The Huntsman

by Rafael

  “Nothing. It’s just a wall nothing more. Maybe the dogs are confused.”

  “No. The scent trail they followed is as real as you and I. It’s telling us exactly what happened here. We’re just not understanding it.”

  While a skeptical Ragnar and his team disconnected their equipment, Janesh again presented the feather to the dogs but this time followed behind as they tracked. He stopped at one spot marked by large pools of dried blood. “Did you connect this blotch to a particular victim?”

  “Yes.” Ragnar replied. “The rightmost one.” Janesh walked over for a closer examination. The man’s tibia, thrust out through a bare leg, made him wince. “Did you examine this one?” he asked a man putting away his notes. The technician nodded.

  “Any ideas what caused this?” He shrugged.

  “Part of the break is thrust up into the bone. He must have been lying prone when something struck his foot with enough force to shatter the leg.” He pointed to a swollen and discolored foot. “It also broke the ankle.”

  Janesh returned to the blood patch, a huntsman tracking clues. He stared at the blood’s splatter direction. Why had it not sprayed away from the blow instead of pooling? What could cause a scent trail to start and stop, appear and reappear? He knelt down, palms on his thighs, head bowed. Breathing slowed, an inner calm seeped in. He stilled his thoughts and walled off noise and distraction. He descended into his mind, to a place of pure thought, to where meaning and understanding dwelled. Why had the blood not sprayed? Why did a scent trail appear and reappear? Everyone stopped to stare at him. A feather slowly rotated across his mind’s eye.

  With a sudden inhale, Janesh rose in one smooth motion. He circled in place to survey the ceiling’s rafters. “We must find the equipment. It is key to understanding what we’re up against. Whatever it is.” He stopped to level his gaze at Miranda. “It can fly.”

  CHAPTER 13 Coitus Interruptus

  Nicholas Koh reached for the buzzing communicator. “Yes.” What followed made his erection disappear. “Just a moment.” Snapped fingers motioned for the two females to leave. He rose from the couch, put on a robe, and confirmed the apartment’s electronic shield glowed steady green.

  “All six?”

  “Correct. We heard screams but expected to.”

  “What about the two agents?”

  “We watched them remove eight body bags. I uploaded the photos. You can see the outlines of corpses within. No one who went in or came out the building matched the pictures Chen gave us. They must be dead too.”

  Nicholas’ instincts ignited. “Hold on.” Things didn’t add up. Some of his best men made up that crew. They would never have missed any weapons on the two agents. He pulled up the photos Chen had sent which included two full-body views. No way had these two muscled his men, not all six. He scrolled down to the body bag stills. No one in them wore badges or identifiers. Their grimaces made it clear the bags contained dead weight.

  The next one made him stop. Eyes widened, breathing stopped. He stared. Searched for a sign he might be mistaken. Found none. Janesh McKenzie stood in the background. Once again the Mahān Śikārī had entered his life. His eyes narrowed at the beauty into whose ear his nemesis whispered. What connected them to this? Nicholas let out a loud breath and ran fingers through his hair. He had to think this through and didn’t have the time. Slow down, he thought. What’s the priority?

  “Listen to me carefully before this gets more botched up than it is. If not already, they’ll soon be grilling Chen. I don’t trust him. There’s no time to wait for one of our boats. That equipment needs to be on the next ship leaving Tacoma. If it isn’t, there’ll be nowhere on this planet you can hide. Do you understand?”

  “Fully.”

  “Tell Chen to provide transport and to personally supervise it. Don’t haggle price. When they deliver the equipment, Larry Chen and his crew must become dead ends. Any questions?”

  “No.”

  “Good. One more thing. The pictures you sent include a red-haired woman. You see it?”

  “Yes.”

  “A million dollars if you bring her to me alive and unmarked. I don’t want her to have so much as a scratch.”

  “I understand.”

  “Make sure that equipment’s on the next ship and send me its name.”

  Nicholas disconnected and stared at the device. He respected Jithu Ong’s slow, steady rise through the ranks. He still had not replaced Wei or Feng and both men had often given Ong sensitive assignments, some needing delicate attention, others a more direct approach. A taciturn temperament and terse speech patterns might challenge his public ventures but no one had ever questioned his competence. Nicholas needed this underling to succeed.

  At the bar he poured a shot of blended malt then another before strolling to the bedroom door. He paused. Had he forgotten anything? Probably, but for now he’d done enough. The freighter would take at least ten days to cross the Pacific. He had time, though Janesh McKenzie’s unexpected and unexplained presence complicated things. It required a considered response. He pushed the door open. The two females lay naked on the bed. His erection returned.

  CHAPTER 14 Anchors Away

  Conversation ceased when grim-faced men emerged onto the warehouse’s loading platform. Dead weight carried between paired agents forced short-step waddles and occasional grunts. Miranda glanced at Ben and Ragnar. Their set jaws radiated grief and rage. Both understood any given day might find them inside a body bag on an idling truck. So had Dawkins and Cross. Their families would never know what, where, when, or why, only that they’d fallen in service to their country. Small comfort.

  “What’ll happen to the other six?” Ragnar’s tone had no life or care.

  “They’ll disappear.”

  Miranda went cold. The brutal deaths Cross and Dawkins suffered had enraged her but she admitted to a quiet satisfaction their tormentors’ lives had also ended in horror. Did she walk a path Ragnar had already travelled? At its end would she, like him, be callous toward life, seething with violence, burning for vengeance? Would she recognize herself? Who would she be?

  Miranda turned to look for Janesh and found him eyeing her. Reflex spun her head away. She felt flustered he’d caught her searching for him. Why? No matter what he’d done or who he knew, one truth remained inarguable. The more she tried to push him away the more he drew her to him. She raised her head and met his gaze. Lips closed, she smiled. Watch me Janesh, she thought. Watch me close. Don’t let me lose myself.

  From a trouser pocket her communicator buzzed. Gary Akiyama’s grim image filled the display. He didn’t wait for their customary exchange. “Are you free to talk?”

  “One moment.” Back turned, she stepped away from the group motioning for Janesh to follow her. Out of earshot, she held the communicator out to capture both their faces. “Go ahead, Professor.”

  “I and two colleagues have completed our examination of the feather you sent. It is an astonishing construct that can both reflect and absorb light. That gives it the ability to either disappear or cast a false image. Although the feather represents a tremendous scientific advance, we thought it well within today’s engineering technology. A sufficient number embedded on an outer garment would render the person within invisible or to appear where they’re not.

  We then decided to examine it under an electron microscope. The feathers along the hollow shaft have remarkable properties themselves but at the calamus, the shaft’s bare end, we made an astounding discovery. On microscopic hooks, presumably to anchor the shaft within the follicle, we found tissue fragments that matched the DNA sequences you sent. This feather did not fall off a garment, clothing, or any material but was embedded within living tissue.”

  “Are we facing an organism entirely bio-engineered?” Miranda asked.

  “Interesting question. If the four known genes comprised its DNA we could state with certainty whether it was natural or artificial. The presence of a fifth, which by the way is the
basis for the feather’s properties, prevents an easy answer. To all outward appearances the DNA is natural but no known DNA has five genes.”

  “Janesh believes it can fly.” Gary leaned away to engage someone off camera. After a minute he returned.

  “We have nothing to contradict that. It is entirely possible. The feather has the same flight characteristics as any other bird.” Gary stared into the camera then inhaled. “There is another possibility which the evidence does not dismiss. However, extraordinary claims require extraordinary proof. We don’t have it.”

  “Go on, Professor.”

  “This creature may be extra-terrestrial.”

  The two stared at the display. Janesh recovered.

  “But it could be engineered.”

  “Yes. A phenomenal achievement but nonetheless entirely possible.”

  A cough turned them around. Ben Wolford had one eye on the display. “Washington has cleared Cross and Dawkins’ case files. Call logs turned up a Larry Chen in Honolulu. He heads a moving company, L&C Movers, with a local branch here in Tacoma. We’ll pick up the trail there.”

  “I’ll be right with you.” Miranda waited, making it clear she wanted to finish the call in private. Ben looked from one to the other, shrugged, and walked away. “Professor, we have to leave. Is there anything else?”

  “I can’t say enough about my concerns, Miranda. Perhaps it’s time you returned to zoology, let the professionals take over.” Respect paused her reply.

  “You know I always finish what I start, Professor. Cross and Dawkins are dead. They didn’t deserve to die the way they did. If I can help find their killer, I will. Besides, you sent a knight to protect me.” She looked at Janesh. Her eyes twinkled. “Even if he is a little off-white.” Akiyama nodded before disconnecting.

  “Be well and good luck, Miranda.” She turned to head for the others. Janesh’s gentle fingers closed around her arm.

  “I share the Professor’s concerns. Unless I’m mistaken, Larry Chen is already dead. This wildcard creature can only make an already dangerous situation more so.”

  “I don’t frighten easily, Janesh.” Frustration played across his face.

  “No, you don’t. You’ve been asking who I am. Okay then. Let’s step into the world I’ve tried to shield you from and learn who.” He broke away. “Come.” Duncan and Ronan sprang to either flank. Vehicles began pulling away from the warehouse. Miranda stared at him then followed.

  * * *

  Beyond the windshield, flashing police lights up and down the rural road illuminated the evening sky. A police inspector had asked Ben to join him at the truck just ahead swarming with detectives. Miranda and Janesh waited within the idling utility vehicle. “Don’t be cross with me, Janesh. I know I probably seem like a naïve, stubborn country bumpkin. It’s just I’ve never quit anything in my life. I don’t want to say I know you mean well. That’s condescending. I really do appreciate your concern though. I’m grateful for it. Thank you.”

  Behind her Janesh remained silent. Ben broke away from the throng and returned to maneuver the vehicle back to the main road. “Larry Chen and six others lay in the truck. Each had a bullet to the head. Big caliber. Half their heads blown away. Whoever did it wanted to make certain.” Miranda stared at her hands. They trembled. Janesh held out little hope.

  “Did they find the science equipment?” Ben shook his head.

  “Chen had a lading manifest copy in a pocket. The police had the Tacoma harbormaster up on the shortwave. He confirmed the last minute load had proper authorizations. Tacoma PD will be checking into that but the ship has a four hour head start. No police boat will reach the ship before it gets to the territorial limit. A helicopter has no way of forcing a return.”

  “We don’t want to intercept it just yet. We need that equipment. Once it passes US territorial waters, don’t you gain jurisdiction? Doesn’t the CIA have connections?”

  Through the rearview, Janesh watched Ben’s face light up. He reached over and pressed a button on the dashboard. A small screen lit up. “Site Agent Ben Wolford, access code BX017.”

  “Voice authentication confirmed.”

  “Connect me to Langley operations.” He winked at Janesh. “One Navy destroyer coming up.”

  CHAPTER 15 Cultural Differences

  Round eyes, black as the cave’s interior, inched open. From outside, the tropical forest’s now familiar scents wafted along curves and around corners. They included two not detected here before. Abdominal muscles flexed, opening a marsupial pouch. Kreetor unfolded a wing and reached inside to withdraw the Seer. Her hand unfolded and pulled away. The tennis-ball size, ball-bearing like silver sphere hung mid-air. A faint orange glow cast a pall on the surrounding rock surfaces but the color remained steady. The two scents presented no danger. Curiosity swelled, goaded by hunger. Her feathers fluffed then resettled. Kreetor retrieved the Seer and stepped toward the entrance high up the mountain’s side.

  Underneath, taloned feet crunched the bones and carcasses of past meals. A low hiss signaled her distaste. The passing of a warrior priestess should never be heard but accepting the Council’s Sacred Task meant the Unwinged could not accompany her. Until her return to Sorke, wits and guile would be her servants.

  Standing in the entrance’s shadow, she paused to sample the air currents. Powerful glands isolated the two scents giving her distance and direction but her large brain dedicated one-third to processing visual data. Together, nothing within three thousand wings could escape detection, day or night. One scent recalled another three cycles ago: the wingless primitive not shaped like the others. Far below, movement within the dense foliage focused her pupils.

  Patience soothed her as the two approached a position permitting clear view. Their false skins puzzled her. Magnified details gave no hint why they exposed some nakedness and concealed the rest. Fragile arms with no hope of flight nonetheless tried with constant movement and motion. She discerned no difference in size or weight, nothing that explained the scent distinction. Perhaps this world had two types of Unwinged.

  As she had since arrival, Kreetor scanned the skies for any sign warriors patrolled them. Only those incapable of speech or thought flittered about. Some she had eaten. Frustration forced another hiss emphasized by a clacking beak. Knowledge belonged to the Unwinged not the Priestesses. To her fell the sacred duty of guarding the Air Givers’ crèches and in that duty—battle.

  A thought struggled to emerge. Did the scent mark the presence of an Air Giver? How could that be? The Council had sent her to end all connected with the Gate. Surely that did not include Air Givers. Surely they would honor her holy oath.

  Kreetor hissed and clacked. Without the Unwinged to provide answers and guidance, she felt disconnected, unaired. Curiosity overcame hunger. She had to know. With a mighty flap, the Warrior Priestess took flight.

  * * *

  Starting at the entrance and all along the faint, rarely used trail, Brad and Linda ignored the signs warning they headed for rugged, dangerous cliffs. They’d met three years earlier and when their fellow extreme hikers learned the two had decided on Hawaii for their honeymoon, insisted their getaway had to experience the closed trail around Kauai’s highest peak, Kawaikini. They paused to look back on Alakai Preserve’s treacherous swamps some had predicted would turn them back. “Hold on, honey. I want to take a picture of you with Alakai as a backdrop.”

  Brad clambered up a few feet, removed his backpack, and fished out the camera. He brought her into focus then lowered the camera. “Sweetheart, you’re too steamy for this picture. You need to close one button.” Linda laughed, tossed her head back to let the breeze catch her long, blond tresses and unbuttoned another.

  Brad’s hands trembled as he centered the viewer. When he took this picture he would take her. Right where she stood without preamble. Puzzlement swept her face before horror. Brad felt only the breeze intensify before a taloned foot closed around his head. One claw sliced through his cheek, jammed his mo
uth. Another ruptured his eye socket. He felt himself dragged along the rocky ground before jerking into the air. A part of him heard Linda’s wails and screams. Another wondered what happened.

  Claws wrenched open and Brad fell. He looked up to see his blood streaming above. Beyond a winged monstrosity veered and banked. He slammed into the ground. A loud crack told him something snapped but blood loss held him in shock’s grip. He felt nothing. With a moan, Brad rolled onto his back. The sun blazed hot, but he shivered and trembled. Above him the feathered beast braked. Two flaps and it landed, legs straddling him. From the wings’ main joint, black-skinned hands jutted. They began to strip away clothing. Brad howled as the thing turned him roughly over and back, probing, searching, inspecting. Stubby fingers flexed, closed on an arm, and tore it off. Brad died before it ripped off the other.

  Linda stood paralyzed, unable to process the sudden, savage, brutal violence that had descended without warning. They’d had no preparation; no notice the Eden-like garden hid a nightmare. Survival shoved forward, crowded out further thought, reconnected severed reflexes. Adrenaline surged into frozen muscles. Linda turned and ran. Ran for escape, ran for safety, ran for life.

  A silent shadow glided overhead. It dropped from the sky and morphed into a killer bird. Wings spread, it blocked further advance. Fighting waves of mounting hysteria, Linda veered left. Hopping and bobbing, wings flapping, the thing ran a parallel track. Adrenaline dissipated. Fear-fatigued muscles began to lag. Linda sank to her knees. Sobs and pants intermixed. She turned to face her tormentor. Ten feet away, its beak opened revealing a hideous, writhing tongue. Chirps, clicks, and whirs sounded. Its beak clacked. Dismay laced Linda’s scream. “What do you want? Leave me alone, leave me alone.” Her cries ebbed away to whimpers.