"Why are we marking where the tracker is implanted?" Stan hissed, "if she wakes up now, you know we have no way of explaining our actions."
"Of course we do," Sam said, "think about it. If you had a tracker in you that the homing device could find you within one meter, wouldn't you want it out?"
"Yes," Stan said, "but I'm not sure I'd be happy waking up while some people are literally marking the area they found the tracker.
"Come on, Stan, she has a tracking device in her. We found it and would like to get it out of her. I'm sure Amy wouldn't like the Tenderhooks to find her," Sam said.
Stan stared at her, "You have a weird reasoning paradigm. But you do have a point. We do need to talk," he motioned for her to follow him. "So far, I've gone along with everything you've said and done ... some bizarre stuff. The point is I have followed but need to know the plan exactly. If we're going to get out of this alive, you need to communicate your plan."
"You know what the plan is," Sam said, frowning at him.
"You mean you're still going with the first plan, not the improvised plan," Stan said.
"Yes," Sam nodded.
"That plan is no longer viable," Stan said, "the plan we cooked up isn't going to get us out of the Tenderhook's grasp," Stan muttered, "it's going to get us caught."
Sam stared at him, waiting.
"You want us to get caught by the Tenderhooks," Stan gasped as the understanding of her silence hit him, "why?"
"Not caught," Sam said, glancing away before meeting his eye, "just one or two steps ahead of them, so they follow us into a carefully laid trap."
"Trap? What trap?" Stan asked, frowning, "we never planned a trap. Wait, this is your own plan. When did you cook up this audacious plan?"
"Remember when I was putting protocols into place? Talking to my supervisors," Sam asked, glancing at Amy, "well ... that's when."
Stan stared at her, stunned, "You put a plan into place ... days ago," he whispered, shaking his head, "you cooked it up with your superiors but didn't feel the need to tell me about it."
"Need? No," Sam said, "that the thing ... for it to work, the fewer people who know about it, the better." Sam said.
"You didn't think I would need to know," Stan said, staring at her, "you felt ..." he swallowed hard, "the person going on this mission with you ... covering your back didn't need to know."
"Not when I was making it ..." Sam said, shaking her head as she frowned in confusion.
Stan stared at her, trying to put this new information into perspective.
"It's not personal," Sam said, "I didn't leave you out of the link to hurt you ...but to protect you."
"Protect me," Stan spluttered, "Sam, you're not protecting me by leaving me in the dark. Will you tell me now?"
Sam stared at him, remaining silent before glancing away with a sigh.
"You ..." he swallowed, "uh ... even ..."
Shaking his head while attempting to put words, actions and outcomes into words but failing, he found himself too angry and strangely hurt to utter a word. Looking at Sam, Stan shook his head again, waving her off with a hand and turning away toward the fire. Preparing to rest, Stan swallowed hard. He concentrated hard on breathing and remaining calm. Going over everything they had been through and discovering that she had kept him in the dark and seemed determined to keep him there. It should be enough to prompt him to tell Sam to do it on her own. Sitting on his open bag, he stared into the flames, trying to keep from expressing his emotions physically, his hands closing into tight balls.
"Stan, you're upset," Sam said, kneeling next to him, "you think I should have told you ... perhaps I should, but I couldn't take the chance of something happening, and the plan got out to the Tenderhooks."
Stan turned to stare at her, silently smouldering.
"Wow, you thought I would sell you out. Thanks for your vote of confidence. You'll be moving us out tomorrow. Since I'm not part of your plan, I'll say good night," he said restrainedly. "Tomorrow, you may continue with your goal. I need to sleep."
Inhaling, he stretched out, closing his eyes and exhaling. Resolutely he rolled on his side and willed himself to sleep.
Sam slowly stood, watching Stan settle for the night. Fury rolled from him; the emotion was tangible, palpable and almost living.
Was he right? She had been alone so long she never realised her actions would be seen as mistrust. Jeff had told her it might happen. He was insistent she needed to tell Stan there was another route to be taken. Another plan was running alongside theirs. She refused. Sticking to what she knew best, she had decided not to advise Stan of her play. Getting the Tenderhooks had gone from an obsession to something personal. Somewhere in between, Stan had gotten mixed up, left out and hurt. She had seen the emotions in his eyes. Anger, hurt and ... worst of all ... betrayal. Being at the end of the latter, she knew how it felt, but delivering the situation that brought the feeling was new to her, and she didn't like it.
Moving to her own sleeping bag, she slowly sank onto it in a cross-legged position. Staring into the fire. Putting herself in his shoes, she understood Stan's reaction and his right to react as he had. She was surprised he hadn't been more volatile. Trying to keep her thoughts from raking over her emotions, Sam pulled her backpack toward her, sifting through her belongings, clothes, rations, weapons and maps. All looked in order. Everything a girl would need to do an excellent job in an espionage career except knowing how to read someone's possible reaction. Pulling the maps out, Sam held them in her hands, pushing the backpack to the side. It was a good plan; she knew it would work, having the positive outcome of netting the Tenderhook brothers red-handed. Evidence and witnesses were needed for its success. When starting out, she had said she would complete the mission even if she pulled it off alone. That was then ... it felt like ages ago. Looking across the fire at Stan, she sighed, but having been around someone who had her back ... she just didn't want to do it alone. She longed to accomplish this mission with a partner, with Stan as her partner. Opening the maps, she found their current location and scanned for various routes they could take to get to their destination. Marking off the multiple paths in colour. Looking at the other maps, she found a piece of paper in the folds; pulling it out, she took in words.
Destination – Cabin.
Route – quickest and most effective.
Target – Tenderhook brothers.
Mission – save the Bassett legacy.
The flames flickered behind the sheet of paper. Illuminating the words eerily.
Was four sentences a plan?
Could you call it a plan?
Should there be more to the plan?
Going over the map again, Sam confirmed the best possible route. Tomorrow they would have to move quickly and at dawn. She glanced at her watch and sighed; sunrise was in four hours. Time to pack everything correctly and devise a plan of escape that would get them ahead of the trackers. Glancing at the tracker's backpack, she frowned. Had she missed something? What was sticking out of the front zip pocket? Pulling the bag toward her, zipping the section open, and pulling the paper out. Unfolding it to reveal a photo of herself in a fighting position. Gasping, Sam stared at the picture. An icy chill ran over her skin and sunk into her bones. She remembered this moment; she had been concerned something like this would happen, but it had been years ago, and nothing came of it ... until now. Damn the Tenderhook brothers for being evil geniuses. If they had found it, she could bet the mission's success; they would leak the footage to the world.
The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
Picking up her phone, she took a picture of her findings, attaching the text "I'm blown," and sent it with immediate delivery and a location pin. Quickly repacking her bag, she boiled water and prepared coffee and food before repacking the items. An envelope appeared on the phone's screen. Scooping it up, she waited as the email opened. Reading the message while clicking on the link provided, Sam inhaled. Emotions, thoughts and plans raced through her clashing together in her mind. Trying to remain calm and think was nearly impossible and didn't improve as she took in the satellite coverage of the surrounding area.
"Not good," she hissed, moving to Stan's side, "hey ..." he remained silent, ignoring her, "Stan, we need to move. Now."
"Why?" he sighed, "forget something for the next leg of your plan."
Closing her eyes in frustration, she shook her head, "Here is coffee, some food, eat. I have to wake Amy."
Moving toward Amy, she froze. Amy sat staring at them, sitting on her sleeping bag, holding a gun and aiming at them.
"Who is Amy?" the false Mrs Bassett asked, "why are we leaving in the middle of the night when our guests are nearly here?"
"What is she talking about?" Stan asked.
Sam handed him her phone, "Read that; we may need to be as bad as the brothers and get that thing out of her."
"Where did the gun come from?" Stan asked.
"You," Mrs Bassett said, "you were so obliging to leave it next to your backpack while you ate."
"Where is Amy?" Sam asked.
"Don't know who that is," Mrs Bassett said, her eyes turning cold and hard, "I am in charge and so shall remain. I shall bring everyone home."
"You're working for the Tenderhooks," Stan said, glancing at her and shaking his head, returning to look at Sam's phone, "how did you become blown?"
Sam handed him the picture, "The only time the camera's caught me."
"In your entire career?" Stan asked, stunned by such an achievement.
Sam nodded, her eyes still on Mrs Bassett; slowly, she moved toward the woman who was intently focused on Stan and the phone he held.
"Give me the phone," she said, her eyes brightening, "I will need to give that in to gain my salvation."
Stan stared at her as she rose, "You're nuts. There's no way I'm giving you anything of Sam's and mine."
"You will, I shall make you," the woman hissed, reaching toward Stan, her eyes never leaving the phone, "this will be the payment for my prize."
"What prize?" Sam asked, "the Tenderhooks don't give prizes, only bullet holes and crushed skulls."
"Yeah, they are rather bloodthirsty," Stan said, moving the phone out of reach, "giving them this will only get you killed."
"Give it to me," Mrs Bassett bellowed, aiming the gun at Stan's forehead.
Suddenly Sam moved from behind, "Stan, move."
Rolling sideways, he came up in a crouch as Sam rammed Mrs Bassett from behind. Tumbling to the ground while pulling her gun-wielding arm to the side and pressing down on her wrist, shaking the gun loose and kicking it away. The woman screamed in rage, writhing beneath Sam, who struggled to subdue her but finally got both hands secured behind her back. Stan pulled out his knife, flicked it open and plunged the blade into the fire.
"Have any alcohol?" he asked.
Sam nodded, keeping a knee in the middle of the woman's back, "Side pouch of my backpack."
Stan found the bottle pouring some liquid over the blade, "Nice ... rum. I never pegged you as a rum girl," stowing the bottle, he turned the knife handle toward Sam, "x marks the spot."
Sam took the knife carefully, waiting for Stan to restrain the woman as Sam wedged a stick between her teeth.
"You may want to bite down on that," Sam said, rolling Mrs Bassett on the side, "we're getting that tracking to devise out right now. You'd better keep still."
Mrs Bassett glared at Sam, moaning as the knife sliced into her side and Sam opened the wound. Glancing at Stan, she shook her head, "They put multiple in here."
"That is dangerous and really stupid, or they don't care," Stan said, "if some of them were breaking down or had broken down, that would account for the coming and going of Amy."
Sam inserted the knife dislodging one at a time, flicking them out of the wound and disposing of them on the cave floor. Mrs Bassett shouted incoherently against the stick in her mouth, but the pair ignored her.
"Cover them in stand and crush them," Sam said, "we need to make sure they are not working." Stan followed her instructions covering each one and crushing them under his boot. Finally, Sam pulled the last one out of the incision glancing at Mrs Bassett, who had fainted while Sam had worked.
"Maybe it's best she fainted. I'll stitch this together," Sam said, "check the link. What is our situation?"
Stan pulled the phone toward him, "Looks like the ones closest to us are stationary, but I may be wrong. Let me refresh."
Sam finished her task, cleaning and bandaging the area, "Use the link in the email."
Packing the items away, Sam checked Amy's pulse; it hammered against her fingers and fluttered simultaneously. Frowning, she looked down at the woman finding a pair of eyes staring at her, dislodging the stick Sam waited.
"Why am I tied up?" Amy asked.
"The other person took over and tried to harm us," Sam said, "we have to restrain her and remove several devices from the wound in your side."
Amy shuddered, "That explains the pain in my side," she whispered, "thank you. My mind feels clear for the first time in many years."
"Can you stand?" Sam asked, snapping the cable ties and helping Amy to her feet, "slowly. We may need to move out in the next few minutes ... here, drink some coffee and have a sandwich." Sam looked at Stan waving her phone at her, "I'll be back in a bit."
Following Stan out of earshot, Sam took the phone from him, looking at the area displayed, "They're closing in from everywhere."
"I have a feeling killing those men told everyone where to look," Stan whispered, "can we get ahead of them?"
"I was looking at the maps, and I think we have several possible ways to vacate the areas," Sam said. "I can't believe the Tenderhooks found the picture after all these years."
"You said it's the only one from your career," Stan said, "how is that possible ?"
"I ... don't like cameras," Sam said, "ever since my parents died, I have been camera shy. I have a way of knowing where they are and which are operational."
"Huh," Stan muttered, "do I blindly follow or are you ready to have a partner now?"
Sam sighed, "I'm so sorry about my going into mission mode," Sam said, smiling, "I'm happy to have you along ... as a ... partner."
Stan grinned, "Good, about time."
"Besides, it's getting tiring protecting your butt all the time," Sam said, mischievously grinning at him.
Stan laughed, "We'll see who saves who in the end. Now, where are we heading?"
Sam pulled out the maps handing them to Stan, "I've marked the viable routes with green and the non-viable with red or black."
Nodding, Stan opened them using his flashlight to see the routes panned out, "You've been thorough," he glanced at Amy, "do you think she'll be able to move quickly."
"Don't know," Sam said, "we'll have to see. If you're happy with us going in this direction," Sam pointed at the map, "then heading along here and up to this ridge, we should be ahead of them enough to make camp for the night. If we're not, we'll be able to keep going in relative safety without anyone falling down a cliff or injuring themselves."
"I see two other ways we could go that you haven't marked on the map, but it would be challenging for you and me, so I don't know how Amy would cope with that terrain."
"She wouldn't," Sam said, "I saw them as well, they are quicker, but we'd need three people who are used to doing extreme sports to get through it and onto the other side."
"Okay, let's pack and move out," Stan said, refreshing the link, "we have about five minutes until the first group of trackers arrive here."
"Was I the cause of all those dots converging on our location?" Amy asked as she looked over Stan's shoulder, "sorry, I overheard the last bit. We're moving out?"
"We are," Sam said, smiling at the woman, "do you think you can make it?"
"I'll work through whatever I need to," Amy said, "I need to stay alive to help you put those monsters away. Don't I?"
"It would be nice," Stan said, "you're a witness, and a piece of evidence all rolled into one."
Amy chuckled, "Then get me to wherever I need to go to tell my story."
Nodding, Stan and Sam began packing their supplies and watched in fascination as Amy did the same.
"I'm guessing she is more hands-on than Mrs Bassett," Stan murmured, "it's refreshing.'
"Where are the cup and plates?" Sam asked, looking around.
"I washed them and packed them with my things. Is that alright?" Amy asked.
"Perfect," Sam said, grinning, "let's move out."
Heading across the stream, the three moved as silently as possible through the forest. Sam glanced at the satellite link every few minutes. Three more dots had appeared by glowing green while the others shone white.
"This way," Sam whispered, "we should be okay for some time."
"Let's keep close together," Stan said, "something tells me it's not going to be as easy as we'd want them to be to get away from all those dots."