Randi watched in silence as he crawled around, making marks in the dirt and then setting his bearing from them to get to the next point. A GPS would have sped things up, but he obviously wasn’t interested in taking the risk that the device could be tracked.

It took about five minutes, but Fujiyama finally jammed a stick in the ground as a marker and went for his shovel.

“This is the spot?” Randi said, walking over to help.

“Yeah. It’s about four feet down, though, and I remember the ground not being all that soft.”

They each picked a side and started attacking the dirt. Unfortunately, he was right about the digging. Roots and grass had tangled the area since he’d buried his little treasure, slowing their progress.

The fall air wasn’t cool enough to counteract the sun coming directly overhead. Sweat dripped off Randi’s nose as she slammed the shovel repeatedly into the ground and tossed the dirt onto an ever-growing mound behind her.

Fujiyama was trying to keep up, but his side of the hole was barely enough to trip over, while she was down almost a foot and a half. As bad as the hike up had been, standing on top of this knoll under clear skies was making her feel even more exposed. Better to get this thing and get the hell out of Dodge.

She stuck the blade of the shovel in and jumped on the back of it, barely catching herself when she was suddenly thrown backward. It took a moment to figure out what had happened, but the fact that the blade was still in the dirt and the handle was still in her hand was a good clue.

“Damn it!” she said, throwing the broken handle aside.

“You can use mine,” the young analyst said hopefully.

“No, we need to get this done and get the hell out of here. There’s another shovel in the car. I’m going to run down and get it. Keep digging.”

“I’m getting really tired, Randi. Maybe—”

“Would you rather go back to the clearing and then have to climb up again?”

He looked down the steep slope. “No, but—”

“Then shut up and dig. You’re the one who buried the damn thing.”

Randi set off at a hard jog, leaping rocks and fallen logs as she retraced their steps toward the cars. She kept an eye on the shadows and the Beretta in her hand but at the pace she was going, there was no way to make out much detail. Sometimes fast was better than cautious.

Randi was about a quarter of the way down the hill when an unmistakable sound reached her. She bounced off a tree and turned just in time to see a pillar of flame rising from the top of the knoll. Burning debris, including charred pieces of Eric Fujiyama, arced across the blue sky.