a T-shirt, and trail running shoes. The compact 10mm Glock stayed in the chest rig for his trail runs so he press-checked his SIG P320 X-Compact and placed it in the holster behind his right hip.
Be prepared.
Raife would be out watching his big muley buck at this time of day, so Reece skipped his shop visit and took the most direct route off the property. He was a few miles from the ranch’s main gate on his way to town when his phone came alive. The hilltop was the first area with reliable cell service during his weekly trips to Whitefish and, inevitably, alerts would sound as text messages were received.
It was a clean cell phone, or as clean as one could get in the age of information. It was purchased through and registered to the Hastingses’ land management company. The only people with the number were the Hastings clan, Vic Rodriguez at the CIA, and Katie Buranek. Most days he could expect a photo of her getting ready to go on a news segment or views from her workout running through the Washington Mall. It was their way of maintaining a long-distance friendship, or was it something more?
He glanced down at this morning’s picture: Katie holding up a copy of John Avlon’s book Washington’s Farewell. She’d managed to add a graphic to the photo saying, “You’ve got to read this! It’s fantastic!” Reece had no idea how to add graphics to a photo but couldn’t help but smile at the image. He’d have to stop by Bookworks in town and pick it up or have it ordered. He briefly wondered if he was becoming too predictable. He dropped his phone back in the cup holder and brought his attention back on the road as he approached the turn ahead. His grin faded as his thoughts returned to the present; if he were planning an ambush, he’d do it right here. After a lifetime of war, it was hard to turn off the primal side of the brain. Old habits die hard.
CHAPTER 26
Yaak River Valley, Montana
THE HIT TEAM ROSE to their knees as the SUV rolled through the kill zone. Selector switches went to fully automatic and nervous fingers quivered over triggers. The vehicle’s forward progress slowed to a mere crawl, providing the perfect opportunity.
Now!
Vitya initiated the ambush with the explosive device, filling the kill zone with flying debris and dust. A second later, the entire team raked the vehicle with 7.62mm rounds, splintering glass, puncturing steel, and ripping through plastic as the bullets chewed through the SUV’s exterior. The deafening roar of the fully automatic gunfire was brief, followed by the metallic chatter of a half-dozen simultaneous magazine changes. A second volley of fire from the high ground raked the smoldering vehicle as the maneuver element moved down the embankment, opening up at close range as the support team’s magazines ran dry.
Vitya pushed toward the vehicle, his men firing as they went to ensure their primary target had no chance of survival. As their weapons all went dry, Vitya saw the youngest member of the team change magazines and run forward to the driver’s-side door. He stuck the muzzle of his AK through the shattered window and emptied all thirty rounds into a mannequin at knifing distance. That had not been part of the plan. Vitya would have to keep an eye on Oleg Guskov.
Dimitry blew the whistle, ending the exercise. Though the men had fired live ammunition, the target vehicle had been a derelict Isuzu Trooper towed on a long rope by the farm’s John Deere tractor. The SUV was riddled with bullet holes and the ambush had been a complete success. After weeks of training, rehearsals, equipment checks, and more rehearsals, the assassins were ready.
CHAPTER 27
Glacier Park International Airport, Kalispell, Montana
REECE LOOKED UP AT the LCD monitor on the wall and back at his RESCO dive watch. The flight from Minneapolis was running a few minutes late. You could probably get away with parking curbside at such a small airport, but Reece had parked in the short-term lot, not wanting to get a ticket from a local cop looking to do his part in the Global War on Terror.
He was dressed in what passed for formal attire by local standards, clean Kuhl pants and a half zip. His beard was a bit shaggy, but all in all he thought he looked presentable. He felt self-conscious holding the bouquet of flowers and shifted them nervously from one hand