by Rebecca York
A guard. She hadn’t even been thinking about that, she realized. But she was sure Hunter had seen the guard when he’d checked the motor pool earlier. She couldn’t hear what the man was saying, but she heard the note of challenge in his tone.
Kathryn held her breath.
“I have orders to report to the administration building with a sedan,” Hunter said, reaching inside his jacket. Instead of pulling out a piece of paper, he brought his hand out in a lightning quick stroke that connected with the guard’s neck.
The man gasped, yet he was also well trained. At the last second, he moved a fraction of an inch, deflecting the worst of the blow. Then he spun around, coming back at Hunter with his own martial arts move.
As they circled each other, Kathryn wondered if somehow she could tip the odds in Hunter’s favor. What if she caused a distraction, she thought, starting forward? Before she had taken two steps, another man materialized silently out of the shadows. She bit back a tiny sound as he raised a gun and landed a hard chop on the guard’s head. Confused, she tried to figure out what was happening.
Before the combatant hit the ground, the newcomer took a quick step back and pointed the gun squarely at Hunter. Until that moment, she hadn’t gotten a clear view of his face. When he raised his head, she saw it was Reid, the security man who had lured her down to the cabin, then set the fuses and tried to blow her up.
Hunter started forward.
“Don’t come any closer.” Reid gestured with the gun. “Just pick him up nice and easy and dump him behind a car,” he ordered.
When Hunter hesitated, he gestured with the gun. “Do it. Then turn around slowly.”
Hunter complied.
“Don’t move a muscle—except to put your hands up,” Reid hissed.
Slowly, Hunter raised his hands. He was facing in her direction, but he didn’t once look at her, and she knew he was doing it to protect her hiding place.
“Where’s the Kelley woman?” Reid demanded.
“You wanted to kill her,” Hunter said in a flat voice. “You did an excellent job of setting the explosives.”
“You’d better not be lying to me.”
“I never lie,” Hunter said in the same unemotional tone.
And he wasn’t telling a fib, Kathryn realized. But he had done a masterful job of twisting the truth to make it sound like she was dead. Yet even as she admired his resourcefulness, she watched in sick horror as Reid held the gun leveled at his chest.
God, what was she going to do now?
“I bet my pension you’d come here and try to get a car,” he said in a voice that rang with triumph.
“Yes, you are clever,” Hunter complimented him without a trace of admiration.
“That’s right. Like when I told everyone you set off the explosives that killed the broad. That puts me in the clear. It’s all the fault of the clone run amok.”
“Why did you lure Kathryn Kelley to the shack?” Hunter asked.
“I was well paid. And I’m going to do even better when I bring you in.”
“In where? To Colonel Emerson?”
“Not hardly.”
“Swinton? Beckton?”
“Stop asking questions,” Reid growled.
Hunter gave a tight nod.
“Now get moving. And don’t try any sudden moves. I know all the defensive gambits they taught you in those fancy martial arts classes.”
Hunter’s jaw was tight.
“Move. Down the sidewalk along the fence,” Reid clipped out. “I’ll be right behind you. And hope we don’t meet up with one of those search parties out beating the bushes for you. Because if I must, I’ll shoot you in ‘self-defense’.”
Kathryn fought to stand unmoving and silent. Still not glancing in her direction, Hunter followed orders. She watched him and Reid head along the edge of the parking area.
When she tried to take a steadying breath, it rattled in her throat. Hunter had told her to leave Stratford Creek if something happened to him. But she couldn’t do it by herself, she reasoned. More importantly, she wasn’t going to leave him in Reid’s clutches. She had to follow—and to find out where the security man was taking him. Yet that plan was dangerous, too. What if Reid saw her? What if he shot Hunter? Or what if she got caught? Then there was no hope for either of them.
For long moments, she was paralyzed. Then captive and captor turned the corner, and she knew she had only one choice. Leaping from her hiding place, she sprinted along the fence, praying they wouldn’t disappear before she reached the end of the parking lot.
Panic roared in her ears when she thought she was too late. Then she spotted them in the shadows at the edge of an unkempt field that bordered the research center.
Hunter had wondered if Reid was working for Swinton. He must be right, she decided as she followed behind the pair, darting from shadow to shadow.
She was about to step into the light again, when Reid suddenly stopped at the edge of the lawn and spun around, scanning the open area behind him. Kathryn froze in mid-stride. Thank God he hadn’t waited a few seconds longer, she thought as she pressed herself against the wall of the building, hardly daring to breathe.
She sagged back against the wall when Reid issued a gruff command to Hunter and started moving again. She saw now that they were skirting the front door of the research center, aiming for another destination. Building 22, she realized, feeling the blood drain out of her face. Please, not Building 22, she silently mouthed. But her guess was confirmed as they made directly for the low building, with Hunter in the lead and Reid right behind him with the gun.
As she watched in horror, Hunter pushed open the same door she’d entered several nights earlier and stepped inside. Reid followed, pulling the door closed behind them.
For long moments, she was rooted to the spot where she stood, fighting the urge to scream. Her first trip inside that building had been the most terrifying experience of her life. And she’d silently vowed never to go back. Now here she was again.
About thirty yards back, she had passed a telephone box on a utility pole. It wasn’t an outside line, she knew. It was only connected to the base phone system. Uncertainly, she turned and stared at it. She could call for help, and a security team would come on the double. Yet she didn’t need Hunter to tell her she couldn’t trust Emerson. Worse, if Reid was telling the truth, everyone now thought Hunter was a killer. Maybe they had orders to shoot him on sight. For all she knew, they had orders to shoot her, too.
Her only option was to get inside and help Hunter. Clenching her teeth, she forced her legs to carry her toward the building. But when she reached the door and tried the knob, she discovered it wouldn’t turn. The entrance was locked. Reid had shut her out.
For endless moments, she stood making little sounds of distress in her throat as she tried to force the knob. Finally, with a sob, she gave up the futile effort. Stifling the impulse to pound her fist against the door, she straightened and started along the perimeter of the structure, searching for another entrance.
She had almost made a circle of the entire building when she heard someone muttering in a low, angry voice. Freezing in place, she looked wildly around, but there was nowhere to hide.
The voice sounded frustrated, but it grew no louder. Realizing that the speaker was hidden from view around the corner of the building, she crept cautiously forward and peered around the wall. A man was standing hunched over, trying to insert a key into the lock of another door. When he met with no success, he cursed, then switched to another key on the same ring.
The man was a disheveled Dr. Kolb, she saw. Apparently, he was trying to get inside—and having little success. Emerson must have tightened security all over the base and ordered doors locked.
What was Kolb doing here? she wondered as she peeked around the corner. Hunter had told her Reid wasn’t capable of carrying out elaborate plans. Maybe the security man was supposed to deliver Hunter to Kolb, and maybe the physician had accidentally gotten loc
ked out of the building. He looked like he was coming unglued, Kathryn thought, as she watched him try several more keys. His fumbling hands dropped them on the grass. Cursing furiously, he went down on his knees and scrabbled frantically until he found them again.
With a groan, he heaved himself up. Squaring his shoulders, he attacked the lock again, still muttering to himself. It seemed to Kathryn that he was taking half the night to accomplish a relatively simple task—if the ring he’d brought held the right key.
Finally, he let out a growl of satisfaction, pulled open the door, and stepped inside.
The hinges were cushioned by air cylinders. Praying that she wouldn’t be too late, Kathryn sprinted forward and caught the edge of the metal just in time to give her fingers a sharp pinch. Repressing a gasp of pain, she pushed her shoulder through the opening in time to see Kolb scurrying down a hallway.
If he glanced over his shoulder, he’d spot her. But he appeared too preoccupied to check his surroundings. She mouthed a little prayer of thanks when she realized he was heading away from the room with the tanks. At least she wouldn’t have to see that awful sight again.
About thirty paces down the hall, he stopped and stepped through a door. As silently as she could, she crept forward. Pausing to listen, she heard muffled voices. When she cautiously stuck her head around the corner, she found she was staring into a vestibule that led to three more doorways. Kolb had stepped through the one on the right.
In his hand was a gun, pointed at a man whose face she couldn’t see. But she could tell he was standing in front of a bank of computers and wearing a white lab coat.
Afraid to approach any closer, Kathryn strained her ears as she tried to figure out what was going on. The man in the lab coat wasn’t tall enough to be Swinton. When he turned to face Kolb, she saw with a little jolt that it was the research director’s assistant, Roger Anderson, the man who had let her look at the videotapes of Hunter.
Anderson drew himself up to his full five feet eight inches. “What’s the meaning of this intrusion?” he growled. “You’re not supposed to be in this building unless you have direct orders.”
“I’m not going to let you and Swinton go any further with this,” the doctor said, his voice quavering, the gun shaking in his hand.
“Any further with what?” Anderson demanded.
“With your experiments from hell.”
“Then we’re on the same side,” Anderson said in an even tone. “I’ve been trying to stop Dr. Swinton ever since he began growing human cells in a petri dish.”
“It will be a cold day in hell before I believe that,” Kolb said, moving farther into the room so that Kathryn had a better view of the interior of the lab.
Chapter Thirteen
Hunter was slumped in a chair, his elbows resting on a narrow table in front of him and his head cradled in his hands. From the tension in his arms and body, she judged that he was in considerable pain.
Kolb and Anderson were too absorbed in their little drama to look at him—or to be aware that she was on the scene. But as she stood in the shadows beyond the doorway, Hunter slowly raised his head. As if some sixth sense told him she was behind the doctor, he raised his face and stared in her direction. When his gaze focused on her, his face contorted into an expression of such anguish that she had to press her fist against her mouth to keep from crying out. Then a pleading look came into his eyes.
“Go away,” he mouthed.
She gave a small but emphatic shake of her head.
He kept his gaze on her for several more heartbeats. But it was clear that keeping his head up was too much of a struggle. With a grimace, he dropped his face back into his hands.
It was almost impossible to contain her anger as she took in his appalling condition. He had been through so much. Now what torture had they devised for him? Her own hands clenched into tight fists. It was all she could do to stop herself from rushing to his side, kneeling beside him, finding out what was wrong. But she forced herself to stay where she was. All she’d accomplish by going to him would be to get them both caught.
In desperation, she glanced around the anteroom, looking for some sort of weapon. A long metal pole leaned against the wall. Not even sure of how she could use it, she began to move across the room.
“At first I thought you were on my side,” Kolb was saying. “Like Fenton when he was chief of security. He had the guts to complain to Emerson about this hellhole.”
“Look where it got him,” Anderson growled. “Somebody pushed him off a roof.”
“Probably McCourt.”
Kolb’s voice rose an octave. “I thought after that that you were afraid to speak up, even though you wanted to close down this obscene project. But I kept my eye on you. Finally, I realized you didn’t give a damn about the subjects of the experiment. You were only trying to discredit Swinton so you could take his place. You don’t like playing second fiddle. You want the glory for yourself.”
“That’s right,” Anderson answered mildly. “I hate doing the dirty work of a pompous ass who thinks he has all the answers. I can do a lot more for this project than he ever could—if I just get the chance to prove the flaws in his methods.”
The physician made a noise of disgust.
“If you think cloning human beings is obscene,” Anderson asked in a conversational tone, “why are you part of the jolly little team at Stratford Creek?”
“Not by choice. That bastard Emerson’s got something on me—just like he’s probably got something on you. That’s his specialty, digging up garbage and using it to his advantage. I wanted to atone for my sins, but he forced me to come here. Now the joke’s on him. It turns out I’m not going to live long enough to enjoy my retirement. So I don’t have to do his dirty work anymore. I’m taking Hunter out of here. I thought Dr. Kelley could turn him around. If she’s gone, I’ll have to do it myself in the time I have left.”
As she heard her name mentioned, Kathryn stopped in the act of reaching for the pole.
“You had her killed, didn’t you?” the doctor demanded. “And you wanted it to look like Hunter did it.”
Anderson shrugged. “That was my plan,” he said, laughing, as if he were enjoying a private joke.
“What did you have against her?”
“Nothing personal,” Anderson shot back. “But she gave me the perfect opportunity to prove that Swinton’s methods produced unstable subjects unsuitable for secret missions.”
Kolb answered with a low curse.
“While we’re discussing Dr. Kelley,” Anderson said, “would you mind telling me why you moved heaven and earth to get her on the team here? And why you arranged to have her shacked up with our friend in that nice cozy cottage?”
“Because I thought if anybody could get through to him on a human level, she could.” She looks a lot like Ben Lancaster’s wife.”
“Oh, really?”
Hunter’s head jerked up, and his unsteady gaze fixed on the doctor.
“Yes,” Kolb said. “I was willing to do anything to get her. Even—” He stopped short.
Kathryn felt a trail of shivers travel across her skin. She looked like Ben Lancaster’s wife? Kolb had done what to get her here?
Anderson sneered and glanced at Hunter. “So, what was the big deal? Hunter doesn’t have any of Lancaster’s memories. Or do you think he’s genetically disposed to get the hots for blue-eyed redheads?”
“You’re wrong about his memories,” the doctor shot back. “You may remember Lancaster wasn’t dead when he arrived here. I was able to save some of his brain cells; I transferred them to Hunter.”
“What?” Anderson practically shouted. “How dare you.”
“Maybe you should thank me. You haven’t exactly had a tremendous success rate bringing your subjects to maturity. Maybe the brain cells were crucial to his survival. Maybe they’re the reason he’s the only one of your Lancaster clones to make it.”
Anderson started toward Kolb, his hands balled into
fists. “You’ve invalidated our tests.”
“I don’t give a damn about your precious tests, you moron. I care about the dignity of human life.”
Anderson made a low sound and raised his fist.
“Stay where you are,” Kolb ordered as he moved toward Hunter. “I’m taking him with me.”
“I don’t think so,” Anderson answered in a voice that had turned surprisingly mild.
To the doctor’s right, a door that had been cracked an inch quietly opened to admit the figure of Reid, holding a gun. It appeared he’d been there most of the time, waiting for a signal from Anderson.
In the space of a few heartbeats, the whole situation changed.
“To your right!” Kathryn shouted.
The doctor whirled, saw Reid, and fired. But the security man had also pulled the trigger. The noise of two sidearms being fired reverberated in the close confines of the room even as both men collapsed to the floor.
The shots seemed to reverberate through Hunter as well. He had been sitting at the table as if he were no longer capable of free movement. The gunfire released him from the paralysis. He sprang to his feet, leaped across the space that separated him from Anderson, and struck the researcher on the back of the neck with the side of his hand.
Anderson crumpled, and Kathryn found herself moving toward Hunter across a room where bodies sprawled across the floor. She reached him and fell into his arms, folded him into her embrace.
“Thank God, you’re all right,” she gasped, too overcome with relief to say more.
His arms tightened spasmodically around her, then he pushed her from him.
“No,” he said.
“It’s all right now.”
“No.”
She stared up into his face. “What’s wrong? What did they do to you?”
His mouth opened, but no words came out.
“Hunter?”
“A time to kill. . .” he said in a thick voice.
“What?”
“The song you were singing,” he said.
