Later that morning, Harv drove the rented Tahoe over to the airport, where they retrieved their gear from the helicopter. Within ten minutes, they left Sacramento behind. Once they’d cleared the city, it was an easy cruise north on Highway 70 through Marysville and Oroville until it turned northeast into the Sierra Nevada Mountains and became a designated scenic highway. The road gradually climbed into one of California’s greatest natural treasures. Oaks and grassland gave way to hundreds of thousands of acres of pine forest. An hour later, Harv found their turn onto the logging road they’d identified in the aerial photos. Using his handheld GPS device to find the exact spot they wanted, Harv followed the gravel track for eight miles before he pulled the Tahoe off the road and parked it deep within the trees where it wouldn’t be seen by a passing vehicle.

They quickly changed from civilian clothes into their woodland MARPAT combat utility uniforms, which would merge them into the native colors of the forest. They exchanged their shoes for combat boots. Nathan had cut one of the cleats away from his right boot while Harv’s left boot had the same missing cleat. Their footprints would be distinct and recognizable in the event they had to separate for any reason.

Harv secured his Kowa spotting scope along with twenty-five stripper clips, each clip holding five rounds of hand-loaded .308 ammo, into his backpack while Nathan inspected his cloth-wrapped Remington 700 sniper rifle from end to end. Each of them made one final check of all their gear, making sure nothing was left behind. Harv removed two Sig Sauer P-226 pistol belts from a duffel and handed one to Nathan. Next, they tied their ghillie suits onto their backpacks. The last thing they did was apply green, brown, and black body paint to their exposed areas of skin.

Nathan didn’t talk during this part of the operation—it wasn’t necessary—but still he noticed the occasional glances Harv was giving him. They were both thinking the same thing. It didn’t need to be vocalized. They’d come to terms with it over a decade ago. Harv patted his shoulder. It felt good. Reassuring. He couldn’t imagine his life without Harv. He nodded a silent approval to his partner.

Harv locked the Tahoe and put the keys atop the right front tire. They didn’t want an untimely jingling in a pocket. Although the sound was inaudible to humans, it wasn’t to dogs and dogs were always a concern. Shooting an attacking dog was a surefire way to give away your presence. Besides, Nathan really liked dogs, more than most people.