The Hunted

34

Payne closed the binder full of condensed notes he and Jonathan Waller had assembled on the Scarponi trial and got ready to head out to the Academy’s dining hall for breakfast.

Although he could not recall what his life had been like before the accident, his existence since then had been filled with indecision, victimization, and defensive actions. This morning, for the first time, he awoke feeling he had control over things. Instead of reacting to events, he could anticipate them, plan responses. And he had a place where he fit in and was respected. Above everything else, he felt wanted, needed.

He felt at home.

A knock at the half-open door shifted Payne’s attention. It was Waller, a black nylon bag slung over his shoulder.

“I thought we weren’t getting together till nine-thirty,” Payne said.

Waller made his way over to the desk. “I brought my laptop. Thought you might want to check for that message before we got started.”

“A man of his word. Thanks.”

Waller set the computer down, plugged it in, and attached the telephone cord. “You remember how to use Windows?”

Payne hesitated. “Start, programs. Yeah, I remember that.” A broad smile creased his face. “I’m not completely helpless.”

“I didn’t know if that stuff had been wiped from your mind along with all your other memories.”

“The doctor said there are different kinds of memory, and things done by rote are handled by a part of the brain that wasn’t affected by the accident. Something like that. That’s why I can remember how to brush my teeth, chew my food, fire my weapon.”

“And operate Windows.”

“Apparently so.” Payne sat down at the desk, found the power switch, and turned on the computer.

Waller yawned. “Oh, man. Long night. I was up till three with Knox.”

“What’s the latest?”

“His daughter was kidnapped and returned several hours later. She’s fine. Stanfield’s still missing. It’s almost a lock Scarponi’s involved.”

“I’m feeling better about my testimony, if that helps at all.”

Waller managed a smile from the left corner of his mouth. “It helps a lot.” He stood up and walked to the door. “I’ll leave you to fool around with that thing. Meantime, I’m gonna go grab some breakfast. Meet me there when you’re done.”

“Will do, boss.”

As the door closed, the laptop completed its boot-up sequence. Payne clicked on Internet Explorer and navigated to the Hotmail Website. Two messages were in his inbox: a welcome message from “Windows Live Hotmail” and a reply from "just_rose@hotmail.com.” His heart began pounding as he clicked on Rose’s message:

Payne moused over the date in the Windows taskbar. Today was Thursday. She must be here, somewhere nearby. He looked at the name again. Lauren Chambers. Michael Chambers.

He rested his elbows on the desk and buried his head in his hands. As he tried to sort through what he was feeling, he realized he was torn. He had a wife and lived in a small, rural town? Must be where he went after leaving the program. And what in the world was a network account manager? Again, his life was suddenly thrown into disarray. He couldn’t let that happen.

Payne walked over to the door and lifted the shoulder harness from the hook. He strapped it to his body and turned to look at himself in the mirror. Starched white shirt, gun holster, badge. He knew who he was. Harper Payne, FBI agent. Harper Payne, the man the director was counting on to put one of the most dangerous assassins back behind bars where he belonged.

He looked at the message from Lauren Chambers, then closed the browser and shutdown the computer.

Agent Waller was waiting for him.