Page 4 of Dark Sky

“You’re clear,” the man said.

“I already told you that.”

Joe and the bodyguard stared at each other for several beats. The man didn’t blink. He had a wide Slavic face, close-cropped black hair, a downturned mouth, and a square jaw not quite as wide as his thick neck. Joe could only guess the man was armed because of the bulges and protrusions beneath his matte black–colored tactical coat.

“Please forgive Zsolt,” Price said with an embarrassed grin as he joined the two. He pronounced the nameZolt. “He kind of overdoes it sometimes, but he’s a good man to have around.”

“I’m law enforcement,” Joe said through gritted teeth.

Price arched his eyebrows. “I thought you were a game warden.”

“Game wardensarelaw enforcement,” Joe said to Price.

“If you say so,” Price said, obviously unconvinced.

Joe didn’t move. Inside, he seethed even while he offered his hand to Price.

“And you must be Joe,” Price said with a grin. “‘Good old Joe,’ I’ve been saying.”

Before Joe could confirm it, Price chinned toward the jet. “Is the wrangler waiting for us somewhere?”

“His name is Brock,” Joe said. “Yup, he’s waiting inside for us.”

“You can call me Steve-2,” Price said. He pronouncedSteveTwoas a two-syllable word. Instead of grasping Joe’s hand in return, he offered an elbow bump. It was an obvious holdover from the pandemic. Either that, or Price was a germophobe, Joe thought.

“That’s Tim out there with the camera,” Price said. “He’s my personal assistant. You’ve met Zsolt Rumy. As you probably guessed, he oversees security.”

Rumy nodded at the mention of his name. Joe nodded back.

Price sidled up close, man-to-man. “I know you’re probably asking yourself why a dude like me needs security.”

“Not really.”

“I sometimes wonder myself,” Price said.

One of the crew of the jet had opened the cargo hold door and Joe could see what looked like dozens of large duffel bags, gear boxes, and backpacks inside.

Joe narrowed his eyes. “I’m sure Tim told you we’re taking horses.”

“He did. I’m really looking forward to it.”

“We may need to winnow down some of your stuff if it’s too much.”

“Are you saying we don’t have pack animals?” Price asked with a look of genuine concern. “My understanding is we’d have pack animals to transport everything we need.”

“We’ve got horses and panniers,” Joe said. “They’re waiting for us in the parking lot. But we need to limit the weight on each animal to no more than thirty percent of its body weight. We’ve got five packhorses in addition to the horses we’ll ride.”

Price frowned. “How much does a horse weigh?”

“Depends on the horse.”

Price closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then slowly reopened them. “I was under the assumption all of this was already sorted out in advance.”

Joe said, “I told Tim to limit your baggage to five hundred pounds.”

Price glared at him. “You know,good old Joe, I can do math in my head. In fact, I’m quite good at it. I’m a coder and a programmer and I’ve designed world-class proprietary algorithms. Are you telling me that your packhorses can only handle a hundred pounds each? I find that hard to believe, since most human riders weigh well above that.”

“They do,” Joe said. “But we need to plan for the weight of hauling elk back down the mountain.”

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