Murder Game (9 page)

Kadan skirted several jagged boulders, looking for a way up so he would have a better view of the area surrounding Tansy’s camp. A giant boulder rose over the top of several granite slabs, one sitting precariously on top of the other, some leaning and a few shooting through the middle like great towers. He reached up with his fingertips and found an indentation. That was all he needed for the climb. He went up slowly, like a spider, clinging to the rock face, careful not to disturb the loose dirt and rock on his way to the top.

He had microscopic setae on the pads of his fingers and at the end of each individual seta were one thousand tinier spatulae, or tips, which were so thin as to render them under the wavelength of visible light. Not even his fellow GhostWalkers knew why he could cling to any surface, including the ceiling, but a single seta could lift nearly fifty pounds of weight. He could support his entire body weight with just one hand. It had taken him a great deal of time to learn to use his ability to “walk” over any surface, even hanging upside down, but the weeks of training had been well worth it. He could stick and unstick himself at least ten times a second as he ran up walls.

He moved slowly now, but ordinarily he could climb the face of rock in minutes. Sticking was easy enough. Unsticking was a bit more of a problem, but he’d learned the technique over time, until he could move with incredible speed when necessary. Unfortunately, he often wore a thin pair of gloves to cover the fact that the pads of his fingers were different. The microscopic hairs were bristles, unseen but felt. He knew what Tansy felt like always having to cover her differences. He’d learned to live with the strange pads and embrace the things he could do with them, after the first wave of anger at discovering he was genetically altered as well as psychically. If the GhostWalkers’ enemy in the White House knew that all the men and women in the program had been genetically as well as psychically enhanced, Kadan was certain the order would have already gone out to destroy them all. Or maybe he knew and thought of them as abominations and that’s why he was so determined to rid the government of their services. Kadan had heard the term applied to them before.

Once above the forest, he lay flat and took a cautious look around the area below him. He studied each section. Tansy would have slipped deeper into the woods below. It would take a few minutes for the shock to wear off, and then she’d seize the opportunity to make a run for it. He sighed, knowing he was going to have to track her again for sure.

Kadan picked out the route that would be the sniper’s best choice and spent a patient ten minutes watching the brush for movement. The wind picked up in strength as the night wore on, and the needles in the trees and the leaves on the bushes began to gently sway. Everything in him tightened. The sniper would move with the wind.

Motion just south of Tansy’s camp caught his eye and he focused there, catching sight of a blur of darkness moving behind the trees before disappearing. He let out his breath. He had the man now, and he quickly plotted a course to intercept. Just as he began to move, he caught a glimpse of something sticking out from behind a fairly large tree trunk. He studied the shape carefully, wishing he hadn’t shrugged out of his pack. He could have used his field glasses, because he suspected that strange shape was something commonly known as “tree cancer,” a body part protruding from behind the trunk that indicated that a sniper had set up shop there and was waiting for his spotter to mark a distance.

His heart contracted painfully. What the hell were they setting up? Or whom?

Tansy, where are you? No bullshit. There’s two of them. I need to know your position to know that you’re safe.

Telepathy over long distance was always shaky, especially connecting with the same wavelength of someone he wasn’t very familiar with. Oftentimes there could be a few seconds—or even minutes—of delay. He counted every heartbeat, wondering if she was being stubborn or hiding from him. Wondering if she knew that the more they communicated, the easier the intimacy of mind contact would become. She wouldn’t want that. She wouldn’t want him running around in her head. She already had too many strangers there.

Then she was there, flooding his mind with her. His body reacted to her close proximity, the sweetness of her, the feminine rush of heat and silk. The taste of cinnamon bursting in his mouth. There was fear, determination, even courage, although she didn’t recognize herself as courageous. Mostly she was filled with concern—not for him, certainly not for herself—but for the cougar.

He groaned aloud. That damned cat. She’d flung herself in front of a gun for the animal. He should have known she’d be unwavering in her resolution to keep the animal safe.

I’m making my way up to the cougar’s den.

Are you heading south from your camp?
He knew the answer before her words formed in his mind. The spotter was edging toward the southernmost point of Tansy’s camp. Maybe he saw her earlier tracks, or maybe something she’d done had tipped the man off to her presence in the brush, but the spotter was tracking her.

Yes, I’m in the rougher terrain, and circling around to make my way up into the granite to get closer to her den. I have a blind up there, and I can urge her to go to safety if they come close. They won’t see the blind.

Her voice still had the little lag time that often accompanied a new connection, but already he felt more familiar with her, his mind adjusting so they rode the same wave with precision. Few were as skilled as he was, and he’d never met anyone untrained who was able to use telepathy as smoothly as he could, but although she sent out her thoughts in a slightly different way from him, she was definitely adept.

I don’t want you to move. Stay right where you are, even if they come close. I’m going to draw their attention away from you . . .

No!

She sent an instant and adamant rejection of his idea, and he immediately caught the image of a cop pushing her away and going down, blood on his chest. He’d read the reports, so many of them, dating back to her teenage years, and that particular case had been vicious and bloody and took its toll on everyone. They’d lost the cop and she had been so broken up over it, and that had been in the early years of her tracking career.

He took a breath, let it out, breathing for both of them.
Listen to me, Tansy. I have skills no one else has. I’m a GhostWalker. The things I can do, psychically as well as physically, give me a huge edge. And I’ve had more training than most men know what to do with.
He was already on the move, soothing her as he used the granite cliff to shortcut his way to the sniper.

This time he moved fast, using the pads of his fingers to allow him to climb around and then down. If his boots had been off, he would have gone headfirst even faster, but he just used his upper body strength and fingertips, crossing the wall of granite, moving at breakneck speed, crossing slab after slab. Several times he leapt across gaps, catching by his fingertips.

Both the sniper and the spotter should have targeted him by now, but the expected bullet didn’t come. He didn’t make the mistake of slowing down; he almost leapfrogged across the rock walls, zigzagging and moving up and down.

I smell him close to me.

His heart jumped again. Adrenaline poured into his body. He looked down and saw the surface of another giant slab of granite. This one had several smaller pieces jutting out from it. It was the fastest way down, but a fairly large jump. He’d have to push off from where he was, catch himself on a rock across and down from him, about five feet away, and then spring back, making another five-foot jump.

Stay still. I’ll draw his attention.

He pushed off, deliberately brushing his elbow against loose dirt and rock, sending an avalanche tumbling to the ground below. The gap between boulders was wide, but his fingertips caught and held. The second jump was already planned in his mind, and he turned and leapt, just as the bullet hit the granite beside his left shoulder. Rock splintered, driving slivers into his arm, but he was already in the air, going for the surface below him. As soon as he landed, he let himself drop to the ground, rolling for cover. He kept rolling, smashing into the thicker brush and then going still.

Two more bullets hit the ground to the right of him and just in front of him. He belly-crawled backward into much heavier brush, careful not to disturb branches. Once in the small tunnels made by animals and debris catching on brush, he crawled, using elbows and toes to propel his body along the ground, making his way to where the sniper had set up his rifle.

Within minutes he could feel the violent energy coming at him in waves. The man was sweating; the scent of him carried on the wind. Kadan slid the knife from his boot, transferring it to his teeth as he crawled toward the sniper.

The man stared through his scope, scanning the area, trying to get a bead on Kadan, and Kadan could sense the man’s shock at how fast Kadan had come down the granite wall. Even though the sniper had seen Kadan leap with his own eyes, he obviously was beginning to think he’d imagined it. The night shadows had lengthened and grown, and Kadan’s reflective clothing and skin tones had made him virtually impossible to see until he moved. The sniper had fired on instinct, but now doubted himself.

Kadan let out his breath, shielding his psychic energy automatically. He didn’t have the impression that the sniper was a GhostWalker, produced from Whitney’s list of rejected psychic candidates, but he always erred on the side of caution. He had to get close. Very close. He moved again, this time out of the brush. He was more exposed, relying on stealth and his reflective clothing and skin changes to keep him invisible. Moving inches at a time allowed him to keep from drawing the sniper’s attention, although more than once, as the man surveyed his surroundings, he looked right at Kadan.

Kadan ceased all movement until the sniper settled behind his rifle once more and took a careful survey around the heavy brush. Once the sniper was busy, Kadan eased his body closer, hardly breathing, not allowing a single leaf to crackle beneath his weight.

The sniper knelt beside the tree, eye once again to his scope, and Kadan rose, still nearly invisible, his knife held low, blade up. The sniper turned and Kadan struck, taking the man out quickly and efficiently, doing his best to make the kill clean. Blood splattered across the trunk and over the rifle. Kadan stepped back, avoiding the bright red streaks. He waited a few moments before reaching down, without expression, and checking for a pulse. He wiped the blade clean and then checked the sniper’s hands, hoping to get a fingerprint. He wasn’t surprised to find that the prints had been burned off. This man was a sanctioned killer and wouldn’t be traced back to anywhere. More than likely he would have been declared dead years earlier. He was a ghost with no name and no home.

Kadan shook his head. This wasn’t the life he wanted for the GhostWalkers. He left everything right where it lay, not even touching the weapon.

Kadan?
Tansy’s voice wavered.

I’m fine. Did the spotter turn away from you?

Yes, he’s gone. He took off running back toward the camp.
She hesitated.
I don’t feel a wave of violence. I can’t tell what happened.

Kadan slipped the knife back into the scabbard and backed into the heavier brush. The spotter would be coming right to him.

Just stay put and let me take care of this.

He felt her hesitation and shook his head. He’d disturbed her peace just by coming to her. She knew he intended, one way or another, to bring her back with him. Now he’d brought two men who wanted them dead. She wasn’t going to stick around to see what happened. He was tired. He desperately needed sleep. He didn’t even know what time zone he was in anymore, but he was going to have to go chase Tansy.

I’m just too damned tired for games. Don’t take off.

There was a small silence and then he felt her stirring in his mind. That same impression of heat and silk, and maybe now a hint of fire to go along with the taste of cinnamon in his mouth. Yeah, there was passion underneath all that cool. Anyone who would volunteer at the age of thirteen to track brutal serial killers had to feel passionately about life.

Do you really expect me to stay?

Her voice brushed at every nerve ending, tightening his body when he needed to remain in absolute control. If Whitney had designed his soldiers to work in pairs, he certainly hadn’t taken into consideration the effect the right woman could have on a man’s body.

I wish you’d give me the consideration of at least hearing me out.

There was another small silence.

I did.
There was finality in her tone.

Kadan could hear the second man now. The rustle of leaves as he brushed by bushes. Breath coming in short gasps. The spotter suddenly ceased all movement. He hadn’t gotten to the body, but the rifle wasn’t up where it should be. He may have caught a glimpse of the barrel sticking out of the brush, lying on the ground.

Kadan crouched low, ready to spring, relying on his clothing and skin to camouflage him.

CHAPTER 4

Will you promise to leave me alone if I say no after I listen again?
Tansy’s soft voice held an unintentional plea.

Kadan clenched his teeth. A muscle worked in his jaw, a sure sign of agitation when he needed his usual calm. He wanted to reassure her, but he had his orders, and more importantly, he was certain she could track the killers.
Give me a few minutes here.

He broke off abruptly. The spotter may have been a bit out of shape, but he was no fool. There was a hitch in his breath and then he opened fire, spraying the brush with bullets. Kadan dropped all the way to the ground while hell broke loose above him, smashing small branches and bushes alike, tearing up the vegetation and putting Kadan in real peril.