The naked edge

3

Even in Wyoming where SUVs and pickup trucks were king, Cavanaugh's Taurus was so commonplace that it didn't stand out. The ubiquitous model was a habit from his former life. On protective assignments, a Taurus tended to be invisible, especially if the client was extremely wealthy, with adversaries who couldn't imagine their target in anything except a luxury automobile. Plus, unlike an SUV, the Taurus wouldn't roll if Cavanaugh needed to perform a 180-degree turn or any other emergency tactic.

His version of the vehicle, which he had driven when he'd worked for Global Protective Services, was slightly longer than the standard design and had the powerful engine that the Ford Taurus racing team used. Its windows were bullet-resistant. Concealed along its interior were dense ceramic plates that protected against high-velocity rifles. In the unlikely event that a bullet passed through the fuel tank's armor, the container had a rubber liner that sealed bullet holes, preventing fuel from leaking. To accommodate the extra weight, the suspension was reinforced, which allowed the vehicle to use Wyoming's rough back roads. Its tires were reinforced also, and as a further precaution, Cavanaugh borrowed an idea from the Secret Service, arranging for the center of each rim to have a strong, plastic disc, a kind of tire within a tire, upon which the vehicle could ride if the outside tire became non-functional. There were additional modifications, such as high-intensity fog lamps in the rear that could be used to blind pursuing drivers.

He reached an intersection called Moran Junction. A turn to the west would have taken him north toward Yellowstone National Park. Instead, he headed east past grassy fields on which elk grazed, eventually coming to isolated Buffalo Valley Road. After several curves, he disappeared among lodgepole pines within which a security camera watched. A sturdy metal gate opened when he pressed a security code on a remote control.

"Pizza Hut," he said into a walkie-talkie.

After a moment, a female voice responded, "Plenty of pepperoni?"

"All they had was ham."

"It's not a pizza if it doesn't have pepperoni."

The all-clear exchange having been completed, Cavanaugh drove through, pressed the remote control, and closed the gate. Past another security camera in the trees, he emerged into a grassy canyon flanked by wooded bluffs, his rearview mirror showing the magnificent Teton Mountains in the distance behind him.