Breaking point - By Tom Clancy & Steve Perry & Steve Pieczenik Page 0,67

or the local state cops and give them a sitrep after that.

Man. He’d never expected this, but he was in it now, and he’d have to follow up and see it through—whatever it was ...

Ventura glanced at his watch. Just past 0200. He had given them the clue by killing the lights, but the kidnap team still hadn’t spotted him. He frowned. Were they really that bad? And where was the genuine attack, if these four were only faking? Were they that good, that his people hadn’t spotted them?

He called the surveillance team. “Where is my black man?”

“Still heading toward the gate. He passed the Mercury Falling point a minute ago. Should be there soon.”

They’d be long gone by the time anybody came through the front gate and got here. “All right. Let me know when—” He cut it off as he spotted the threat.

Two seconds later, Morrison saw it, too. “Look!”

One of the kidnappers had left his vehicle and circled around one of the trailers. The man was twenty-five, maybe twenty-eight meters away. Dim as it was, it was only his darker form against the lighter color of the building that gave him away. Was he sight- or hearing-augmented? Did he see them? Could he hear the little fuel cell motor?

Ventura could hear the man, because Ventura was wearing bat ears—tiny electronic plugs that functioned both as a hearing aid for normal sounds and suppressors for sudden loud noises.

Ventura pulled the flash grenade from his pocket, thumbed the safety ring out and flipped the cover up, then pressed the timer button. He had five seconds, and he wanted it to go off in the air. One ... two ... three ... four—throw, the overhand lob, up and outward ...

Ventura closed his eyes against the bright flash he knew was coming. It wouldn’t make much noise.

He could see the photonic blast through his closed eyelids anyway. It faded, and he opened his eyes at the same time he heard the kidnapper’s startled yell. If the man was wearing spookeyes, that would close the automatic shutters for a heartbeat. If he wasn’t, his night vision was going to be gone.

Ventura drew his pistol and goosed the little scooter. The kidnapper fired three shots, but from the angle of the flashes, he was shooting way behind them. Probably no spookeyes, then.

Ventura indexed the flashes and shot back, two rounds. His own earplugs cut out the harsh noise within a hundredth of a second, suppressing the hurtful decibel level. He heard the man scream, and heard him hit the ground.

One down.

He circled the scooter away and back toward the fence, along the path he’d decided upon earlier. He did a tactical reload, changed magazines, dropping the one missing a round into his pocket. Something bothered him, something was wrong, and it took a few seconds before he figured out what it was:

Why had the kidnapper shot at them? Two men on a scooter, more than twenty meters away, in the dark? It was a very risky shot; Ventura was an expert with his pistol and he wouldn’t have chanced it. Even if the shooter knew which man was which, how could he take the risk of hitting Morrison? He’d have to know that if he killed the scientist, the game was over, and his ass would be fried. Could the Chinese have hired somebody that foolish? Somebody who would panic at a bright light and accidentally cook the golden goose?

It was one more inconsistency that didn’t add up. But he’d have to work it out later—there were still three of them running around, and the one who had gotten into range had surprised him. You didn’t want to tilt the playing field too far in your enemy’s favor. Ventura did not have a death wish.

“You shot him,” Morrison said.

“Yes, I did.”

“Is he ... dead, do you think?”

Ventura shrugged. “Who cares? He knew the job was dangerous when he took it. If he didn’t, then he’s an idiot. Or he was an idiot. And he shot at us first, remember? We were just defending ourselves.”

Morrison didn’t say anything.

The fence was through that patch of woods just ahead, and there was a path through them. They could play Q&A later. One step at a time.

Be in the moment ...

24

Monday, June 13th

Gakona, Alaska

It had been a long time since Howard had done any real hunting, and even the most realistic VR scenario was not the same as creeping through the woods and sneaking up on a