Page 125 of Axe-ing for Trouble
Jude immediately veered off the road, having to travel pretty far to find adequate tree cover.
“That’s it,” I said. The vindication that hit me was all-consuming. This was the spot we’d mapped. It made sense. The nerve center of an operation no one had been able to track for years.
No connecting roads, with only one way back and forth between the border and the farm.
And by the looks of it, several dozen people.
“We need to get closer,” I urged Jude.
He shook his head. “No. It’s not safe. They’re armed.”
“I can’t see anything from this far away.”
He shook his head. “No.”
A zap of annoyance ran up my spine. “We can’t get good photos from this distance. I didn’t exactly pack my paparazzi lens. get a bit closer,” I begged. “Cut through the woods if you have to.”
I stood on the back of the ATV, neck craned for a better look. We were so damn close.
“Fine, but stay low. If I get a bad feeling, we’re out of here.”
Without hesitation, I dropped back onto the seat and held on tight.
He drove through the woods, keeping his distance. Though between the vehicles and machinery around the building, I couldn’t imagine they could hear us. The path to the facility was bumpy and slow. Remaining hidden meant it wasn’t possible to look for the smoothest route. The skinny trees were not great coverage, but there were several boulders and bigger trees to hide behind as we got farther off the road. I had my phone out, taking video as we drove toward the building.
Bumping and creeping through the woods, the tires spitting mud and sticks in every direction, we made our way. But I needed to get closer.
I tapped his shoulder and brought my lips to his ear. “We need to go on foot.”
He shook his head and continued on. But as we came to several large rock clusters and wild tree roots growing around them, it became necessary.
We left the ATV behind a boulder and hiked through the rough terrain, crouching low as the noises got louder.
On the far side of the building, several large machines sat. Big digger-type things that I couldn’t name to save my life.
What I did recognize was the Deimos Construction logos plastered all over them. I snapped several photos. Then, feeling bolder, I pulled my hat down, tucking my hair in. Then, with Jude right behind me, I headed toward where the trucks were parked. If I could get close enough to get photos of the license plates, that would suffice.
Before we were close enough to make them out, a clicking sound nearby startled me.
I froze and snapped my head up, finding myself looking down the barrel of a revolver. Above us, a large man with a long, grizzled beard loomed.
“C’est quoi cette merde?”he said, looking us up and down.
What the fuck?indeed. This was not part of the plan.
“Get up,” he said, his accent thick. “Hands up.”
Jude tried to step in front of me, but the man pointed the gun straight at me until he got out of the way.
Shaking, mind spinning, I did my best to focus on breathing evenly. I had to keep my wits about me if we had any hope of getting out of this situation.
Jude had strapped the rifle to his back when we abandoned the ATV, but there was no way he’d get it and get the safety off before this man fired.
Beard guy yelled out, and another guy came running over, this one a bit younger.
“Va cherer Denis,” Grizzly Adams shouted.
The younger guy nodded and darted towards the building to getDenis. I prayed it was a kindly old man who would let us go and not Denis Huxley, indicted arsonist and attempted murderer. Because not only would he recognize me immediately, but he was a known loose cannon with terrible judgment. Not my first choice for counterpart of a backwoods negotiation.
