Free Dog Warrior by Wen Spencer Page A

said.
    â€œUse the guest phone and ask for Steele. We’ll meet you there Saturday, at eight o’clock.”
    Atticus slung the backpack over his shoulder, and they beat a hasty retreat then, the drugs weighing heavy on Atticus’s back because of his hyperawareness of it.
    Kyle started up the Explorer when they walked out of the bar and sat idling, waiting for them to reach the Jaguar.
    â€œWe’ll need to bag this and wash my hands.” Atticus hated the delay, but he wanted it off him before they got into closed confines of the Jag.
    While Atticus kept watch, Ru got out a large plastic bag and tented it open for Atticus, so he could slide the backpack in without touching the bag itself. Luckily they always kept bottles of water in the car. Ru emptied two over Atticus’ hands before Atticus sensed that the drug had been washed away. Decontaminated, they got into the Jag and headed for the interstate. A few minutes later, the Explorer’s lights appeared in the rearview mirror.
    â€œNo one’s following you,” Kyle said over the radio, after Ru turned off their wires. “What the hell happened in there? It sounded like Atticus jumped someone.”
    â€œI did,” Atticus snapped. Ru wisely said nothing.
    â€œSumpter called. He wanted to know when we’re dropping the drugs to him.”
    â€œWe can do it tomorrow morning,” Atticus said. “I want to get back to the house.”
    â€œThey managed to reconstruct some of the records from Buffalo,” Kyle said. “He’s got a DVD for us.”
    They’d stopped at a red light, giving Atticus time to shuffle through his options. Sending Kyle to see Sumpter was a no-go; oil and water mixed better. Nor did Atticus like the idea of sending Kyle back to the house alone. If Ukiah was awake and not as harmless as he seemed, Kyle—or Ru, for that matter—would be no match for the Dog Warrior. Ru could take the drugs to Sumpter, but there was a slim chance that they had a tail that Kyle hadn’t spotted. Besides, Sumpter was an officious prick and would probably throw a fit if Atticus, as team leader, didn’t show. Normally Atticus couldn’t care less, but he wanted the DVD—which Sumpter might refuse to hand over to just Ru.
    Atticus took comfort that Daggit probably wouldn’t endanger his status as middleman. Whatever the biker leader said to the cult, it probably hadn’t included specifics on how to find them. Atticus sighed. “Fine. We’ll make the drop.”
    Â 
    Ukiah slept deep and heavy as the dead, reabsorbed memories unfolding as dreams.
    The Dog Warriors hunted like wolves. They ran silent and intent through the autumn night, the moon full and the wind wild, covering the sound of their passing. Ukiah could feel the Pack as they slipped through moonlight and shadows. Grim as their mission was, they were pleased he hunted with them. He made them feel complete: wolves showing their young how to hunt.
    Fields of shorn hay. Pastures of sleeping cattle. Rich, freshly plowed earth, ready for the winter wheat. They searched for their prey, the Temple of New Reason; more specifically, for the deadly alien machines—the Ae—that the cult had stolen out of storage. Their informant, ex-cultist Socket, could give them only general directions; she’d been given exact change for getting the U-Haul truck through the tollbooths of the Pennsylvania and Ohio turnpikes, and knew that the trip would take roughly two hours. The cultists had mentioned a chain of convenience stores in Ohio by name, telling her one was close to their destination. She wasn’t of the “inner circle,” so the cult told her nothing more about where they were going, or the plan once they got there.
    With perfect memory and a century of roaming the countryside, the Dog Warriors were able to narrow the possibilities to a twenty-mile radius. They checked the hiding places the Pack knew and