The Predator and The Prey

by K. C. Sivils

  The search yielded about five minutes of video. I watched it in real time and then played it back, viewing a few seconds at a time. It was on the fourth time through that I got lucky. As my mystery girl hurried down the street, looking over her shoulder as if someone was following, I caught a glimpse of her crossing a street at a four-way intersection. In the background, the camera caught a faint glimmer of a pinkish object.

  I rewound the video and froze the screen as the brief glimmer appeared. I took a screen shot and had the computer enhance the background, sharpening the pink object and bringing it into focus.

  I smiled at the result.

  I was looking at the bottom left corner of Joe’s faux neon sign for his restaurant. My mystery girl seemed to have made her way to my part of Capital City, at least for a time.

  "I'm going to find you, young lady. I'm not going to have a repeat of what happened last time."

  DRESSED IN LAYERS OF the finest natural fibers, the predator enjoyed his walk in the freezing cold of Capital City. The evening’s business dealings had been successful, in fact, quite lucrative. The mere fact the miners would be getting placebos instead of the antibiotic they needed to fight the lung infections inherent to the mining occupation on Beta Prime bothered the predator, not at all.

  So what if disease thinned the herd of prey animals. It was nature's way. Disease, starvation, and predators kept a herd healthy. He smiled at the thought and chuckled to himself. He was simply helping the natural process along in more ways than one.

  The antibiotic given to the miners was pricey and brought an excellent price on the rim planets of the Interplanetary Alliance. The infections were treated easily when the miners received medication as a preventative. Once an infection took hold in the lungs though, it did damage to the lung tissue that was hard to treat post-infection. Repeated infections lead to pneumonia and often death. Without the preventative medicine, scores of miners would become gravely ill.

  No matter. Production quotas are being met. Shareholders of the mining companies are happy, and I'm a shareholder the predator thought. Workers can always be imported. The ores found on Beta Prime were too valuable to not go to the expense of importing more labor if necessary.

  Ambling slowly toward an underground station, the predator noticed the corner newsstand light up its sign indicating the morning’s news upload was available for purchase. He stopped and paid for a copy and waited the few seconds required to upload it to his reading device. He smiled at the shivering news clerk and moved on toward the entrance to the tube station.

  He descended the stairs to the underground station, noticing the ever-present smells of humanity. Despite the early hour, the people of Capital City were starting to move about, and that meant traveling by the underground. Sounds of shuffling shoes and grunted greetings reached his ears. The sour smell he had first encountered mixed now with the tantalizing aroma of hot coffee from those fortunate enough to have the revitalizing brew with them.

  Opening his reader, the predator pulled up his new paper. The lead story on the cover gave him pause. He liked the attention his hunts garnered in the media, but this was a first. Killing the cop had generated more attention than normal. Glancing about, he decided to skip the incoming train and take a later one. He stood in line for a coffee and scone and then took a seat at one of the few tables by the coffee stand.

  Ignoring the people around him, he gave the story a quick read through. Annoyed, he read it a second time, slowly and thoroughly. Precision was important to him, and the story was less than precise. In fact, there were factual errors. He stopped and thought for a moment.

  The story was interesting in that the reporter claimed there was a serial killer at work. This announcement calmed him somewhat. At least the reporter was astute enough to make the connection finally. The errors could be the result of misinformation from the police or the fact the reporter simply did not have access to enough information.

  The last thought calmed him considerably. He was always careful. The consummate predator, he left no evidence behind other than the marks to claim his kills. Glancing at the newsstand next to the coffee kiosk, he noticed the rival paper was available for download. He purchased another paper and downloaded it, returning to his seat at the table.

  As he read the headline, a broad smile spread across his face. The media had seen fit to give him a name. It fit. He liked it. It would spread more fear throughout the prey animals of the city as he hunted, making each hunt sweeter, the kill more pleasurable.

  He read the title aloud to himself, just to hear the words, “The Cowboy Killer Strikes Again! Another Victim Branded.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  I LOOKED UP FROM MY screen as Josephson sat down. The young detective looked terrible, like dog poop on the bottom of somebody's boot. It was evident he had not slept well, nor had he showered or shaved. His clothes looked slept in, and dark circles gave his eyes the appearance of being haunted.

  “Go take a shower and brush your teeth. If you have a change of clothes in your locker, change into them. You have fifteen minutes before we leave,” I ordered.

  Josephson didn’t challenge my order. He stood and stumbled drunkenly toward the male officer’s locker room. Sully watched with concern. First order of business is to stop and pour some seriously caffeinated coffee down that boy’s throat.

  I returned my attention to the list of crime scenes and the map I had printed. Each crime scene marked a possible case that could be attributable to the Cowboy Killer. Somebody had leaked details of the brandings done to the victims to the press, along with the fact an active serial killer was working in Capital City. He and Markeson probably did it to make my job harder.

  In addition to the four definite murders by the Cowboy Killer, there were others Bones, or I considered to be possible victims attributable to the predator. The crime scenes were all contaminated by now, but the first order of business was to look for anything that would help form a picture of the crimes. Josephson needed to learn the ropes of piecing together crime scenes, and I was certain nobody intended to help the young detective, regardless of whether or not he was my partner.

  The bang of the locker room door slamming warned me of Josephson’s approach. Looking only slightly better with still wet hair and clean clothes on, he stopped and stood this time instead of sitting down.

  “Don’t drink so much next time,” I warned him. “Get us a hover car and meet me in front of the precinct in ten minutes.”

  Josephson still didn't speak. He just wandered off in the direction of the motor pool. I decided I was driving till he sobered up or I got enough caffeine in him to make him functional enough I could trust him at the controls of the hover car.

  I closed all of my files, removed my flash drive with the files, changed my password again and set the software I had installed to ready mode. If someone tried to get on my computer, the software would take an image of the perp if they sought to access my files on the computer. If the perp did it from another machine, the software would track the connection to the offender's computer.

  There was no doubt in my mind somebody would try to access my computer without my knowledge. It was just a matter of who and when.

  THE COWBOY SAT IN HIS custom fitted chair as he took in the view of Capital City from his office window. He ran his fingers over the raised star on the end of his custom made cane. It had been a good morning so far.

  The funds had arrived in the off-planet account, and he'd transferred the required distributions to his partner's accounts through the various channels to launder the funds.

  He’d spent a little time to do some preliminary scouting of new hunting territory on his way to the office in the government sector. It had been time well spent. Several potential prey animals had presented themselves. Most exciting of all, he had caught a brief glimpse of the special one. The slender brown haired beauty who moved with feline grace through the streets.

  It had been only a momentary glimpse, but th
e Cowboy was certain it was she. For the time being, he would continue to scout the area and take prey as he needed. It would give him time to learn the terrain and the special beauty's habits. It would allow him time to plan, to savor the hunt and to capture the beauty.

  He planned to spend as much time as possible with her before the kill. Before he took his trophy from her.

  The buzz of his comm device on his desk shattered his dreamy reverie, irritating him. He tapped the device, answering the call.

  “What were you thinking,” the speaker on the line demanded.

  "I was thinking, we should maximize our profits from this enterprise," the Cowboy responded, not bothering to hide the irritation he felt.

  “You sold an entire shipment of the meds. The infection rate is going to rise dramatically now. There will be deaths as a result.”

  “Please, let’s not act like any of us care about the lives of the miners involved,” the Cowboy replied.

  “It’s not their lives I care about you fool! It’s not getting caught that I care about!”

  "Nobody will notice. Next time I will sell the standard amount to our customer," the Cowboy replied calmly.

  "You better," the caller threatened. "I've worked far too hard to set up this enterprise of ours for you to blow it for all of us by getting greedy. A steady stream of income that draws no attention to our various activities is far more profitable than one big play that nets us an excellent one-time profit. Do you understand me? Because if you don't, understand this, you are replaceable!"

  Before the Cowboy could reply, the communication ended.

  Stunned by the unequivocally open threat, he tensed physically to the point he began to shake. The muscles in his neck tightened as he felt his blood pressure rise and his heart rate accelerate. By chance he looked down at his hands, noticing he gripped the arms of his custom chair so hard his knuckles were white.

  The Cowboy felt as if his head would explode from the rage building pressure inside his skull. A sudden sharp pain shot through his mouth as he chipped one of his molars from grinding his teeth. He spit out the piece of the tooth, noting the blood tinged saliva that came with it as the tooth fragment landed on his desk.

  His nerves calmed slightly at the sight of his blood, and an idea came to him. Something had to be done about the threat, but he had to be careful. As the caller had been so kind to point out to him, it would be a shame for something to happen to their profitable enterprise.

  He had gotten greedy on the last deal. Perhaps the caller could be forgiven for pointing the fact out. He was correct to point out their entire enterprise must be protected. What the caller did not realize was the old, smaller stream of revenue could become more profitable by reducing the number of shares by one.

  It would take time, but the hunt would be exciting. Nobody threatened the Cowboy and lived.

  In the mean time, a new trophy would lessen his feelings of anger and anxiety. It was time to sample the prey in his newly staked out hunting grounds. The Cowboy stood and adjusted his clothing, making certain he looked perfect. He retrieved the bit of tooth, wrapped it in a silk handkerchief and pocketed it.

  Pressing the button on his comm device, he called his secretary,

  "Connie, I've managed to go and chip a tooth. I'm off to the dentist to get something done about the pain and see if a quick repair is possible. Would you manage to cancel my appointments for today, please? I won't be back."

  Connie was an efficient gatekeeper. She protected his calendar, time and person with a relentless ruthlessness he appreciated. He wondered for a moment if she would enjoy being a predator. The thought passed quickly through his mind as he gathered his cane and left through the back entrance to his office.

  I PULLED OVER JUST in time. Josephson managed to get the door to our hover car open before he vomited. Now I had to find a pharmacy for him to buy some mouthwash. I wasn't going to drive around in the freezing cold with the windows down, so I didn't have to smell the stench.

  “Hey,” I told him as I pulled over again. “Go buy some mouthwash. Hurry. We have a long day ahead of us. Get some air freshener too while you’re at it.”

  I watched my young protégé stumble off on his mission and shook my head in disgust. I had done that walk more times than I cared to admit. When Josephson felt better, I planned to have a serious talk with him about the evils of too much drink combined with a horrible crime scene.

  To kill time, I looked at our GPS and my map of the crime scenes. There was no pattern I could see to the locations. I knew there was one, but I couldn't see it. I shivered despite the hover car's heater. There was a real monster somewhere in the city, and he was evolving.

  The passenger door opened and Josephson fell into the car, slamming the door shut as he did so. He winced at the loud noise before fumbling with the top of his bottle of mouthwash.

  “Give me that.”

  I pulled the bottle away from him to prevent another mess from being made. I got the top off and handed it back. He took a swig and swished it around before opening the door again and spitting the fluid out.

  “Ready? We’re close to the first spot I want to check out.”

  I tossed him the map tablet with the GPS and looked for a gap in the traffic to pull out. Josephson rubbed his brow and groaned as he looked around to orient himself again in order to give me driving directions.

  I accelerated hard to merge and heard my partner groan again.

  “Please Sully, take it easy.”

  “Don’t get so drunk when we have to work. Both of us suffer when you do that.”

  Josephson pointed for me to turn left. I grinned as I accelerated hard into the turn, banking our hover car as I did so. He groaned in misery again.

  SHE LOOKED DOWN THE street, noting the people going about their business in the freezing cold of the late morning. Clouds blocked the sun, making the day colder than normal. She watched as the clouds danced across the sky and grew darker in color as they seemed to run away from Capital City. A storm front was moving in.

  A man bumped into her and hurried on his way without speaking. She looked about the area again, reaching into her pocket as she did so. Despite being layered in nearly every item of clothing she owned, she was visibly shivering. A glance at the coins she pulled from her pocket was not enough to pay for a night at a hostel, but it was sufficient to buy a small meal and get warm before she hunted for a hiding place for the night.

  A break in the traffic allowed her to cross the busy street with a throng of other pedestrians. Looking all around, she hurried to the entrance of Joe’s and slipped in with a few others looking to escape the cold and enjoy the respite of a hot cup of coffee.

  Usually alert to the smallest detail of her surroundings, she didn't notice the CCTV camera covering the entrance to Joe's.

  IT HAD BEEN A LONG day. I'd ruled out three of the old crime scenes as possible Cowboy kill sites. The others were probable crime sites. Using my cybernetic eye as a camera, I had taken hundreds of photos to download when I got home. I needed to get a feel for the predator, to understand how he selected his hunting grounds. To do that, I needed to be able to examine and reexamine the scenes, thus the photographs.

  I explained to Josephson the three sites I excluded were far too public. The only reason we didn't have the killer in prison was the CCTV cameras didn't function when the murders took place. Not vandalized or disabled, only malfunctioning and in need of repair. An evolving serial killer would want privacy. With more experience, the killer would know to disable the CCTV camera.

  Josephson still looked worse for wear. He’d hardly said a word all day and didn’t eat much for lunch. I didn’t blame him.

  Cold wind whipped against my face and blew the back of my greatcoat back, letting frigid air climb up my legs and chill my spine. Joe's was just ahead, so I quickened my pace. I hoped my new acquaintance Father Nathan would be eating. For a priest, he seemed a bit worldly, like he'd lived hard or done some hard things before
he took up "his calling." I had hoped he'd have insight that would help me track the predator down.

  Unbuttoning my coat and removing my cap, I entered Joe’s. The two huge bouncers nodded as I walked past and made my way toward my booth. Alice came heading my way with a menu and a steaming mug of coffee.

  “Hey, how’s Ralph?”

  “Haven’t heard from him today and I’m a little worried,” she answered, setting down my coffee and placing the menu next to it on the table.

  “What for? He can take care of himself.”

  “What if he picks up that Cowboy Killer? Nobody can handle that guy.”

  I sighed. The media was wrong to sensationalize this predator, but it was the right decision to warn the public.

  “We’ll catch him.”

  Alice frowned and walked off, leaving me to sip my coffee and consider if I wanted something other than my regular. With my back to the wall, I scanned the crowd as Joe’s began to fill up as the shift change started.

  I saw Father Nathan enter and nodded to him, indicating I wanted to talk to him. While the priest weaved his way through the tables, I continued my sweep of the patrons.

  Movement in the corner caught my eye, and I looked back. Without thinking, I changed focus in my cybernetic eye and began recording as I zoomed in on the source of the movement.

  Looking me directly in the eye was my mystery woman. Without hesitation, I stood to make my way over to her. Just as quickly as I reacted, she did as well. Without drawing attention to herself, she quietly hurried to the doors and slipped away into the cold, graying evening. I burst through the doors only to collide with a family trying to escape the cold.

  She was gone.

  I apologized profusely and made my way back to her table. She had left some coins on the table. I pulled coins of my own from my pocket to exchange them for hers, leaving a generous tip. From another pocket, I pulled an evidence bag and without touching the coins, slipped the bag under them before sealing the bag. Father Nathan watched me with curiosity; his head turned over his shoulder.