"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.
The moment the firing stopped, Kadan was back on his feet running. His radar told him the Reaper was a hundred yards ahead. He put on a burst of speed, and instantly his warning system shrieked. He made another dive, rolling as he hit the ground. The earth shook, and another series of blasts sent dirt and smoke into the air.
A motorcycle roared to life, and Kadan burst through the smoke to see the Reaper fishtailing through the dirt toward the far ravine. Kadan set off at an angle, running fast, gun out, firing at the tires as he sprinted across the open field. The Reaper responded with automatic weapon fire, aiming under his shoulder, but not really taking the time to do more than try to slow Kadan down. He clearly had an escape route planned and was using it.
The bike plunged over what appeared to be a drop-off and was out of sight. Kadan didn't slow down, streaking across the field to reach the edge of the slope leading to the deep ravine. Heavy brush and trees grew in haphazard fashion covering the walls of the deep cut through the mountain. If there was a trail, it was man-made and the Reaper knew it well. Kadan didn't hesitate and followed him in.
The ribbon of a track was pitted and covered with grass and a few rocks. Someone had taken the time to try to make something that resembled a path. Kadan followed it, but even with his speed, the bike was pulling away from him. The Reaper knew the ravine, every twist and turn, and Kadan had to take care not to break a leg or go tumbling headfirst to the bottom. Branches hit him in the face and brush tore at his arms, but he ran all the same.
He spotted the Reaper going up what looked like a very steep side, powering the bike over rocks and shrubs to get to the top. He disappeared for a moment and then turned the motorcycle back, pausing at the top of the ridge to stare down at Kadan.
Kadan paused, ready to dive into cover if the Reaper lifted his gun. The Reaper stared down at Kadan, a cocky smirk on his face, and then jerked his middle finger high into the air.
Kadan gave him a small salute for the soldier he used to be. There was no way for the Reaper to know he'd been herded straight into a trap, but Ryland had planned the assault perfectly.
The sound of two rifles was simultaneous. The Norton twins fired from opposite sides, and both bullets struck the killer in the head. The body toppled from the bike in slow motion, and rolled back down the slope into the ravine.
"Eight down," Kadan said softly.
CHAP
TER 20
"Where the hell is Tansy, Nico?" Jeff Hollister asked. He spun around in a wide circle and then crouched down to examine the dirt, looking for tracks. "She should be right here."
Nico hurried toward a slight slope. "We wove the dream carefully, and we should have pulled her into it when we opened this sequence."
"I told her exactly what to keep in her mind when she drifted off to sleep and I recorded every detail. Kadan agreed to play it for her as she went to sleep. She has to be here."
Nico ran along the top of the narrow ridge. "She's not here, Jeff. Something's wrong."
Jeff frowned and closed his eyes, searching through the dreamscape. "Not another living person. You're right, she's not here. Something went wrong. Wake up."
Nico found himself in a recliner, Jeff across from him. Gator stood between them, guarding their bodies as they dreamwalked. He regarded them with alarm. "You couldn't have killed the son of bitch that fast."
"We lost her. She wasn't there, Gator," Nico said.
Jeff hit the arm of the chair with his fist. "The only answer is, while we were spinning our dream, Dunbar spun one she was more familiar with and pulled her in before we could draw her into ours. He has her. We have to get to her immediately. She'll be under his control. She doesn't dreamwalk."
"Get Kadan on the phone. He'll know if she has recurring dreams," Nico said. "Hurry. We don't have much time."
So much blood. It rose like a river, the current strong, threatening to pull her under. Tansy gasped and turned, looking in all directions, trying to find Kadan. He'd held her; she remembered the feeling of being safe in his arms. His velvet voice whispered to her; she felt his mouth against hers, so tender she ached inside. She knew he was beside her, knew it, but she could no longer feel him.
A shadow moved in the distance, striding toward her, taking the shape of a man. He waded through the blood, an evil grin on his face. She gasped, fighting for air, unable to move, afraid to speak, to draw attention to herself. Around her, she heard the wails of the dead.
"You're dreaming, Tansy. Wake up," she murmured, a litany of hope, but not believing for a moment that she would.
She even closed her eyes and prayed--that when she opened them, the shadowy figure would be gone. Instead, he was closer. A man of medium height, nondescript, he would get lost in a crowd. Not handsome, but not plain, a man with intelligence in his eyes who gave off a kind of cunning energy she recognized. Her heart sank. The puppet master.
"Tansy Meadows, how nice to finally meet you." He stood a short distance from her, his eyes running over her face, drinking in her fear, looking more feral than any animal she'd ever photographed. He was a predator, skillfully camouflaged in a sheep's skin.
Tansy straightened, lifting her chin, her heart beating fast. "You."
He smirked. "You were fairly good at keeping me out of your dreams. I was surprised what a worthy adversary you really were. Not quite my equal, but very good."
"Why would you think I'm not your equal?"
"I found you. You couldn't find me."
Her eyebrow shot up. "A reporter found me. You read about me in a newspaper and guessed. But you can't find my parents and you didn't track me by yourself. I, however, tracked and found you. Your safe little home just off base is not so safe. Your little shed where you carve your illegal ivory pieces for your game of murder is now my domain. And I know your name, not by cheating, but by being the elite tracker that I am. I found you, James R. Dunbar."
Tansy took a deep breath, forcing herself to keep a look of utter contempt on her face when she was quaking inside. There'd been a plan. It didn't involve wading through blood, but she remembered, there had been a plan, and Kadan had whispered she would be safe.
Fury twisted Dunbar's face. He turned bright red, his face mottled with color. "You bitch."
"Why do men always resort to calling women bitches when we kick their asses? I found out a lot about you, Dunbar. For instance, you have an amazing amount of money in an offshore account. It seems your puppets don't have a clue you're raking in the dough while they do the work. You take contracts and kill for money. I'll admit it's rather brilliant. You actually designed your own killers. You dream up a little game, prepare the cards with specific victims right down to the exact details on how they must be killed, and you direct your puppets to do the killing for you. Even if they got caught, you'd walk away clean."
The red faded from his face, and his features turned crafty and a little pleased by the flattery. "You are a clever girl. I underestimated you."
She shrugged. "Most people do. I'll bet they underestimate you all the time." She had to keep him talking while her mind struggled to remember the plan. She wanted to stay at a distance from him, but she couldn't move and he was easing closer.
"I think you underestimate me, Tansy," Dunbar said. "You found me out when no one else ever has, not even Whitney . . ."
He was close--too close. Tansy tried to draw back even as she forced a smile. "I knew you'd worked for Whitney. You were in the original enhanced psychic program, determining who went through and who didn't. You handpicked your killers based on their psychological profiles. They flunked, didn't they? They would never have made it through, but you changed it so they looked good."
As hard as she tried, she couldn't move her feet, they were frozen in place. Her heart accelerated, the roaring in her ears increased. Her palms went clammy. What was the plan? Why had Kadan sent her here and then abandoned her? She clamped down hard on her runaway thoughts. He would never do that, and to think it--even for a moment--meant she was panicking.
Dunbar nodded. "Whitney never suspected, even when I put in suggested genetic enhancements for each of them." He flashed a little smirk. "Designer killers. I like that."
His smugness bothered her. He might not have killed, but he was more responsible than the ones he'd orchestrated to carry out his plan. He'd profited from the murders. "You made a mistake with one of them. Your scorpion wasn't so easy to control. He isn't a murderer."
Again his face flushed. She'd definitely pricked his perfectionist ego. "I made him into one. He'll do whatever I want." He indicated her feet with his chin. "You made a little mistake of your own, Tansy. This is my dream, not yours. I initiated it, not you. You delivered yourself into my hands." He winked at her. "Ultimately, I win."
Her mouth went dry. "Maybe. We'll see." Wake up. Tansy, wake up. Kadan, where are you?
Dunbar waded through the blood toward her, stopping just an arm's distance away. She couldn't move. There was no point screaming. The dead were already wailing loud enough, trying to warn her, but they didn't need to bother. Somewhere inside, she knew he had her trapped.
Everything in her stilled. Kadan. Her one regret. Did he know she loved him? Would that be enough for him to realize the truth about himself? She could never love a monster, and deep down, he thought that was what he was. She hadn't had enough time with him to show him the truth of who he was.
I'll love you forever. She sent the whisper out to his mind, hoping it reached him. Her beloved warrior. Whatever had gone wrong wasn't his fault, but she knew him, knew he would carry the guilt for the rest of his life.
"I really didn't want to use this dream, but you visit here so often. I didn't want to get blood on my clothes. It really bothers you, doesn't it?" He waved his arm in a half circle to encompass the lake of blood with so many victims crying out for justice. "Who are these people to you? Nothing at all, but you make yourself suffer for no reason in an effort to appease them. You can't save them. Someone wanted them dead for a reason."
"Money."
He shrugged. "Or revenge. It doesn't much matter. Someone was going to kill them. Why not gain from it? I wouldn't have killed you, you know. I found I looked forward to our little game, but I can't have you knowing who I am."
He stepped close, right in front of her, so close she could smell him in spite of the overwhelming scent of blood. It took an effort not to gag--or cry out in
fear. She forced herself to be still, to gather her strength to fight.
Dunbar shook his head. "It's my dream, remember? You won't be able to fight. You aren't a dreamwalker."
He struck then, astonishingly fast, his hands spanning her throat, thumbs digging deep, cutting off air. He was very strong, something she hadn't expected. When she tried to struggle, to fight him, she couldn't lift her arms any more than she could move her feet. Her lungs burned. Her mind began to panic.
Tansy fought down the terror and forced her brain to function in the short time she had left. Her mind reached for his. He was controlling the dream, and that meant he had found a trail leading to her, or he couldn't have drawn her in, but she had the path that led to him. She followed it, trying not to succumb to the black edging around her and the white dots that swam in her vision.
She struck hard in his mind, ripping and clawing, shredding walls, trying to rip the dream apart. She attacked him using the same method as his attacks on Tom Delaney, clotting the blood, beating at the skull, shrieking until his mind was filled with pain and devastation. Dunbar screamed and let her go, grabbing his head with both hands.
"You bitch." He grabbed her again, throwing her forward, grasping her by her hair and shoving her down--down--holding her head so she couldn't break free.
She went under, the red blood thick and dark, pouring into her mouth and nose, flooding her mind and lungs, rising like a tidal wave, her worst nightmare. Hands reached for her, pulling her deeper; faces stared blankly, horror in their wide open eyes.
She knew she was dying. There was no way to think, no way to fight. She reached for peace, let it happen, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing or feeling her terror.
Kadan lay beside Tansy, listening to her breathing. It was the only way he could monitor what was happening to her. He wasn't a dreamwalker, and it was his job to guard her body while she was in Jeff and Nico's care. Something had gone wrong. The rhythm of her breathing had changed completely, until she was nearly hyperventilating. She was frightened. He shared her mind, although he couldn't enter the dream.