Stanley Kooska, former owner and operator of the Kooska Mill and Lumber Company, liked to tell people he was a big-game hunter. Elk, moose, mountain goat, bear—he’d shot them all, he would say, and watch their eyes widen. Then when they were dutifully impressed, his wife or one of the kids would break in. “Ask him what he shot them with,” they would suggest. And then Stan would trot out the finest examples of his photography. Though people invariably oohed and aahed over his work, they were never quite as impressed when they found that his weapon was a camera. This always left Kooska faintly irritated, because his hobby required far greater stalking skills and infinitely more patience than that of a hunter.

That was why Eric had placed him in command of this team, he decided. He stopped in the thick darkness of an aspen tree near the southwest corner of Central Control and let his ears sift the soft sounds of the night.

“No one should be guarding the south fire door,” Eric had said. “But it’s our way out, and we need to be sure we can use it. If anyone is there, you’ve got to see them without their seeing you. Move as if you were part of the night.”

Kooska had taken him at his word, and now it paid off. A soft cough and brief rustle of the foliage were barely audible over the sighing of the wind in the trees, but to Kooska’s ears they sounded like a chain saw in the vast silence of a forest. It took him one minute to find the man, sitting in a thick patch of foliage. In ten more minutes he circled slowly and found eight more, all facing the circle of light that illuminated the fire exit, all armed and waiting.

Satisfied that he had located all there were, Kooska backed away slowly, puzzling over what he’d found. Eric’s little rebellion had unquestionably put Shalev on alert, and the Major was known to be a careful man, but this was no precautionary guard. It was an ambush, a trap set to slam shut on the first person who stuck his nose out the door. And that was an ominous sign. For the first time since they had left the mountains, Kooska felt the uneasy pricklings of fear rumble in his stomach.

He had left the six other members of his team waiting near the low ridge that protected Central Control’s back flank, and it took nearly ten minutes to make his way back there, still moving with the utmost care. As he called out softly, he noted that several of the men jumped, which made him smile. He had moved undetected to within twenty feet of them—and they were watching for him!

“We’ve got trouble,” he said, as he stepped forward to join them. “Get Eric on the radio.”