The Hunt

86

Jaeger eased his head around the concrete support beam, his flashlight probing the darkness.

Kammler’s bunker appeared to be designed in a T shape. At the lower terminus of the T lay his command cell; at the right-hand end was the entranceway. It was when he’d cleared the left-hand arm that Jaeger had discovered Falk Konig, locked in a side room.

It had made sense for Raff to take the right arm, moving towards the entrance. As for Jaeger, he felt driven by a burning need to find his wife – and Peter Miles. He figured they would be in a room positioned somewhere off this dark corridor, as far from the entrance as possible.

But more haste, less speed: he couldn’t rescue them if he got himself killed.

He stole along inch by inch, balanced on the balls of his feet.

Up ahead he spotted movement. A hint of a dark patch of shadow braced against a doorway. He swung his weapon around just as the figure showed himself. Or rather, herself. Suddenly Jaeger was face to face with his wife.

She stepped forward, further into the light. No denying it – she was still beautiful. His finger hovered bone-white over the trigger, but his brain felt utterly paralysed.

‘You wouldn’t,’ she whispered. ‘Kill the mother of your own child? After all we’ve been through… You and I, Will Jaeger, we’re a team.’

Silence. Jaeger was utterly lost for words. He kept his gun in the aim, though he knew in his heart that no matter what she might say, or do, he didn’t have it in him to pull the trigger.

She gestured at a pistol she had gripped in her hand. ‘I was waiting. For you. In good cover, just like you always taught us. I could have taken the shot. I didn’t. I wanted to talk.’

Jaeger found his voice at last. ‘Then talk. Like for a start, what the hell are you doing here?’

‘It’s obvious, isn’t it? Kammler – he’s our coming saviour.’ A glazed expression came into Ruth’s eyes. It was one that Jaeger recognised from having come face to face with extremists the world over. Call it brainwashing. Blind fanaticism. Whatever. It always had the same look.

‘We humans, plague-like, are eating up this precious earth,’ Ruth continued. ‘Devastating it. Destroying it. Kammler plans to put a stop to all that. He’s an eco-saviour for our times; for the new age.’

She glanced at Jaeger imploringly. ‘I tried talking to you back in London. Tried to share this. But you wouldn’t listen. No time. Never any time. Nature needs protecting – from us. Wipe out half of humanity to save it: it has a simple and beautiful logic to it, don’t you see?’

Jaeger felt punch-drunk. Narov had been right, all along. Kammler and his wife – there always had been that bond between them. They shared one, overarching belief: wildlife and environmental protection. She had run here, to him, to join forces in some kind of unholy alliance. Some kind of save-the-world-via-Armageddon death cult.

‘Nothing to say?’ she probed, a hint of emotion choking her up now. ‘Can’t you see, this is the right – the only – thing to do. Can’t you see that?’

‘I can’t,’ Jaeger countered. ‘All I can see is someone who is desperately lost.’ He paused. ‘One thing you are right about. I should have been there when you needed me. I wasn’t. Which makes this my fault.’

‘Don’t.’ She reached a hand towards him tearfully. ‘I don’t regret this. This awakening. It’s what I wanted, always. I’m only sorry—’

‘I’m the one who’s sorry,’ Jaeger cut in.

‘No, no,’ she countered, shaking her head vigorously. ‘There’s no time. Not for apologies. Regrets. The clock’s ticking. No time for anything but to join us. No time—’

Her words were choked off as a huge, hulking figure burst out of the shadows and without a word of warning slammed a massive fist against the side of her head. She catapulted into the darkness, hitting the wall with a horrific thud, slumping down in a heap at its base.

‘That shut the bitch up,’ her assailant snarled.

Jaeger had recognised him even before he spoke. Steve Jones, his nemesis. Now to finish this. As Jones tried to duck back into cover, Jaeger pulled his trigger.

Click.

He tried again. Click.

His P228 had misfired.

He dived for cover even as Jones opened fire. Rounds hammered into the concrete pillar, and for an instant Jaeger felt a jabbing stab of pain in his left thigh.

Shit, he’d been hit. It felt like a flesh wound, but even so, he could sense warm liquid oozing down his leg.

Hugging the pillar, he checked the topside of his pistol. There was nothing stuck in the ejector port, so maybe the magazine was jammed. The P228 was normally bulletproof reliable, but their weapons had taken a hammering as they’d charged through the dirty floodwaters.

Jones stepped more fully into the corridor now, weapon levelled in Jaeger’s direction. ‘Dead man’s click or fucking stoppage,’ he grated, ‘doesn’t make a fat lot of difference when faced with this.’ He brandished his weapon, a Type 79 machine gun. ‘Long time no see, Jaeger. And by the way, welcome to hell.’

Jaeger didn’t answer. Injured, with his gun jammed and no spare mags remaining, he was in a whole world of trouble right now.

‘Come here seeking your little wifey, did you?’ Jones sneered. ‘Let you in on a secret: we ruined her.’

He fired again. Rounds tore chunks of masonry off the wall, ripping into the pillar. Hands working feverishly, Jaeger slipped the magazine off the pistol, but it still wouldn’t unjam.

‘Well, you’ve seen her,’ Jones sneered. ‘Your loyal wife? Somehow I don’t think so.’

He reached to the floor and dragged Ruth forward. She looked a mess. Barely conscious. Jaeger’s heart skipped a beat as Jones yanked on her hair, bringing her upright.

Was Jaeger imagining it, or did he see her lips move, mouthing: I’m sorry.

‘Let her go,’ he rasped. ‘I’ll fight you any which way you choose, but let her go.’

‘I’ll do better than that,’ Jones snarled, letting Ruth’s head drop with a sickening thump. ‘I’ll offer you a chance. More than you ever did for me on selection. I put down my Type 79; you put down your spud gun. We fight. No shooters. We end it. Here.’

Jaeger figured he had no option: he’d have to kill Jones first, before he could go to his wife’s aid. He slid his pistol out into the corridor, the metal making a rasping noise on the rough concrete floor.

‘Kick it away,’ Jones barked, as he menaced Jaeger with his weapon.

Jaeger did as he was told.

‘Good boy.’

Jones paused. He gripped his weapon and brought it around, slamming the butt into Ruth’s head, before spinning it back, barrel pointed directly at Jaeger once more.

‘Now we’re ready. Ready to see what you’re made of, Jaeger, you fucking pussy.’

‘You’re dead,’ Jaeger whispered under his breath. ‘This very day, you die.’