THE THOUSAND DOLLAR HUNT: Colt Ryder is Back in Action! (9 page)

Chapter Six

I woke late in the morning; kills were traditionally celebrated in the bar, and after getting back to the ranch at one o’clock, we’d continued drinking until four.

Badrock, knowing that we would be out again that night – and possibly for a lot longer – had told us to get some rest, duties for key security personnel not starting until midday.

Normally I enjoyed a drink or two – but the company at the in-house bar had been seriously below grade. The Vanguard men still held a major grudge – not only had I beaten up a few of their number, received the promise of a huge paycheck, and slept with the general’s beautiful daughter, but now I’d also gone and embarrassed them all in a shooting contest. It had only added insult to injury, and after a few drinks I could tell that the only reason they weren’t burying their beer glasses in my face was because doing so would upset their boss.

Ian Garner was also pretty unpleasant, a jumped-up little asshole who thought he was better than everyone else just because he had money. And now he’d bagged himself a lioness, he loved himself even more. If I’d heard the story once last night, I must have heard it a thousand times – and his skill, bravery and manliness only grew with every telling. It was enough to make me want to ram his ruddy little face through the bar’s panoramic window, if only so I wouldn’t have to listen to it again.

And Roman Badrock – the charismatic man who had so impressed me initially – was now an enemy, pure and simple. Anyone who did what he’d done to his own daughter didn’t deserve to be breathing the same oxygen as the rest of us; he was a waste of the planet’s resources.

But despite my disgust, appearances had to be maintained and so I remained in the bar for the celebrations with everyone else, knocking back the beers to make the whole thing seem more tolerable.

I was only on six when a pair of park employees wheeled in the dead animal’s head, severed from its majestic body and mounted on a rosewood shield. They didn’t waste any time around here, I’d give them that.

The whole room had erupted into terrific applause and cheers, and I could have sworn I saw a tear in Garner’s eye as he hugged Badrock. He’d then picked up the mounted head, gripped both sides of the backing plate, and waltzed around the room with it to the sounds of the Blue Danube. Everyone had fallen around laughing, but the disrespect being shown toward the dead animal had only served to enrage me further.

‘You don’t find this funny?’ Badrock had asked me, eyebrow raised.

‘I see you’re not laughing either,’ I’d replied.

‘Just because I’m taking his money doesn’t mean I approve of his behavior. But I’m a facilitator, not a moral judge.’

‘Me neither,’ I’d said, and that had been that – Badrock had sidled back over to his rich client, and I’d returned to drinking by myself in the corner.

‘Pretty sick sonofabitch, isn’t he?’ said a voice to my side, and I’d turned to see Hatfield sitting there watching Garner thoughtfully.

‘I won’t argue with that.’

‘Put him in a real battle, he’d shit his pants,’ Hatfield had opined.

‘Wouldn’t we all?’ I’d rejoined.

‘Hah! You got that right, my friend. We sure as hell would. But we’d still get the job done, right?’ He’d shaken his head at the waltzing Garner with his dead lion’s head partner. ‘Pathetic,’ he’d spat. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I’ve got no problem with people killing things, no problem at all. But that?’ He’d shaken his head again. ‘It’s not right. Not what men like us need to do. We
understand
. Right?’

‘Men like us?’

‘
Killers
,’ Hatfield had said. ‘When we kill, there’s no pleasure. It’s just business. If I ever saw one of my men dancing with a corpse on the battlefield, I’d put one right between his eyes and leave him there for the fucking crows.’

We’d continued to chat, and it made me smile now to think that this man who’d been ready to shoot me during our first meeting was the only person I’d managed to get a decent conversation out of all night.

The smile faded instantly as I rolled over in bed and remembered that I was alone; Talia had been nowhere to be seen last night, and had never come to my room.

I worried that she’d been caught trying to access those computer files, then felt guilty – was I scared for her safety, or for what she might tell her captors about me if she was questioned?

It was possible, however, that she had been sent to Garner’s room as his ‘prize’; a horrifying thought made only slightly more bearable by the fact that he’d consumed so much brandy that he’d almost certainly been incapable of doing anything except sleeping and snoring loudly.

I checked my watch, saw that it was only just after nine in the morning. I had plenty of time, but I was unaccustomed to lying in so late anyway, and rolled slowly out of bed, padding across the oak floorboards to the open doors which gave way onto a wide verandah with magnificent views of the grasslands and mesas beyond, which rose imperiously into the deep blue sky above. The sun was already getting strong, and Kane was bathing happily in it, in a position unchanged since he’d got back here last night.

I yawned loudly – which drew only a single, rapid check with one eye from Kane – and slowly stretched out my aching body. I wasn’t sure that bed’s agreed with me; it couldn’t possibly have been the dozen beers I’d consumed.

I went back into the room to get myself an espresso from the professional-grade machine on the dresser, then carried it back out to sit with my little buddy.

‘How you doing, boy?’ I asked as I plunged into a wooden chair by his side, ruffling his hair. My question was rewarded by complete silence and utter disinterest, but I continued petting him anyway. Even if
he
wasn’t bothered, I liked it. I sipped slowly at the strong black liquid as I stroked Kane’s back, and went through my plan of attack for the day.

We had to report to security headquarters at midday, when Hatfield would give us our briefing. The guests were due to arrive throughout the afternoon, in time to have dinner with Badrock at five. As far as I understood it, I would be responsible for liaising with the armorer to get them equipped, then supervising weapons handling and zeroing on the range. Other people would familiarize them with the park grounds, and general hunting tactics.

I would learn more at the briefing, but right now all I wanted to do was find Talia.

After all, I considered once again as I stood, I didn’t have to report in until midday.

There was plenty of time to find her if I got started now.

Chapter Seven

Midday came around all too quickly, and I’d had no luck in finding Talia. The closest I’d come was a cryptic
she’s busy now, you’ll get to see her later
from Hatfield; and it wasn’t so much the words as the strange half-smile on his face that had unnerved me.

But there was work to be done now, and I wanted to do some intelligence gathering of my own; Hatfield was about to tell us who was coming for tonight’s hunt.

The Vanguard employees who would be working the hunt tonight – there were about thirty of us, a platoon-sized contingent – were gathered in the meeting room of the security base. We were seated on a mixture of easy chairs and sofas, and Hatfield was holding court at the front, stood in front of a lectern with a projector screen behind him.

‘You might already know,’ he began after the audience settled down, ‘but tonight’s hunt is special, both for the number and the status of the hunters. And maybe some other reasons too,’ he added with a knowing chuckle that was reciprocated by the Vanguard men.

‘That’s why we’ve got the ‘A-Team’ here, the people we can trust, and why the rest of the permanent park staff have been sent on an all-expenses paid trip to Vegas. And don’t worry,’ he added quickly, before the men could complain, ‘you’ll get to go too. Except you guys will be getting a whole
weekend
there.’ There were cheers and applause, and Hatfield eventually calmed it down and continued. ‘We simply cannot afford for things to go wrong, so pay attention. There have been rumors about some of our guests, and now I can confirm them.’

He clicked the laptop on the lectern, and a picture of Ian Garner appeared on the large screen behind him. ‘Mr. Garner, we already know.’ He clicked another button, and the picture changed to show a forty-something woman in an army uniform, a colonel’s rank on her shoulder. ‘This is Colonel Yvette Williams, a friend of the general’s. A lifetime in the army, but she’s been in logistics all that time and she’s never used her weapon in anger. She wants to change that now, which is why she’s here.’

Another click, and another image appeared; and this one I recognized. ‘Billy Johnson,’ Hatfield announced to stirrings of interest in the audience, ‘leading quarterback for the Denver Broncos. He’s been here before, and knows the score.’

The next picture came up, a white guy in his fifties, balding head offset by an impeccably tailored suit. ‘Paul Gustafson,’ Hatfield said, ‘the governor of New Mexico.’ He smiled. ‘Now you know how the general got his license for this place.’

I remembered Ortiz saying how he was going to appeal to the state government about the park, and started to feel a bit sorry for the man; he’d have more luck getting Kane to help him with his daily crossword puzzle.

‘Javier Hernandez,’ Hatfield said next, as a celebrity photo shot came up of an extremely handsome Latino, shoulder length hair bouncing off his muscular shoulders. There were sarcastic
oohs
and
aahs
from the gathered ex-soldiers. ‘One of the main stars of
Days of Our Lives
. Fed up with his luxury trailer, wants to get his hands dirty.’

‘And last but by no means least,’ he continued, clicking a button to show an incredibly beautiful blonde who couldn’t have been more than twenty, ‘we have Paige Lockhart, the number one country singer in the United States.’ The
oohs
and
aahs
were real now, mixed in with catcalls and whistles of appreciation. ‘Used to hunt on daddy’s ranch as a kid, now wants to get into the real thing. And get this – she’s a spokesperson for the WWF
and
the Nature Conservancy.’ There was much laughter at this irony, but the best I could manage was to fake a smile.

‘So there we have it gentlemen, a combined hunt featuring six very high-profile – perhaps egotistical, certainly demanding – clients, that we simply cannot afford to let down. Security will be at an all-time high, some of these people are targets for paparazzi and we can’t take the risk of this hunt being photographed or filmed. Some of Vanguard’s best counter-surveillance teams will be escorting these clients here, to make sure they’re not followed, and they’ll be brought in via the back gate so that our normal park customers don’t see them.

‘Gates and security fences will be manned at all times while the hunt is happening, to ensure that nobody gets in. Or
out
,’ he added with a wry smile, to the amusement and whispered comments of the Vanguard men. It confused me, but I forgot it as soon as Hatfield started talking again.

‘Each of our hunters will be accompanied by a three man team, two on close protection and one sniper on overwatch.’

Eighteen men in total to help keep these half-dozen prima donna hunters safe, so that they could slaughter endangered animals and put more dollars in the good general’s coffers; the other dozen or so would be patrolling the grounds and manning the gates.

Hatfield was right; the last thing anyone would want would be for these people to be caught in the act.

But that was exactly what I intended to do, why I was still here; even without the computer files Talia had been trying to access, I was going to photograph and film these high-flyers shooting their lions and hippos, their leopards and their elephants.

And there was no way the evidence was going to the police, or to any local or state government; it was going straight to the media. And if it turned out that the mainstream media was also complicit, then there were plenty of independent online avenues to pursue.

The images would get out to the public one way or another, and the six rich hunters would be ruined along with Badrock and his park, maybe Vanguard security too.

There were plenty of high-definition recording devices in the armory, optics designed to capture the thrill of the hunt – or record police or military actions to ensure complicity with the rules of engagement. I would just have to ‘borrow’ some of them when I was there later sorting things out for our guests.

Even without Talia and those computer files, one way or another, Badrock was going down.

‘There’s been a change of plan,’ Badrock announced with a smile, catching hold of me outside the conference room. ‘I need someone with me for the meet and greet, and most of the men here are hardly the type you want as your shop window if you know what I mean.’

Damn
. I’d hoped to have an extended afternoon at the armory to give me a chance to pilfer some of those recording goodies. I wondered if Badrock suspected something; if Talia had been caught, had she told him that it was my idea?

But I’d go with the flow; I’d still have a chance to get a camera when I drew my own weapon later that night. It would be harder, packed as the place would be with Vanguard men, but I could still manage it if I tried.

‘Don’t worry,’ Badrock said – picking up on my discomfiture, if not the reason for it, ‘Miles will see to it that our guests are suitably armed and briefed. They’ll go and see him after having a cocktail or two with us.’

‘Sounds nice,’ I said.

‘Oh, it will be,’ Badrock enthused. ‘Now go and get changed. I’ve had a lounge suit put in your room for you, should fit you just fine.’

A lounge suit? Badrock was really pulling out all the stops to impress these people. I tried to remember the last time I’d worn a suit, or tied a tie, and couldn’t do it. Was it back in the Rangers? Or maybe even before that?

But an order was an order. ‘Yes sir,’ I said. ‘When and where?’

‘The bar at my house,’ he replied. ‘Our first guest is arriving within the hour, so shall we say thirteen thirty?’

I checked my watch, saw that it was quarter to twelve. ‘Yes sir,’ I said again. ‘I’ll see you there.’

‘Excellent,’ the general said. ‘And remember – we want to make a good impression. We’re counting on you.’

The cocktail meet and greet was a pain in the ass.

In addition to me and the general, there was Groban – who from the looks he gave me hadn’t quite forgiven me for holding the knife to his throat – and a couple of other senior park personnel, along with half a dozen of the better turned out Vanguard boys. All ex-officers I assumed, from the cut of their suits and the way they drank their champagne with their pinkies sticking out.

Everyone played their role well, kissing ass in exactly the right way to make the clients think they were the real deal. I tried but didn’t do a very good job of it; the people there didn’t impress me, and it was hard to pretend.

It was the country singer first, and the officer boys were literally drooling over the girl; and then over the course of the afternoon, the remaining clients arrived, each one more egotistical, more overbearing, and more full of themselves than the one before. And as each new one came in, another was taken out to get their weapons and equipment sorted, until finally there was nobody left but the troops.

The strangest thing about the session was the fact that – despite my refusal to kowtow and bow down to them – they all spent most of their time with me. I was the first one the general introduced, and the one they always drifted back to after doing the rounds. As for why, I wasn’t sure. Were they like animals, drawn to the people who didn’t make a fuss over them, the ones that seemed more inherently stable, a feeling they could only pick up on subconsciously?

Or was it something else altogether? Something . . . worse?

The whole situation seemed odd – it was almost like I was being paraded in front of them, for their entertainment. I felt like I was part of a dinner menu, and the guests were hungry.

‘Good job everyone,’ the general said, taking me away from my thoughts. ‘We’ve got time now to sort out our own personal weapons and equipment, have a bite to eat, then we’re meeting up at the main rendezvous point once the park has been cleared at eighteen hundred. Got it?’

We all agreed, and drifted off to sort out our business.

And the nagging feeling that something was desperately wrong followed me all the way.