The Huntsman Read online

  Fear-fueled panic gripped the remaining goons. They raced for the door. Between them and life both creatures appeared. The two birds moved in tandem, perfectly synchronized. With a start, Cross understood one had to be an image of the other. The Asians turned on their heels and sped for another exit. Above them one bird appeared, gliding in silence. It swooped down burying its claws in one goon then the other, lifting both flailing men into the air. Their horrified shrieks filled the spacious building. It flapped hard to the forty-foot ceiling then dropped them.

  A loud crack broke the silent fall. Agonized wails followed a shattered tibia that sliced through shin and pants. His partner lay in a crumpled heap with a broken neck. The winged monster soared and swooped, screeched in palpable triumph. It flew to one end of the huge building then banked to return. Above its two victims the bird braked to alight graceful as a swan.

  Through pain-clouded eyes, Cross watched the nightmare flap its forty-foot wingspan once, twice. Three fingers plus a thumb, eerily human in form, flexed then balled into fists before the wings folded closed. As if wearied of the pitiable moans, it screeched at the man terrified of the demon come to life. Cross watched in horror as the creature leaned back. With a mighty thrust, it powered its beak through the man’s face. He felt no satisfaction at his tormentor’s convulsions. After some seconds they stilled forever. The thing straightened. Viscera and blood dripped from its beak. Its mouth oozed a clear liquid on the dead man’s punctured face.

  From half-opened wings, its freakish hands tore off clothes. It puzzled over the man’s belt before slicing it with its beak. Despite the pain wracking his body, horror and a visceral fear overcame Cross. The creature tore off the man’s arms, carried the body to a wall, then glued the corpse to it. Beyond any rational explanation, it pasted the severed limbs onto the shoulder blades. One by one, as if mounting trophies, the creature hung its victims by the face.

  Lashed to the floor, he remained helpless as the creature approached Dawkins. Short, shallow breaths forced by his broken ribs prevented even a shout. It paused to stare at her body, look up to the others, then stare again. A pattern it repeated until Dawkins’ body jerked. She voiced a soft moan. The bird grabbed her and ripped an arm from its mooring. Cross wondered if a severe beating caused hallucinations. He closed his eyes to squeeze the tears welling within. Her screams rang in his ears until the nightmare reached for his arms.

  CHAPTER 12 Sense and Scents

  Janesh grew cold and his nerves stilled. He turned away from studying Miranda’s case notes. She napped beside him and her beauty radiated an angelic peace. They flew from the Washington hotel Dawkins had booked for them. In the hallway where they opened separate rooms, Miranda had turned to him. “Do you sleepwalk, Janesh?” He shook his head.

  “Not at all.”

  “Oh.” Her tone and smile indicated too bad.

  They’d barely had time to recover from India’s jet lag when Cross summoned them to Tacoma, Washington. He looked back at the photo her communicator displayed. He hadn’t known their names but he knew the dead men. Their cultured manners and exteriors hid two brutal thugs who murdered at Nicholas Koh’s behest. He leaned back against the head rest. A held breath hissed away as his eyes closed.

  It no longer pained Janesh to think of Marian. She had long since passed from emotion into memory. Nor did he allow maturity and distance to dismiss what he’d experienced. At that time, at that place, at that moment, the love he’d felt had been as real as the heart it dwelled within. But time and space did permit him to appreciate the liaison’s irony. Marian had played the wiser, older role men usually did. How often had she lamented her unhappiness? That she wanted to leave and divorce him? He had played the role of a young, naïve woman who believed her every word. Until the day Cambridge’s Vice-Chancellor entered his home to shatter the fantasy.

  Janesh had waited three agonizing days for any call or message. He waited three more in the park where she took her 6am jog. Her expression and words long haunted his nights. “What are you doing here? It’s over. Get away from me.”

  It might have ended there but vicious rumors began to circulate on the campus messaging board he’d been her paid lover. Only later did he learn Marian had had another paramour, one older, more cunning—Nicholas Koh. He had alerted the Dean to his wife’s assignations then paid students to spread whispers and gossip. Amid the heartache and torment, Janesh left the school.

  More years passed before he came face-to-face with Feng Tan and Wei Xuan Chan. He had arranged the meeting to soothe the feathers a client had ruffled among Nicholas Koh’s colleagues. Though no longer young and naïve, he believed the matter settled when he passed the two a suitcase containing two million in cash. Janesh had collected his million when the police came to announce they’d found his client’s mutilated body inside a sewer hole. Even among thieves, honor no longer prevailed. He opened his eyes and looked at their distended faces hanging from a wall. Besides Koh himself, no two individuals had earned a more deserving fate.

  Miranda, overcome by a deeper sleep, began to lean over until her head rested gently on his shoulder. Janesh struggled with himself. The women since Marian had received his affection and company but not his trust. That remained locked deep within. And yet, as he gazed at her sleeping face, he wanted it to be the last thing he saw as his eyes closed and the first thing when he woke. A tissue-thin dam strained against the emotional tidal wave welling within. Did he dare trust again? And what of the peril closing on them? At that moment he’d never felt more protective of anyone. How safe could he keep her?

  “Ladies and gentlemen. Two minutes to reentry.” Miranda stirred. She opened her eyes to find him looking at her. A dreamy smile widened before they closed again. Her brow furrowed and they reopened. “What’s wrong?” He held out her communicator’s display.

  “Your case has just taken a very dangerous turn. I know these two. Not by the names in your notes but when I opened the accompanying photos I made the connection.”

  “Are they friends of yours?”

  “No, but our paths have crossed. They’re brutish thugs employed by Nicholas Koh. He rose from Singapore’s streets to become a powerful industrialist with worldwide tentacles. He’s a ruthless sociopath driven to make everyone else lose if he can’t win. His involvement in this case means there’s more to it than we know. That ignorance could be fatal. I’m not sure what good your continuance in it serves.”

  Miranda straightened in her seat and adjusted the restraints. She stared at the view screen where the preceding flight formed a fiery ball deep in the atmosphere. Their craft began to buck and rock. “And your path crossed with these men?” Hurt laced her low voice. “Who are you, Janesh McKenzie?”

  * * *

  A bubble formed around Janesh as he walked through Tacoma-Seattle Aerospace Center’s bustling crowds. Duncan and Ronan caused travelers to gape as they gave the two a wide berth. Though Rhodesian lion hunters did not belong in zero-g harnesses, neither looked the worse for wear. They pranced and nipped at their leashes, eager to run and exercise.

  Over the sea of bobbing heads, he spotted Miranda’s red hair faced away from him. Rather than accompany him to claim the dogs she’d remained before the Arrivals entrance to meet their contact. Now he saw why. A man approached. Hands on her shoulders, he leaned down to kiss her cheek. They chatted a moment before he wrapped his arms around in a tight hug. The stranger’s expression left no doubt he enjoyed the moment. Janesh went cold. Heart frozen and emotions stilled, he squatted down to pat and scratch the dogs. Sensing his need, they pressed closer and licked his face.

  “Janesh. Janesh. I’m over here.” Janesh rose, his expression a lifeless mask, eyes flat, unreadable. “Janesh, this is Ben Wolford our contact. Ben, this is Janesh McKenzie.” Ben extended a hand, tried to crush his in its grip. Janesh fixed his eyes on Ben but did not press back. His hand gave no indication of the strength holding it stiff.

  Miranda wiped a tear away. “Dawkins an
d Cross are dead, Janesh. I can’t believe it. This is horrible.” Janesh remained impassive but he felt the peril surrounding them inch closer. Ben looked down.

  “Wow. They told me you were bringing dogs not horses.” He reached toward Duncan’s head. The placid Ridgeback disappeared. He pulled back and crouched. Menace growled from its barrel chest. A snarling Ronan joined him. “Whoa, whoa. Easy boys. I’m a good guy.” Janesh remained still. Miranda looked at Ben then squatted between him and the dogs.

  “Hey. What’s that about?” She stroked and scratched. The two quieted, greeted her with face licks. “I know, I know. You didn’t like being cooped up. But that’s no reason to misbehave.”

  “Well. I guess you are a zoologist.” Ben exclaimed. He picked up Miranda’s bags. “C’mon. I’m under orders to bring you right to the site.”

  They weaved their way through the Center’s teeming crowds to the parking lot where a Job Utility Vehicle flashed and chirped at their approach. Its doors unlocked along with the rear hatch. Ben guided Miranda into the passenger seat, threw her bags in the rear storage area. When Janesh and the dogs settled into the cramped back seat, he turned the ignition and resumed the weave through the local traffic. Once on the highway, he threw his arm around Miranda’s seat. She gave him a side-long glance. Icy stares emanated from the rear.

  “We’re about ten miles north of Tacoma’s port facility on Commencement Bay. I’ve been here a week turning shifts on a warehouse we had under surveillance. Cross and Dawkins’ relief discovered them early this morning inside the building along with six others we’re still trying to identify.” Ben rubbed Miranda’s shoulder. “Are you alright?” She gave him a side-long glance and nodded. Icy stares continued from the rear.

  “It’s been chaotic since this morning when they made me site Agent-in-Charge and right now you two may know more than I do. I had no need-to-know and until the Washington bureaucrats process the paperwork giving me access to Dawkins and Cross’ encrypted files I won’t know. Two members of the Agency’s forensic team who want to consult with you are at the warehouse. Tacoma PD has no idea what happened. We want to keep it that way so we’re keeping a low profile around the warehouse. We’d like to wrap up our investigations by tonight so we can remove the bodies before the port workers return tomorrow morning.”

  Wolford exited the highway and at a red light again placed a hand on Miranda’s shoulder. “I came to meet your arrival and haven’t been to this warehouse yet. From the initial reports it’s worse than Honolulu. You had a tough time dealing with that. Maybe you shouldn’t be alone afterwards? How about I take you to dinner?”

  Miranda shuddered before giving him a mirthless smile. She hadn’t known Cross and Dawkins long enough to form bonds but her mind held clear images filled with life. Her head turned toward the passenger window. Eyes that saw no traffic stared out. Life had gone from fretting over hippos giving birth to murder and brutality. Violence had fallen on two people she knew by name. Now she had to examine their death masks. Whatever her reluctance, whatever her disgust, she would not allow those responsible to escape. Her jaw set. She spoke without turning around. “Thanks, but I’ll eat in my room. I’ll be fine.”

  Turning onto East D Street, four vans marred the otherwise empty street. Without uniforms, flashing lights, crime scene tape, or frenetic activity, the warehouse gave no hint it housed corpses. Miranda stepped out to an overcast sky that deadened everything it draped over. Salt hung heavy on the harbor breeze. Two gulls glided overhead. An occasional flap kept their lazy flight aloft. From the harbor a ship’s horn warned unwary boaters. She looked down to find Janesh stroking the dogs. They stood stiff, rock still. Both had stares that drilled through the warehouse wall. The namesake ridges along their spines bristled. Janesh met her gaze with a questioning look. She nodded, gave him a weak smile, and followed Ben past the two guards.

  Inside, high along the walls, frigid air had fogged the windows against the outside humidity. Miranda shivered at the nightmare Dante could not have imagined. She picked out Dawkins and Cross from the six nudes hung by their faces. Rage welled at their indignity. Bowels and bladders had created piles and pools beneath each body. She recognized Dawkins’ female shape but not her swollen, black and blue face. Nasty bruises along her upper thighs and buttocks gave clear evidence she’d endured unspeakable acts.

  Miranda turned away, a hand pressed against her mouth. She struggled not to vomit and add to the general stench. Ben Wolford, rushing to her side, stopped in his tracks. The dogs reached her first. Ronan stood up, paws on her shoulders, looked in her eyes. Even the aloof and indifferent Duncan rubbed his head against her leg. In the same breath, she sobbed and laughed. Sinking to one knee, Miranda hugged and petted as they pressed their warm bodies and cold noses. For every ounce of love she gave they returned a pound. Her sense of exposure and endangerment dimmed.

  She looked around to find Janesh watching them, his face expressionless. He stood implacable, impervious, invulnerable. She rose to lock eyes with him. At that moment she wanted nothing more than to rush over and melt against his body. She wanted his arms wrapped around her, to reassure her, to make her feel protected and safe. A gentle cough stopped her. “Dr. Logan?”

  She turned to find a tall, pleasant-looking man somewhat unnerved by the gigantic dogs. He extended a hand. “I’m Ragnar Derksjold, head of the forensics team. We’ve communicated electronically. It’s an honor to meet you at last.” Miranda pushed her hair back with one hand, shook his with the other, and managed a smile. “Are these your dogs?”

  “Actually, they’re his companions.” She turned to wave Janesh over. “This is Ragnar Der…” she stumbled and hesitated.

  “Derksjold but please call me Ragnar.”

  “Janesh McKenzie but please call me Janesh.”

  “Well I’m not going to be left out. I much prefer Miranda.”

  Ragnar turned to walk back toward the hung bodies. “Let me introduce you to the rest of the team. We’re all a bit frustrated right now. I knew Bob and Fran well. The three of us came up from the farm together. Right now we have more questions than when we arrived. The MO makes it clear we’re dealing with the same killer or killers. Our initial field tests indicate the paste on their shoulders and faces has the same genetic signature as the previous samples. But beyond a few feathers, which have some remarkable properties, we’ve got nothing. No fingerprints, physical evidence, witnesses, or anyone left alive. Nothing.”

  At their approach, the other team members stopped the examinations, note taking, and sample gathering. Introductions complete, Ragnar led Janesh and Miranda to an area where eight feathers lay scattered amid large blood splotches. He picked one up and the three watched as his hand movements caused it to appear and reappear. “Anything you can tell us about this extraordinary feather, Miranda?”

  “I have a source examining it right now. We have yet to form a final conclusion but I’ve received interim reports. I emphasize however, our analysis is tentative and incomplete. Either that feather is natural or it’s genetically engineered. We’ve learned it has the identical genetic sequence the paste does. No creature exists in the natural world with such a DNA marker. If it’s genetically engineered it represents a technological advance beyond anything known today. Only a handful of individuals throughout the world have the ability. My contact is making discreet inquiries and the process of elimination should reveal who.

  I imagine the inventor or his agent enveloping himself in some type of shroud, net, or blanket to which the feathers attach rendering him either invisible, or able to project a false image, or both. Knowing only birds have feathers, some type of contraption attached to the feet would produce the prints we’ve seen. That begs two questions. How could such a technologically sophisticated individual not know birds have four toes? And why go to such elaborate and clumsy lengths? When I can answer both I will submit my final conclusions.”

  “Have you considered it might be a full-sized creature?” Ragnar
asked. Miranda paused.

  “I can’t of course rule it out. But to go from a feather to an autonomous, full-function, bio-engineered creature represents a leap orders of magnitude beyond what we know today. No. When faced with two competing theories, I must give great deference to the simpler explanation, however odd or remarkable it may be.”

  Janesh reached for the feather. “Can I try a lo-tech approach?”

  “Of course. Be my guest.” Ronan and Duncan needed just three sniffs to set their tails wagging.

  “Hunt.” Noses to the ground, they made a beeline for the opposite wall. There they veered at an angle for sixty feet before milling about to and fro trying to reacquire the scent. They widened the search area, picked it up again by the near exit, lost it twice more, moved back and forth from where the bodies hung eight times then made another beeline back to their starting point. At the wall, they stopped, froze, and stared at it.

  “Maybe they’re confused by the strange location.” Ragnar suggested.

  “No.” Janesh replied. “They’re not confused, I am. Why didn’t they exit the building to the street or the parking lot? Why are they staring at the wall?” He called them back, presented the feather, and again bade them hunt. They repeated the pattern.

  Janesh walked to the wall the dogs stared at with Miranda and Ragnar close behind. He ran his hands over the surface searching for cracks, fissures, anomalies, anything that might indicate it hid another purpose or feature. “You wouldn’t happen to have a mobile x-ray device, would you?” he asked Ragnar.

  “No, but I have something just as good.”

  Two team members needed fifteen minutes to place a transmitter on the wall surrounded by collectors. In his hands Ragnar held a tablet-sized display. He pressed the send button. “The transmitter is now sending sonic pulses through the wall. Anything inside the wall or large density changes will reflect the sounds back to the collectors and form an image.” Miranda and Janesh looked up from the device not comprehending the display. “Well?” Ragnar’s tone held finality.