hour ago in an unmarked car. The technician with him had shackled him to an iron stake driven deep into the frozen ground. The bait was wearing a straitjacket and a gag, and heavily sedated besides, but he didn’t look like he could be much trouble. A catheter port had been inserted into his neck, and Angel watched as the lab geek stuck a needle full of something into it and rammed the plunger home. Angel was glad he wasn’t the bait.
A few moments later the night began to shimmer, and Angel looked away from the bait, resting his eyes. Your eyes played funny tricks on you at night, and because of the searchlights mounted on the trucks, they hadn’t been issued night goggles. There’d be plenty of light to see by once the balloon went up. They’d be as visible as a frog on a birthday cake, but Mr. Lintel had been very clear on the fact that this operation wasn’t supposed to take long. They were going after the guy who’d made trouble for Mr. Lintel before, and this time he, whoever he was, was going to be way outgunned. Angel smiled. The hard men were the most fun to crack.
“Move up! Get into position!” Elkanah whispered urgently.
“Why? I don’t—” Angel said.
And chaos came.
One moment the clearing was empty. The next, it was filled with men on horseback, men with dogs, shouting and screaming and blowing horns. Angel didn’t waste any ­effort wondering how they’d gotten here. He rushed forward, his spear raised, looking for a target. If they wanted to come in like the U.S. Cavalry, he’d make sure they went out like General Custer.
A dog leapt at him, and Angel smashed it down with a Kevlar-reinforced glove. It backed off with a yelp and he hefted his spear, looking for a target. There. One of the horses.
He thrust his spear e