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Nell made the conversion to Fahrenheit quickly, taking the bottles of water and zippered food bags that the local SAR coordinator handed her. “One more thing.” Ruefully, she looked down at her feet. “I’m afraid I’ll need dry socks. These are fairly well soaked after walking down through the rain all day.”
Without a word, every man in the now silent pub bent down and began to unlace shoes or unzip boots, hearing her quiet words.
In seconds hand-knit socks appeared on every table.
Nell smiled at this instant generosity.
She cleared her throat. “I appreciate your help. What I meant is, I have special climbing socks up in my room. I’ll do better with my own gear, you understand.”
“Of course.” The local SAR man said a few words of explanation in Gaelic. The men around Nell nodded. The socks vanished back on hidden feet.
She started toward the stairs to her room, calculating exactly how much she could cram into her pack and what injuries the lost climbers might have incurred. There was only so much possibility for medical intervention on the top of a mountain with limited supplies.
“One word, miss. Your partner—he will be going with you, will he?”
Nell shook her head. “Not with a sprained ankle, he won’t. But Eric will stay in contact. He can help you down here with backup arrangements. I’ll tell him the situation.”
Nell knew her friend would insist on joining her, sprained ankle or not, but he’d be no help with an injury that had kept him limping for most of the day. She’d have to make the climb alone. She didn’t need any amateurs slowing her down.
“I’ll be down in two minutes. If someone can drive me up to the trailhead at the end of the loch, it will save twenty minutes.”
“A Land Rover is already waiting for you, miss.” The local rescue coordinator ran a hand through his hair. “I’d much prefer to go up the hill with you, truth be told. It’s a fair nasty stretch across the south slope in weather like this.”
“I’ll be fine.” Nell was calm, with years of climbing experience, focused on pla
HE WATCHED her shoulder the heavy pack and then adjust both padded straps, working with the intense focus of someone used to carrying heavy weight well into the pain zone.
The woman clearly knew what she was doing, Dakota thought, slouched out of sight inside a dusty delivery truck parked up the road from the i
No talk of art theft or organized terrorist activities, the Navy SEAL thought cynically.
His orders were absolutely clear. Close surveillance and assessment of all contacts made by Nell MacI
Better than anyone, Dakota Smith knew that SEALs didn’t get called up for aimless threats. Nell MacI
With or without her father’s help, she was suspected of participating in the theft of one of the most valuable pieces of art ever to enter the National Gallery. Dakota’s job was to find out who she was working with and locate the stolen Renaissance masterpiece before it vanished forever, traded through a shadow network of international criminals, sold to finance the activities of an elusive terrorist group active on American soil.
The SEAL’s eyes narrowed on the woman’s back as she climbed into a battered Land Rover, accompanied by the head of the local search-and-rescue volunteer team. Dakota wondered what made her tick, what drove her back out into a pounding storm after six days of strenuous climbing. He doubted it was simple selflessness. No, he figured that Nell MacI
Not greed. She didn’t drive a late-model Maserati or own a string of houses. Her apartment back in San Francisco was neat but small, and her only hobby appeared to be climbing. Yet appearances could be the most unreliable thing in the world, Dakota knew.
Still, he wondered about that brief note of resignation he’d heard in Nell’s voice back at the pub. The confidence had faded, along with the high energy, and she had sounded tired and worried, as if she genuinely cared about the missing climbers.
Forget about the target’s emotions, a voice warned flatly as Dakota pulled onto the road, following the Land Rover at a careful distance. He’d track her up the brooding slopes of Blaven and make certain she came down in one piece. But he’d break his cover to save the other climbers only if it was absolutely necessary, mindful of his orders to stay well under the radar until all Nell MacI
Always.
After parking down the slope from the small trailhead, Dakota pulled on an all-weather parka and a fully stocked backpack, then fingered his shortwave radio. His contact would be waiting for an update. “Teague, are you there?”
“Yo.” Izzy Teague’s voice was clear, despite an edge of static. “I’ve got the topo map on the screen in front of me. I checked with SAR and got the coordinates. You’ll have a straight ascent for an hour, followed by a fairly strenuous climb through shifting rock when you near the south face. A chopper is on its way over from the mainland, but the weather may prevent a landing until tomorrow.”
“So I’m on my own,” Dakota said calmly. “Fine with me. I don’t need anyone slowing me down or asking questions.”
“Watch out for yetis up there,” Izzy said wryly. “I’ll keep a bottle of Glenlivet on ice for you.”
“You do that. Alpha out.”
The dark face of Blaven was veiled in clouds as Nell set off up the rocky trail. The Land Rover headed down to the i
FOR SOME REASON she couldn’t shake the sense that she was being followed. For the third time Nell stopped, peering through fingers of clouds, looking for other climbers behind her.
Only rocky slopes met her sharp scrutiny.
Of course you’re alone, idiot. Any climbers with good sense are inside huddled before a roaring fire right now.
But a climber didn’t turn away in an emergency. Rules of the road.
Rules of life, too.
Turning back into the cutting wind, Nell nursed her aching right knee and chose each step, careful not to trigger a slide in the loose rock. Her face was cold, wet from the wind driving up from the sea. She estimated she’d reach the missing climbers’ last coordinates in another twenty minutes. If the weather didn’t shift, she could begin guiding them down off the peak immediately.
But Nell was prepared for a dozen unknown variables from shattered morale to shattered ankles. Any one of them could hamper a fast descent.
No point tilting at windmills, MacI
Once again she was struck by the twitchy feeling that someone was down the slope in shadow.
Watching her.
Blaven face.
One hour before sunset.
WIND RAKED Dakota’s neck.
Icy rain howled over the cliff overlooking the restless Sea of Hebrides.
Visibility was down to zero and already the storm was driving intermittent gusts of nearly sixty miles per hour.
Over the slope Nell MacI