Chapter 93
The portly peace officer cleared his throat again and Miles looked at him expectantly. He thought he knew what the man was going to say. He sat on the boulder where the squad's lookout had been before and braced himself, stretching his legs out in front of him. "Listen," the officer--probably the most senior in the group, Miles thought--protested. "We need our clothes. We--look you can't ... " He cut off whatever he had in mind to say when Miles shifted his right forefinger from where it lay along the receiver and repositioned it to gently caress the trigger of the automatic rifle. "Sure I can," Miles remarked softly. He didn't bother to threaten the group more directly. There was quiet, except for the sound of the forest's inhabitants going about their business, while Miles and his capt
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