Oracle, who was the only man who might be able to help him contact Slater.
In the end, it probably wouldn’t matter anyway. It might take hours for the Oracle to run down Slater, hours that the operative didn’t have. And even if he’d been able to reach him in short order, he doubted the CIA officer would’ve had any idea who was encircling the lodge. If he’d had such information, he would’ve passed it along already.
Another pothole helped refocus Zane on the situation at hand. The dirt road was rising now, with dense firs and birch trees closing in on both sides. The lodge sat on a plateau near the top of the mountain, which would only take another ten or fifteen minutes to reach in the ATV. But riding all the way up wasn’t an option. The engine was much too loud. He’d have to approach on foot.
Who was waiting for him just up the mountain? Short of a sensor malfunction, the only logical explanation was a professional hit team. But if that was the case, then who were they after, Slater or himself? Zane knew that there were a number of people who’d love to have his scalp, but he doubted any of them knew where he was. If they did, then Delphi itself was in danger.
A large boulder loomed just ahead on the left. It was the one Zane had been looking for. Just before reaching the rock, he turned the four-wheeler off the road and into a clearing. Once the vehicle was out of sight, he killed the engine.
Wasting no time, Zane quickly hopped out and stepped to the back. He opened the tackle box and raised the lure trays, exposing several magazines underneath. He snapped one into his Glock, chambering the first round, then put the remaining three in his pocket.
Looking into the box again, he pulled out a sheathed knife, a monocular, and a tactical flashlight. He needed to travel light, but he also needed to be prepared for a number of different eventualities.
Zane stared at his phone. The bars still showed no signal, which meant he’d have no access to the device’s GPS software. He turned it off and stuffed it in his pocket. He wouldn’t need satellites anyway. He’d spent the first day of vacation walking the mountain, learning every nook and cranny of the area around the lodge. He’d have no trouble finding his way up.
After making one last check of his gun, Zane began his ascent. Darkness had fallen, which prevented him from moving as fast as he’d like.
Ten minutes later, the ground began to level off. He was nearing the plateau. Directly ahead was a line of large firs, which he knew were situated along the clearing on the south side of the lodge. He paused for a moment, listening for any sound. Hearing nothing, he sprinted to the trees, dropping down to his hands and knees when he arrived. He then lay flat and wiggled underneath the limbs until he got to the other side.
He pushed aside a limb. The clearing opened up in front of him. To his left was the dark silhouette of the barn he’d driven the ATV out of earlier in the day. From there the clearing ran slightly uphill to the right, where the lodge was situated. The home was a massive three-story affair, rustic and yet modern. It was mostly dark now, save for two lights that Zane left on at all times.