Was the cash really worth it? Hell yes, it was. He’d spent ten long years amassing it, putting up with Ernie’s short temper and endless baggage. Shit, he had three million dollars in cash no more than two hundred yards away, all he had to do was go dig it up. He knew McBride would be watching the spire, but from where? He silently cursed Ernie for bringing McBride up here. Knowing he couldn’t approach the money until McBride was dead, he had few options. Maybe he should try a different approach. What could it hurt at this point? Yeah, it might just work.

He pulled the radio and thumbed the transmit button. “McBride, you copy?”

Nothing, no response.

“McBride?”

“I’m a little busy right now.”

“I’m willing to split the money. Fifty-fifty.”

“Not interested.”

“Come on, you can’t use a million-and-a-half in cash? Tax-free? Last chance. I’ll split it with you. Right down the middle.”

“Not interested.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“No doubt you are.”

“I’m going to enjoy killing you, McBride.”

“Go ahead, give it your best shot. You’ve already missed twice. Why not go for the hat trick?”

“You’re all talk.” Leonard turned off the radio and clipped it to his belt.

Looking for anything out of place, he made a quick scan of his combat uniform. He found nothing dangling, out of place, or shiny. Satisfied, he began a slow scan of the creek’s northern bank through his rifle scope. If McBride were down there, he’d be hidden in all that green undergrowth. The problem was, there was a ton of it and McBride’s ghillie suit made him virtually invisible. If McBride were telling the truth, and he had no reason to assume otherwise, time was indeed running out. If he couldn’t find McBride within the next twenty minutes or so, he’d have to abandon his cash and bug out. In that event, he vowed to kill McBride and his lousy partner. It might not happen two weeks from now, or two years from now, or even ten years from now, but McBride would die for denying him his money.

As Leonard swung his scope across a particularly dense area of brush, he heard two quick pops of a handgun. He focused on the general location where he’d heard the reports. “What’s the matter McBride?” he whispered. “Your furry friend come back?”

A few seconds later, he saw a bush move as though it had been bumped. There. Two more shots from deep within undergrowth followed by the distinctive crackle of the shots echoing down the canyon. Handgun shots, not a rifle. He’d seen the actual muzzle flashes and had an exact location pinpointed.