They ran hard, or as hard as two middle-aged men could manage over hilly terrain.

Knox said, “Shit!”

Up ahead they heard the men coming.

“They outflanked us,” Stone gasped.

They stopped running as four men with shotguns broke through the brush and took aim. Behind them four more men stood, panting, guns fixed on them.

Knox held his pistol up in a surrender position. “Would it make a difference if I told you I’m a federal agent with a shitload of backup heading your way?”

One of the men placed a shot that came within an inch of taking off Knox’s right ear.

“That answer your question?” the shooter said. “Now put your gun down real slow.”

For a number of reasons Stone had half expected to see Tyree standing there, but he didn’t recognize this guy.

“I’m just here to take this man into custody,” Knox said, indicating Stone. “I don’t give a damn what else is going on.”

“Right, and then we just go about our business and trust you and your friend to keep quiet. Drop the gun, I ain’t asking again.”

Knox bent down and placed his pistol on the ground. One of the men stepped forward and pocketed it along with his wallet and cell phone. They did the same with Stone.

The man who’d fired the shot flipped open the wallet and checked the ID. He looked up at Knox and slowly shook his head in disbelief. He spoke into a walkie-talkie.

“We got a big problem down here.”

After a minute or so of conversation the man put the walkie-talkie away on a holder on his belt.

“Do we kill ’em here?” one man asked.

“No, we don’t kill ’em here,” he snapped. “We got to get this figured out.” He motioned to his men. “Tie ’em up.”

They shot forward and expertly bound Knox and Stone together. They carried the pair back to the road, where they were laid facedown in the cargo bed of a pickup truck. It drove off while the other men piled into other vehicles that had pulled up behind the truck.

Five minutes later the truck raced off the road and into a clearing, where it spun to a stop in a swirl of dirt and ripped-up grass.

Stone heard it before Knox did.

“Chopper.”

It landed next to the truck, its prop wash so strong that, roped together as they were, Stone and Knox had a hard time keeping their balance as they were pulled out of the truck and loaded into the aircraft. Two armed men climbed in with them and the chopper lifted off.

“Where are we going?” Knox said.

When the men didn’t answer he looked over at Stone. “Any ideas?”

Stone glanced around the interior of the chopper. He’d only seen one other chopper up here before. “I think we’re going to Dead Rock.”

“What the hell is Dead Rock?”