Spy High Page 13

  On my way up, I trod cautiously beside the road instead of letting my boots crunch on the gravel. Other than my accidental discovery of the marijuana patch, I had never snooped around Skidmark’s domain so I had no idea where his tent might be. If he caught me poking around up here I couldn’t exactly claim I was going up to the bench to enjoy the view in the pitch darkness.

  Several times I switched to thermal-only and scanned around me, but I saw only a few tiny glows that were likely slumbering squirrels. My euphoria mounted. For the first time in days I felt perfectly safe.

  I pumped my fist, grinning in the darkness.

  Perched on the bench a few minutes later, I surveyed the encampment across the river in night vision. Bathed in light, a single figure strode back and forth, gesticulating occasionally, but at that distance I couldn’t make out much other detail.

  I switched to thermal-only and frowned. Orderly rows of human-shaped glows were arrayed in front of the spotlighted figure. Okay, so it was a speaker addressing an assembly. But at one AM?

  I rubbed my forehead where the headset was beginning to dig in. Maybe they had some counterpart to the unreasonable Earth Spirit that demanded attention at all hours of the day and night.

  But their assembly was far more orderly than our haphazard gatherings. Rank and file were in perfect alignment and if I squinted and used my imagination the orientation of the glows looked like soldiers at parade rest.

  I transferred my attention to the rest of the encampment, but thermal imaging revealed only a few hot spots stationed inside and around the main tent.

  As I watched, the assembled company began to scatter at a leisurely pace. The movement reminded me of the way the Earth Spirit gatherings ended, with people drifting away in twos and threes. A steady flow trickled toward the main tent and a couple of other destinations that were probably latrines.

  Gradually the activity settled down, the glows distributing themselves and becoming stationary as if retiring to their tents. Only a few stragglers remained…

  Sudden interest straightened my spine. One of the glows had split off from the main encampment. As I watched, it crept across the landscape, giving the other glows a wide berth and heading toward the river.

  Toward the commune.

  I flipped to night vision, squinting in an attempt to locate the bridge. It was too dark to get a clear view at that distance, but I was pretty sure the glow was in the right vicinity.

  I blew out a breath and switched back to thermal.

  By now the intruder was definitely on commune land. Tension strung my muscles as the glow approached the far-flung heat signature of Moonbeam and Karma’s tent, but it didn’t turn in that direction.

  Instead, it moved purposefully onward.

  Toward my tent.

  Sucking in a breath, I switched to combined vision. The intruder’s glow wasn’t on the paleness of the gravel path. Instead, it followed a parallel course. Sneaking along in the undergrowth, just as I had done.

  Shit, had Ratboy decided to pay me a little visit and settle the score?

  I watched, barely breathing even though he couldn’t possibly hear me at that distance.

  He slowed as he approached my tent and I imagined him creeping through the undergrowth, careful not to wake me. Then he stopped beside my tent.

  Perched on the very edge of the bench, I stared until my eyes watered. What was he doing?

  At last he moved, avoiding the gravel path as before. Then he went into Orion’s tent.

  What the hell was Ratboy doing in there? Was he looking for something to pilfer?

  The heat signature moved around the tent for a few minutes, then settled into immobility.

  I leaned slowly back on the bench, letting out a breath. That wasn’t Ratboy. It was Orion, going to bed. I should have realized it right away by his lack of hesitation entering the tent.

  So Orion had been lurking outside my tent again.

  And consorting with the renters, even though he’d claimed to know nothing about them.

  Before I could ponder the ramifications of that, the distant scuff of footsteps on gravel made me spin, then shield my eyes from the combined glare of heat and light.

  Somebody was coming with a flashlight.

  Lifting my headset for a brief unaided glance, I saw only a few slivers of light glimmering through the trees. Whoever it was, they wouldn’t have seen me yet. I repositioned the headset and hurried as quietly as possible into woods, cutting down the slope at a diagonal.

  Looking back, I could see the light moving through the trees but couldn’t make out its bearer. The bright spot stopped near the bench and the beam darted about for a few moments before going still. I eased behind the concealment of a big cedar and peeked out to see Skidmark backlit by the flashlight he’d laid on the bench. As I watched, he unzipped his pants and assumed a wide-legged stance.

  Really didn’t need to watch that.

  I ducked back behind the tree before turning to creep step by step down the hill, placing my feet with care and keeping to the heaviest cover I could find.

  When I neared our tents at last I took a parallel course to our gravelled path. The heat signature inside Orion’s tent stayed motionless, and as I ghosted closer I heard a faint snore.

  Easing out a breath, I crept into my tent and secured the flap behind me. Then I removed the headset from my aching head and fell onto my cot. My mind buzzed with adrenaline and unanswered questions.

  What the hell had Orion been doing over on the renters’ property? Was this the first time he’d gone over, his curiosity sparked by my questions? Or had he been visiting regularly, taking part along with Ratboy in some activity he didn’t want to admit to me? It sure looked that way.

  Damn, I had to figure out a way to get that tracer onto his Earth Spirit bracelet.

  But how?

  Seducing him would get me close to him, but then what was I going to do? Ask him to hold out his wrist and close his eyes?

  And if we were rolling around in the throes of passion, real or faked, it was going to be damn hard to hide the tracer on my own body in the first place and then transfer it without him noticing. Not to mention I couldn’t carry my gun if I was planning to get naked.

  I needed to somehow get him to hold still and close his eyes. And keep him from noticing that I was fumbling at his wrist.

  My mind lit with a brief but delicious vision of a naked Orion, blindfolded while I tied his wrists to the bed. I shook myself back to reality. Not exactly plausible for a woman who’d been ‘not ready for sex’ to suddenly morph into a sultry dominatrix.

  Though it would be fun…

  Jeez, cut it out.

  I tried to force my tired mind to focus, but it was no use. Maybe tomorrow I’d come up with some brilliant plan.

  I hauled myself upright and bent to unlace my hiking boots.

  Boots.

  I straightened slowly, the idea curving my lips into a grin.

  Like everybody else, he wore his hiking boots every day. As far as I knew he only had one pair.

  My heart rate accelerated. Now was a perfect time. It was the middle of the night, and he’d been up late. He should be sound asleep.

  And maybe, if I was really lucky, he might have left his boots close to the tent flap. I eyed my own tent speculatively. At least fifteen feet across. That was a lot of floor area to cover, and belly-crawling around Orion’s tent looking for boots in the dark didn’t appeal to me in the least. That’d be an interesting conversation if he woke up: ‘What are you doing in my tent?’ ‘Um, sleep-crawling…?’

  But maybe I wouldn’t have to search in person.

  My energy renewed, I fired up my laptop and plugged the webcam’s remote port into it. Easing the tiny wireless camera out my tent flap, I panned over to Orion’s tent, watching the view on my laptop. The resolution wasn’t as good as my night-vision headset, but it didn’t need to be. I only needed to be able to identify boots.

  Next step: a camera boom.


  A quick survey of my tent turned up nothing as long and thin as I needed. Blowing out a breath of annoyance, I donned the night-vision headset again and slipped out of my tent to head for the pond. A couple of slender branches of red dogwood fell to my knife, and I stripped off the leaves and twigs before retreating to my tent once more.

  One last thing.

  My sigh turned into a yawn, fatigue coiling into an aching ball between my shoulder blades. If only I could leave this until tomorrow night. But I didn’t dare postpone it.

  Extracting the tiny tracer device and its handheld tracking unit, I powered up the tracking unit and nodded weary satisfaction at the blinking red dot that overlaid its origin coordinates.

  Fine; at least it was working.

  I lashed the webcam to the tip of one of the dogwood branches with a short length of dental floss before gathering up my gear. Then I tucked the night-vision headset into my pocket and headed for my tent flap.

  Showtime.

  Creeping toward Orion’s tent, my hands quivered with exhaustion and nerves. The glow of my laptop’s screen lit the night around me. God, please let Orion be a heavy sleeper. If I got caught, this would be just as hard to explain as crawling around in his tent.

  But at least I wouldn’t get caught wearing the night-vision headset. I’d look like a sleazy pathetic voyeur, but not a spy.

  I grimaced in the darkness. You know you’re making the wrong life choices when your most fervent desire is to look like a pathetic sleazebag.

  Lowering myself to a crouch outside his tent flap I eased my dogwood camera boom toward the opening. Inside, his snores continued in a gentle rhythm, and I tried to calm myself by matching my breathing to it.

  One more inch…

  The webcam slid under the tent flap and I surveyed my computer screen. Shit, I was looking at the floor. Carefully rotating the dogwood, I tried to get my bearings as the interior of Orion’s tent panned by in grainy green and black.

  His cot was against the opposite wall. He slept shirtless, his chiselled features relaxed, one muscular arm tucked under his head, the other draped across his chest. I tore my gaze away from the smooth curves of his biceps and continued to scan.

  Dammit, where were his boots?

  When I finally spotted them, I nearly let out a cry of triumph. Right next to the tent flap. Thank heaven for tidy bad guys.

  Manoeuvring the camera carefully, I studied the boots. I’d love to tuck the locator under the insole. But that would mean I’d have to actually reach in and grab a boot. They were close to the tent flap, but not that close.

  And I’d have to open the tent flap to pull one out. I didn’t know about Orion, but I knew for damn sure that if it was me I’d wake instantly at the sound of rustling canvas.

  I eased out a breath. Dammit.

  Some more covert camera work revealed no safe place to stick my little tracing device on the outside of the boots. If he was tramping through heavy undergrowth, it would get wiped off.

  My right leg cramped suddenly and I stretched my mouth wide in a silent scream, rising as quietly as possible out of my crouch to stretch the offending muscle.

  Goddammit, I was frozen to the bone and every muscle in my body ached with tension. Time to finish up and get out.

  Wincing, I hunkered down again and manipulated my camera one more time. At last an idea penetrated my exhausted brain. Those boots had nice padded tongues. And he’d left them loosened but still laced up. He’d never notice my tiny tracer tucked between the tongue and the eyelets.

  Withdrawing my camera, I used the light of the laptop screen to illuminate my work while I split the end of my second dogwood stick and wedged the tiny tracer into it.

  The tracer immediately began to ease out under the pressure of the moist wood. I pressed it back in again, watching and counting the seconds.

  Ten seconds. I had ten seconds before it popped out of the stick, to be lost forever in the gaps between Orion’s floorboards. And not only that, but I had to place it one-handed while I guided the camera with the other hand. Great. Fabulous.

  I clenched my teeth and slid the camera back into the tent, then did a trial run with the empty stick.

  Yes, it was possible. But by no means easy.

  A sudden cessation of snoring and the rustle of Orion’s sleeping bag froze my heart in my chest.

  Chapter 16

  Paralyzed, I crouched helplessly outside Orion’s tent, clutching my sticks and waiting to be discovered. Running was out of the question. If I made the slightest sound he’d get up to see what it was. I didn’t even dare rotate my webcam to see what was happening.

  Please, please, don’t let him open his eyes and see the glow of my laptop outside his tent flap…

  Eternity passed.

  When the thumping in my ears reached deafening levels and my vision began to fade, I drew a breath at last.

  Still no sound from inside the tent.

  The cramp returned, twisting my leg muscles into a screaming knot.

  At last the glorious sound of a snore ended my torment. Stifling whimpers, I carefully withdrew my sticks before rising to stretch out my leg, massaging the knot and hoping the sound of my hands rubbing denim wouldn’t wake Orion.

  He snored on reassuringly, and I steeled myself.

  One chance.

  Don’t screw it up.

  I inserted the camera stick again with shaking hands, laying it on the ground while I pulled the backing off the tracer’s adhesive. Then I drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Just like shooting in a tournament. Master the adrenaline…

  A couple more breaths slowed my pulse and steadied my hands.

  Inhale. Exhale half-way.

  I watched my hands tuck the tracer into its little notch and insert the stick smoothly into the tent flap. A quick peek with the camera, a little dip of the stick, and the tracer dropped into the crease beside the boot’s tongue.

  Staring at my monitor, I angled the camera this way and that, but I couldn’t spot the tracer inside the boot. Either I’d succeeded in sticking it where I wanted it or it had fallen all the way into the boot. No way to tell.

  At least if it had fallen into the boot, he likely wouldn’t realize what it was. A small irritating pebble; a quick shake of his boot before he put it on; and that would be the end of my tracer. If I was really lucky I might be able to salvage it from the floor of his tent after he left and try again.

  But in the meantime, I’d hope for the best and get my ass out of there before I got caught.

  The short traverse to my tent felt interminable as I crept quivering through the cold darkness step by cautious step. Back in my tent at last, I stowed my gear, pulled off my boots, and fell into bed fully clothed.

  An irritating sound nagged at the edges of my consciousness. I groaned and flapped my arm in the direction of my alarm clock, but I failed to find a clock or silence the noise.

  “Storm!” Orion’s voice bolted me upright, blinking stupidly. “You’re not sick again, are you?” There was probably good-natured teasing in his tone but the humour was lost on me, drowned out by the clanging of the Spirit bells.

  “I’m fine,” I mumbled. “Coming.”

  Staggering out of bed, I scrubbed both hands over my face to remove any traces of nocturnal drool. My tent was bright with daylight and a glance at my watch assured me that it was nearly eight AM.

  Just over four hours of sleep. Fuck my life.

  I pulled on my jacket and plodded out.

  Orion’s smile dissolved into concern at the sight of me. “Are you sure you’re not sick?” he asked. “You look terrible.”

  “Oooh, flattery; thanks,” I snarled. “I’m great. Fan-fucking-tastic. All I need is a nice brisk run on an empty stomach while the f-” I stifled a second f-bomb. “…while the Earth Spirit tries to explode my brain with those fucking bells.”

  I sighed. I should probably be proud that only two f-bombs had slipped out, and not as a description of the Earth S
pirit.

  “Come on,” I added and jogged down the path, leaving him standing behind me looking uncertain.

  A few moments later he caught up to run beside me. “Storm, are you mad at me? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to insult you, I just meant-”

  “I’m not mad,” I interrupted. “Just tired. Had a crummy sleep.”

  “Oh.”

  He didn’t sound convinced, but he dropped it. We jogged the rest of the way in silence, and I accepted my mat from Aurora and headed for my assigned floor space.

  The gong roused me from a bizarre dream involving tapioca pudding and a purple chainsaw, and from the disapproving looks I received from the other commune members I gathered I’d been snoring. Shuffling out behind the rest of the group, I tried to convert my expression from mutinous to apologetic.

  As we wound silently through the forest, my foul mood began to dissipate. Shafts of sunlight filtered through the forest canopy, gilding the leaves and ferns. A riot of birdsong floated on the pearly air and the spicy aroma of cedar completed the sensory feast.

  Drawing a deep delicious breath, I eased the lingering tension out of my shoulders and began to plan my day.

  As soon as I was unobserved I’d check to see if my tracking device was working. If it was, I’d have one less thing to worry about. Then I’d take a nice innocent ramble through the forest with my binoculars and bird book, ending up at Skidmark’s bench.

  When we arrived at the field I filed obediently to my assigned quadrant. Kneeling, I continued my deliberations.

  After I finished evaluating the renters’ territory I’d continue my exploration and find some alternate routes to use while reporting to Stemp. I’d been lucky so far, but I wouldn’t tempt fate by continuing to use the same route every time.

  But first some breakfast…

  My stomach growled at the same time Aurora brayed, “The blessings of the Earth Spirit are upon you”. I mumbled the prescribed response and rose to wander back to the main building, still deep in thought.

  After my report to Stemp was completed I wasn’t sure what I should do. Continue to track Orion, certainly, but maybe I should search his tent, too. I blew out a breath.