Use Enough Gun (Legends of the Monster Hunter Book 3)

by Joshua Reynolds

  “What are we doing?” she whispered, following him into the showroom.

  “Upgrading. Where is it?”

  “There,” she said, drawing an imaginary bead through the side wall.

  “Okay.” Selecting a gold Mercedes sedan at the centre of the display, Crozier eased the door open. The lights came on, but there were no keys. With Lilli covering, he found them in the manager’s office. He returned to the car and rotated the key in the barrel, but stopped one click short of ignition. Climbing back out, he explained his idea.

  “A good plan with one flaw,” she said. “I’m going.”

  “Lilli—” he began.

  “Who’s faster? Me or you?”

  He began to argue, but she was right. She was faster. “Alright.”

  “Don’t be late.” Lilli waited for him for start the engine before opening the small door that led outside. “Hey,” she yelled. “Over here!”

  Firing a single shot, she ran.

  Eyes closed, Crozier focused his attention on her, feeling her presence beyond the material shell of the building. The angry glow of the creature was right behind. He selected drive, but held it on the brake until Lilli appeared at the first of the smashed windows. Then he hit the gas.

  The tires chirruped on the tile floor, finding traction, and then he was moving. Ignoring instinct, he aimed right for her. She’d be gone when he got there—in theory. But instead of going straight on, she darted left into a dead end between parked vehicles. The creature went after her.

  “No!” Crozier shouted, aware it was futile. “Move, you crazy bitch!”

  As he closed in, Lilli placed a hand on the car beside her. Twisting, she vaulted over the hood with balletic grace, leaving their target trapped.

  Crozier had no time to feel relieved. Travelling at forty miles per hour, he ploughed into the beast and the SUV behind it. Despite the seatbelt, he was thrown forward into the steering wheel. Something struck his head. Training cut through the shock. Was it dead? Pushing the pain aside, he climbed out.

  Incredibly, the creature was still alive. Crushed below the waist, it nonetheless clawed at the hood, but the action was weak. He reached for his pistol, but Lilli beat him to it. Standing on the next car, she made a head shot that finished it.

  “You’re bleeding,” she cried, jumping down.

  He looked back at the car. Touching the gash in his scalp, he realized it wasn’t the crash that had cracked the windshield, but his head.

  “I’m alright. You?”

  “Are you kidding? That was fucking brilliant!” she enthused, hopping from foot to foot. Practically dancing, she returned to the creature. Tugging on the antlers, she twisted the head to look at it. “So what is it?”

  “Lilli!” Grabbing her hand, Crozier yanked her away.

  “It’s dead,” she protested.

  “And there are things that have ways to get you even then.” Pulling her forward, he looked into pupils that were twice the normal size. On this, her first real hunt, the thrill had taken over. Tripping on a cocktail of adrenalin and endorphins, she wasn’t thinking straight. “Calm down.”

  “Right. Yeah,” she breathed, stepping back.

  “It’s okay to enjoy it a bit, Lilli. Just not too much.”

  Swallowing, she took a deep breath. “Right.”

  “Call it in,” he said. “We need the cleanup crew.”

  Rubbing his head, Crozier looked at the creature. Blood was trickling onto the wrecked Mercedes. Gold with gold trim, he thought. Who does that? Looking at the hideous color scheme, he decided he’d done the world a favor on two counts.

  “Queen captures Knight.” Lilli smiled.

  “Shit.” Whilst waiting for the traffic lights to change, Crozier visualized the board that existed only in their minds. Devised by the Special Operations Executive instructors, synaptic chess was a mental whetstone on which to sharpen their skills.

  “T-shirt, I think,” she said, making a show of counting on her fingers.

  “T-shirt,” Crozier agreed, filtering into the traffic. In hindsight, he should have realized she’d agreed to his proposal of strip chess far too readily, but excitement had perhaps impaired his judgment. Since it wasn’t practical to hunt half naked, the stakes were suspended; the loser had to deliver at the end of the game and the way things were going, it would be him. If they were playing live, he’d be shivering in his underwear. Lilli’s losses amounted to her shoes and socks.

  “You could forfeit,” she suggested, with a sly grin.

  “In your dreams.” Whilst this wasn’t going to plan, the fact remained she’d agreed to play and it would turn out equally entertaining either way.

  “So where’d you learn chess?” he asked, nosing across a busy junction. Even late at night, the streets were crowded, but the locals let the fake police vehicle through.

  “My grandfather taught me in Venice.”

  It was the first time she’d mentioned anything personal. Until the last few days, he’d been wondering if their handlers had made a mistake. Usually good at partnering operatives—potentially a bit too good considering how many affairs were going on—the relationship had been awkward at first. Now, it was getting interesting. He slipped back into fantasy.

  “What?” he asked, catching her sideways glance.

  “Nothing.” She shrugged, but glanced at him again before looking away.

  Was she able to read him already? His technique was far more practiced than hers, but Crozier didn’t kid himself. Although a genetic explanation for their abilities remained some way off, the selection tests were becoming ever more accurate. Her Ganzfeld scores defied belief.

  With that in mind, he focused his thoughts elsewhere, trying to determine what had bothered him earlier. With the luxury of time in which to think, it came to him. There had been no panic. Even cornered, that last man had fired with a practiced rhythm. But there was something else. What? Reconstructing the scene, he pictured the volume of empty casings on the ground. That turned his mind on to their weapons.

  “Seventy-fours,” he murmured.

  “Eh?” Lilli turned back from the window.

  “Those guys were carrying shiny new AKSU carbines. Strange choice for poor refugees, don’t you think?” He frowned. “Something’s wrong with this.”

  “Jesus Christ, Rupert,” Doctor Jordan exclaimed, looking at the creature’s mangled corpse. “I see this one comes pre-dissected. What happened?”

  “It didn’t look both ways before crossing the street.” No matter how often Crozier requested otherwise, she always used his first name. He hated it.

  “Neither did you, apparently.” She looked at his head. “We need to deal with that.”

  “In a minute.” A plastic-wrapped form lay on the next examination table. The gruesome samples alongside indicated she’d already begun her analysis. “We’ve got another one?”

  “Team five bagged it on the Peshawar Golf Course,” Emma said, joining them. She looked and sounded like a retired middle-England schoolteacher, but was the current Chief Executive, or Minister, in SOE parlance. Serving the organization almost since inception, she appeared to be in her mid-sixties, but rumor said late seventies was closer. “Several of their members won’t be worrying about their handicap any more.” Sighing, she placed her walking cane against the bench and sat. “I’m afraid this one came with a high price.”

  “It killed them?” Crozier followed her eyes to a pair of body bags in the next room.

  Without speaking, Lilli walked past to look.

  She was getting a tough introduction to field operations, he thought, but something useful would come of it. A minute spent looking at those bags would teach her far more than any lecture. There would be no more careless exuberance now.

  “It killed Lee. Abby was shot.”

  “Shot?” he echoed.

  “They were ambushed during the cleanup. Abby was hit before backup arrived. She died on the way in. Someone else wants these things too.”
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  “We have the bodies?” Crozier whirled around.

  “What’s left of them. Rajiv hit their car with an anti-tank missile.”

  “Lilli! Where are the ones we collected?”

  “Still in the truck,” she replied, her voice flat.

  He dashed through the warehouse they were using as a forward base. In the loading bay, he found support staff unloading the lifeless passengers.

  “Let me see that.” He unzipped the first body bag, but the spot he needed to examine had been destroyed by the creature’s attack.

  “What are you after?” Lilli asked, looking over his shoulder.

  Crozier found what he was expecting on the second body. The third was ruined, impossible to check, but finding it again on the fourth and fifth removed any doubt.

  “This.” He jabbed a coat of arms tattooed on the corpse’s arm. “Krasnodar,” he translated, squinting.

  “Tenth Mountain division.” Emma’s voice came from behind them.

  “You know them from memory?” he asked, impressed.

  “I’ve had good reason to.”

  “What are you two talking about?”

  “They’re Spetsnaz,” Crozier explained. “They can’t have overt tattoos for obvious reasons, but they’re often inked with heraldry from their base town. The Tenth is based in—”

  “Krasnodar. I get it. What the hell are they doing here?”

  “That,” Emma mused, “is the real question, isn’t it?” Frowning, she looked at Crozier’s head. “Come on.”

  Retreating to her makeshift office, they gave their report. Since one of the medical crew was stitching his scalp together, Crozier let Lilli do the talking until he realized she was about to confess her lapse.

  “Unlike ‘Five, of course, that thing took care of the Russians for us,” he concluded, shooting her a warning glance. “Which brings us full circle; what’s their interest? The GRU is taking a massive risk sending them across the Afghan border.”

  No one had an answer and they sat in silence until Doctor Jordan tapped on the open door behind them.

  “There’s something you need to see.”

  Pacing themselves at Emma’s limited speed, they returned to the laboratory.

  “I’ve completed the initial tests,” Jordan said, clipping X-ray exposures to an illuminated panel.

  “What are we looking for?” Crozier asked, lighting a cigarette.

  “Those.” She pointed to tiny white marks in the mouth. “There are so many bullet fragments I almost didn’t notice.”

  “Fillings?” Lilli breathed.

  “That dentist must’ve had some balls,” Crozier joked, trying to mask his shock with humor. It was a good effort under the circumstances, but no one laughed.

  “Those things were human.” Emma looked back at the bodies.

  “Once, yes. This is the one team five killed. Yours was wearing this.” She set a necklace on the table. “It was trapped in the skin.”

  “But…how?” Lilli stuttered.

  “I have no idea. We’re talking alteration at the cellular level, genetic reprogramming, essentially. We’re running tests now.”

  “How much do our Russians friends know?” Emma wondered.

  “I suggest we ask the CIA.” Yawning, Crozier jabbed his cigarette at the X-ray images. “This country is knee deep in mutilated bodies thanks to Zia’s mob, so what made them think there was an incursion in the first place?”

  “They’re lying,” Emma agreed. “Let’s tell them we’ve picked up the target, see how they react. It’s time the Company learned to share.”

  “You got two!” the CIA man said, looking at the bodies. “Both in Peshawar?”

  “Yes, Bob.” Crozier sipped his coffee to hide a smile. It wasn’t the most imaginative choice of alias.

  “The Brass will be relieved. Things are dicey enough already without adding these things to the mix. Well, you’re the experts. What can you tell us?” He waved a hand at Jordan’s equipment.

  Behind him, Crozier raised an eyebrow at Emma. The question was a gambit, and an obvious one. He wasn’t out to learn. He was assessing how much information had leaked. Crozier required no special skills to spot the ploy. The man’s acting skills were about as convincing as his pseudonym.

  “Not much,” she replied. “We need to run more tests.”

  “Ah. I’m afraid that’s a problem.” Bob ran a hand through his hair. “These have to go back home ASAP.”

  “That’s not acceptable.”

  “I’m sorry, but that’s the way it is. Look, I understand—you caught them, you should follow it up—but this one is out of my hands.”

  His acting was improving, Crozier thought. It was now merely poor.

  “That’s not how we operate.” Emma shook her head.

  “I respect what your team has done—”

  “Respect?” she spat. “I’ve just lost two people. Respect starts with honesty. Why were the Russians hunting them?”

  “That’s not how we operate.”

  Crozier set his coffee down. Up to that moment the situation might have gone either way, but the man’s ill-judged attempt at verbal fencing had just forced the issue.

  “You’re going to tell me anyway.” Emma shrugged.

  “Am I? Look, I really would’ve preferred to keep this friendly, but that obviously won’t be possible. This isn’t a request. Pack these things up.”

  “That’s funny,” Emma said. “I was about to say the same thing. You’re right. Friendly won’t be possible.”

  “Are you threatening me?” He smiled, but his voice wavered.

  “You know, Bob, I think I am.”

  “Pack them up,” he repeated, heading for the door.

  As he crossed the room, Lilli sidled into the doorway, blocking his exit.

  “Move along, honey,” he snapped.

  He began to draw his pistol, but Lilli knocked the weapon from his hand. It clattered across the floor. Apparently not a chivalrous man, Bob feinted left before aiming a blow at Lilli’s midriff.

  Sidestepping the clumsy move, she punched him in the throat. He collapsed, gagging.

  “I see your melee training worked,” Emma murmured. “Put him on the exam table.”

  Bob recovered enough breath to struggle, but too late. Crozier wrestled him into position whilst Lilli buckled the restraining straps.

  “Okay,” Emma said. “Let’s try this again.”

  “Fuck off,” he replied. “Is this game meant to worry me? Even if you were dumb enough to try something, my people know I’m here.”

  “Good.” She jabbed him with her cane. “They can carry you home afterwards.”

  “You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

  “No, I know exactly who I’m dealing with. Someone that got two of my people killed. You will talk to me.”

  “Is this where you do your magic act? Yeah, I know about you.” He rolled his eyes. “You think we don’t have files? The Bletchley Witch? That’s what they call you, isn’t it?”

  “You might like to consider how I got that name.” She leant over him. “I’ve run mind-control operations you can’t even dream of, and I mean real mind-control, not your MK-Ultra preschool shit. Yes, I could rip the information out of you.” She smiled. “Unfortunately for you, we’re pressed for time, so we’ll be doing it the old-fashioned way.”

  Resting her cane against the table, she reached for his belt buckle.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he spluttered.

  “In my experience, even men with strong resistance break down when this happens.” She unzipped his jeans.

  “You gonna let her do this?” Thrashing on the table, Bob looked at Crozier. His appeal might have been based on the hope of male solidarity, or perhaps their shared American accent. Either way, he was disappointed.

  Crozier felt a flash of sympathy as Emma pulled Bob’s underwear down, but not enough to bother answering.

  “Circumcised,” Emma observed. “I
always preferred that, myself. An old boyfriend of mine used to complain about it, though. Caused a loss of sensation, he claimed.” Emma selected a scalpel from Jordan’s kit. “Shall we find out?”

  “You wouldn’t,” Bob said, but his voice cracked.

  “You’ll tell me or I’m going to finish what the doctor started. Time to make your mind up.” She took hold of him. “Right.” She lifted the scalpel.

  “Alright,” he yelled. “Fuck it! Alright—just put that down!”

  “Start talking.”

  “The Soviets call them bauks…” He hesitated, but continued after another glance at the scalpel. “The Russians have lost thousands of troops in Afghanistan, most of them trying to take the Mujahedeen strongholds in the mountains. The GRU started a project to develop super-soldiers for tunnel fighting, real science fiction shit. It failed, but their experiments resulted in those things. They use them to hunt the insurgents.”

  “How do you know all this?” Emma demanded.

  “One of them got into Tora Bora. Killed over thirty people before they lured it onto a landmine. Some of the survivors were over here for weapons training. They thought it was some underworld demon—half of them were so freaked they went AWOL rather than face going back. Since we didn’t buy that, we tapped our assets behind the Curtain.”

  “Okay,” Crozier said. It felt true, but he was definitely holding something back. “But why are they over here?”

  “A month ago the Russians lost a shitload of people in Kabul. They blamed the rebels, but we think some of these things escaped, maybe got through the Khyber Pass.”

  “Why wait?” Lilli interjected, pre-empting Crozier’s next question. “If you knew these things were loose, why not call us sooner?”

  “We’re trying to manage the biggest flashpoint in the world here. If the White House thought the Russians were moving on the Gulf oil fields, we’d end up with World War Three! We had to keep it quiet. The Russians are too—we don’t think Gorbachev’s people know.”

  “Very noble,” Crozier said. “But if this is about peace on Earth, why not just let the Russians clean up their mess? No. You wanted to get your hands on one.”

  “We need to! Their genetic engineering must be twenty years ahead of ours. We can’t afford that kind of bio-weapons gap!”