That question spoke volumes. Ortega had gotten the word out. This man knew he would be here, but the woman who shot the hell out of the ponderosa hadn’t.

Nathan nodded.

“All right. Let’s do this delicately. I want you to ask Mr. Fontana to stand down.”

“I need to give him a hand signal.”

“Please.”

Nathan unlocked his fingers from the top of his head and turned to face Harv’s position. He slowly took his right hand, formed a fist, and placed it across his chest with the knuckles touching his right shoulder. He interlocked his fingers atop his head again.

“Thank you,” the man said.

“No problem. Your teams are top-notch,” Nathan added.

The slightest hint of a smile touched the man’s lips, but vanished instantly. “You fire that warning shot?”

“Yes.”

“At ease.”

Nathan brought his hands down from his head.

“We’ve got three down, one dead.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Took a fragment down through his shoulder close to his neck. Clipped his carotid. The toll could’ve been a lot worse.”

Nathan looked at the man’s bloody hands again. “There’s probably another ring of claymores closer to the buildings.”

“We’re on hold for now. I’m Assistant Special Agent in Charge Larry Gifford with the Sacramento Joint Terrorism Task Force.” He closed the distance and held out his right hand.

Nathan shook it, ignoring the sticky feel of drying blood. “I’m sorry about your man.”

“Me too.”

“How are the other two?”

“One has a concussion from a tree branch. Clocked him pretty good, but he’ll be okay. His bucket saved his life. The other has a separated shoulder. At least his vest worked. I heard a shot about a minute after the mines detonated, followed by several shots coming from the compound.”

“I killed the man who detonated the mines. He was in a tree platform sighting in on your team with scoped rifle when I nailed him. I’m damned sorry I didn’t get him sooner.”

“This isn’t your fault. If our teams hadn’t been on the ground when those claymores went off…” Gifford looked at Nathan’s fatigues. “You’re bleeding.”

“Those shots you heard,” Nathan offered. “The rock face above our heads took a few impacts. The shooter was hoping for a cornering shot. Nearly got one.”

“Do you need medical attention?”

He shook his head. “Fragments.”

“I’ll have our medic look at them anyway. Please bring Mr. Fontana forward.”

He turned toward Harv’s invisible position and signaled him with a slight nod. Two hundred yards distant, Harv stood and began jogging toward them, weaving his way through the trees.

Harv arrived thirty seconds later. Introductions were made.

“Nobody else knew we were here but you,” Nathan said.

“That’s right.” There was no apology in his voice.