sell off the ivory to Chinese smugglers. Dudes who lived in the bush, never slept in the same hut two nights in a row, running with warlords and maniacs. Word came down they used an old drug-smuggling route to pack out fresh ivory. A local led Pike and his team to a wet spot in the mud he claimed was on the old route. So Pike and his guys set up, dug in, and waited, night-vision goggles, commo buds in their ears, weapons locked and hot, good to go. Later, had to be two, three in the morning, a leopard strolled in, an old male, silent as a dream. The big cat walked past Pike and a gunner named Ross Stevens less than six feet away, and climbed a leafless, gnarly old tree overlooking the mud. The leopard picked a strong branch, settled in, and stayed.
A day passed.
Two days passed.
No poachers showed. No ivory. No living creature.
The old leopard, he stayed in the tree.
Pike and his guys were hard-core professionals. Combat discipline was sacrosanct. If they had to pee, they peed in their pants. Had to poop, go to it. They communicated with each other by gestures so small the leopard did not see them. By this time, none of them believed the poachers were coming, but discipline was a matter of pride.
On the third day, a sat-link whisper came through their earbuds. The poachers were spotted in another grid of the sector. Pull out, relocate, reposition.
Pike’s guys looked at him. Pike looked back. He glanced at the cat. Each of his guys glanced at the cat in turn. As long as the cat stayed in the tree, they would stay, too.
They waited.
Dawn of the fourth day, a purple glow warmed the horizon when a muffled snort came from the brush. Pike and his guys instantly woke. A second snort followed. Three young warthogs stepped from the brush, and made their way toward the mud. They passed directly beneath the tree.
The leopard drew himself up, a glowing green mass in the NVE, and dropped.
Two pigs ran, squealing. The leopard took the third. Snapped its neck like a twig, and held it until the kicking stopped. He carried his kill up the tree.
Pike stood.
“Let’s boogie.”
His guys stood, grinning and laughing. The big cat watched them go.
Pike and his guys discussed the leopard as they hiked out, and often thereafter. They admired the cat’s patience and resolve. They admired his skill, his cunning, and his deadly efficiency. Leopards did not chase prey like cheetahs, or stalk the tall grass like lions.
The leopard simply set up on a wet spot, above the mud, out of sight, hidden. The leopard didn’t need a cheetah’s speed, or have to search for prey like a lion. The leopard knew if he staked out something his prey wanted, his prey would come to him.
31.
Heavy clouds dimmed the evening light. The little house beside him belonged to an older couple. Nicholas and Faye spent most of their time in the rear, but when they came to the front of the house, Pike heard them clearly. He listened to note their movement, but tried not to hear. When the couple returned to the back of the house, their voices blurred to a mumble. Pike preferred the mumble.
An incoming call disturbed his peace. A slight vibration, and Pike checked the screen. He made no sudden moves, and did not disturb the branches. Chen. Pike answered as soft as a falling leaf.
“Yes.”
“Joe, this is John Chen.”
Chen’s voice was unusually calm.
“Yes.”
“The man from the SUV is Nathan Daniel Hicks. I got his prints, right where you said.”
Pike’s mouth twitched. The pale man had a name.
“I’m sending his sheet. I didn’t get all of it. It’s long. The dude’s pretty bad.”
Pike felt another vibration as whatever Chen sent arrived. He listened for Nicholas and Faye. They were still in the rear.
“Bad how?”
“Armed robbery, aggravated assault, grand theft. It goes on. Hijackings and warehouses, mostly. Did two stints in prison. You’ll see.”
Chen delivered the news in the same distant voice.
“Wants or warrants?”
Rap sheets provided a record of an individual’s criminal history. This included prior arrests and prosecutions, convictions and dismissals, sentencing and parole information, and pretty much any and all contact the individual had with the criminal justice system. The California DOJ’s sheet would also include outstanding criminal warrants.
Chen said, “None. Last arrest was eight years ago. Nothing since then.”
Pike knew the lack of arrests didn’t mean Hicks had stopped doing crime. Professional criminals