Chapter Forty-Eight

Kat and Scout were ten feet apart.

Scout stood in the center of the living room, listening. Nothing. But she knew Katarzyna was there. Near the bookshelves. She began to inch her way behind the couch to flank Kat’s position.

Kat had no idea where Scout was. She crouched down, feeling around her. More books. To disturb them would risk exposing her position. The only way out of the makeshift obstacle course was the way she’d gone to rescue Kenny. Toward the bedroom. She crept in that direction.

The two women moved farther and farther apart. Fifteen feet separated them. Then twenty.

Kat encountered fewer and fewer obstacles the farther she got from the bookshelves. Every few steps she paused to listen, but she could still not tell where Scout was.

Scout closed in on the bookshelves, knowing she had to be close to where she’d heard the noise. She worried Kenny and Katarzyna had escaped into the secret hiding place. She picked up several books and threw them toward the shelves. They clattered off the walls. Nothing. Scout gritted her teeth. You won’t get away from me, her mind chanted. She reached for more books.

Kat listened to the books hitting the wall and narrowed her keen hearing until she could make out two different types of sounds. Just prior to each thud against the wall, there was a faint whoosh, a fluttering of pages as the book sailed through the air. It gave her a general idea of where Scout was. Still in a crouch, she crept toward that location.

Another flurry of books was launched, this time right at Kat. The first sailed to her left. Then her right. She dodged the third by mere centimeters, catching the faint rustling of pages at the last moment as it flew directly at her face.

But Scout was tossing the books one after the other at close range, and Kat couldn’t react quickly enough to successfully evade the next one. It hit her square in her chest and dropped noisily to the floor.

Kat dove to her left, but she was not fast enough to evade Scout’s switchblade. It sank into the flesh of her right arm, halfway between her shoulder and elbow. She could not suppress a wail of pain as her own knife clattered to the floor.

Blood dripped into Kenny’s eyes from the slash on his forehead. He was having no luck trying to free himself from the handcuffs. His wrists were raw.

He explored the area around him with his feet, hoping to come upon something he could use to get the blasted things off. His left boot found something solid. He put his back to it and explored with his fingers. Metal. Big. He felt the dial on the door of the safe and recognized it for what it was. He continued on, taking shuffling steps. Another safe, the door open.

Kenny felt awkwardly behind him until his hands found a canvas strap. He followed it to a submachine gun, hung on a rack. Below it hung a rifle. He couldn’t reach high enough to tell if there was anything above them.

He crouched to examine the floor of the safe. With his fingers, he identified a pair of binoculars. A rifle scope. A canister of some sort. A box. He shook it. It rattled. He pried it open. Bullets. Continued on. Three more boxes of bullets. His hand closed around a pistol. Not what Kenny was looking for, but he stuck it into his back pocket. Convinced he had explored the contents of the safe as best as he could, Kenny stood and resumed his shuffling search.

He had gone a few feet when he heard a gun cock. It came from very close by and near to the floor. It took him several seconds to reach for his own pistol.

Unable to aim the weapon, he cocked it, hoping the sound would be enough to dissuade the other person from shooting him. The sound echoed in the small space.

Riley tried not to make a sound. Her heart was pounding. She held her breath.

She listened to the intruder noisily search the gun safe. She imagined that one of the two men who had been chained up had discovered the secret room.

She gripped the.38 in her hand and pressed herself into the corner, hoping the man would get what he was after and leave.

But his shuffling steps came nearer until she was sure he would be upon her any second.

She cocked the gun, alarmed by how loud the sound was. Stupid.

Her fear was confirmed when she heard the answering call of the intruder’s gun being cocked.

Kenny couldn’t believe Hunter would have gotten him away from the blond psychopath only to place him in more danger. So despite his shock at discovering someone else in here with a gun, he knew he had to find out for sure what the hell was going on.

He kept his voice to the slightest whisper, afraid that the room he was in wasn’t soundproof.

"Don’t shoot. I don’t want to hurt anybody, and I hope you don’t either." He paused, hoping for a response. Silence. "Are you a friend of Hunter’s too?"

After a long pause, a feminine voice whispered back. "Hunter? Who’s Hunter?"

Kenny frowned. "Tall, beautiful, mysterious? Owner of this fine establishment?" He hoped a little humor might prompt the woman to put away the gun that was trained on him.

"Kat," Riley whispered. "Her name is Kat. Why do you call her Hunter if you’re her friend?"

"Well, I am her friend," Kenny insisted. "And she’s been Hunter as long as I’ve known her."

"How long is that?"

"Seven years or so, I guess," he whispered, "Since she saved my life."

"She has a habit of saving people, it seems. She saved my life too. More than once," Riley said.

"Can I suggest we agree not to kill each other, then?" Kenny asked. "Probably would really piss her off."

Riley had to smile despite the situation. "Okay," she answered, carefully releasing the hammer of the gun. "What’s your name?"

"Kenny. You?"

"Riley. What’s happening out there? How did you get in here?"

Kenny crouched beside her and filled her in on everything that had happened since his arrival.

Riley in turn briefed Kenny on what she knew, and soon both had a clearer picture of how ruthless Scout was and how determined she was to kill Kat.

Together, they grew anxious as the minutes ticked by with no further word from their friend.

When Scout’s switchblade sliced into her arm, Kat cried out and her hand jerked open in reflex. Her buck knife clattered to the floor. But then her years of martial arts training and close-quarter drills at the Academy kicked in. She shut out the pain.

She anticipated Scout would charge her. Her left hand came up to search for what had impaled itself in her right arm. Her fingers closed around the handle of the switchblade. She withdrew it with a grimace and swept a wide arc before her with the weapon, just as Scout launched herself forward.

The knife met fleshy resistance. Scout screamed.

The scent of blood hit Kat’s nostrils. A thin spray of warm wetness hit her face and neck.

Scout was wounded, but it didn’t slow her down. She charged, and both women went down hard.

Kat landed on her back, Scout on top of her.

The impact knocked the wind out of Kat and sent the switchblade cart wheeling from her hands.

Scout scrambled to sit on Kat’s chest, pinning down Kat’s arms with her knees.

Kat’s handgun cut into the small of her back, unreachable. Scout’s left knee pressed down hard on the knife wound in her right arm. Kat thought she might pass out from the pain. She had trouble focusing.

Scout punched Kat hard in the mouth--once, twice, three times. She put her hands around Kat’s neck and started to squeeze.

Kat arched her back, putting all the strength of her long legs into it, and sent Scout flying forward, off balance.

Scout flew face first toward the hard floor over Kat’s head, but put out her hands to break her fall.

Kat rolled to one side, gasping for breath.

That led Scout back to her. She lunged at Kat, throwing haphazard punches, connecting with Kat’s face, neck, abdomen, shoulder.

Kat tried to fight back with her left hand. Her right arm was useless. Her fingers sought Scout’s neck, but Scout moved too fast, successfully evading her.

Kat shifted her weight with a loud grunt and managed to get Scout off her again. She kicked hard with both feet and sent Scout crashing into the kitchen counter.

Kat rolled painfully onto her right side and reached behind her for her gun. She fired blindly with her left hand.

On the fourth shot, Scout cried out and Kat heard her hit the floor.

Kat got to her feet. She found Scout with her outstretched boot and nudged her a couple of times. Scout reacted only with pained groans, so Kat crouched and found her head. She placed the cold tip of her gun against Scout’s temple. "Who the hell are you?" she demanded.

No reply. The blonde wouldn’t, or couldn’t, answer.

"Frank!" Kat shouted into the darkness. "Frank! It’s Hunter. I’ve got her. Turn the lights back on!"

Frank opened the door to the living room just a foot or so. Just enough to peek inside. It was unmistakably Hunter’s voice, but was it a trap?

He clicked on his flashlight and swept it in a quick arc across the room until it landed on a grisly tableau. Hunter, poised over Scout. There was blood all over both of them, and Scout wasn’t moving.

"Right away, Hunter," Frank said. He headed for the generator room.

Frank’s flashlight blinded Kat momentarily, but she’d still gotten a pretty good look at Scout’s injuries. There was a widening pool of blood around her. Kat didn’t think she could survive long. She relaxed a little.

"Who are you?" she repeated. The anger was gone from her voice, replaced by curiosity.

The blonde coughed, a gurgling sound. "Maggie O’Rourke," she answered in a strained voice.

Kat couldn’t place the name. "Why?"

No reply.

Kat leaned down over the woman. "Why?" she asked again, her lips inches from the blonde’s face.

"Clogher," the blonde rasped out.

And then Kat knew. She remembered her only visit to the village in vivid detail. The IRA members she’d killed.

The splinter group had begun its reign of terror with ambush attacks against British soldiers. Then they had set bombs on buses in Dublin, killing dozens of men, women and children. Kat remembered she’d been told to expect five targets--one a woman--but she’d found only the four men when she broke into their cottage stronghold.

The lights flashed back on. Distracted by her grim memories, Kat was startled and had to squint her eyes to adjust.

Scout sprang to life. She clasped her hands together and slammed them into Kat’s hand. The gun went flying.

Дата добавления: 2015-10-30