Murder Game (GhostWalkers #7)(102)
Author: Christine Feehan

Nico squeezed the trigger and Sturges fell, landing hard, his arms and legs flopping loosely while the cattle milled around him and blood pooled in the straw.

Kadan retrieved the knife and gun. “Rye. Send in the cleaners. That’s six and we’re on the clock.”

“It took a little bit of time to locate these two, and we got lucky,” Ryland said, moving through the vineyard. “Flame hacked into the Reaper’s computer and found this little hideaway the two own together. Apparently they’ve set up a range for target practice. She saw an invoice for some hefty equipment. When I say target practice, I’m talking moving targets, like we use in the urban training.”

“So what are they doing?” Gator asked.

“They’ve built quite a small city back here. We did a series of aerial photographs and the buildings are mostly shells.”

“A stage.” Nico glanced at Kadan. “They practice the murders here, so they can perfect each one before they carry it out.”

“The details matter,” Kadan said. “They’re serious about getting the most points possible for each allotted murder. That’s like the Reaper. He’s a perfectionist and would be very serious about winning if he entered the game.” He looked around at his team. “This,” he waved his hands toward the compound, “is a perversion of everything we believe in. Our training, every soldier who went through months and years of training to save lives. They’ve warped the skills given them and the training practices, in order to perfect murder. They disgust me, but don’t for one moment think they don’t know what they’re doing. I know the Reaper. I’ve worked with him and he’s good. Better than good. You can’t afford one mistake.”

“Do we know what kinds of psychic or genetic enhancements either of them have?” Nico asked.

Ryland shook his head. “There’s no documentation. Not in any files Lily could find on Whitney’s computer or in any of the ones Flame hacked into on the suspects themselves. There isn’t a whisper among the teams, either. We’re going in blind.”

“Do we have a clue what the winning team gets once the game is over?” Gator asked.

Kadan shrugged. “It’s the title, no matter what else. The common bond they all share is ego. They want, no, they have to feel superior. It made no sense to put Tom Delaney in with the group. He didn’t fit. He has the aggression, but he isn’t a killer, not like these men.”

“Lily says they consider the rest of the world sheep and they’re the wolves. The more they kill, the more they need to kill,” Ryland said. “I didn’t understand and probably never really will.”

“I don’t want to understand,” Kadan said. “And this,” he swept his hand in an arc to indicate the small estate, “this is an abomination. They’re training to murder just as they trained for missions.”

There was ice in his voice and he felt the familiar cold settle over him. He welcomed the ice flowing in his veins, the cold part of him that became mechanical, that worked like a well-oiled machine when needed. And he needed the warrior out and fully functional.

“They’ll know we’re coming,” Kadan warned. He would know. He had to assume the Reaper would know. “This is their home turf. They know every trap, every mine. And they’ll be waiting for us.”

Nico, Jack, and Ken gave a brief salute and split off, heading for their assigned positions. Gator, Kadan, and Ryland continued forward, moving apart and working their way through the vines into the orchards, where there was more cover, but more chance of an ambush.

Kadan inhaled and scented sweat. He went to ground, easing his way along, skin changing to the color of his surroundings. A thin wire stretched across the narrow trail. “Watch yourselves, I’ve got traps. Push them toward me.”

He let his senses flair out, a strange sixth sense that had always been with him, long before he’d been enhanced, a type of radar like a cat’s whiskers. The enhancement had amplified it, giving him the ability to “see” images in sound. How close. How far. Large or small.

“One’s on you,” Jack hissed. “Move.”

A bullet rang out, thunked into a tree stump a hundred yards to his right. Kadan was already rolling to his left, into a shallow depression, and scooting forward. The man in the shadows had to be Hawk. The Reaper would never have exposed himself to Jack’s sight, not even briefly.

“How was he on me?” Kadan asked.

Voices erupted throughout the orchard. The sound of running and branches breaking came from several different areas. Kadan knew it was Gator, deliberately throwing sounds to disrupt the Reaper and Hawk from the hunt. Kadan slipped into the brush, keeping his body the color of his surroundings. He went up a tree, using his bristles to hold him while he climbed, careful to keep from shaking leaves.

Hawk moved along a narrow trail, gun in hand. He had marked the place where Kadan had gone down, but he couldn’t find him. Kadan inwardly frowned. He was completely camouflaged; he knew he was. He hadn’t shaken a bush or tree limb. How the hell had Hawk spotted him?

Hawk turned his face up to the sky and screeched, the sound a perfect replica of a hawk calling. A large red-tailed hawk spun a long circle overhead.

“He’s using the hawk’s vision,” Gator called, excitement and admiration infusing his voice. “He can see what the bird sees.”

Hawk turned toward the tree where Kadan clung to a branch just above his head, and the killer found himself looking right down the barrel of a gun. He died that way, watching the bullet come to him, drive him over backward where he sprawled out on the ground.

“Not anymore,” Kadan said and leapt from the tree, landing in a crouch just feet from the fallen body. “Seven down.”

The earth shook and rumbled; dirt and debris geysered into the air. The blast was loud, throwing Kadan off his feet and forward. Before he could push back up, another blast rocked the earth, followed by a third and fourth. Smoke poured around them, swirling thickly. Kadan sent out his radar and it bounced back to him. The Reaper was running.

Kadan went after him, trusting his warning system to let him know if he was nearing a trap. Twice he detoured from the trail, sprinting at full speed, hurdling several bushes when he was certain he was coming up on a trip wire. Automatic gunfire sprayed the area and he dove for cover. The Reaper was firing blind, and he was some distance away. Through the smoke it was impossible for him to see Kadan clearly, but certain Kadan was following, the Reaper was keeping the GhostWalker off of him.