Broker doesn’t answer, and Chloe fills the silence. ‘There are people who owe a lot to Zeb. Two of them are by this campfire. Two more are out there.’

‘Zeb is a big part of our lives. Big. When he’s in trouble, we come running,’ adds Bear.

‘But don’t mention that to him. He’d go purple batshit.’ Broker chuckles.

In the woods, Zeb walks towards the sounds of the first owl hoot and waits.

Presently a figure appears from the dark, an ebony shadow amongst other shadows. They hug silently.

‘Long time. You look like crap.’ Bwana’s smile gleams in the dark. Zeb feels Roger’s presence behind him and turns around to face both. He bumps fists with Roger.

‘Why?’ he asks.

‘Why not?’ drawls Roger. ‘We were going fishing anyway. Fishing here is just as good.’

‘Better,’ counters Bwana, ‘especially if Rog does the hard work.’

‘Better,’ agrees Roger, ‘but we draw straws on the work.’

‘So what shit is stuck to your shoes now?’

Zeb starts from Luvungi.

‘Hell, I’ve never understood this pussyfooting from you. Seen it many times. If I was you, I would just get Broker to dig out his address, storm it, and stick a knife in him. Come to think of it, I might just do it myself,’ Bwana says.

Roger chews a stem of grass. ‘Do you think this dude will really come over here with an army?’

‘Nope. As long as he’s feeding the FBI, he’s secure. I don’t think he’ll do anything to jeopardize his witness protection. But I have to be prepared for anything.’

Zeb works out attack and defense plans with them in case Holt arrives. On his return to the camp, he halts near the edge of the woods and notes the layout of the tents. The central tents are those of the Balthazars, Anne and Mark, and Cassandra, while the outer ones circling them are those of Broker, Bear and Chloe, and Zeb.

As he steps soundlessly into the camp, a shape detaches itself from the ground and goes into a tent. Bear settles to sleep as Zeb takes over the watch. Arrangements made in different lifetimes in far dusty lands, still continuing wordlessly today.

The next day they go hiking on Devil’s Path, with Broker leading, Bear and Chloe in the middle, and Rory and Zeb in the rear. Rory’s inquisitiveness fills the vast stillness of the mountains. They fall back from the main group as he darts away from the trail to look at whatever interests him.

They resume their hike when he joins Zeb, his pockets full of stones of different colors for his collection.

‘Zeb, did you get in fights in school?’

‘Some.’

‘Did you win them all?’

‘Nope. I lost most of them.’

Rory’s mouth turns into an O. ‘I can’t believe that. I was thinking you would have whupped everyone’s asses.’

‘Nope. Mine got whupped most of the time.’

‘Is that why you got in the army? To learn how to fight?’

Zeb’s face twitches. ‘No. I joined the army because I wanted to. I fit in there. I used to lose fights in school because I didn’t learn to walk away from them. Not every fight should be fought.’

‘My friends tell me I’m a wimp if I don’t fight.’

‘Maybe they’re not such good friends of yours if they tell you that. If anyone picks on you, you should report them to your teacher, not get into fights.’

Rory rolls his eyes. ‘Zeb, you sound just like Mom. I bet you had loads of friends in school. I like Broker and Bear. They treat me like a grown-up.’

Zeb walks in silence for a long while. ‘I didn’t have any friends in school. It didn’t bother me. I was my own friend.’

‘I don’t have any in school either,’ Rory says very softly. ‘I have just three now. Broker, Bear and you.’

Zeb looks down at him. ‘Three is enough. It’s not how many friends you have but how important you are to them.’

They are still some distance away from the main group, and when Lauren turns to look back at them, she stumbles and bumps into Connor. He, too, looks back and sees Rory holding hands with Zeb.

His look of utter amazement makes the others look back too. ‘Well, I’ll be damned,’ Mark exclaims. ‘I never thought I would see Zeb holding anyone’s hand, much less a little boy’s!’

Broker looks at Bear and shrugs. They long ago stopped being amazed by whatever Zeb does.

As they approach the Buck’s Ridge lookout, a couple of rabbits dart across the trail. Two rifles greet them, just a fraction of a second apart.

‘Lunch.’ Broker sighs. He and Bear pick up their kills, stuff them in sacks, and sling them over their shoulders.

‘Holy shit,’ whispers Mark to Anne. ‘That was some shooting. Rifle across back, to hand, and firing before I even noticed the rabbits. I’m glad these guys are on our side.’ He looks back and whispers, ‘Zeb didn’t even unlimber. I’m surprised.’

‘He doesn’t need to when these guys are around,’ Anne replies dryly.

A bird call rings out in the distance. Only Zeb and Bear notice Broker tensing slightly and then relaxing when another call answers.

Bwana and Roger are on either side of them, keeping them in sight but out of sight themselves.

They resume their hike after their lunch. The sheer scale of the wilderness has brought their small talk to a minimum. Anne’s abrasiveness with Zeb has disappeared. Or maybe it’s just a lull before she starts again. Mark has coped very well in the wilderness despite his city-boy ways. Maybe the wilderness is not all that different to the stock market.

It’s late evening by the time they return to camp. A hot dinner revives them, and Connor – after lighting his pipe, which, according to him, keeps the wild animals at bay – recounts stories from his career as a reporter.

Broker, no mean raconteur himself, joins in telling stories of past campaigns.

Lauren, Anne, Rory and Mark have led urban lives and haven’t had any contact with the likes of Zeb and his friends. Their lives are fascinating to them.

‘No, most campaign days are one of endless routine and monotony. The danger, the action, is all over in a few minutes usually,’ replies Broker in response to a question from Anne.

‘Have you guys lost any friends?’ Rory asks.

‘Yup,’ comes the terse response.

Silence descends.

‘What was your most dangerous moment?’ Rory again.

‘Well…’

Bear starts grinning and then guffawing.

Rory is puzzled, and he’s not the only one. ‘What?’

Broker looks sheepish. ‘There was this time we parachuted into bad country. I won’t name the country because the operation is still classified.

‘So we had done a HALO jump very late at night and landed in enemy territory. We were then supposed to march about ten clicks to a specific village, which housed a lot of badasses, photograph those badasses as they were doing their bad stuff, and then apprehend them.’

‘Sounds like a stupid assignment. Why not just finish them?’ mutters Mark.

‘Hey, who said the top brass running the army were the brightest sparks? But ours was not to question why, so like good little soldiers, we marched the ten clicks to the village.

‘We reached it early in the morning, but it was still dark, so we couldn’t make out anything, just lots of foliage and rocks. However, our compasses told us we had arrived, so we stopped.

‘We decided to hunker down for the rest of the night and begin our surveillance in broad daylight. There were five of us in that team.’ He gestures toward Zeb. ‘He was there too.

‘I settled in a small ditch, which was recently dug – I could smell the fresh earth. I cut some brush and pulled it over me and settled down to sleep with one of the others keeping watch.

‘When I woke up, it was raining. It was daylight, and I could feel movement around me. I was still groggy from the previous night…remember I was an intelligence guy and not as battle hardened as these other guys. I opened my eyes a little to have a look at who or what was moving around.’