Lightning Game (GhostWalkers 17)

Rubin replayed the little lightning strikes for his brother. The first sequence, and then the second. Diego replayed them several times in his mind.

Definitely identical and man-made. You didn’t make those up.

That was a little bit of a relief. Rubin had been concerned he was so worried about Jonquille that he might have been seeking any sign of her while he was allowing his mind to drift in his sleep. Making up things just to convince himself he hadn’t deserted her.

It has a rhythm to it, Rubin. One that’s repeated and has to mean something. A code of some kind? When you corresponded, did you two have shorthand you typed in?

Rubin didn’t answer right away. He hadn’t thought of Jonquille as his research assistant. She was his lightning bug. She was brilliant. A healer. A mountain woman. Tough as nails, yet soft inside. He should have known. His researcher had been brilliant. She could keep up with him on anything he asked for.

Give me a minute, the songbird is back, Diego said. I need to get the information. He was silent for several minutes. Six men camping at Huntington Falls, Diego reported.

Relief swept through Rubin. He’d been right. He knew they were there. He didn’t like that they were close to Gunthrie’s home, but he knew where they were bringing Jonquille.

They’ll need more than six men to make that meadow into a landing strip fast. There have to be more. And someone has to be watching Gunthrie’s place as well as the main road. Did the bird spot anyone?

Diego sighed. You used to have patience. I was getting to that. It looks like heavy machinery and trucks concealed under netting and branches about three miles in along the holler going into Gunthrie’s home. Close, but not quite there.

Rubin wasn’t a man given to cursing. There was no way Luther would fail to feel the vibration of heavy trucks coming toward his home even if he didn’t hear it—and no one said his hearing had gone.

Four men with the machinery. They looked to be heavily armed, Rubin.

That still didn’t account for roving guards or Luther. This was a large force for one small woman. They really wanted Jonquille. They weren’t taking any chances with losing her. With the force of elite soldiers surrounding her and those here waiting, the puzzle was growing. It couldn’t just be about her ability to attract lightning, could it? That didn’t make sense. The abduction had been planned carefully and carried out fast and efficiently. If Rubin and Diego hadn’t come early to the mountains, no one would have known that Jonquille existed. She would simply have disappeared, and no one would ever have been the wiser.

Sentries? he prompted.

One is close to Luther’s house, roving. He’s moving clockwise. The other is moving counterclockwise in a larger circle to the outside of the shack, taking in the meadow, but also keeping an eye on the shack.

What did that mean? Could Luther be alive? Why would they worry about the house? They weren’t entering it. He took a breath. He had to know.

Luther?

No sign of the old coot. Songbird went over the ridge where he last had his still. Wasn’t there.

Rubin closed his eyes for a brief moment. That didn’t mean Luther was dead. He was cunning. This was his turf. He would have had advance warning—maybe. Rubin wanted to think so. He reluctantly opened his eyes and took another slow scan of the area, studying Luther’s shack, the outhouse, the outside shower and then the surrounding woods and brush.

His heart stilled when he saw the birds beginning to circle. A lazy glide in the sky to the south of him. It was only three, but three meant more were coming.

You notice a few vultures circling a couple of miles from here? Along that ridge where the old still used to be?

Could be Luther caught a couple of rabbits in his traps, Diego said hopefully.

If Luther had caught rabbits in a trap, he would have pulled them out of the trap, even with danger circling him. He didn’t waste meat. He’d cache it somewhere, just like one of the larger animals would.

Rubin gathered up his gear. He wasn’t wasting time. If Luther was injured, he would need help fast, especially if he was being hunted. The team leader wouldn’t send his unit after an old man. At most he’d send two soldiers. He wouldn’t know that old man would be hard to kill. Rubin was going to make certain that if Luther was still alive, he would remain that way. If he wasn’t, someone was going to pay for his death.

Send the songbirds to track Jonquille and the squirrel men. I want advance warning so we know where they are at all times. Have sentries posted at Huntington Falls to keep us informed, and more with the trucks.