CHAPTER ELEVEN

They had to be at least fifteen miles from the ledge by now.

Faith looked behind and saw only mountains and forest. To her left, far below, she could see the US 95 veering west toward Washington. To her right was a nearly vertical slope of over five hundred feet. The mountain itself—she had no idea which one it was, since Grass Mountain was at least four hours behind them—rose for what looked like another four thousand feet, ending in a steel-gray cap of granite that in a month or so would be covered with snow.

Maybe sooner than that. Today was noticeably cooler than yesterday, and she found herself wishing she had stopped by the car for her jacket before following Turk.

Of more pressing concern was the fact that today was rapidly becoming tonight. The sun hovered just above the western horizon, and the shadows had lengthened considerably over the past hour. They had maybe thirty minutes left before the sun set and maybe twenty minutes after that before darkness covered everything.

Her phone buzzed. Kinzel. He had called each hour on the hour for progress updates. Faith didn't have much to tell him this time.

"Hey, marshal," she said, "Nothing new. No sign since the scrap of cloth a few hours back."

Over the first six hours or so of searching, their suspect had left pretty clear signs of his journey. In addition to the candy bar wrapper, they had found a water bottle, an empty bag of chips, and a scrap of cloth snagged on a tree branch that looked like it belonged to a t-shirt.

He sighed. "Do you think you overshot him?"

"No. He couldn't have gone anywhere but the path."

"You're absolutely certain of this?"

Faith looked around at the steep slope to her right and the sheer drop to her left. There was more plant life here than on Grass Mountain, but none of the warped and gnarled bristlecone pines or short, stunted grasses looked like they would be of much help to a climber.

"Unless he turned into Spiderman while we were sleeping," she said, "I'm sure."

He sighed and said, "Well, thank you for persevering. We'll call it a night for now. We'll have to send a helicopter to come get you."

Another memory of Staff Sergeant Decker came to her. Why was she suddenly thinking about him for the first time in years?

This particular memory was of a meeting with the platoon leader. Faith had her own squad by then, and she and Decker were standing around a map while Lieutenant Faust explained their plan to sneak behind the Taliban patrol and take them out by surprise.

"Why don't we just blow the mountain up?" Decker suggested, half-jokingly. "Can't escape if you're blown into a million pieces."

Sometimes, Faith wished that she could just blow things up.

Just then, Turk barked. He started springing down the footpath. "I'll call you back" Faith said.

She hung up, and the two agents hurried after Turk. They didn't have long to go this time. Turk made it maybe fifty yards further before he had to stop.

The footpath ended abruptly next to a jagged rocky slope that extended for over sixty feet straight up. Boulders jutted from the slope, and a small rock slide decorated the base of the footpath.

"You have to be kidding me," Michael said, collapsing against the wall and allowing himself to slide downward to the ground. He put his wrists on his knees and rested his forehead against them.

The sun was halfway underneath the horizon now. Faith sighed and called Kinzel. While the phone rang, Turk barked insistently and stared upwards.

"If he went that way, Turk," Faith said, "then he's gone. We'll have to go airborne.

Kinzel answered, and Faith said, "Hey, marshal. I hate to have to do this, but…"

Her voice trailed off when she finally saw what Turk was looking at. At the top of the ledge, snagged on a bristlecone pine, was another strip of cloth of the same color and type as the first scrap.

"Agent Bold?" Kinzel said over the phone. "Are you there?"

"Hold that thought," she said.

She hung up and walked to Turk. "Good boy," she said, rubbing him behind his ears. "Good boy. Stay here with Michael now, okay?"

Michael's head snapped up at that. "What?"

"Keep an eye on Turk. I'm going to go after him."

"Are you insane? Faith, let it go. We followed him this far, let the Marshals handle it. They can get a helicopter to look for him."

"Through a dense forest and rocky terrain?" Faith said, rolling up her sleeves. "I don't think so. Unless he sleeps in the treetops, they're not finding him."

"Well, we aren't either," Michael said. "It's going to be dark in twenty minutes."

"I'll hurry," she said.

"Faith, dammit!" Michael called.

But Faith had already started up the steep slope.

As she climbed, she saw the path Tooley must have taken. The boulders appeared at first glance to be inconveniently placed, but when viewed from the right angle, they formed a natural ladder leading from the bottom of the hill up to the top. She carefully made her way up that natural ladder, and when she reached the top, she saw that the footpath continued.

She called Michael, who answered immediately and said, "What the hell are you doing? Get down here!"

"I found the footpath again." She said. "it continues west for another three hundred yards or so before veering north. I'm going to follow it and keep you updated."

"Faith, this is a bad idea."

"If he's close, this could be our chance," Faith said.

"Do I really need to tell you why this is a bad idea?" Michael insisted.

He didn't. Faith looked around at the terrain, which remained very rough. Boulders and bristlecones were strewn across the landscape, ample cover for an armed and dangerous fugitive to use to protect himself from an ambitious FBI agent.

But she had him. She could sense him just as clearly as Turk could smell him.

"Keep your phone on," she said before hanging up. And this time answer , she didn't say aloud.

She continued along the path as the sun dipped below the horizon. The sky rapidly darkened, and Faith pulled her flashlight from her belt and switched it on. The FBI-issue torch shone a bright, concentrated beam of light ahead of her, but the moon would be completely gone tonight, and the light was of little use other than to illuminate the ground immediately ahead of Faith.

She moved cautiously, sweeping her light in front of her, checking behind each boulder and tree for sign of Tooley. After a half mile or so, the plateau once more became a narrow footpath with the slope of the next mountain rising sharply to her right and descending just as sharply to her left.

She followed this for another half mile or so when she found the cave. It looked to be a shallow, hollowed-out cavern in the side of the mountain. From where Faith stood, she couldn't see any tunnels or shafts. This cave, it seemed, wasn't connected to the network outside of Granger.

What she could see was a very surprised, stocky man about six inches shorter and six inches wider than she was. How he had managed to make his way through this terrain was beyond Faith.

But she could deal with that when she interrogated him. "Ferris Tooley," she began. "You're under—"

She didn't get a chance to finish arrest. With a snarl of rage, Tooley rushed at her. She swore and swung the handle of her solid aluminum light toward him. He ducked under the blow and rammed his shoulder under her armpit, sending her sprawling backward.

She landed right on the edge of the slope. Her light skittered downward, its beam arcing in a spiral as it tumbled thousands of feet below.

Tooley seemed particularly set on causing Faith to follow her flashlight. He kicked at her, and when that only succeeded in pushing her a half inch toward the edge, he dropped to his knees and put his hands underneath her waist, trying to roll her.

She brought her knee up. It collected solidly with Tooley's temple, and the fugitive grunted and fell over, bringing his hand to the side of his face.

Faith rolled to her knees and drove her shoulder into Tooley, trying to roll him onto his stomach where she could control him. The stocky man's lower center of gravity allowed him to avoid being rolled over, and with a grunt of effort, he wrapped Faith in a body lock and twisted her back onto the ground.

He lifted his hands and interlaced his fingers. Faith looked up, and in the dim light of the stars, she saw Franklin West's haughty smile. She blinked and saw Trammell's crazed grin.

I'm going to break you, Faith.

Let's see you bleed, little girl.

Tooley brought his fists down hard. Faith jerked her head out of the way, and his hands collided with the bedrock. He cried out, and Faith drove an uppercut right into his jaw.

His teeth clicked together, and his eyes rolled back into his head. He fell forward onto the ground, and Faith rolled him over, not onto his stomach but his back.

She cried out in rage and drove her fist into him over and over and over. She heard a crunch as his nose broke, but still she continued to strike him. When she finally paused for breath, Tooley's face was swollen and misshapen with bruises. His nose was nearly flattened, and blood trickled from both nostrils and a cut just below his eye.

Faith's hands shook, partly from the force of her repeated blows striking his skull and partly from her emotions. She rolled off of him and collapsed against the mountain. Tooley lay still, knocked unconscious.

She sighed and dialed Michael. "Faith? Where are you? Was that your light that fell?"

"Yes," she said, "I apprehended Tooley. I lost the light in the struggle."

"Jesus," Michael swore. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. I'm about a mile from your position. I'm heading back now."

Tooley groaned and stirred, and Faith said, "Call Kinzel and let him know we have his prisoner. Tell him to send the helicopter."

"Already did," Michael said. "They're on their way."

"Wonderful," Faith said, "We'll be back shortly."

She hung up and moved to Tooley. She rolled him roughly onto his back and handcuffed him. "As I was saying, I'm Special Agent Faith Bold. You are Ferris Tooley, and you're under arrest."

Tooley groaned again, and Faith yanked him to his feet. "Here's the deal, asshole," she said, "I need to use my cell phone flashlight to light our way back. It's already low on battery from chasing you halfway across the Rockies. I have enough light to get back to my partner. You fuck with me, I don't have enough light, and we end up stuck on the side of the mountain. That happens, and I just roll you down the hill and tell Marshal Kinzel that I had to kill you to save my own life. Since that just happens to be true, I would also suggest exercising your right to shut up. Sound good?"

Tooley nodded.

"Outstanding. Now walk."

Faith pushed him forward. He stumbled to his knees, then got to his feet and trudged back down the path.

The cell phone light was next to useless. That meant that a journey that took Faith twenty minutes to complete earlier took nearly an hour. When she finally reached the ledge, Tooley spoke, the words badly muffled due to the swelling in his face.

"I can't make it down there. Not with my hands tied."

Faith looked down at Michael and Turk. Michael waved, and Turk started barking excitedly.

"See them?" Faith said.

Tooley nodded.

"That's my partner, who is an outstanding shot with a handgun, and my dog, who is the most dangerous German Shepherd you'll ever see in your life. You try to run—not that you have anywhere to go—or try to hurt me, and they'll show you exactly what I mean. Got it?"

He nodded. "I'll behave."

"Good."

She pulled out the folding knife the FBI issued to all of its field agents and realized this was the first time in her ten-year career she'd ever used it. What a day.

She sliced the bonds, and Tooley rubbed his wrists. The bruising on his face had swollen to comical proportions, and he breathed through his mouth in short gasps, his nose far too misshapen to breathe normally.

"We'll get you medical attention when we get down there," Faith said in a calmer tone. She hoped she didn't sound as guilty as she felt.

Well, whatever. He had tried to kill her. Michael would have to understand if she went a little crazy on him.

Tooley nodded and said, "Thank you," in a contrite voice, and started down the ledge.