A Crying Shame (35 page)

Not to be repeated, O.K.?”

Yes, sir.”

He's a mercenary. Hired by Paul Breaux to come in here on a job.”

To track down the creatures, or whatever that thing was?”

Yes.”

I hope to Christ he finds them and kills all of them!”

Mike looked at his deputy for a long moment.
Yes,” he finally said.

While Mike pored over the journals in the house, sitting in the den, not in the blood-splattered office—and not understanding all that he read, for much of it was in professional and medical terminology—Jon prowled the edge of the swamp, seeking the spot where the Link had entered the water. No ... Links, for there had been more than one. One of them was wounded; hit hard, judging from the amount of blood lost. He had seen the well-placed shots of Linda Breaux on the chest of the dead Link. The lady was quite proficient with her pistol—also a beautiful woman.

Jon stood on the edge of the swamp and looked at this foreboding place, at the dark water, sluggish in its almost nonexistent movement, filled with low-hanging moss and ancient trees. Full of 'gators and cottonmouths and rattlers, too, Jon mused. Thousands of acres, parts of it touching three parishes.

And it belonged to the Breaux family. Why? Why would the old man ... what was his name? Benoit, back then. Why would he have wanted the swamp? Did it have anything to do with the Links? Jon shook his head. Unanswered questions. Many of them. And there would be many more before this was over. He felt sure of that.

Jon squatted down at water's edge, his mind busy. He would have to procure a boat, a good one, and a very detailed map of the swamp. He might have to find a local man he could trust, for his very life might hang in the man's hands. A man who didn't spook at danger. A man with a hard branch of service behind him. Combat Ranger, Green Beret, Marine Force Recon, AF Jungle Warfare, Navy SEAL. There should be at least one of those in the parish. If not, he'd look elsewhere, or call in a merc he knew who lived in New Orleans.

Jon did not really like or trust most civilians, and he had no use for a man who had not tested himself ... or at least made an effort to do so.

He had wanted to tell his friends, Dr. Lewis and von Pappen about this job, but Paul had been explicit about that. No. Absolutely not. And Jon had been paid enough to ensure silence. But now ... well, he would see. Paul's death had changed it all.

Jon had seen years of combat, had been on too many night patrols down through the long, lonely, bloody years not to know—sense—he was being watched. The Links were here, in the swamp, hidden, studying him as he was viewing their terrain. Tit for tat, he smiled. Jon wondered what they were thinking, attempting to put himself in their place as they studied their only natural enemy: man. He wondered if they could reason, and concluded they could, and perhaps not so primitively as Paul had surmised in his journals.

Jon had asked for and received a photocopy of Paul's journals and other related notes. He had studied them very carefully before agreeing to this job. For, if all went well, this was to be his last assignment before retiring. Forty-three was not old, but combat is a young man's game, and Jon's life had been long and bloody and painful and traumatic. It was time to quit. He was a highly intelligent man, and he knew it was time to get out.

Jon again peered into the murkiness of the swamp. Yes, he concluded, they could reason. Nothing as horrible-looking as the Link he had seen could have survived all these years without the ability to think, to reason—and to do so with much more than mere animal cunning. No, they had to be able to hide when fishermen and hunters entered their domain. So ... where did they hide? Probably cleverly constructed shelters. And did they bury their dead as Paul felt they did? Or, the disgusting thought came to him: did they eat them? His mind raced through many unanswered questions.

He rose to his booted feet to stand looking at the dark swamp.
I'm coming after you,” he said quietly.
And I'll find you and destroy you.”

The wind sighed in hot reply.

 

The Links that lay hidden in the swamp, looking at the human who looked at the swamp, passed a series of low grunts between them.

He is not afraid,” one said.