Crossing Savage by Dave Edlund

used the cursor and buttons to scroll quickly through the menu and adjust the scale down to one mile.
    Now he saw two arrow points, representing two separate signals originating from different geographical locations. The blue arrow point was his sedan, the red was the target vehicle. At the moment, both vehicles were stationary and approximately a half-mile apart.
    â€œDrive out of the parking lot and turn right,” he ordered the driver. They would start to close the distance with the parked target vehicle.
    Once the sedan began to move, the blue arrow on the screen pointed in the direction the car headed. The GPS was very accurate—not only did it tell their location, but also the direction and speed they were traveling. He again thought what idiots Americans were to make such technology available to anyone other than the military. He was smarter than that—if it were up to him, he would never share powerful tools like GPS, computer chips, and operating systems with the masses. Skinny knew all too well that your most dangerous enemies arise from the masses. He had seen this first-hand in his homeland, as warlords rose from the populace to overthrow the Somali government.
    As the sedan drew close to the red arrow point, it began to move. “They’re leaving; we’ll follow at a safe distance. Our instructions are only to follow the target and record where it goes and not intercept.”
    The driver remained silent and allowed the target car to keep far enough ahead so the sedan wouldn’t be noticed. He had a full tank of gas and focused on not attracting attention, particularly from the police. Incompetence, he knew, would be dealt with very severely.
    Skinny knew little about the target, and the driver knew even less. All Skinny really knew was that the target vehicle carried two, maybe three, men. He also thought they must be rather important for his employer to use two separate surveillance teams.
    The first team had followed the target vehicle to the university campus in Corvallis. Once the vehicle stopped and the occupants left it, the first surveillance team planted a GPS transmitter on it. A simple magnetic attachment pad held the transmitter securely on top of one of the frame rails near the rear bumper—solid steel and still easy to reach.

    After leaving Professor Savage’s office, Jim and Peter walked back to the H3T, neither saying much. Peter’s father said he was going to the faculty club to have lunch and asked his son and Jim if they wanted to join him. Jim politely declined, saying he needed to get back to Bend; he still had a lot to do. So they said their goodbyes and went separate directions.
    Peter and Jim climbed in the truck and buckled up. Both men were deep in thought.
    Peter was trying to digest everything he had heard. Until their meeting, he had known very little about his father’s research. Jim appeared to be taking it in stride.
    Eventually Peter broke the silence. “What do you think, Jim? Is Dad really in danger?”
    â€œI can’t be certain. A lot of people have been murdered, and we think there’s a pattern. Look, I’m certainly no science expert, but it seems to me that your father’s work, if successful, could have immense ramifications on civilization. You tell me, is that enough to kill for?”
    â€œThat sounds just a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”
    â€œPerhaps… perhaps not.”
    Peter clenched his jaw and glanced sideways at Jim, waiting for him to continue.
    Jim shifted in his seat. “You know, oil—petroleum—is the life blood of every developed country. When you think about it, it’s truly an amazing societal and technological evolution that has occurred over the span of, quite literally, three—maybe four—generations. Within the last 100 years, the world has transformed from universal reliance on horses and steam locomotives as the primary means of land transportation