LITMIR.BIZ

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where it seemed to originate. Yes. Beyond the fence, a group of humans sat around a large campfire, apparently talking and drinking. He could smell beer and some harder stuff. Despite his keen hearing, he could only make out a hum of conversation, not specifically what they were saying.

      Was it true? Were these men bent on evading—or toppling—authority and harming other humans? Or were they just a group of hunters banding together in a bond of yearning to kill wildlife?

      As much as he despised that, it would not be something that merited Alpha Force intervention.

      Killing or even threatening other humans did.

      He needed to learn more. But he had done most of what he had intended for this night.

      Observing, using his other senses that were much keener than those of a human, he nevertheless waited for another twenty minutes, but that yielded little further useful information except for the scent of gunpowder, which fit with who these people were. Explosives? Maybe, but if so they had been set off a while back.

      But what he sought could still be on the property, hidden, perhaps being stored without being utilized, for now. This was not the time to check—but he would in the near future.

      He had determined where the gates to this property were, including the one staffed by a guard. Other areas where the fencing was not rooted as well. Ways he could enter if he had to.

      Still others where the trees and bushes and undergrowth did not end at the fence line but extended onto the property—and could hide a wolf who happened to stalk into them and hide.

      He would return here.

      Soon.

      And then, as he began to leave, he inhaled a scent. A familiar human scent, one that trumped all he had smelled previously.

      He had to be wrong. And yet his special senses were never wrong about things like that.

      A woman with the anarchists?

      No. Near them.

      Kathlene.

      * * *

      What was going on?

      Kathlene had headed back to the area of the cabins and arrived just in time to see the car driven by Ralf exit through the motel’s gates and head in the direction of the anarchists’ area. She’d had to stay far back, even drive without using her headlights, to ensure that she wouldn’t be seen.

      She’d watched as their car pulled into the driveway of what appeared to be an abandoned house along the road. She had decided she’d better park along a nearby turnout and walk, rather than drive, to keep an eye on them.

      And, potentially, protect them. She had taken her weapon from where she had locked it in her glove compartment and now wore it at her hip.

      The night was dark, especially with the canopy of trees looming overhead, obliterating the light from the half moon and the stars that, in as remote and unlighted an area as this, usually lit up the sky in identifiable constellations. And she had been right. It was unpleasant to come to this area at night, especially alone. But she had little choice.

      She had carefully stayed on the road, walking slower than she would have liked but trying to make as little noise as possible, staying off the cover of dry leaves on the ground yet trying to remain invisible at the edge of the road. Making her way in the darkness. Staying careful, and as aware of her surroundings, and her solitude, as she possibly could.

      That way, it took her a long time to catch up.

      She had finally reached the house, looked inside a window, saw Ralf there in the faint illumination of a flashlight—but not Jock.

      Had he tried to get inside the compound alone?

      Bad move, she’d thought. What if he were seen?

      Maybe he’d only intended to walk the perimeter outside the fence, just to take an initial look in the dark when he was less likely to be noticed. That made sense to her.

      She’d decided to go check, just in case.

      Still careful to walk as silently as possible, she had left the house with Ralf inside and hurried toward the road to the compound.

      She’d wished she could use a flashlight, but at least her eyes had acclimated to the darkness. She had soon seen the light from the guardhouse and slipped behind the nearest trees, still carefully drawing closer to the area.

      Then she’d started to slowly walk the perimeter. But then she had stopped. What was that?

      Some kind of canine. It looked, from where she’d stood, like a German shepherd mix of some kind—but tawnier. Furrier. Like a wolf. A wild dog, maybe, that was part wolf.

      As she’d watched, it seemed to smell the air in her direction. And then it moved on.

      Moving cautiously, she tried to watch it but got only occasional glimpses of it. It appeared to stalk the compound outside the fence, like her—staying in the cover of the trees. It walked slowly, staring inside the enclosed area as if consciously observing what was there.

      And then it disappeared. Even so, she continued to watch the area of the old ranch from her cover.

      Now she had returned to an area not far from the driveway, hoping to see Jock, assuming he had come on foot to check the place out.

      But after half an hour, she didn’t see him. She was tired. Disappointed. Maybe she had been wrong about what the Alpha Force members intended to do this night besides exclude her.

      She still didn’t know what Ralf had been doing at that house. Where was Jock? Did it matter?

      That wolf had most likely been hunting for food and had nothing to do with what else was going on around here.

      Right?

      But why was it she couldn’t quite accept that?

      Still careful, she headed back to where she had parked her car.

      Maybe she would get some answers tomorrow.

       Chapter 4

      “She was there.”

      While still a wolf, Jock had loped through the woods back to the house near which he’d previously shifted. As planned, Ralf had gotten inside and had opened the door for him when he’d returned.

      Jock had just morphed back to his human form. He’d grabbed the clothes that Ralf had folded neatly and left on a cleaned spot on the floor, then threw them on.

      Now, inside the dismal and filthy hovel, he was dressed and angry and wanted to slam something. Except for spotting a few flaws in their security and some possible entry points, his initial observation had been totally inconclusive. He still had no sense of the extent of the likelihood for peril looming around the former ranch, but he definitely hadn’t ruled out the conceivability of those now staying there being at least skilled and dedicated terrorists and possible anarchists, as well.

      He needed to get inside, though, to check for the extent of their weaponry.

      Now he knew all his frustration was evident as he spoke to Ralf.

      “Who? Kathlene? Where was she?” Ralf had placed his equipment on the floor and was now stowing it in his backpack again. He stopped, though, facing Jock in the dim glow of the flashlight he had left on for illumination.

      “Near the old ranch, outside the fence like I was, also hiding in the woods. But I scented and heard her, then saw her. Damn the woman. She must have been following us. Does she like throwing herself into potential danger?”

      “I think you know the answer to that,” Ralf said drily. Which only made Jock want to slam something all the more, like the wall. Not Ralf, and certainly not Kathlene—although, had she been nearby, it wouldn’t have been outside the realm of possibility for him to grab and shake her.

      And

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