Robert Hunter 06 - An Evil Mind

by Chris Carter

  Once he finally did, his primal instinct kicked in and he dashed toward the door. There was no way he was letting Lucien get away from him. He knew Lucien meant what he’d said – if Hunter didn’t kill him now, he’d likely never get another chance again. Lucien had surely planned his escape to the last detail. It had taken then FBI twenty-five years to apprehend him the first time – who knew if they ever would again?.

  Hunter had taken only three steps in the direction of the corridor when his eyes caught a glimpse of Madeleine. Blood was pouring out of her open wound in volumes. Her head had slumped forward again. Her eyelids were half-shut. Life was fast draining out of her.

  Hunter had a pretty good understanding of anatomy. The wound was to Madeleine’s upper-left side of the abdomen, just under the ribcage. The blade Lucien had used was about five inches long, and he had driven the entire blade into her flesh. Judging by the amount of blood she was losing, Lucien had punctured a vascular organ.

  Left upper side, Hunter thought. The blade has punctured her spleen.

  He’d also noticed that Lucien had twisted the blade as he removed it from her body, enlarging the rupture to the organ and the entire wound-channel. If Hunter didn’t contain the bleeding now, in three to five minutes Madeleine would be dead from loss of blood. Even if he managed to contain the external bleeding, there was nothing he could do about the internal hemorrhaging. He still had to get her to a hospital and an operation room fast.

  Hunter blinked once. His priorities were colliding just as Lucien had predicted.

  Lucien was getting away.

  You’ll never see me again. Not in this lifetime.

  Hunter blinked again. The mental battle Lucien had talked about was now in full flow inside his head.

  Keep your promise to Jessica, or save Madeleine, you can’t do both. Make your choice, old friend.

  Hunter blinked one more time, and then rushed toward Madeleine.

  He immediately kneeled down next to her, ripped his shirt from his body, jumbled it into a ball and, using his left hand, placed it over the wound, applying just enough pressure. The shirt immediately became soaked in her blood.

  ‘Look at me, Madeleine,’ he said, while he stretched his right arm out, reaching for the blade that Lucien had dropped. ‘Look at me,’ he said again.

  She didn’t.

  Streeeetch. Got it.

  ‘Madeleine, look at me.’

  She tried, but her eyelids began to flutter.

  ‘No, no, no. Stay with me, honey. Don’t close your eyes. I know you’re tired, but I need you to stay with me, OK? I’m going to get you out of here.’

  Hunter took a quick look behind the chair. Her hands were tied together by a plastic cable tie, just like her feet to the chair’s legs. Still applying enough pressure over the wound with his left hand, he tilted his body to the right and used the blade to slice through the cable tie behind the chair.

  Madeleine’s hands fell loosely by her side, as if she were a ragdoll.

  Hunter quickly sliced through the two cable ties at her feet.

  ‘Madeleine . . .’ He dropped the blade and reached for her face. Touching her chin, he gently shook her head from side to side. ‘Stay with me, honey. Stay with me.’

  Madeleine’s drowsy eyes found his face.

  ‘That’s it. Keep your eyes on mine.’ He reached for her left hand and placed it on the shirt over her wound. ‘I need you to hold onto this and press it against your body as hard as you can, do you understand, honey?’

  He reached for her right hand and placed it over her left one, now making her hold the shirt against the wound with both hands.

  Madeleine didn’t respond.

  ‘Hold onto it and press it against you as hard as you can, OK?’

  She tried, but she was way too weak to be able to apply enough pressure to properly contain the bleeding. Hunter had to do it himself, but he also needed to carry her out of that fallout shelter, into the Jeep outside, to which he still had the keys in his pocket, and on to a hospital. Unless he became an octopus in the next second or so, pulling that off would be a very hard task to accomplish.

  Hunter placed his left hand over both of Madeleine’s, helping her apply pressure to the wound.

  Think, Robert, think, he told himself, looking around the room. There was absolutely nothing he could use.

  He thought about running back to the shelter’s control room and searching the place for some sort of tape or rope, something he could tie around her body to hold his shirt in place, but that would take too much time, and time was something he didn’t have.

  Think, Robert, think. He was still looking around the room.

  That was when his thought process went from A to Z in a split second – Ghost. Ghost had a small frame, with a very narrow waist, but Madeleine had lost so much weight that he was sure Ghost’s belt could loop around her torso.

  ‘Maddy, hold on to this shirt as tight as you can. I’ll be right back.’

  Madeleine looked at him with dopey eyes.

  ‘Hold on tight, honey,’ he repeated. ‘I’ll be right back.’

  Hunter let go of her hands. Immediately, more blood flowed out of her wound. Madeleine simply didn’t have enough strength to keep applying the necessary pressure. Hunter had to move fast.

  He got to his feet and dashed down the corridor like an Olympic sprinter. He reached the control room and Ghost’s body in three seconds.

  Ghost was wearing a cheap black leather belt with a conventional square frame and prong buckle. Hunter undid it and pulled it off his waist with a single strong pull. In no time at all, he was flying back down the corridor. By the time he reached Madeleine again, he’d lost only nine seconds.

  Madeleine’s hands had almost let go of his shirt.

  ‘I’m here, Maddy, I’m here,’ he said, grabbing the shirt with his left hand and reapplying enough pressure to partially contain the bleeding.

  Using his right hand, Hunter lifted Madeleine’s back from the chair’s backrest, and wrapped Ghost’s belt around her torso and over his blood-soaked shirt.

  ‘This is going to feel a little tight, OK?’ he said, and gave the belt a strong tug.

  Madeleine coughed several times. No blood in her mouth. That was a good sign.

  Perfect fit. The buckle slotted into the first hole.

  ‘OK, honey, I’m going to pick you up, and we’re getting the hell out of this place, OK? I’m going to get you to a hospital. Stay with me. I know you’re tired but don’t fall asleep, OK? Keep your eyes open. Ready? Here we go.’

  Hunter picked her up from the chair with both arms and got to his feet. The belt tourniquet held in place. Madeleine coughed again. Still no blood.

  Hunter dashed out of the room and down the corridor as fast as he could.

  One Hundred and Four

  Outside darkness was almost absolute, but after coming out of what could easily be considered Satan’s basement, breathing the fresh night air felt like a god’s touch.

  ‘Madeleine, stay with me. Don’t close your eyes,’ Hunter said as he paused almost at the top of the long staircase. He couldn’t really see if Madeleine had her eyes open or not, but he knew that he had to keep talking to her. He couldn’t allow her to doze off.

  He still had the Maglite in his pocket, so he adjusted his position on the steps – left leg two steps higher than the right one – and awkwardly reached for the flashlight with his left hand. Grabbed it. Switched on.

  Madeleine was struggling with her eyelids.

  ‘You’re doing fine, honey. Stay awake?’

  Hunter’s sense of direction was as sharp as they came. He remembered that they had approached the basement entrance from his left, so he turned and started moving that way fast.

  Debris, rocks and sticks began digging at the soles of his feet, but he gritted his teeth and blocked out the pain as best he could.

  ‘You’re doing great, Madeleine. We’ll be in the car in just a moment, OK?’

  Ma
deleine didn’t reply. Her head dropped to Hunter’s shoulder.

  ‘No, no, no . . . hey, no dozing off now. Tell me your name, honey. What’s your full name?’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Your name. Tell me your full name, honey?’

  Hunter also wanted to test her level of consciousness.

  ‘Maddy,’ she replied.

  Her whisper was getting weaker. Despite the tourniquet, her blood was now covering Hunter’s arms, the whole lower half of his torso, and beginning to soak the top of his trousers. Because of the running action, some had also spurted upward, spraying his chest and face.

  ‘That’s great. That’s really great. Is Maddy short for something?’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Maddy is short for something, isn’t it?’

  ‘Madeleine.’

  ‘Wow, that’s a beautiful name. But what’s your last name?’

  No reply.

  ‘Maddy, wake up. Stay with me, honey. What’s your last name? Tell me your last name.’

  Nothing. Hunter was losing her.

  He took his eyes off his path to look at her face, and that was when he felt something cut into the sole of his left foot. The pain shot up his leg like a rocket, making him stumble awkwardly, lose his balance and almost fall to the ground. The shake and stumble movement jerked Madeleine awake. Her eyes butterflied open and she at last looked at him.

  Despite the pain, Hunter smiled. ‘We’re almost there. Keep your eyes open, OK?’

  Hunter’s running had turned into a desperate limp, as his left foot screamed in agony every time it touched the ground.

  They finally reached the front of the house.

  ‘FBI, stop right where you are or we’ll put you down.’ The shout came from Hunter’s left. He turned his head in that direction, but a light was immediately shone on his face, preventing him from seeing who had called the order.

  Hunter came to an abrupt halt.

  In the next second, four other lights appeared out of the darkness – one more to Hunter’s left, two to his right, and one directly in front of him. All the lights together provided enough brightness for Hunter to better see what he was faced with. He was surrounded by FBI agents. All of them had their weapons trained directly on him. No doubt this was Kennedy’s backup team.

  ‘Place the woman on the ground and take three steps back, nice and slowly,’ the same person who had instructed him a moment ago yelled out.

  ‘I’m with the FBI,’ Hunter shouted back, a touch of anger overshadowing any relief in his voice. ‘My name is Robert Hunter. I had to dispose of my credentials back on the runway of Berlin’s municipal airport. You can check with Director Adrian Kennedy, if you like, but do it in your own time, because this woman needs immediate medical assistance.’

  Agent Brody, the one who had called out the commands, took a step closer and squinted his eyes at Hunter. It took his memory an extra couple of seconds to match Hunter’s blood-streaked face to the photograph Director Kennedy had emailed him.

  ‘Stand down. He’s with us,’ Brody instructed his team, urgently moving toward Hunter. ‘There are supposed to be two of you,’ he said as he got to Hunter. ‘Agent Taylor?’

  Hunter gave Brody a subtle headshake that told him everything he needed to know.

  Two other agents joined them. The remaining two kept their distance, their flashlights and weapons checking the perimeter.

  ‘And the prisoner?’ Brody asked, as they started moving toward where the Jeep was parked again.

  ‘On the run,’ Hunter answered. ‘Where’s your car?’

  ‘Parked behind the Jeep you took from the air traffic controller.’

  ‘When did you get here?’ Hunter asked.

  ‘About a minute ago. We were just moving toward the house when we saw you come out.’

  ‘And you didn’t cross paths with Lucien?’

  They reached the cars. Brody’s team had a GMC SUV.

  ‘No.’

  One of the agents opened the back door. The other helped Hunter place Madeleine on the backseat. He gently brushed the hair from her forehead.

  ‘Madeleine, stay awake, OK. We’re almost there.’

  Madeleine blinked tiredly.

  Hunter looked at the agent holding the car keys.

  ‘You need to get her to a hospital now.’

  The agent was already jumping into the driver’s seat.

  ‘I’ll get her there.’

  Hunter turned to the second agent. ‘Get in the back with her. Do not let her fall asleep. Tell the medical team that she received a stab wound to the left upper side of her abdomen, approximately five inches deep. The blade reached the spleen, and was twisted counterclockwise on its way out.’

  The agent nodded and jumped into the car.

  Madeleine’s lips moved.

  ‘What was that, honey?’ Hunter asked, leaning down. His right ear came within an inch of her lips.

  ‘Please don’t leave me.’ Her voice was now barely audible. Shock was settling in.

  ‘I won’t. I promise. These men are going to take you to a hospital now so they can treat you, OK? I’ll be right behind them. I won’t leave you. First, I’m just going to get the bastard that did this to you.’

  Hunter closed the door and looked at the driver. ‘Go, now.’

  One Hundred and Five

  As the car drove away, Hunter faced Agent Brody.

  ‘You came in this way and you didn’t cross paths with Lucien?’ he asked again.

  ‘No,’ Brody confirmed.

  Hunter’s gaze moved to the forest surrounding them.

  ‘There’s another way to get to this house,’ Brody said.

  Hunter looked at him.

  ‘You can see it if you look at a satellite picture, or a map.’ Brody explained. ‘It goes around the long way. It takes you up to the back of the house.’

  Hunter had suspected that there was another way to get to the house when he saw Ghost, because he had to have driven here. No way would he have walked.

  ‘Let’s go,’ Hunter said.

  They quickly moved back in the direction of the house. The other two agents saw them, and promptly joined them. They moved past the stairs that led down to Satan’s basement and carried on toward the rear of the property.

  The house’s backyard was as dilapidated as the building itself. Lucien had told the truth. There was a small pond, or something that once had been a pond. Now it was just an ugly pool of mud. There was also an ample concrete pathway, most of it cracked and full of holes. Parked on the right-hand side of the dirt path that led away from the house was a beat-up fifteen-year-old Ford Bronco. They all drew their weapons and approached the car slowly and carefully. It was empty. No doubt that was Ghost’s vehicle.

  This time it was Brody’s turn to study the forestland surrounding the house.

  ‘Do you think he’s on foot?’ he asked. ‘Tracking away through the forest?’

  Hunter walked over to the dirt path, kneeled down, and used his flashlight to check the ground.

  ‘No,’ he replied after a few seconds. ‘He’s got a motorbike.’ He pointed to the tire tracks he found.

  ‘What kind of head start has he got on us?’ Brody asked.

  ‘Five to six minutes, maximum.’

  Brody reached for his cellphone. ‘He can’t be that far then. I’ll call Director Kennedy. He’ll be able to organize roadblocks all around this perimeter.’

  Hunter closed his eyes and cursed himself again for not seeing this coming. He said nothing to Agent Brody, but he knew roadblocks wouldn’t work. Not in this forsaken place, and not with the minimum amount of time they had.

  A perimeter airtight roadblock requires manpower, and a hell of a lot of vehicles, something Hunter was sure the city of Berlin or Milan in New Hampshire didn’t have. He’d be surprised if both of their police departments together mounted up to more than eight men and four cars. Kennedy would have to request the help of the police departments in adjacent cities
. The closest FBI field office was a whole state away. By the time Kennedy managed to gather together the manpower he needed to shut the roads and pathways to try to contain the area, Lucien would certainly have already crossed state lines.

  Hunter knew that none of this had been coincidence. All of it had been planned. Lucien had left absolutely nothing to chance.

  One Hundred and Six

  Four hours later.

  The entire fallout shelter was now swarming with FBI personnel. Courtney Taylor’s body together with Ghost’s had both been placed in zip-up body bags and taken to the airport, where they were to be flown back to the chief medical examiner in Quantico.

  Brody’s team agents had made it to the Androscoggin Valley Hospital in Berlin in record time. Madeleine Reed was still being operated on, but the doctors had told both agents that due to the precarious condition her body was in – very malnourished and partially dehydrated – her chances of survival weren’t the best. But as long as there was a chance, there was hope.

  Hunter and Director Adrian Kennedy were in the shelter’s control room. Hunter had run Kennedy through everything that had happened since they’d lost their satellite communication back at the airport.

  Kennedy had listened to everything with a somber expression on his face, and without interrupting. When Hunter told him how Agent Taylor was executed at point-blank range, and the reason for her execution, Kennedy squeezed his eyes tight and let his chin drop to his chest. Hunter actually saw him quiver with rage.

  ‘How did this happen, Robert?’ Kennedy finally asked when Hunter was done. ‘How come this Ghost character was here waiting for you? He couldn’t just have been here the whole time, could he?’

  ‘Probably not,’ Hunter replied.

  ‘So how come he was here waiting for you? How come he knew exactly when you were coming?’

  ‘He didn’t.’

  Kennedy pulled an annoyed face. ‘What do you mean, Robert?’

  Hunter had been thinking about this for some time.

  ‘The FBI has certain secret procedures that will only come into action if a code word is spoken, or a code number is keyed in, or something along those lines, right?’