Double Blind Read Online Free

right ear sounded flat and monotone, a result of the encryption software hard-programmed into the radios.
    "How far out?"
    The voice designated a vector point in a roughly southeasterly direction, but the military officer kept his eyes fixed on Loggerhead Lake's northern shore.
    "Two — maybe three klicks," the voice added.
    "Any ID?" Rustman knew the others all watched him, and undoubtedly listened carefully to his softly spoken words.
    "Don't recognize the boat, but it sure looks like that damned duck cop to me."
    Rustman nodded to himself. "Damned duck cop" was the unofficial designation for Special Agent Wilbur Boggs — the sole law enforcement investigator of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service assigned to this beautiful part of southern Oregon. And from Rustman's entirely prejudiced point of view, the sole impediment to unrestricted waterfowl hunting on the Rustman family preserve.
    "Is he coming our way?" The question sounded foolish to Rustman even as he asked it. Boggs was a persistent and bullheaded investigator, and he knew the precise locations of Rustman's two VIP blinds. Of course he'd be coming this way. Why else would a federal wildlife agent work on a weekend, and trespass on private property, except to harass Rustman and his very important clients?
    You goddamned officious asshole, the lieutenant colonel swore silently. Why can't you have a price like everybody else?
    "He's been hanging out near the shore with a line out since early this morning. He could've just been fishing, but he acted like he was waiting for something, or somebody. Kept looking around with his binoculars, and I never did see him bait a hook," the voice in Rustman's earpiece reported. "Then he took off all of a sudden, like he intended to loop around and come into the blind area from the south, but I think it's going to be a while before he gets there. Looks like he got his prop caught up in a net real bad, and probably smacked his head pretty hard, too. Want us to make sure he stays put for a while?"
    Lt. Colonel John Rustman's lips curled in a taut, thin-lipped smile, pleased at the success of the precautionary additions to his security system. Two days previously, he'd hired a couple of locals to come out at night and string a thousand yards of sun-rotted polyester netting a few inches beneath the water in specific patterns along the outer, lakeside perimeter of the blind area.
    Rustman designed the system so that at least ten feet of netting would wrap tightly around an outboard propeller before one or more of the thick hemp ropes holding the net pulled tight and brought everything — prop, motor, boat, and occupants — to a dead stop. And from the sound of things, it had worked perfectly. If all went as planned, it would take Special Agent Wilbur Boggs at least an hour to cut away the netting and rope tightly wound around his prop.
    Plenty of time to get Congressman Regis J. Smallsreed out of the area and settled in for a little R&R. No need to make things more difficult now. No need at all.
    "Who is it?" His foreman's voice disrupted Rustman's train of thought.
    "That damned duck cop again." Rustman made no effort to hide the disgust in his voice.
    "Shit!" Eliot swore as he quickly brought a small pair of binoculars up to his eyes to scan the distant shoreline at the four o'clock position. "Are we ever going to get rid of that guy?"
    Rustman's smile remained fixed, but the expression in his eyes changed to something far more chilling than amused.
    "Colonel, you want us to make sure he stays put?" the voice in his ear repeated insistently.
    Rustman continued to stare at his foreman for a long moment with cold, empty eyes before finally answering:
    "No, leave him be. Just keep an eye on him and let me know when he cuts himself loose. But send the boats in for a pickup, right now," Rustman ordered in that same subdued voice. Then he turned to his foreman.
    "Lou, let's get things cleaned up."
    "Yes sir," Eliot acknowledged, tensing