The terrain is unfamiliar, even weird, as if I'm on another world. I know I'm not, but I have never been here. Perched on a rock outcrop, I survey my surroundings. A ridge of hills overlook a long valley. Most are higher than the one I'm on. Looking into the valley, I see a long, narrow lake surrounded by forest, though the shore is clear of brush. On the far side is a track, recently used, if not well-traveled. Some people are walking, flanking a slow-moving flat bed truck with side panels. I can't see what the truck carries, though the people seem to be guards: two in front, two on the sides, two behind, all armed.

The road winds along beside the stream for a while, then turns to the right, crossing the stream, and rising up the next hill. If I am quick and quiet, I might be able to summit the hill before they get there.

With one last look to be sure of their destination, I fade back into the bush. Returning to the other side, I quickly load my gear and fold the solar panels that were charging my cycle. It's one of the new, quick charge models, perfect for quiet and rapid travel in these hills.

Swinging my leg over the saddle, I hit the starter switch. The motor is all but silent. A narrow path, possibly an animal trail, goes my direction, so I start down the slope, brush whipping at my legs. It's shallow on the ridge between the summits and in no time I'm heading back up slope. Suddenly the path turns to the right, over the ridge. Not the direction I want.

Stopping, I consider my options. A wall of bushes and trees blocks my way - I can't see through them. I could follow the trail for a bit to see whether it comes back to my course. But if it doesn't, I'll have wasted precious minutes. Of course, I don't know what I face - it could be a serious barrier, as well. But, I'm reluctant to take a side trip when my goal is in sight above the trees.

"Well," I say to myself, "they don't call me 'The Bull' for nothing." I can slink around, but I don't like it. Give me the direct approach every time.

I dismount and hide the cycle behind a gooseberry bush. The berries aren't quite ripe, so I don't pull any. Grabbing my machete, just in case, I push through the bushes. They are tangled, but not deep. A few cuts and I can open a way for the cycle. But first I need to find out whether the way is really blocked. 

Pushing through the last of the barrier, I face a wall of stone. Not a pile, a vertical wall made by stone masons (or at least under their direction). It is a surprise and it is not new. The stone is weathered, and if mortar was used, it has worn away. Nothing in my research or my briefing indicated evidence of ancient (or not so) civilization in this area. It's too high to see over and too steep for the cycle. But it isn't too high to climb, if I can gain about two feet. 

Making a few cuts, I clear the way and grab the cycle. Leaning it against the wall, I carefully climb aboard. I can just grab the top of the wall. To my surprise, there is a solid grip on a ridge or lip atop the wall. I lever myself up to eye level and look around. Seeing no immediate threat, I clamber to the top.

What I find is astonishing! The wall is wide, five feet or so, with a flat surface. It is covered with moss in places but clear of debris. The wind has been at work, I hope. Looking along the wall toward the valley, I see a break through which the track can be seen. I can't tell if there is or was a gate. Good news - the truck can't be seen. Surely there has not been enough time for it to arrive and hide.  Following the track with my eyes, I note it continues toward the wall 300 yards to my right and then along the wall to what looks like a cave.

And, the wall provides a nice flat surface, if only I can get my cycle to the top. Eyes following the wall back from the cave, I make a discovery - it looks like stairs about 50 yards away, stairs to the outside. I can run stairs with my cycle. Riding the wall should save me at least an hour. If I am quick, I can make the cave before the truck even reaches the gap in the wall.

I run to the stairs and go down, carefully checking them, both for traps and for breaks. You never know with ruins. As I trot back to the cycle, I wonder what I will find in the cave. Will it be gold or weapons? Weapons are the reason I was asked to investigate.

Needing to hurry, I swing into the saddle and head toward the stairs. The climb is jolt after jolt, arms and legs shaking, but the cycle is solid and we make it.

Reaching the top, I look around, again. No sign of the truck. And nowhere for it to go except the cave. I begin to wonder - where are the guards? I see no sign of them. Surely they would have some in the woods above the cave. If they do, I have been seen and will know as soon as I start along the wall.

I could, probably should, stop and report, but, it's not my nature. Instead, I speed along the wall toward the cave. No one stops me. As I get to the point where the track meets the wall, I look back along it, still no truck. Perhaps my luck is holding.

Against the hill, at the end of the wall are bushes smelling of lavender and currants. Cutting some branches, I push the cycle into the space covering it with the cuttings. It is a good hiding place. I debate trying to charge it, but decide I might need a quick get-away. Against the hill, above the entrance, I find a tangle of vines. No one will see my rope among them.

Climbing down, I look for any evidence of people. No guards. It's curious, unless they have not sent an advance party. Or there might be traps defending the cave. As I step forward, I stifle a curse. There is a grinding, very faint. I step back, but the grinding continues. Ten feet ahead, a pit opens. At the bottom are sharp sticks pointing up. I see bodies impaled, though there is not enough light to tell if they are human. It reeks of death.

Carefully, I slide to the wall and find a ledge - enough to crawl along. No wonder they have no guards. Though I wonder at no one checking, once the trap is sprung.

Creeping further, I reach a room with several men unpacking crates. Some are treasure, gold and jewels, even some cash. Some are weapons. But the men are careless - wearing headphones, listening to music? I can't be sure, but they don't hear me.

I move carefully into the room, keeping to the shadows. The men to the left, as far away as possible. In the center there is a platform, cleared and waiting for something? To my right, a desk with computer console and a radio. The power comes from an old gas-powered generator and some car batteries. They must use the generator to charge the batteries as well as for power.

What can I do? I need to report, but maybe I can slow them down. I consider my options. Cutting the cords to the batteries wouldn't do much. They would simply turn on the generator. But, I could take the spark plug, making it inoperable. Who expects their spark plug to disappear?

Slinking along the wall, I reach the generator. A wrench and a small box of plugs - I guess they did think of that - sit on a rock near the generator. Grabbing the wrench, I unscrew the plug. It goes in my pocket. Then I empty the box of plugs into my pocket, close, and replace it. They may not realize the plugs are gone right away. Time to leave.

I sneak back the way I came, but not quiet enough. As I reach the opening, one of the men looks up. I am seen. He raises the alarm and a weapon. No time now. I decide to take a chance and rush toward the entrance. I skim lightly along the wall past the pit, my momentum carrying me.

I am out, but trapped. The truck is near. Behind me I hear the pit closing. My rope is to my left. Grabbing it, I climb. In moments I am beside the cycle. As I start it, thankful it is nearly silent, the men reach the entrance, looking around, fortunately not up. And, the truck is close enough to hear the men shouting. They shout back and point toward me.

It will be a race between me and the bullets. No choice. I start down the wall. Bullets buzz around me. I might not make it...

Suddenly there is a bright light.

"Tim, you need to rest, you still have a fever," mom says, feeling my forehead. "Put your toys away. I will straighten your blankets. Did you make a fort or something?"

I smile as she straightens the hills and cave, thinking that "Tim the Spy (Bull)" might come back after my nap.