Chapter Twenty. Jake watched as Kat’s image on the screen cocked her head as if she was listening for something

Jake watched as Kat’s image on the screen cocked her head as if she was listening for something. Jake’s eyes darted to the third monitor. While she’d been watching Kat, the man behind the tree had disappeared. Jake narrowed her eyes, staring hard at the monitor, praying to see some movement that would tell her what had happened to him. Had he just darted behind the tree he was standing next to? Or had he gone?

She looked back to the middle screen.

Kat was moving now too--she pulled a white ski mask over her face and neck, then slid an odd-looking pair of goggles over her eyes. She moved to the right of the screen and then up out of view, like she was climbing a ladder.

Now Jake could see neither person, and her anxiety doubled. She was tempted to go through the exit door, see if Kat was there and warn her about what she’d seen on the monitor. But she was held in place, both by her promise and by her uncertainty over what she was witnessing.

Kat had looked so comfortable--casual, almost--handling the gun. It was very disconcerting to Jake and didn’t fit at all with the image she held of the woman. Nature photographer, cello player, cook, rescuer. Maybe she was in the military or law enforcement somewhere, she surmised. Or maybe something not quite so innocuous.

There was movement now on the third screen. In the clearing in the forest, the snow moved. No, that’s not it, she realized. Something was under the snow. A large circular object rose perpendicular to the ground, and the snow that had been around it fell away. Kat emerged from the ground. It’s the exit, Jake realized, amazed at how well concealed it had been. Watch out, Kat. He’s out there somewhere, her mind screamed in warning. Jesus, what the hell is going on here?

Frank had convinced himself that whatever he thought he’d heard must have been some weird bird or animal. He’d pulled down his cap to cover his ears again. They’d gotten so cold they positively ached. He’d read stories about how people had lost toes and fingers to frostbite, and he worried about his face--particularly his ears and his nose, which ran profusely in the chill air.

He was glad at least it wasn’t snowing. He could follow his own tracks back to the rock wall. He knew he could get lost out here way too easily.

He was less cautious going down the hill than he had been coming up, no longer concerned that someone might be watching him. No one else is stupid enough to be out here, he told himself. He headed back toward the rock wall, not at all looking forward to trying to crack the security panel. He was pretty good at picking most locks, but any kind of electronic device was beyond him. He just had to hope he’d get lucky.

Kat sensed, finally, that it was safe to emerge from the emergency exit. She cracked the hatch and snow cascaded into the tunnel around her. She climbed up and out, adjusted her goggles, and quickly scanned the area for the intruder. Satisfied, she closed the hatch and quickly kicked snow over it, trying to obscure the entrance as best as she could. Staying low and moving quickly, she headed to the nearest big tree and concealed herself behind it, listening. She heard soft sounds, not far down the hill. The crunching of boots and the rustling sound of nylon against nylon. She hurried noiselessly toward it.

There was a chance, she knew, that the intruder could be a snowmobiler or hunter who found her sled tracks leading from the crash site and got nosy.

Or maybe someone had discovered the wreck and called the police. The man could be a deputy investigating the stolen car. Either option would be real trouble for her. She didn’t want to kill an innocent man or policeman, yet she had to protect the bunker as long as Jake could not be moved. Kat had to find out who the intruder was and whether he had revealed the location of the bunker to anyone else.

She followed the sounds, finally glimpsing the man through the trees. He was making his way back to the main entrance. She closed in on him, studying him. He was large and muscular, but she could not see his face to tell whether she recognized him. He plodded noisily along, his nylon snowmobile suit making the rustling sounds she’d heard, and he was sniffling loudly.

Suddenly the big man tripped and fell headlong into the deep snow, flailing his arms. He rose to his feet, cursing loudly, and Kat resisted the urge to laugh. A few minutes later, he was back standing before the security panel at the rock wall. He turned on a flashlight and scanned the area with it, then removed his right mitten and began punching numbers into the panel.

Kat crept up behind him, every muscle in her body taut in anticipation. She reached for her Glock as she approached her target.

Frank was randomly hitting numbers on the keypad, hoping he wasn’t triggering an alarm, when two things happened simultaneously.

He heard a low female voice directly behind him say "Freeze," and cold metal was pressed firmly against the back of his neck. It was wedged into the narrow space between his cap and the collar of his snowsuit.

He did as he was told. The fingers on his exposed hand were beginning to freeze, but he took no notice. He kept the flashlight trained on the panel. Hunter, he thought nervously, and despite the cold, he began to sweat a little inside the insulated suit.

Her voice came again, beside his ear, as the cold metal nudged his neck for emphasis. "Who are you?"

"Uh...uh," Frank stammered, stalling for time. Why the hell hadn’t he anticipated this? He couldn’t admit who he was and what he was doing here. His delay in answering prompted another firm prod from the gun. "My name is John. I...I’m lost," he said.

"Try again," the voice said.

She cocked the gun, the sound echoing loudly in his ears despite the cap he wore. He began to sweat in earnest now.

Frank found his voice and tried to keep it steady. "I was following some tracks, just out snowmobiling," he lied.

"Don’t believe you. Who are you working for?"

"No one," Frank said, too quickly.

A long sigh from behind him. "You don’t lie very well." A hand reached around him and took the flashlight from his left hand. "Raise your hands above your head," the voice instructed.

Frank obeyed. When he did, the mitten he’d been holding under his left arm fell to the ground. His right hand was nearly numb now from the cold, but he resisted the urge to flex his fingers to restore the blood flow.

The cold metal was removed from Frank’s neck. "Turn around, very slowly."

He did as he was told. As soon as he turned, the bright beam of the flashlight blinded him, shining directly into his eyes. He squinted against the glare.

"Take your hat off. Move slowly," the voice said from in front of him.

Frank removed his cap and dropped it in the snow. His mind worked furiously trying to come up with an explanation for his presence, but he could think of nothing convincing. It was Hunter, he knew it was, and he suddenly found himself trying to recall details of the stories he’d heard about her. Everyone talked about her reflexes, he remembered. Said she could move faster than you could see. His mouth was dry.

"Let’s try this once more," the voice said, drawing closer. "What’s your name?"

He took a deep breath to calm his nerves before he answered. "Frank," he said. Still squinting, he lowered his eyes. He could barely make out the silhouette of her lower body. She was four or five feet away, out of his reach.

"Very good. Now back up, Frank," the voice commanded. "Up against the wall."

He obeyed, retreating by small, slow steps until his back was against the hard surface. He waited for her to say something. A minute passed in uncomfortable silence. Trying to feign a nonchalance he didn’t feel, Frank shrugged and opened his mouth. "Look, lady, you got me all wrong--" he began, but his next words were cut off in his throat.

Before he knew what had happened, she was upon him. One large, strong hand tightened around his larynx, cutting off his air. Her thumb dug hard into the pulse point at the base of his jaw, effectively pinning him against the wall. In a reflex action, he struggled against the iron grip and started to bring his hands down, but the second he did that, she tightened her hold until he began to see stars. Damn, she’s strong, he thought fuzzily. His lungs screamed for air. He was going to black out.

He stopped fighting her and put his hands back up. When he did, she loosened her grip enough for him to suck in some sweet air. Then she tightened her hold again slightly, pushing upward against his windpipe until he couldn’t breathe at all unless he was on his tiptoes. The back of his head pressed painfully against the wall. The sharp edge of the security panel cut into his lower back.

"No more lies now, Frank."

"Okay, Okay," he wheezed. He was having a hard time talking through the excruciating pressure on his windpipe, and he had lost all feeling in his right hand. He was in real trouble here, he realized. And she was getting impatient. "Look, I’m just out here to find someone." He gasped for air. "Sorry to have bothered you. Obviously she’s not here." He was past thinking about the money now. He just wanted the hell out of here.

Kat felt fairly relaxed, considering the current circumstances. She knew now that this man was probably no real immediate threat to her or to Jake. He didn’t seem to have either the brains or the imagination to get himself out of his current predicament, and he seemed to be alone.

But she still had to find out who he was and what he knew, and more importantly, she then had to decide what to do with him. Part of the latter decision would depend on whether he had told anyone the location of the bunker.

She hoped he’d give up the information willingly. Sometimes big brutes like this had a high tolerance for pain, like she did. She didn’t think he was operating on his own. He was the type who took orders. And if she was right about who sent him, she knew Frank would try at least for a while to resist giving up the full story. Evan Garner could be ruthless with underlings who betrayed him. The contract on her life was proof of that, wasn’t it?

Kat let several seconds elapse in silence. She smiled a little when she could feel the desired response. Frank’s pulse rate beneath her thumb increased. She squeezed his larynx until he coughed in pain. "Who are you looking for, Frank?"

He blinked against the aching pressure on his throat and the blinding light held directly in front of his eyes. "A woman. Blond. Had a car wreck," he rasped out.

"I’m listening," Kat urged.

"Tracks from the wreck led here," he said. He paused, considering how much to tell her.

Kat squeezed his throat again and pressed the flashlight forcefully against the bridge of his nose. A sharp outcropping of rock on the wall behind him cut into his scalp. "Don’t make me beg for every tidbit, Frank," she warned.

"I’m a private investigator," he said hoarsely, "working for the woman’s husband." Frank didn’t think the story would pass. He knew he lied poorly. But he feared what Hunter would do if she learned the truth. He was rather surprised when she didn’t immediately call him on it.

Kat’s muscled forearm began to tire from the pressure she was putting on Frank’s larynx. She thought the man was lying, but what if he wasn’t? Had Jake’s husband somehow tracked them down through the car? She had nearly convinced herself that the wedding ring was merely a prop Jake used as a bounty hunter. Was that only wishful thinking?

"Okay, Mr. Private Eye," she said playfully, never altering the steely grip around Frank’s throat. "Time for show-and-tell. First I want the names of the client and the wife. Then I’ll want to see your P.I. license, because I’m just sure you’re the law-abiding type and carry it with you like you should."

Frank tried to swallow. An impossible task at the moment, even if his mouth wasn’t sandpaper. "Uh," he stammered, "Uh, I don’t have my license. It’s back in my car."

"Of course it is," she said agreeably. She kneed him in the groin.

He groaned loudly and slumped forward against the excruciating, blinding pain. Her hand remained locked against his throat, increasing his agony. He fought to remain conscious.

After a couple of minutes, the pain had subsided enough for him to focus. He wished he could feel his right hand enough to risk some move against her. His left was a problem now as well; it was going numb from being held so long in the air. That blow had angered Frank and dampened his fear. He wanted so badly to hurt this bitch now. Screw the money--that would just be a bonus. Rage poured through his body.

Just as he had about mustered his courage to try something, she kneed him again.

"Calm down, Frank," Kat said, nearly supporting his full weight against her hand as he slumped forward in response to the second jarring blow. She had felt his pulse increase beneath her thumb after she’d kicked him the first time, and she’d correctly identified the strong, rapid pounding as an adrenaline rush. She knew he’d been about to lash out at her. It was why she favored the neck grip she was using on him, in fact. It was a debilitating hold that enabled her to get a good idea of what her victim’s heart rate was doing. And that helped her predict their behavior.

But her forearm had begun to ache from the strain of holding him. She knew now he was lying about being a P.I., and she wanted to get this over with.

"You need to resist the urge to fight me, Frank. I won’t hurt you any more if you just start cooperating and tell me the truth." She eased up just slightly against his throat so that he could take deeper breaths.

He stood on rubbery legs. Holding his hands even slightly aloft now took tremendous effort. At least for the moment, the fight was gone from him.

"You trying to earn a million dollars tonight, Frank?"

He jumped a little, startled at the question, but didn’t ask her to explain it. Instead, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I came here because I was ordered to follow the trail from the car," he volunteered. "To find a missing blonde," he reiterated through clenched teeth. "That’s the truth." There was a long pause before he continued. "I know who you are, Hunter, but I came here to find Scout. She was the one out to collect on the money."

Kat nodded to herself. This finally was the truth. There were two more things she wanted to know. "What can you tell me about this Scout?"

He was surprised at the question. "Isn’t she here?"

She tightened her grip on his neck. "I get to ask the questions, Frank," she scolded. "Tell me about Scout."

"Okay, enough," he choked. "Sorry."

She loosened her grip again just enough so he could breathe.

"She’s a bounty hunter, like you. Didn’t check in for several days so the boss sent me looking for her. He put a tracking device in her phone, and I followed it to the crash site. That’s honest to God all I know."

"You know nothing else about her? Her real name, where she’s from?" Kat prodded.

"No. Only what I told you," he insisted.

"When was the last time you checked in with Garner?"

So she knows about him, too, Frank thought with deep disappointment. Figures. She knew about the money. He didn’t want to answer, because he knew when he did, Hunter would have no further use for him. She’d have to kill him because he knew where the bunker was. So he had nothing left to lose. He’d have to take any chance he got to get out of this. If only she’d relax her grip just a bit more. The pain between his legs had dulled to a low throbbing. He tried to wiggle his fingers, hoping she wouldn’t notice. He could not feel his right hand at all. It seemed detached from his body.

"When, Frank?" Kat repeated.

"Several hours ago," Frank wheezed, exaggerating his discomfort in the hope it would get her to loosen her grip. "Not sure, exactly."

Kat knew she couldn’t hold him much longer. She was afraid her forearm would soon tremble against the strain. "Do they know where you are?"

"They kn-know where the car is," he admitted, stuttering slightly. It was a speech impediment he’d overcome as a child that only resurfaced now because of his extreme stress. "They don’t know about this place. M-m-my cell wouldn’t reach," he finished.

That’s that, Frank thought absently. Now or never. With a quickness born of desperation, he brought both hands together, then down hard, aiming blindly for where he imagined Hunter’s head was. He tried to ignore the choking agony in his windpipe.

Pain flashed up his arms as he contacted with something solid. Suddenly the bright light was no longer in his eyes, and her grip was gone. Still blinded from the flashlight, he blinked furiously, reaching out for her. He gripped coarse material and tried to pull her toward him in a bear hug.

Kat fought back with an elbow to his face that broke his nose.

Blood poured from both of his nostrils, and his rage flared anew. He fought for his life. Frank threw wild punches with both hands, making contact only rarely, thankful that the more frequent hits to his own body were being cushioned somewhat by the thick padding of the snowmobile suit. His eyesight was coming back. He grabbed for her, and they struggled against each other, locked in a violent embrace until they toppled over into the deep snow.

Frank was momentarily distracted by the shock of his exposed face and neck being enveloped in the knee-deep powder. He relaxed his grip on Hunter’s right arm.

Kat yanked her revolver from its holster and brought it down hard against the side of Frank’s head.

He stopped moving.

Дата добавления: 2015-10-30