To the guy beside him, Krieg said, “I beg your apologies, sir. We had a small matter here that is being taken care of by my associates. I only needed to check in with—”
The man held up a hand. Krieg immediately fell silent. Wolf looked down so the guy could not see the pure rage and hatred he held for the guy. There was no way he could mask it.
The man circled him while Wolf watched the floor, seeing those same slippered feet scrape against it. Then, not being able to help himself, Wolf looked up into the man’s gold-flecked brown eyes and saw the pure joy that they held. It was all he could do to not use everything he had left in him to break his bonds and claw those eyeballs out with his fingernails, and crush the man’s skull between his bare hands.
But he resisted—for now.
The right time would come, he promised himself then and there, and sought to force calm on his appearance, and instead of being distracted by his hatred, he concentrated on taking in every bit of information he possibly could from his surroundings, anything at all that might allow him to escape.
“How did you know?” the man asked Krieg with surprise. “How did you even find him…? I am most honored by this gift.”
“Sayid,” Wolf growled.
“Ah yes, my old friend. So good to see you again.”
Krieg took a labored step forward.
“I know this soldier,” Abdullah al-Sayid continued. “I know him well. He once tried to kill me in my home country. Maybe more than once, I am told. To have him here now—” Sayid glanced up, breathing deeply. “—I could never have imagined… You and your government have outdone yourselves, surely.”
Krieg inclined his head slightly. “We are in the business of estimating and providing what our clients truly desire.”
Wolf had seen it, if just for a brief moment. Krieg had not known about the connection he had with Sayid. The meeting here and now was only a quirk of fate.
A big, terrible quirk of fate.
“Will he be a part of our entertainment today?” Sayid asked.
“I anticipated you might wish this. But I wanted to clear it with you first. This man is quite capable, and I suspect, extremely dangerous in the wild.”
“I do so wish it. I would like him to witness the great joy that these excursions bring me. This is indeed a wonderful gift, and I am both amazed and deeply satisfied by it. You may thank your government for me. They will continue to have my full and utmost support for as long as I am alive to give it.”
“I will convey the message,” Krieg said.
“And I would enjoy hunting them both at the same time—if that is at all possible.”
“It is, but I would highly recommend against it. Or, perhaps we could hobble him in some way?”
“Oh, no, no no no. Do you think I am not competent enough to hunt them both as they are? Do you think I only like to go after easy prey…?”
“No, that is most certainly not what I meant,” Krieg said apologetically.
Sayid studied him for a moment. “Good,” he whispered. “Now where can I prepare?”
“Mr. Taylor will show you to a guest room, for now. I will ready your weapons and all that is needed for the hunt. They will be waiting for you outside in thirty minutes, precisely.”
“Wonderful,” Sayid purred.
Krieg nodded at the man with the revolver and the guy led their VIP guest out of the room.
After waiting for nearly a minute, Krieg asked Wolf, “How is it you know that man?”
Wolf lifted his jaw high and stared over his cheeks at Krieg.
“Oh, come now, Mr. Wolf. You can tell me this, can you not? Let me hazard a guess. You met him in Iraq?”
Wolf remained silent.
Krieg sighed. “Very well, then. Since Mr. Sayid has asked that you accompany us today on our hunt, you too will be a part of our sport. There is not much to it. You run, we follow. We shoot, you die.”
Wolf said nothing.
Krieg shook his head. “Again, how are you two connected? And why?”
Wolf lowered his chin. “The man kills children.”
“Yes, I know that. I find it deplorable. Truly. But from a man named after wolves, I would think that killing children matters very little. How much do you really know about wolves? There are plenty of stories about them killing children. In fact, children make much better prey. Such easy prey. So small and helpless. Yes. Wolves do not care who they kill, they only enjoy the fact that they are killing.”
When he did not get a response, Krieg circled the chair, tapping his cane and scraping his feet as he went.
Wolf felt the touch of a fingertip that started to trace his earlobe. “Wolves,” Krieg said from behind, “are savages of the purest sense. They kill not just for sustenance, but for pleasure. A wolf pack will completely destroy any habitat they hunt in, and then move on to destroy another. Let them find some poor farmer’s herd of sheep, and they will kill them all without hesitation or mercy. And they will do so for the thrill of it and not just for the meat.” Krieg switched to Wolf’s other earlobe. “Once, we told stories to our children so that they would not venture into the woods where the wolves lived. They truly knew the savagery of the beasts back then. Didn’t they…?” The man paused and touched both of Wolf’s earlobes, stroking them gently. “In many ways, wolves are much like we are. We so enjoy our killing, do we not?”
“Sometimes,” Wolf admitted.
Krieg chuckled. “You know, I’ve always found it a curiosity that dogs are the direct descendants of wolves. We allow them to come into our homes and play with our children. It seems quite illogical and dangerous when you consider their origins, does it not?”
Wolf said nothing.
“Do you know why, Mr. Wolf, that dogs do not kill for the sheer pleasure of killing…?”
Wolf did not know the answer. He had not even considered the question. Before Krieg could continue, though, another man dressed in a cowboy hat and a different belt buckle from the others came into the room. The man coughed at the threshold, and Krieg walked forward a step to meet him. The man whispered something in Krieg’s ear and tapped on his watch. Krieg nodded back and the man left and yet another guy entered.
The hats and buckles seemed to be part of some sort of uniform or dress code, Wolf figured. He also was a little wary of the new guy. That guy held a large hunting rifle with a big, powerful scope in his right hand. Wolf was not sure exactly what caliber the gun was, but it looked as if it could bring down an elephant. In the guy’s other hand was a smaller gun that Wolf did recognize. It was an AR-15 with a short scope mounted on top. The man set the guns side by side in a chair and left the room.
Krieg went to the twin guns and picked up the AR-15. “Do you know what this is?”
Wolf shook his head, pretending not to know. But he did know, and he figured Krieg also knew that he knew.
Krieg said, “This is a Colt model LE6920 SOCOM. Version 2, I believe. This is one of the finest examples of the AR-15 ever made. And this one has been specially customized for our beginners to use when we hunt medium-sized game here on the ranch. With this sight, it is so easy that even a woman can use it effectively.”
Krieg grinned at Wolf before continuing. “This type of rifle was originally designed for the military and is meant to fire a medium-sized cartridge. That smaller bullet was designed to wound and not to kill a full-sized adult. Did you know that? But with such a small target as the girl, I am sure this will be adequate for Mr. Sayid to bring her down. In fact, he requested this model personally. American made, even. And we do everything we can to accommodate our guests’ wishes. That’s just good business.”
He set the gun down and picked up the other rifle. “This, by contrast, is a Weatherby .460 Magnum, which is the most powerful big game rifle commercially available.” He worked the bolt and ejected a round into his fingers. He set the gun down and limped his way to Wolf and displayed the large cartridge.
“This will kill any living thing on the planet
with just one shot. Well, perhaps not a blue whale, but it just might. Imagine what it will do to someone of even your size. And look, the bullet is made of pure silver. Perfect for bringing down a wolf, don’t you think?”
When Wolf did not say anything, Krieg continued, “Do you also know that the common house cat is much more like a wolf than a dog? A house cat will toy with its prey and will continue to prolong the kill for as long as it gives them pleasure. Then it will kill its prey mercilessly and curl up with its master and sleep peacefully. Never trust a cat, Mr. Wolf. Never.” He sighed again. “But, a dog, you see, is a fine example of what man can do when he shapes the behavior of the animals he allows nearest to him.”
Krieg pulled aside the two weapons and set them against the wall by the archway. He sat in the chair opposite Wolf, rested both hands on his cane, and leaned forward. “Men have domesticated wolves, you know, and now we have obedient dogs. But before I share with you why, I must first tell you something else you might find interesting. Did you know that in this world filled with so many types of animals, there are only a few different types of men?”
Wolf was beginning to regret not saying anything to stop the man’s lecture. One of the downsides of his desire to refrain from speaking was that others tended to fill the voids with things he did not necessarily wish to hear.
But Krieg would not be silent. “There are basically three types of men…”
Krieg held up his index finger. “The sheep that go along with the herd and follow others—being too afraid not to do otherwise. Most are like that.”
He held up his middle finger. “Then there are the wolves, who prey on the sheep. There are many of those in the world. Too many now.”
He held up his ring finger.
“There is also the third and rarer type of man. He is meant to keep the wolves at bay. He is the one who protects the sheep from the wolves. And, this third type of man is, for lack of a better term, a sheepdog, a protector of the flock.”
Wolf had heard all this before. It was a fairly common view of the world that some held. He almost said something, but remained silent.
Krieg ground his cane against the floor, twisting it back and forth in his grip. “But, I suggest to you that there is another kind of man who is neither sheep, wolf, nor dog.”
He paced before Wolf, tapping his cane as he went.
“You see, this other type of man is the one who breaks the wolf and creates the obedient dog from the vicious beast. He is the master of all.” Krieg tapped his cane again. “Given enough time, I know that I could have tamed you. But I am afraid that will no longer be possible. You are wanted too much by another master.”
With that, Krieg rose and started to leave the room. He stopped at the transition and said to someone standing just outside, “Prepare him.” Then he hobbled from the room and down the connecting hallway.
Wolf listened to the distinctive click, step, scrape fade into nothingness.
- 45 -
BAD DOG
IT WAS THE look of surprise the girl who called herself Melody gave him that saddened him the most. But to Wolf, it was still a hopeful look upon seeing him, and not one of sorrow on her part.
Her hands were tied behind her back, and she was dressed in black nylon shorts and a pink T-shirt with a company logo emblazoned on the front. On her feet were brightly colored running shoes. If anyone were to gaze on her, other than Wolf, she looked as if she were simply going out for a daily jog to get some exercise.
But what was coming next would be no simple jog through the woods, or a joyful stroll along a path, or even a punishing run on hard pavement. She would soon be running for her life. And to pull at his raw anger even further, she was just standing there, unmoving, surrounded by two stubble-faced men with hats and buckles, seemingly unaware of her dire circumstances.
Wolf still wore his dirty jeans and stained T-shirt. Not necessarily the best for movement or stealth, but he could make do with them. His shoes had been taken from him and he was now barefoot, which would slow him down a bit, but he had spent much of his childhood that way. So, other than the abuse his feet would be forced to endure, he knew he would still be able to move quickly over the challenging terrain. But will she be able to keep up with me? That was the heavy question foremost in his mind.
The smells around him on the breeze were of wild animals and tree pollen and hard, salty grit. The Texas sun was already high in the sky and hot and growing hotter. He growled softly at the weather, letting the sound rumble about in his throat. He wanted a breeze. Any breeze. But none seemed forthcoming.
A vehicle approached. It was an old green Land Rover that seemed far better suited for the African plains. There was a spare tire on the hood, and the hard top and sides had all been removed. The old engine in it ticked and groaned as the tires crunched on the gravel road they traveled over.
Two men were seated inside the vehicle—a stern-faced Krieg and a grinning Sayid, with Sayid being the one positioned behind the large steering wheel. The vehicle pulled to a halt, and the men holding Wolf and the girl brought them forward to meet with the vehicle’s occupants.
Krieg lifted himself out of the Land Rover, set his cane in the dirt, and limped around from the passenger side. Sayid hopped out and moved quickly, but his age and size slowed him somewhat, which Wolf took note of, also taking note of each man’s gait as they crossed the distance between them, figuring he would be tracking them soon enough.
Even knowing it would be nearly impossible to do so, he continued to shift and pull at his wrists behind his back in an effort to free himself early from the ropes that had him bound, but the men who had tied him up again must have also known the various tricks for slipping free. They had seen just when he’d tensed and when he’d puffed up. To counter that, they’d wrapped his wrists tighter than normal and had pulled them together using what felt like a constrictor knot before finishing the binding.
The ropes themselves were half an inch thick and made of coarse fiber. And given that they had never left him alone for a second and had taken his boots, he could not get to the boot’s tough laces and use them as a friction saw to cut through the rope bindings. Which all meant that the bag of tricks he had for getting out of such a situation was dredged clean. Completely clean.
For extra motivation, he imagined his hands breaking free and wrapping around the necks of both Sayid and Krieg and crushing the life out of them both. He only hoped he would get the opportunity to do so.
Soon.
“Glorious day, is it not?” Sayid said. “Allah smiles upon us indeed, wouldn’t you say?”
Wolf narrowed his eyes further as Sayid continued, “And you see, here in America, I am allowed to drive myself. In my country, I am not so blessed. Drivers, protection details, where is the pleasure in all that? I must say, it did take me some time to learn such an old and primitive vehicle, but I have now mastered it completely. As I am able to master most things.”
Wolf said nothing. He continued to bunch his shoulders together and saw at the ropes to work up a gap that he could later exploit.
Krieg tapped his cane on the hardpan, twisted it, and used it for support. “Against my humble advice, the decision has been made. Mr. Sayid wishes to hunt the pair of you together.”
He glanced at Sayid as if he were giving him one last chance to change him mind. When he did not, Krieg nodded solemnly. “One of you will die first, but which one will that be? All I hope is that it is not you, Mr. Wolf. I sincerely do not wish this for reasons that will become apparent later.”
Drawing himself up straight, Wolf shuffled sideways on his feet. The sun at Krieg’s back nearly blackened the man in shadow. But it was clear to see that he was smiling.
“Do you believe in fate?” Wolf asked.
Krieg blinked and his grin faded.
“Ah, so he does speak,” Sayid said, drawing attention back to himself. “Why is it you ask of fate? Are you saying that fate has been responsible for bringing us together
once again? Of that, I am most pleased.”
“Fate,” Wolf said, “I said—because I plan to kill you both. I am only deciding how—and when.”
“He will, you know,” added the girl who called herself Melody.
Sayid smiled at her statement. He pulled at the strap of the gun slung over his shoulder, lifting it, and then moved closer and looked down at her. He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand.
“You will indeed be an asset to my collection,” he said to her softly.
Krieg took his weight off his cane and glanced down, and then up. “You can only make idle threats against us, Mr. Wolf. You are not the beast that you think you are. Indian, savage, or whatever you think your heritage might be—you are only a weak and misbehaving dog to me. And when a dog goes bad, it is put down by the man who controls it.”
- 46 -
LOST
SAYID PULLED THE Land Rover Defender to a stop and rested heavily on the steering wheel. “They continue to elude us, Mr. Krieg.” He leaned back in his seat and twisted his hands on the spindly wheel.
Ahead of them, was yet another grove of scrub and trees. One was beginning to look like another to him. And from the way the narrow two-track, rutted trail they were on meandered back and forth and returned to the same clearing they had visited ten minutes earlier, he knew that they were already lost.
“Do not worry. I know precisely where we are,” Krieg said. “And we are not lost, I assure you. They will not make it to the fence line before we do. I’ve stationed my men in overlapping grids so that each covers the next. And the entire fence line is cleared so there are no places to hide anywhere near it.” Krieg drew a breath and wiped his forehead on his shirtsleeve. “I suspect now they are headed north based on how the animals are reacting to them, but if you would like, I could check the cameras to be sure. Or call it in on the radio and have one of my spotters find them.”
“Not just yet.” Sayid was not ready to give up so easily. That would be for later in the day if their quarry would not flush and continued to elude them.
Wolf Who Walks Alone: A Raymond Wolf Mystery Novel Page 19
