He finally lost his cool. “I know what you want, sister, but how in God’s name am I supposed to do that? How am I supposed to find them with the FBI crawling all over the area?”
“I thought you were some great manhunter, Raphael. Great Indian tracker. Special Forces animal. You tell me how to—”
Emmanuella stopped her rant abruptly, frowning. Her eyes ran left and froze there, as if she were puzzling out some odd thought or hearing a distant voice become clearer. Then she said, “Wait a second.” Emmanuella began typing on her laptop. She hit Return and sat back. “He’s there! I knew he’d be there.”
“Who?”
“Cross,” she said, almost smiling as she returned her attention to her brother. “He’s still wearing that belt with the GPS transmitter. It says he’s in Laramie. Wait, there’s a history function.”
She typed, hit Return, and covered her mouth as she moved her head closer to the screen. “He was all over that ranch and that canyon today.”
“Makes sense.”
“That’s true. But it doesn’t change things. If I’m right and Cross is a secret ally of Maestro, he will meet up with Butler and his men very soon. You only have to follow Cross until it happens.”
“You don’t think we should come back to Mexico and let things cool down around here?”
Her smile vanished. “No, Raphael, I want you to finish this. Follow Cross wherever he goes. Sooner or later, you’ll find Butler. And if I’m right, you’ll also find M.”
Chapter
77
Swan River Valley, Montana
Three mornings later, Sampson and I were up early and wolfing down a hearty breakfast at a lodge overlooking beautiful Holland Lake in the remote Flathead National Forest. Above the thick pine-and-spruce canopy, towering peaks rose, forming the western boundary of the Bob Marshall Wilderness.
I don’t think I’d ever seen Sampson so excited.
“I feel great,” he said as he buttered his toast. “Slept like a log.”
“I did too,” I said and sipped coffee. “All the fresh air.”
“And the eight-hundred-mile drive.”
“Woke up a little stiff from that.”
“You’re going to get stiffer.”
“Yeah, I don’t think I’ve ever ridden a horse for more than an hour before.”
We were done eating by seven. Five minutes later, we were outside with all our gear and calling home one last time.
“Be careful out there,” Bree said.
“Don’t get eaten by a grizzly,” Ali said.
“I’ll try not to,” I said. “I love you all and we’ll talk in six days.”
I was about to shut off my cell phone for the duration of the trip when it rang. Paladin showed up on the ID.
I really didn’t want to, but I answered. “Cross.”
“Steven Vance here, Dr. Cross,” the CEO said, sounding excited. “We found something we believe you are going to be interested in.”
Sampson was making We have to leave motions and I nodded. “Steve, can you tell me this quick? I’m actually in Montana about to go on a trip into the wilderness for the next six days.”
“Love Montana,” Vance said. “Lucky you. I’ll keep it brief. We did find chatter and traffic between southern Wyoming and that same small town in Mexico on the day before the attack. We also picked up a satellite-phone signal from the wilderness beyond that ranch. A satellite phone positioned in central Manitoba answered.”
“Manitoba?”
“Near the town of Herb Lake.”
“Do you know what was said? How long it lasted?”
“Seven minutes, but we have no idea what was said,” Vance said.
“Can you relay this information to Special Agent Mahoney?”
“Of course. Enjoy your trip.”
“What’s up?” Sampson said, sounding defensive when I hung up. “There’s no way we’re pulling out of this now.”
“No way,” I said. “That was Vance. He says the night after the attack, there was a sat-phone call from the wilderness beyond Fell’s Creek Canyon to an obscure town in Manitoba.”
“M is in Manitoba?” John asked incredulously.
“Kind of my reaction,” I said as a white dually pickup pulled up.
Our outfitter and horse packer, Lance Bauer, was a lean, long-legged man in his fifties who chewed Red Man and laughed at just about anything. He climbed out and helped us load our gear in the pickup bed while Pork Chop, his Australian shepherd, bounced all around.