"Cavanaugh!" Angelo yelled. Then William and Mrs. Patterson also shouted his name. He heard footsteps rushing toward the office.

But all he cared about was Jamie. "Are you all right?"

She didn't answer.

"Jamie!"

"I'm okay. Got the wind knocked out of me."

Cavanaugh rolled from under her, scanning her body, looking for blood.

"What happened?" she wanted to know.

Angelo and the others charged into the office. "Cavanaugh?"

He drew his pistol from under his shirt. "The kitchen? Who shot--"

"I did. Three bullets into the wall." Angelo's pistol was in his hand. "Men on the grounds. The phone line's been cut. I didn't know how else to warn you in time."

"The eastern slope. Sniper," Cavanaugh said.

"I didn't hear any shots from up there."

"He must be using a sound suppressor. William, I hope you know how to handle a gun."

"Not even in my worst nightmares."

"You're about to learn."

Chapter 18.

"You dumb bastard. After all your bragging, you missed!" the spotter said.

"Hey, it wasn't my fault! How was I to know somebody'd start shooting down there? How was I to know the target would--"

"Quit making excuses! How are you going to fix this?"

"Wait for another shot."

"Now that he knows he's a target, you think he's just going to waltz outside and show himself?" the spotter demanded.

"To get to the car maybe. Or the helicopter. Hell, he's got to do something. He knows he's stuck. He can't phone for help. Sooner or later--"

"He's got food. Water. He can stay there for days. But we didn't come prepared for a damned siege."

"So you make mistakes, too, huh?"

"And you're one of them. Do this right!"

With a sigh of impatience, the shooter reached into his backpack and selected a box of ammunition. He worked the Remington's bolt and ejected the two remaining rounds from the rifle. Then he inserted four rounds from the fresh box of ammunition. Each cartridge had a red tip.

"Tracers?"

"Incendiaries. I brought them in case this turned out to be a night shoot. For the same reason, I also brought an infrared scope. If he tries to leave when it's dark, I'll get him."

"But it won't be dark for another four hours!"

"Doesn't matter." The shooter steadied his aim toward a large white tank beside a shed about fifty yards from the lodge. "I'll get the target out of the lodge if I shoot one of these babies into that propane tank. Hell, the explosion will probably level the place."

"No. Don't." The spotter was appalled.

"What's the matter?"

"The neighbors in the other valleys are used to hearing shots on this property. But an explosion would attract every police officer and emergency crew from here to Jackson."

"Yeah, there's that, I suppose. Okay, I've got another way." The shooter switched his aim toward the lodge. "Tell Beta the target'll be outside in fifteen minutes."

Chapter 19.

Heart pounding, Cavanaugh raced across the communal room and tugged open a door next to the battered upright piano. He pulled out an AR-15, the semi-automatic civilian version of the M-16.

He gave it to Angelo, along with a loaded thirty-round magazine. "Watch the front."

"Got it."

"Wait. Take this." Cavanaugh grabbed a walkie-talkie off a shelf and tossed it to him.

As Angelo hurried toward the front windows, Cavanaugh took out another AR-15. "I'll watch the east and try to locate the sniper. Mrs. Patterson, get down in the basement."

"No. Tell me how to help."

"Stay out of sight."

"I'm not going to hide." Fear made her voice tremble. "There's a revolver in a kitchen drawer. You taught me how to use it."

"Stay behind cover!" Cavanaugh yelled as she ran toward the kitchen. "Keep your walkie-talkie close! Jamie?"

"I'll take the back," she said.

With no AR-15s remaining, Cavanaugh gave her a Ruger Mini-14, a streamlined semi-automatic rifle favored by ranchers. He stared into her eyes, praying she wouldn't be killed.

"You can count on me," she said.

He touched her hand. "I know." He felt his throat tighten as she grabbed a box of ammunition and hurried away.

"William, come with me."

Cavanaugh tugged the attorney back into the office.

"The good news is, the log walls of this building are so thick, we don't need to worry about bullets coming through."

"You're implying that in most houses bullets can come through walls? Dear God, what's the bad news?"

"The windows are the only target the sniper now has. He'll focus on them."

"Then how are we supposed to look out there and see if anybody's attacking?"

"Stay to the side. Keep your face from the opening. Peer out at an angle." Cavanaugh spoke those words into his walkie-talkie. "Mrs. Patterson, did you hear that?"

Her voice was staticky. "Yes."

"Angelo, see anything?"

"Nada." His voice came from the walkie-talkie.

"Jamie?"

"Clear."

"Mrs. Patterson?"

"Nothing."

"What about the security monitors?"

"All I see are bushes and trees."

"Maybe it's finished." Breathing loudly, William crouched near Cavanaugh against a wall in the office. "The sniper that fired at you. Now that he missed, maybe he's gone."

Cavanaugh inched toward the undamaged eastern window, the one behind his desk, trying to get a glimpse of where the shooter might be hiding on the aspen-covered ridge. He eased closer to the window.

Its screen bulged inward. Something snapped through the room and struck the leather chair that William had earlier sat in. The glowing object plowed through the chair and hit the wall. Smoke rose.

Cavanaugh yelled into the walkie-talkie, "The shooter's using incendiaries!"

Crawling in a direction that didn't make him a target through the window, he reached a closet, tugged at its door, and took out a fire extinguisher. As flames writhed from the chair and the wall, he aimed the nozzle and pulled the trigger. A pungent cloud spewed toward the fire, smothering it.