Marty drove south from the Mercer homestead. It was just as good a direction as any.

  He wanted to be in motion while he waited to call Marston back. He hoped that Petey

  hadn’t attracted attention to himself with any inquiries.

  He had already lost four friends. He didn’t want to add a fifth to the total.

  Ren kept his own counsel. He checked the ring once in a while as they rode down the

  road. He didn’t seem concerned about Mercer knowing they were looking for him.

  He seemed to be bothered by something else.

  “I’m going to call Petey and see if he found anything.” Marty looked for a gas station

  or diner where a telephone would be there for him to use. “That will give us

  something to go on.”

  “Mercer’s ring changing position implies that he is in transit to where his father

  called.” Ren showed him the ring in the sealed specimen dish. It slowly rolled along

  the inside of the dish’s wall. “He is west of us and heading south.”

  “We might be able to catch him on the road if we hurry,” said Marty. He saw a gas

  station ahead. “Barring that, we’ll have a good idea the general location of the place

  if Petey came through for us.”

  Marty pulled into the gas station. He didn’t see a booth. Maybe there was a phone

  inside the place. Once he called Petey, he would get back on the road and work his

  way south and west in the hopes of catching up to Mercer on the road.

  Marty planned an ambush to disable the vehicle that Mercer was using. Then he

  planned to let one of his animals do all the talking for him after that.

  He wanted to know what was really going on, but ultimately considered taking

  Mercer apart better than nothing.

  An explanation would not make that objective any more unreasonable than what it

  was already.

  Ren probably wouldn’t like Mercer’s limbs being torn from his body, but that didn’t

  matter. Ten years was a long time to wait to get even with someone wrecking your

  life.

  And Marty planned to get even before things were done.

  Marty walked inside the gas station. A black phone rested on the wall next to a barrel

  of peanuts. He checked his pockets for change and didn’t have any. He pulled out two

  dollars and approached the counter.

  “Can I have change?,” Marty asked the guy behind the counter. “I have to make a

  call.”

  The counter person took the two dollars and handed back a handful of quarters.

  “Thanks,” said Marty. He went to the telephone on the wall. He hoped Petey had

  something. He dialed the number and waited.

  “Marston Investigations,” said Petey’s secretary.

  “This is Marty,” said Marty. “Is Petey in?”

  “Yes, he is,” said the secretary. “Hold on.”

  “Marty,” said Pete Marston after a few minutes and some more dropped change in the

  phone’s slots. “The number traces back to Watson Security. It goes to a switchboard.”

  “So it’s a dead end,” said Marty. It looked like the ring was their only lead to Mercer.

  “I did some digging,” said Pete. “The number went from the switchboard to a place

  in Arizona. The location is some kind of set up in the mountains north of Phoenix. I

  don’t know how the roads are down there. You might have to come at the mountain

  on horses.”

  “Can you give me some kind of spot to aim for, Petey?,” said Morgan.

  “Not really,” said Marston. “The closest I can put it is Prescott Forest. There are a lot

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  of towns where they could put out spotters for people getting too close to where they

  have their outpost.”

  “We’ll handle it, Petey,” said Marty. “Thanks for the help.”

  “I can get out my gear, Marty,” said Marston. “It wouldn’t be a problem.”

  “This is a personal thing, Petey,” said Marty. “I’ll call you when we’re done.”

  “Don’t make me come down there and look for you,” said Marston. He hung up with

  a small click.

  Marty hung up the pay phone’s receiver. Ten years ago, Pete Marston had worn a

  mask. Now he was retired from the game. He had a chance at a normal life. There was

  no need to drag him back into the trenches over this.

  Personal business needed to be kept as personal as possible. It was better to let Pete

  get on with the rest of his life.

  And he wouldn’t approve of what Marty planned to do.

  Marty bought a bottle of Coke and left the gas station building. He had enough fuel

  for the Scout van to get to Phoenix. After that they would have to look around for

  fuel. They should be on top of Mercer by that point.

  Then he would worry about the rest of the Watson Security people and how they fit

  in to the murders of his friends.

  He walked back to the van, and climbed behind the wheel. He sipped his soda as he

  thought.

  “Petey said the number tracks back to a facility down in Arizona.” Marty capped the

  Coke and placed it in his seat between his body and an armrest. “What do you think?”

  “The ring is pointing generally south,” said Ren. “My impression is Mercer is moving

  from a location to the facility. Do we try to intercept on the road, or follow him

  home?”

  “We should follow him and see what his place is like,” said Marty. “Trust me, I want

  to catch him on the road, but maybe it’s better to see everything we might have to

  deal with before this is through.”

  “And we know where he is going, so we can take our time,” said Ren. “It gives us a

  chance to seize records and other evidence.”

  “Let’s head down the road,” said Marty. “We’ll grab something to eat before we try

  to head across the state and then into Arizona. Petey said there were some little towns

  we can use as cover for a bit before someone tries to turn us in to Watson.”

  “How long do you think it will take before we are close to the site?,” asked Ren.

  “I have no idea,” said Marty. He started the engine. “I plan to stop before we get to

  the border so we can look for the place before we do something dumb, then go in at

  night to better our chances.”

  “I’m going to move to the back and take a nap.” Ren slid out of his chair. “Wake me

  when you want to get dinner.”

  “No problem,” said Marty. He pulled on the road and headed south. The ring rolled

  in its cage to point where Mercer was in front of them and to one side. They were on

  parallel roads that would meet some time in the immediate future.

  Marty smiled at the thought.

  He hoped Mercer had some explanation other than he was just following orders.

  He had heard that a lot when he was in the Scouts. It didn’t cut any ice when he was

  a kid, it sure wouldn’t now that he was an adult.

  Marty drove for hours, watching the signs on the side of the road. He pulled into a

  little place north of the border. His stomach growled at him for making it wait for so

  long.

  He cut the engine. He glanced at the plate and lid makeshift compass. It still pointed

  southwest. He could cut across to get behind Mercer. Then it would be a slow chase

  to his hole.

  Marty walked back to where the maps were kept. He nudged Ren as he passed. His

  passenger had sat down at the small booth the Scouts had used for planning. He had

  leaned over in his sleep, but he had remained mostly in place. The nudge snapped him

  back to reality.

  “We’re at the Colorado-New Mexico border,” said Marty. He searched the files for

  a map of Prescott National Forest. “We’re going to have to turn west to get to where

  we need to go.”

  “Seems reasonable,” said Ren. “Is there a problem?”

  “We’ll have to cut across the Navajo reservation to get to where we need to go,” said

  Marty. He pulled out a sheaf of papers. He smiled when he confirmed that they were

  what he was looking for.

  “Is it doable?,” asked Ren.

  “If it isn’t, we’ll have to go around,” said Marty. “Let’s get some grub and walk off

  this driving.”

  “I agree,” said Ren. “What are those?”

  “Maps of the local area.” Marty opened the side door of the van and stepped outside.

  He held the maps under his arm. “Barry always had a collection in case we had to

  operate in the area.”

  Ren pulled on his black jacket as he followed the other man. Marty paused to lock the

  doors before they headed into the diner. Ren hoped his mentor would be happy with

  his performance so far.

  He had most of the puzzle in his hands. All he had to do was put the perpetrator in

  custody and close the case.

  That last part would be easier said than done in his opinion.

  They were hoping to arrest a man employed by a huge company with the resources

  to hide him anywhere in the world. If they missed in Arizona, then they might not get

  another chance until they tracked the man down and took him from his protection.

  Marty led the way into the diner. He settled into a booth where he could keep an eye

  on the van. He put the folded papers on the table top as they waited for the waitress.

  “How far ahead do you think Mercer is?,” Ren asked. He had an eye on the other

  customers and staff.

  “If he doesn’t have to stop, he’ll be home before the night is done,” said Marty. “If

  he takes off before we get to where we have to go, we’ll wait for him to get back so

  we can finish tracking him down.”