Murder Game

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Kadan sat at a small booth in the bar, Jeff Hollister and Gator across from him. Nico had already staked out the high ground just in case they needed backup. Jeff was a California boy, born and bred for surf and fun, with his bleached blond hair, dark tan, and ripped body. He looked at home in the bar, a trendy place overlooking the crashing waves below. Directly behind Kadan sat his prey, drinking a cup of coffee and reading a newspaper.

"You're always braggin'," Gator said aloud. "You're so full of shit. No one can hold their breath underwater that long, bro. Fifteen minutes, what a crock." Jeff hitched forward. "I heard of a guy, local legend around here, owns a scuba business. Rumor has it he can hold his breath easily that long."

Kadan snorted loudly, derisively. "Talk about a braggart. I heard of that airbag. Talks himself up so people go to his business, but I could outlast him any day of the week. On my worst day that blowhole couldn't compare." He shoved himself away from the table, standing. "I'm going to start my own business and run his ass right outa this town."

Jeff and Gator laughed at his joke and Kadan waved and sauntered off. Behind him, he heard a chair scrape and felt the other man following close. Kadan went out into the night and inhaled, dragging information into his lungs. Frog had taken the bait, if it was Frog, and Kadan was certain Flame and Lily had found their killer. He was ex-Special Forces, had applied for the psychic enhancement, supposedly been turned down, but had disappeared for special training for months. He'd resurfaced with a team and run some missions, but his team had a bad reputation for trouble. In the end, he had been discharged and now ran a scuba diving business for tourists.

Kadan paused with his hand on the door of his SUV, to light a cigarette, something a diver wouldn't do.

"Hey, man." Frog came up beside him. "I heard you inside, talking about free diving. I do a little of that. I like to go down without gear."

Kadan grinned, a cocky smirk. "Gear's for wimps."

"I've got a boat right on the dock," Frog persisted when Kadan turned away. "You want to go man-to-man and see who can hold their breath longer? Or are you scared?"

Kadan allowed his face to darken and his eyes to smolder. "No one can beat me under the water. I'm a fucking fish."

"I'm a shark. So let's do it"

Kadan slammed his door shut and snapped away the cigarette he hadn't smoked. He didn't bother to look around; he could feel the GhostWalkers, his team, closing in to back him up. He went with the ex-SEAL, following him along the dock until they came to a high-powered boat. He stepped on without a qualm, showing off a little, that same cocky smirk on his face.

"You really think you can beat me?" Kadan asked.

In answer, Frog started the boat and took off over the waves to open water. They passed a small fishing boat just a few miles off shore and Frog killed the engine. Without a word he stripped off his shirt and tossed his shoes aside. He waited for Kadan to do the same before he started the boat again and began angling it back toward a small inlet.

He slowed the boat considerably, weaving through the water as if going through a minefield. Kadan glanced into the water and his gut tightened. A small colony of the dead stared back at him. This was Frog's own private playground. Frog stopped the boat, reached into a cooler, and swung around.

Kadan was on him before he could complete the turn, catching his wrist the hand with the small needle protruding through his fingers. "What's wrong, Frogman? You have to drug me to beat me? I'm not one of your civilians who trust you."

"Who are you?" Frog demanded.

Kadan held him close. "The executioner." The knife concealed in his other hand came up, sweeping across Frog's throat, cutting deep. He shoved the body face-first into the sea, right over the top of the man's victims as they stared upward just inches from the surface of the water. Kadan wiped the knife clean, slipped it into the sheath, retrieved his shirt, and tied his shoes around his neck before going into the water. The fishing boat picked him up. Nico gave him a hand into the boat.

"At least seven victims in the water. We need a cleaner in here fast," Kadan said.

"I already radioed them," Nico answered.

"One down." Kadan announced.

Kadan lifted binoculars to his eyes and stared down at the woman walking out of the bar. her legs showing to their best advantage in a short tight skirt and high heels. She had a sway that said she was on the prowl and a body that promised heaven. Her husband, Ken Norton, stood a foot away from him, a scowl on his scarred face as he watched his wife open the door to a sleek little low-slung car.

"He took the bait," a voice droned into the radio.

That would be Jack, Ken's twin brother. Both men were GhostWalkers from the SEAL team and lethal with or without a weapon. Both were protective and possessive, and Kadan couldn't believe his ears when Ken announced that his wife, Marigold, was going to lure the Italian Stallion out into the open for them.

A very handsome man, large and well muscled, followed Mari from the bar, gliding across the parking lot fast, coming up on her from behind. He grabbed her arm and swung her around, slamming her against the car door, shoving his knee between her legs. "You bitch, you can't embarrass me like that and just walk away. You were flirting with me. You're nothing but a rich bitch cocktease."

Kadan felt the sudden tension in all the men. Ken's face hardened, but he didn't break cover. The rifle went to his shoulder in a smooth, practiced motion, and Ken never missed.

Marigold leaned back against the car and smiled lazily up at the Stallion, one hand barely lifting off the top of the vehicle to signal the GhostWalkers to stand down. It was too public. There were others in the parking lot.

"Hey, lady, you all right?" That was Ian. He looked imposing, carrying himself like a man who knew how to fight and didn't mind doing it. He began walking toward them.

"Mind your own business," Stallion snapped, but he stepped back enough to allow Marigold to yank open her door. She fumbled with the keys, dropping her purse, then slammed the car door and roared away.

The Stallion picked up her purse, flipped Ian off, and unhurriedly sauntered to his car, whistling. He got in and sat for a moment, looking through Mari's purse. "Yeah, rich bitch, you're going to get a visit from a real man tonight." The bug in her purse picked up audio with no problem. He drove out of the parking lot whistling.

"Pull back," Jack said. "Team Two, he's heading your way."

Kadan was already in the SUV, Ken and Jack leaping in from either side.

"I'm taking that ass out," Mari hissed into her radio.

"You walk away," Ken instructed, his voice pitched low and firm. "Put the car in the garage just as we planned and walk away. We'll do the rest."

"He rammed his knee in my crotch," Mari bit out between clenched teeth. "He rapes women and then he kills them. I read Flame's report on this guy. I'm-"

"You're going to follow the plan," Ken snapped. "This is a mission and we run it by the numbers, we don't make it personal. Walk away."

There was an edge of a threat to his voice now, and Kadan rather admired it. He might have to use that particular tone for his own woman.

Mari muttered something under her breath and Ken shot his twin a small grin. They followed Mari's car out to the edge of the city. The house had been well scouted, far back from other houses, where no one would hear or see anything. A perfect place for Stallion to spend the night tormenting a woman. He would come calling and he would feel safe.

"I'll take this one," Ken said as they watched Mari walk away from the garage and into the trees where Nico waited for her with her rifle.

Kadan shook his head. "I can shield. We don't want him warned. It really doesn't matter who kills the son of bitch as long as he's exterminated. I'll take him down."

"That son of bitch put his fucking knee in my wife's crotch. I'll cut his heart out."

"We stick with the plan. I don't blame you," Kadan said. "I'd feel the same way, but we stick with the plan."

Jack nudged Ken. "I'm telling that little hellcat you married that you were going to deviate from the plan and make it personal."

"You keep getting me in trouble with her, and one of these days you're going to wake up with your throat cut," Ken said.

Kadan slipped out of the car shaking his head. He wasn't the only one with woman problems. He waited in the bedroom where both Mari and Ken wanted to be. There was no moon, and he put on soft light in the living room and a night- light in the bedroom as a tempting beacon. As a further lure, he added music, not too loud, but loud enough that if Stallion came calling, he would think Mari wouldn't hear him as he entered.

"He didn't wait long," Jack said. "He's driving up without lights, heading around to the back of the house."

"I've got him," Nico intoned.

"In my sights," Mari reported.

Kadan waited in silence, the familiar calm taking him. He welcomed the ice that set him apart. No nerves. Much easier than facing Tansy tracking the killers. He preferred this way. Quick, clean. It was done.

Noises indicated Stallion had entered through a window down the hall and was padding toward the bedroom. Kadan stepped to the side of the door. The knob turned and the door creaked as the intruder pushed it open and stepped into the room. He didn't notice the tarp on the floor, he was too intent on the sleeping form in the bed.

"Hey, bitch. I got your invitation and came to party," Stallion announced, taking a step toward the bed and the rolled up blankets.

Kadan came in behind him, a shadow only, his hand flashing with a quick, deep slice, and Stallion staggered, tried to turn, gurgled and dropped to his knees, then face planted. Kadan stood still waiting. It took a few minutes before the pulse was gone. "It's done. We need the cleaner." There could be no discovery before their schedule was complete. He wiped his blade clean and walked out to join the others.

"Two down," Kadan said.

"There is no way he's going to fall for this," Gator said. "The man would have to be an idiot. Come on, Kadan. We need another plan."

"If necessary we'll go into his house and slit his throat, but get your Cajun ass out there and tie yourself up."

"Why do I have to do this?" Gator demanded.

"Cuz you're such a pretty boy. Our photographer isn't going to fall for one of us as the tied up model," Nico pointed out.

"Dumbest plan you've ever come up with," Gator grumbled. "Offering myself all trussed up like a Christmas turkey to a serial killer who likes to torture people isn't too smart."

Nico flashed a small grin. "Thought he wasn't going to take the bait."

"Well I happen to be the bait, and I saw the video of the rats eating those people alive. I'm not going to go out that way," Gator declared.

"Don't you worry, Bondage Boy," Nico assured him. "I'll have a bullet trained on him the entire time." He frowned a little, muttering beneath his breath. "Hope my rifle doesn't malfunction, been acting up a bit lately. I keep it around for sentimental value."

Gator suggested something anatomically impossible and stalked off. Kadan signaled to the others to get into position. Flame had tracked the high-end camera and found that Snake had his own photography business. Kadan set up an appointment to photograph a low-budget male bondage series for a private collector in an abandoned warehouse.

Snake took the bait without hesitation after finding out no one would be there but him and the two models, late at night. It was extremely low budget and they weren't paying for much other than the bondage props. Snake's voice had indicated immediate interest, and he'd been seen twice scouting the location earlier in the day, noting how remote it was.

Gator and Jeff took up their positions, shirts off, barefoot, Jeff tying Gator as Snake strode in. They introduced themselves and Snake set up his lights and camera.

"Make it tight. You want this to look real," he said. "I'll tie you," he added and caught up the ropes. "We're going to have fun tonight." He knotted the rope, pulling until Jeff's circulation was cut off.

"Hey, man, too tight," Jeff complained.

Snake drew a knife and grinned. "That's the least of your worries tonight. I'm going to film the real thing, slicing little pieces off of you. People pay big money for films like this."

"Yes, they do," Kadan said quietly from behind him. The knife slid in, a kill stroke. Kadan helped the body fall to the floor. "Three down."

Blade was a man with a huge superiority complex. He wanted control and he wanted to be in charge. He enjoyed being cruel and publicly humiliating others. Kadan doubted very much that he'd take public humiliation well. Kadan hadn't worn a uniform in a long while, but he donned his, immaculate as always, and with Gator and Ian, entered the bar where Blade was known to hang out.

Blade held court at the pool table, women hanging around him and several men standing respectfully to one side. When he missed a shot, Kadan snickered. Gator and and Ian both grinned, shaking their heads, turning away in dismissal to lean on the bar and whisper. Several of the women noticed the three broad-shouldered men and moved away from Blade to investigate the newcomers. It didn't take long for Blade to realize he was no longer the center of attention. He threw his pool cue down and stomped over, shoving one of the women out of his way. The woman stumbled and would have fallen if Ian hadn't caught her.

Kadan reached out in a blurring motion and casually and quite brutally slapped Blade. "Keep your hands off the lady."

Blade's face turned cherry red. A sound escaped his throat, much like the roar of a freight train. He'd been Special Forces, enhanced, his body in shape, he hadn't even seen Kadan move and the blow had rocked him. A few of the men he'd ridiculed in the bar snorted derisively but hastily stilled their laughter when he glared around the room. Opening and closing his fists, he jerked his head toward the door.

"You want to take this outside?"

Kadan looked him up and down, his expression remote, dismissive. "You're not worth my time. I just came in for a cold brew. Someone else can teach you manners." He turned his back and swallowed the rest of his beer. "You ready?" He glanced at his watch. "I've got to be at the old airstrip in about twenty minutes."

Ian and Gator drained their glasses and they swaggered out, leaving Blade smoldering, furious, poised on the edge of violence.

"He's on you," Jack's voice said softly. "Following about a mile back. You hit the son of a bitch pretty hard, bro. There's no way he isn't going to try to kill you."

"Stay on him, Nico," Kadan said.

Jack, Ken, and Mari were all also snipers with reputations. Blade would have four rifles trained on him when he moved in to confront Kadan. Gator and Ian would be backing him at a much closer range.

Once at the old airstrip, Kadan slowed his vehicle, allowing Gator and Ian to bail out, running along the brush, crouched low to make their way to the hangar where they both got into position. Ken, Mari, and Nico had already gone high. Jack joined them as soon as he was able, coming in from the north and finding a nice limb to stretch out on.

"In position," Nico said. "He's approaching."

"I see him," Kadan said, and turned, a scowl on his face as the car roared up, sending plumes of dirt into the air.

Blade burst out of the car, slamming the door. "You son of a bitch. You think you can just bitch slap me in front of everyone and walk away clean?"

"No, I thought you'd follow me," Kadan said, his as cold as ice.

Blade paused, hand gripping his knife. He looked around, suddenly realizing that he was alone with someone who had eyes like twin glaciers. "Who are you?"

"The name's Kadan. Kadan Montague. I've been called Bishop in some circles. You give the GhostWalkers a bad name. You give every soldier a bad name."

Blade's face lost color as he began to back toward his car. "Why'd you bring me out here?" he demanded and threw the knife.

Kadan dove for the ground, rolling, coming up right at Blade's feet, knife sliding upward in a standard figure eight, cutting arteries along the way. He kept moving, getting away from the pumping streams of blood, his face dispassionate, his heart rate never going up. He watched the man die and then he turned and walked away.

"East Coast Team down," Kadan announced. "The jet's standing by, let's move out."

Ryland handed Kadan the binoculars and pointed toward the small cabin near the lake. "Lily and Flame have been working around the clock to get us as much information as possible on these suspects, but the one called Hawk, we can only speculate is the same Hawk the Reaper teamed up with a few years ago. We just don't have enough on him to be certain. But there's no doubt that this one is Scorpion. He's holed up here by himself, pounding on a heavy bag and running every day. He looks to be in bad mental shape." He glanced again at Kadan. "I did what you asked me to do. Did you clear it with the general?"

Kadan nodded. "I'll go in and have a chat with him. It's the best I can do for him."

"Nico's in place," Ryland said. "Keep him away from the door and outside if possible."

Kadan took a packet of papers from inside his jacket, slipped his gun in his belt at his back, and checked for his knife. "Nico, if you have to do it, take him out clean, no pain."

Nico didn't respond. He always took them out painlessly, one shot. Kadan was reluctant to eliminate Tom Delaney, Sr., and Nico understood why. The man had a wife and child and a good service record, complete with plenty of medals. Murder had never been his choice and he fought it-was still fighting it.

Kadan made his way down to the cabin. Walking. Giving Scorpion plenty of time to see him coming. Tom Delaney turned to watch him approach, his body covered in sweat his face a mask of pain, knuckles bloody from hitting the heavy bag without gloves.

"Tom Delaney." Kadan made it a statement as he nodded his head in greeting.

Tom shook his head, a look of relief on his face. "I wondered who'd come for me."

"Kadan Montague, sir. If you don't mind, I'd like to propose something to you."

Delaney reached down toward a cooler.

"Please don't do that, sir," Kadan said. "Nico has a gun on you and he never misses." Deliberately he used the name of a sniper most on Special Forces teams would recognize instantly. "I'd like you to hear me out."

Delaney straightened slowly, keeping his hands out away from his body. "You know what I've done."

"Yes sir. And I know what was done to you. Your profile was tampered with when you applied for psychic enhancement. You should never have been placed in that program. When you were enhanced, they also did genetic enhancement, raising the levels of hormones to make you super aggressive. We know that you fought it. Unfortunately, the person who chose you for this program needed an eighth player for his game of murder. When you weren't cooperative, he began to use your own mind against you. You get headaches and bleed from your nose, mouth, and ears, right?"

"How do you know that?" Delaney looked around and lowered himself slowly to the wooden bench behind him, his hands still out in front of him in plain sight. "My head feels like it's in a vise and I can't control myself. I'm afraid for my wife, my son." His breath came in ragged gasps as he fought to keep from breaking down. "I go crazy. I killed someone, beat him to death, and for a little while the voices stopped. But they're back again. I tried to get help. I went to the veterans' hospital. I'm afraid for my family, for others, but they just gave me some drugs. I begged to go into the hospital."

Kadan had read the report on his desperate cry for help. "You were programmed, both genetically and psychically, to murder, and you've fought it."

Delaney shook his head again, pressing his fingers tight against his eyes. "I couldn't control it. I don't really remember beating that man to death, but I did, with my bare hands." He flexed his fingers. "I tried eating a bullet, but I couldn't. I kept thinking if I could get help…"

"He's in your head. Pressuring you to do what he wants."

"Who?" Delaney's head snapped up, his eyes hard.

"I'm going to get him for you," Kadan said. "In the meantime, I'm offering you one chance. If you fail, you're terminated. No second chances, no talking, I'll put a bullet in your head and you'll never see it coming."

"I don't trust myself. Just do it now. It's a relief. I don't want to hurt anyone else. I hit my wife. Damn it, I hit her, with my fist. I could hear myself screaming to stop, but I couldn't. And her face, when she looked at me…" He closed his eyes. "Just do it, man."

"I want to have you transported to a hospital. A doctor will try to undo or counteract the damage done with the genetic enhancement. Once I terminate the man pulling your strings, the pressure as well as the voices in your head should be gone. We can't get back the man you killed, but you can do your best to make up for it. You were a good soldier. The papers in this packet say you still are. As far as your wife and child will know you are on a mission. If you succeed, you'll come back to them, but you'll remain under the general's command and serve your country when needed. If you don't succeed, you will be terminated immediately and you will be buried with full military honors. Your wife and child will never know what happened to you and will receive your insurance benefits as befitting the widow and family of a fallen soldier."

"Why would you do that for me?" Delaney asked suspiciously.

"Because I've had to kill four people today and I'll kill four more by tomorrow morning. You're worth saving, and I don't want to have to look into your wife's eyes and know I didn't try. I don't want to have to go home to my woman and have her know I didn't try. I signed on for psychic enhancement, but no one asked my permission for genetic enhancement. Whatever happened to you could just as easily have happened to me."

"In return for this offer, what do I have to do?" Delaney sounded wary. He was a soldier, Special Forces, and his every instinct would be to keep information to himself.

"You have to do exactly what I laid out for you. I don't need you to tell me anything about how you got into this or who did it with you. We'll take you to a hospital at an undisclosed location. You will be allowed one phone call to your wife where you will tell her you were called up for a special mission you can't talk about. Tell her you love her and to wait for you, to give you one more chance. Let her know you'll probably be gone several months. Cooperate with the doctor. I won't lie to you: We don't know how to undo the genetic enhancements; the doctor will probably have to counteract them in some way. I have no guarantee for you other than my word as a fellow GhostWalker that I'm telling you the truth."

Tom Delaney turned his face away, but not before Kadan saw him choking with emotion. "Let's do it then," the soldier said gruffly. "And if it doesn't work, promise me you won't let me leave that place alive."

"You have my word on that." Kadan motioned him to stand and turn around, indicating that he put his hands behind his back. "It's safer for you. You'll have guns on you all the way to the transport vehicle. They'll knock you out so the voices can't reach you."

Tom Delaney stood quietly while Kadan put handcuffs on him. "Look man. I know I don't deserve it, but if something goes wrong, tell my wife I really loved her. She has to know I really love her and my boy."

"I'll take care of them. You have my word."

Kadan led him back toward the top of the hill, where Ryland had a van ready. Ryland gave Delaney no time to change his mind, or think about things; he knocked him out with one swift shot of the air syringe.

"The puppet master is a dreamwalker. You're certain he can't get to Delaney that way?" Kadan asked.

Ryland shrugged as he watched the van head out toward the waiting plane that would take Delaney to the small up to date facility Lily had built in the mountains of Montana. "It's Nico's concoction and he says no dreamwalker can get past that barricade."

"Five down," Kadan said and climbed into the SUV.

Jason Sturges, aka Bull, weaved his way cautiously through the animal pens, making his way in the dark along the narrow paths between fences. The steers pawed at the ground and bellowed occasionally, restless and distressed over the unfamiliar scents and the intruding shadows flitting through their territory. A few stomped their feet and pushed against the fences, rattling the boards with their heavy weight.

Bull smiled and crouched a little lower, listening to the waves of restless cattle. The man who was trying to blackmail him was somewhere near the lower fences. He could tell by the way the curious cattle swung their heads. He knew animals and he knew how to fight. Confident, and rather amused, he inched toward the lower pens where the bulls were kept.

Come alone, the voice had whispered hoarsely on the telephone. Hell yeah, he'd come alone. Maybe he should have invited a couple of his teammates to come along for the fun, but sometimes a man just needed to have his own good time. He'd have bragging rights after he killed his blackmailer. Anyone dumb enough to mess with a bull deserved the horns. Inwardly he laughed at his own joke and kept pressing forward, following the call of the cattle.

"Gator's directing the cattle," Nico reported into Kadan's ear. "He's herding Bull your way. I can't always get a clear shot. He's got a lot of cover."

"Tell Gator to keep him moving. I want him in motion at all times so he's easier to spot."

The report on Bull had been astonishing. As a soldier, he had a good reputation, was reputed to be excellent at his job, and had no damaging reports in his file. As crazy as the man was, Kadan had expected to find a few rumors floating, but Bull was either lucky or good, and Kadan had the feeling he was just that good. Flame had uncovered an alarming pattern of deaths on Bull's team. Nearly every mission a man was lost. His team had the highest loss rate of any team in the service, yet no one had questioned that each downed man was a legitimately explained death.

Sturges had been a serial killer long before he'd been enhanced. Flame had covered his high school and college years. There'd been dead students every year, and again, he'd never been so much as suspected, but Kadan was certain the man had been killing for years.

"He's close now, Kadan, and he's aware something's up." Nico said. "I don't have a clear shot."

Kadan hadn't expected less of Bull. The man was highly skilled and a GhostWalker. He couldn't fail to have radar. Sturges was in his sight now, moving slow, a gun in one hand, a knife in the other. He moved with a fluid ease, light on his feet, covering territory but staying in the shadows and keeping the cattle between him and everything else.

Without warning the man sprang, leaping into the air, twisting and Firing several shots in Kadan's direction. Bullets hit around him, but none came too close. His instincts were more than good; Sturges had a sense of survival. He was back on the ground, flattening himself against the pens while the cattle stirred restlessly, running from one side to another, forcing Gator to struggle to keep them contained.

"No shot," Nico reported calmly. "He's fast, he's good, and he knows he's cornered now. He'll be dangerous."

Kadan said nothing, rolling beneath the fence, worming his way through the cattle, using his elbows to propel him, relying on Gator to keep the big steers from stepping on him. The mud and straw stank, drowning out any scent the other man was giving off.

Without warning Bull charged the fence, at the last moment rolling under it, not leaping over, giving Nico nothing to spot. Sturges almost landed on top of Kadan, his knife slashing across Kadan's back, kissing skin and laying out a burning brand that stung like hell. Kadan rolled, coming up to meet the other man, the two bodies slamming together hard, each locking the other's wrists so they knelt, shaking with power and strength, gazes locked as well.

Sturges hissed, recognizing the GhostWalker and for the first time realizing he really could die. He allowed one elbow to bend and rocked back, trying to throw Kadan. The grip on his wrists was relentless. He couldn't move either hand. He lunged forward with a head butt. Kadan shifted as if he'd been waiting for the move. Using Sturges's forward momentum, he flung him forward and up into the air. His head topped the fence and the cattle for just one split second.

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 built 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 Ghost-Walker 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.