The Hunted

by Steve Scheunemann

  The first step was to thoroughly clean the wound. Muscle corded and stood out in Matt’s neck as he clamped his teeth on the belt while Abbey scrubbed the deep wound and flushed it out.

  She was then required to sew the muscles of his flank back together, with dissolving sutures, before closing the skin with yet more sutures. Matt agreed to a shot of antibiotic, but still refused any painkillers.

  He’d turned white and broken out in a cold sweat. The belt was bitten clean through, but he’d never made a sound.

  Abbey wrapped the broken ribs tight to keep them immobile. She would check in a few days for the swelling to go down and to see how well the wound closed up.

  “I think that’s all, for now. How are you holding up?”

  Panting and pale Matt took a deep breath, expanding his ribcage, and winced.

  “I’ll heal, you do good work. I know some pain suppression techniques that should help. I only wish I’d been able to employ them before you went to work. I’m afraid I’m not at my best at the moment though.”

  Abbey, who had been giving their predicament some thought while her hands were occupied fixing up Matt, believed she might have a way off the island for both of them. While Malone had not set any alerts for them, he had not cancelled the heightened security he’d set in place to catch Angus, either. That meant that all ports and airports were closed to them, or at least closed to Matt since she still had BGP credentials and was not under an order of arrest.

  That just might prove their best opportunity for escape. It would require Matt’s absolute trust, and that was something she was not sure she had yet, despite his earlier words.

  “Matt.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Do you really trust me? Cause if you do, I think I might be able to get us out of Japan, but it’s dangerous. It could get us both killed really easily.”

  “How?”

  “I could arrest you, and take you in for questioning.”

  “What?”

  At Matt’s surprised exclamation Abbey rushed on, “Just long enough to get us off this island. Look, Malone seems to have left me as an active BGP agent. Thanks to my issuing the orders to the re-act team, I’m not even a probationary agent any longer. Angus’ death will be regarded as my graduation. Normally, Malone would have put in his report that I hadn’t even been there, but since he was unconscious, and I’d already removed you from the scene, I told the re-act sergeant that we’d been working together.

  “If you’re right about the reasons I’m still active with the BGP, then Malone wouldn’t have dared to contradict my story.

  “So what I’m thinking is that if I showed up at the airport, with you in custody, we could file a destination of New York, and tell them I’m bringing you to Malone. They should buy it, and we get off somewhere else. Malone may even believe I knocked him out to try and claim Angus, but settled for you instead when I realized that it was him I’d KO’d. That kind of thing does happen in the BGP sometimes.

  “There’s all kinds of things that could go wrong, Malone may have taken steps I don’t know about, and we might both be arrested as soon as we show up, he could even have…”

  “Let’s do it. I’m not such a chauvinist that I can’t stand to be protected by a beautiful woman. It’s your show. I’m in no shape to do anything and my mind is still messed up by the aftereffects of the potion. So, for a while at least, I go where and when you say.”

  Abbey felt her eyes burn and suddenly her vision was cloudy as she felt the trust Matt was placing in her. No one had ever had that kind of faith in her before, and she found that she liked the feeling. It filled her with great warmth and she swore to herself that she would be worthy of that trust. She would get Matt out alive no matter what, even at the cost of her own life, if it came to that. She knew his trust was still probationary and not complete, yet it showed more trust than anyone in her life before. What would it be like to have his complete, unrestrained trust?

  20

  New York, North American Territory

  May 17, 2080

  “Who else have you got for me?” Malone asked as Hu Li’s hands worked at the muscles of his upper back and neck.

  “Miguel Ramón Delacruz, can fly anything in the air, and there is nothing he can’t drive. Motorcycles to big-rigs to trains, he’s your man. He has a skill with vehicles that goes way beyond mere competence. This guy can wring the utmost out of whatever he’s driving. His martial skills are perhaps a little below average, but he’s fully qualified in both armed and unarmed combat. I think his abilities are needed, more than his fists.”

  “He can handle himself though? You did say he passed on all his training, right?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Malone took a moment to study the file on Delacruz. The little Latino was acne scarred and had greasy hair, but there was a look of competence in his eyes that Malone liked.

  “He’s in. What else have you got?”

  “Gavin McLeish is the best dog handler in the BGP. He maintains a pack of Great Hounds that will run down even the most genetically enhanced prey on two feet or four. They are vicious, and will kill a man in seconds, but they are absolutely loyal to Gavin. These dogs were very carefully crafted. They started with Irish Wolfhounds, but have added other breeds, tinkered with the chromosomes, altered the DNA, etc. What you have now is a dog that stands as high at the shoulder as you do, and weighs in at almost 400 pounds. They’ve been altered in ways having nothing to do with DNA as well. Each dog, upon attaining his full growth, has all its teeth replaced with a ceramic steel alloy five times harder than the best steel made. The teeth are sharp enough to slice through a Kevlar vest and hard enough to punch through steel plate up to an eighth of an inch thick. The same is true for the claws.”

  “You say McLeish is the only one who can control these monsters? What do we do if we lose McLeish?”

  “Each dog has a tiny explosive implanted in its brain. You send out a pulse on the right frequency, and each dog’s is different, it’s like someone threw a switch. The dog drops where it stands.”

  The photo showed one of the shortest, and hairiest unaltered humans Malone had ever seen. McLeish stood just five foot three inches, but was solidly built. He was covered on every inch of exposed flesh with a pelt of steel grey hair eerily similar to the coat on the hound in the photo with him.

  “Arrange the transfer. Next?”

  “Rachael Depardieu is your sharpshooter. She can hit a man’s head from 2 miles away with her Packwood Exterminator.”

  Malone looked into the ice-blue eyes staring defiantly back from the image on the wall. Rachael Depardieu was a tall woman, six feet even. She had white-blonde hair that hung in a tight braid over her left shoulder, reaching past her ample bosom almost to her slender waist. She was wearing form-fitting armor and had her rifle propped against an outthrust hip.

  There was a list of her shooting accomplishments, including a list of living targets she’d taken at extreme range.

  “She’s in. Who else you got?”

  “William Miller. Electronics and surveillance. The very best there is. You need this guy. He’s also pissed off his section chief, and been relegated to some pretty meaningless work lately, so he’ll be real anxious to please.”

  “Are you saying he’s a suck-up?”

  “Not at all. He’s good, he knows he’s good, but now he knows that that may not always be enough. He’ll be ready to go along with almost anything you might need, even if it violates BGP policy, as long as he gets to stay on interesting work.”

  “OK, I can always use someone like that.”

  “The last one I want to recommend,” said Hu Li as her hands worked their magic on his aching head, “is your amphibious specialist. Mario Cabelosi. He’s spent more time underwater than most fish. He also holds the world’s record for the deepest free dive. He went to a depth of 273 meters without any air tanks. One breath and down he goes. The usual method is to wear lots of weights and pull down a line. No
t Mario. He wore nothing more than his swim trunks and a pair of flippers. He holds his breath for almost twelve minutes.

  “He would also be, with the exception of Kournikov, the strongest member of the team.”

  “Fine. He’s in.”

  Malone closed his eyes and relaxed into the massage. He wasn’t sure what it was about this woman, but he could relax with her like he had never been able to with anyone else. Perhaps it was because she was not BGP, yet was still worthy of his respect for her physical prowess and abilities. He didn’t need to hold her in contempt like he did most people, yet at the same time he didn’t need to compete with her. Whatever the reason, he found himself drifting into blissfully as she slowly and gently massaged his temples and scalp.

  “That’s nine,” said Hu Li. You told me you wanted me on the team, which makes ten, but it occurs to me that the minister said ten BGP agents. You could add one more.”

  “Her name is Abbey and she’s already on assignment.”

  “The rookie from Japan? Interesting choice,” said Hu Li thoughtfully.

  21

  May 18, 2080

  Beijing, Asian Territory

  Matt was still amazed they’d managed to get this far. Escaping Tokyo should have been harder. It had been more difficult at every other passing. With Malone’s interest peaked, it should have been impossible.

  It had worked almost perfectly. Matt had actually been in BGP custody, and escaped. That was the part that had not gone according to plan. Abbey was to have cuffed him and kept him in her custody the entire time, but upon arrival at the Tokyo Regional Airport she’d had to surrender him to the BGP uniforms who, none too gently, strip searched him, sedated him, and stuffed him in a holding cell in the unheated belly of the plane.

  He’d never been so terrified in his life. Facing down Malone, possibly the most dangerous man on the planet, had not compared. He’d been too filled with rage and grief to feel any fear then, but trapped in a small cell, drugged and unable to move, he found himself alone in the dark with nothing but his fear to keep him company.

  He found himself afraid that something had gone wrong. Abbey had either been playing her part to perfection or he was really a prisoner of the BGP and she had betrayed him. He had decided to put his faith in Abbey. To put his life in her hands and he did not regret that. He did not believe that she had betrayed him, but alone, listening to the droning of the jet engines for six hours, he found his faith hard to hold on to. Her assurances that there were no search or detain orders out for her, and his own idea as to the reason, seemed little comfort as he rode towards his fate. Doubt wiggling its way through the fatigue and pain that clouded his mind.

  As Matt considered his fate he couldn’t help but feel a surge of rage at the possibility that the BGP had won. They’d killed Angus, he was in custody and Malone would win. The people who’d killed Brother Fidelis and the others would never be made to pay. Tears streamed unheeded down his face.

  For the first time in years Matt gave in to despair. He had failed. He’d made a vow that day on the mountainside and he now believed he would not succeed in it.

  For the first time in all those years he found himself unsure. He did not know the answers anymore. Brother Fidelis was dead. Angus was dead. The woman he loved was a Hunter…..or she had been. Abbey had been able to turn her back on everything she’d been raised to believe, because she knew in her soul that it was wrong, or because she’d been ordered to, the little voice asked. What did Matt know in his soul, he wondered. He knew, as he’d always known, that Brother Fidelis would not approve of vengeance. Nor, for that matter would Angus.

  Fidelis had been a man of God, and had raised Matt to be such. Angus too, had had an abiding faith in the Lord. He’d been more reserved about it and had never entered a monastic order, but still he’d believed.

  Matt could remember a time when he’d believed, and truth be told, he’d never stopped believing in God, he’d just stopped believing God. What good were all of his promises when there was so much misery, so much that was unfair in the world? Why would God allow such suffering? What was it all for?

  Waiting to find out if he was to live or die, alone in the dark, cold belly of an airplane flying across the Pacific, Matt found something much more important than answers. He found faith. He’d always had faith in himself, or in Brother Fidelis, but that was faith of an entirely different sort.

  He knew his abilities, he knew theirs. He trusted that they would always do their best for him. Hadn’t Brother Fidelis and Angus both died to protect him? He believed Abbey would too, just as he would for her.

  The faith he found now was of a different sort. His faith in God did not mean that he believed that he would win in his struggle against the BGP, or that everything would be alright no matter what he did. No, his struggle was as important as ever, even if his goal had to change. Abbey was right, even if she was a BGP plant. No more could he be motivated by revenge, by a desire to make them pay for all they’d done. That was the Lord’s province. Matt would stop them from victimizing more innocents, but would leave the punishment to God.

  Struggling against the sedative in his system, Matt crawled to the edge of his cell. Using the bars he pulled himself up as far as his knees. There, for the first time since the morning he’d accepted Brother Fidelis’ death, Matt bowed his head and prayed. He prayed for strength, he prayed for wisdom, and he prayed for mercy. He thanked the Lord for the friends and teachers he’d been blessed with and for the epiphany he’d just experienced, for he had no doubt that the sudden flash of understanding he’d just felt had, in fact, been divinely inspired.

  Along with it came a sense of rightness, a sense that come what may, even if he got off this plane and found himself facing a firing squad, it would be okay. He did not believe that he had any special protection, or that he would receive any instructions direct from God. No, that way lay madness. He was not insane. He knew that God would not be speaking to him directly. He had but to follow his heart and he would be okay. He might win the day, or he might die a slow painful death, but as long as he remained true to his beliefs, beliefs he’d abandoned for too long, he would be all right.

  No longer afraid, Matt lay back down on the cold cell floor and let the roar of the engines lull him to sleep, at peace with himself for the first time in years.

  The sound of the landing gear dropping woke Matt. The sedative had mostly worn off. It seemed the BGP was not aware of his genetic make-up. They had failed to run blood tests before departure. Oh, they’d taken a sample and no doubt the tests were run, but the tests were not instantaneous, and in fact could take several hours, so they had not known at departure time that his system would metabolize the drugs much faster than most. Abbey had made it clear that they were to take no chances with his life, because he had vital information they needed to sweat out of him in New York.

  Abbey had been issued follow up doses to administer at their scheduled stops. The flight was not a non-stop; few were anymore. Those planes not destroyed in the wars had died of old age many years before. The government had spent its resources in other areas, so as a result most air travel was by cheaply built large turbo-prop airplanes. They didn’t have the range of the old jumbo jets. To be sure, the jets still existed, it was just that their numbers were limited and so was their usage. This worked in Matt and Abbey’s favor because they had no intention of going all the way to New York. Malone might not have issued any orders pertaining to Abbey or Matt, but he would be able to find out that she’d booked passage using her BGP credentials easily enough.

  They hadn’t bothered to explain their route to the uniforms at the airport. Abbey had assured him it would not be necessary when he’d raised the issue during planning. She’d been right, too. The BGP uniformed officers never thought to question a Hunter, not even one as new as Abbey. It was an important fact to remember.

  None of the fear Matt had felt in the belly of the plane resurfaced as he was roughly taken from his cell and e
scorted to the holding cell in the terminal. He remembered to walk as if the drugs were still in his system, and to stare blankly ahead, not reacting when the goons took a few gratuitous shots to his belly and one to the face.

  Thankfully they were brief in their torment. They took their shots and tossed him to the floor. In fact, the most painful part of the whole ordeal was when, unable to control his fall lest he give away the fact that the drugs were gone from his system, he smashed his lacerated side into the cell’s bunk. The broken ribs grated and the wound began to bleed again. Gritting his teeth where he couldn’t be seen, Matt began the pain control techniques he’d learned as a small boy.

  By the time Abbey got to his cell, and, coldly furious at the damage, had chewed the guards up one side and down the other for endangering the life of the prisoner who, after all, had valuable information, or he wouldn’t be a prisoner, Matt had the pain under control.

  They had planned on walking right out of the terminal and disappearing into the crowds, but that was before the necessity to turn Matt over to the uniforms and have him cuffed and stuffed in a cell. Now they were faced with getting him out of the BGP’s secured area at the Beijing Airport. The obvious solution was to use the sedative on the guards. Obvious, but wrong. They needed to get out while the records showed that they had boarded the next leg of their flight. This was only one of five stops, and while it was the only one where they would need to deplane, Malone would still need to check the others. That is if they could make it appear that they’d gotten on board here. Knocking out the guards and walking out of the holding area would not do.