Hunter's Rain (36 page)

Jackson lowered the body carefully. He took the gun, then did a quick search. No ID. No credit card. But plenty of cash. He ignored the money and found something far more interesting: a small dagger-like knife, exactly like the type Josh had described.

“If you’re one of the kidnappers,” Jackson said to the unconscious Pröll, “you’re in shitstreet.”

He quickly tied Pröll to a tree, and put a thin wire about the killer’s neck. It was then secured to his bonds in such a way that if Pröll tried to free himself, he would end up sawing through his own throat.

Jackson left Pröll’s phone on, then went into hiding to wait.

The water from the rainfall, streaming down the tree, eventually made Pröll wake up. He was very professional and immediately understood the predicament he as in.

He remained perfectly still.

Elland was beginning to worry. He had heard nothing from Pröll for some time. Both were supposed to keep their phones on.

“Pröll!” he whispered. “Where the hell are you?
Pröll!”

The monitoring unit was still giving him instructions.

“I can’t find Pröll!” he said to them.

“Pröll is still active. Now do your job!”

Elland came to same point as Pröll, and stopped to gape in the rain, when he saw partner in killing. Pröll seemed to be desperately trying to say something.

Elland stood there too long.

“You have two choices,” he heard a voice behind him say. “Both bad. Drop your weapon!”

Elland was fast. Very fast. And he knew it. He also knew he was not going to surrender. He whirled, gun hunting with deadly precision.

Unfortunately, his target was not where he thought it would be. A crushing, painful blow to the right knee told his how badly he had miscalculated. His scream of pain came almost at the same time as the bark of the big Sig Sauer automatic pistol.

“I did warn you,” Jackson said.

“
My knee! My knee!”
Elland yelled in English, his accent not German at all..
“You smashed my knee, you bastard!”

Even in the noise of the rain, both the sound of the shot, and the yelling, seemed to echo through the forest. Every droplet of water was an amplifier.

Müller and Carey Bloomfield heard it; as did Hagen and his team; as did Mary-Ann.

“It came from over there,” Carey Bloomfield said.

She pointed to the edge of a lake that could just be seen through the trees, and the rain.

“It’s started,” Müller said with regret.

Hagen raised a hand when he heard.

The for men with him stopped, listening.

“Alright,” he said in a low voice. “We’re very close. Fan out. You know the drill.”

The men nodded, and melted into the trees.

Mary-Ann paused briefly in her fleeting rush, head slowly turning, a predator scenting prey.

Eyes on fire, she smiled, and rushed on.

Müller and Carey Bloomfield came to a screen of trees, through which they could see the still-yelling Elland.

“You stay here,” he told her. We don’t know who else is out there, apart from Hagen and his crew. Watch my back.”

Without drawing any of his own guns, he went to where Elland lay screaming.

He walked up to the wounded man, and looked down, then up at the trussed Pröll, and back to Elland.

“You’re in a bad state.”

“Is that all you’ve fucking got to
say?
I hurt, damn it!”

“Müller,
Polizeihauptkommissar
. I don’t think you want to swear at me.”

Müller glanced up at Pröll, then again down at Elland, and saw something in their eyes that told him both men knew of him.

Though he had nothing to go on, he decided to throw in a guess. “How’s the yachting.?”

Both men could not help reacting. The trussed-up Pröll twitched, and Elland actually paused in his yelling.

“Gentlemen,” Müller said, thinking of Max Gatto and his team, “I know some people who would love to meet you. And that’s only the beginning.”

Then Elland was yelling again.

“I think I should shut him up,” a voice said.

“Be my guest, Colonel,” Müller said.

There as a thumping sound, and Elland stopped yelling.

Müller turned round and saw Jackson, in combat trousers, boots and a green vest, standing next to Elland’s now quiet form.

“You did not kill him, I hope.”

“Just a knockout punch. Good to see you, Mr Müller.”

“Good to see you, Colonel, and glad you’ve killed no one.”

“It could have been worse. That’s for sure.” Jackson held out a hand.

They shook hands in the pouring rain.

“Now that you’re here,” Jackson went on, “as the ranking man on this turf, I suppose I’d better hand over to you.”

“It would be the wisest thing. Especially when you hear my news.”

Jackson looked at him steadily. “News?”

“We have located the house where they are holding your wife. An assault team should be there just about now.”

Jackson turned his head up to the rain and shut his eyes. “Thank God. Thank God. Thank you, Mr. Müller.” Jackson looked down again. “I’m sorry I roped you in; but it was the only option I felt I had, given the circumstances.”

“The circumstances, Colonel, are far more complex than you would believe. We were manipulated, you and I.”

“I don’t quite follow.”

“It’s a very long and complicated story, Colonel. Perhaps one day, we will talk about it over a drink. But right now, we must get you out of here, and back to your family.”

“How pally!” a hard voice said.

Hagen, looking triumphant, telescopic-stock M16 with 9mm suppressor held ready across his chest, strode into the small clearing. He looked at Pröll, stepped over Elland, and came to stand directly in front of Jackson. He ignored Müller.

“Colonel Jackson, I have orders to take you back. Your condition on delivery is immaterial.”

Jackson looked coldly back at Hagen. “Enjoyed that speech, Phil?”

“Lieutenant-Colonel Hagen,
sir!
Are you coming quietly,
sir 
?” 

“Colonel Hagen,” Müller said.

Hagen turned cold eyes upon Müller. The fastened briefly upon his ponytailed hair, and his earring. “And who are you?”

“Someone who can arrestyou for carrying an assault weapon on German territory without permission. And call your men out of the woods.”

Hagen stared at Müller as if he could not believe his ears. “What?
You?
Arrest me? You’re a
cop?
Your rank?”

“
Hauptkommissar
.”

“Well,
Hauptkommissar…”

“Müller”

“Well,
Hauptkommissar
Müller, let’s get a few things straight. I am under the orders of my superiors to take this man…”

“Colonel Jackson, Hagen. His name and rank. Or do your orders allow insubordination as well?”

“Now look here, you…”

“No.
You
look here.” Before Hagen quite knew what was happening, Müller drew the Beretta and jabbed it hard against Hagen’s chest.

“I’ll be…” Jackson said, staring at Müller.

“Now,
Colonel
Hagen,” Müller said coldly. “I am arresting your for violation of the prohibited firearms…”

The little clearing was suddenly crowded as Hagen’s men came out of the screen of trees.

Jackson looked at them. “I don’t know about you, gentlemen. But I, for one, would not like to be held responsible for the shooting of a German police officer. I would suggest you all put your guns down.”

“You will obey my orders!” Hagen snarled to his men.

Müller’s gun was still against Hagen’s chest. He looked at the soldiers. “Whatever orders you were given, they have been overtaken by events. Colonel Jackson is returning with me. I would advise you to become no part of a diplomatic incident.”

“I have my orders!” Hagen roared above the rain.

Müller looked at the soldiers. “None of you look stupid,” he said. “I am escorting Colonel Jackson home. Objections?”

The soldiers lowered their weapons.

“
No!”
Hagen bellowed, and despite having Müller’s gun against his chest, still tried to bring up his weapon to bear upon Jackson. The years of resentment and envy, had caused Hagen to lose all control.

A crunching sound forced Hagen’s mouth wide open. Blood spurted out of it.

“
Jesus, Müller!”
Jackson cried, “Did you do that?”

“
No!”
Müller was already diving to the muddy ground.

Jackson followed suit, rolling for cover. The soldiers scattered.

“Then who the hell?” Jackson hissed, looking to where Hagen, having fallen was crawling around, the blood still pouring out of his mouth.

A second shot crashed into Hagen head. He stopped moving.

“I don’t know!” Müller replied, searching for a possible sighting of the unknown attacker.

The next shot took a suddenly terrified Pröll in the throat. His eyes opened wide, and stayed open. The blood began to leak slowly out of the wounded throat as he made strange, gargling sounds.

Then a moan came from Elland.

“He’s waking up!” Jackson said in a sharp whisper.

Then into the clearing walked Mary-Ann, bright blonde hair streaming in the rain, lips red, eyes on fire, gun pointing at Jackson.

“Come on out, boys, unless you want the colonel to get it. You’ve seen what I’ve done. You know I can do it. You will never get me before I kill him. So come on out. “ She giggled, then gave her mega smile. Even in the dark of the forest, even in the rain, it was a sunburst.

Jackson stared at her in horror-struck awe.

“Come on, boys! I’m getting impatient!”

Reluctantly, the soldiers came out.

“Now,” she said, “isn’t that better? Drop the guns, boys. Goood. Now lie down. Not on your bellies! On your backs!”

They turned over, blinking in the rain.

“Much better.”

Gun still on Jackson, she inspected each of the soldiers, then stopped at one. “Mmm. You’re pretty.”

To the astonishment of Jackson, Müller, and the soldiers, she sat astride the man she had picked.

“Mmm,” she said to the soldier. “Like that? Nice? Open your mouth, soldier boy. Open!”

Terrified. He did. She put the gun in it.

“Any one of you moves” she said, “his head gets blown off.” She looked down at the soldier. “Nice?” she asked him gently. “Warm? Sweet?”

Wide eyed, the soldier was not sure what to do.

“You can nod,” she said.

He nodded, fearfully.

“You like me?

Again the nod.

“She wants to squeeze my scrawny neck. Did you know that? But closer to the bone, the sweeter the meat. Did you know that too?
Not like that pudding Lieutenant-Colonel Bloomfield!
“ she yelled suddenly.
“Where are you Colonel Bloomfield?”

“Right here.”

Mary-Ann could not have expected it, but even so, her speed was cat-like. Her gun was out of the soldier’s mouth. and she was leaping off him and whirling in one motion, it seemed.

But it was the Beretta which roared first.

The shot hit her squarely in the chest, throwing her violently backwards so that she stumbled over the soldier she had recently been astride, and toppled clumsily, screeching in rage. She actually tried to get up, so powerful was her hate. She was still gripping her gun, and it began to rise towards Carey Bloomfield.

Jackson and Müller stared in astonishment as Mary-Ann began to stagger to her feet.

Müller began to raise his own gun.

Carey Bloomfield stood her ground and waited, Beretta pointing unerringly.

Mary-Ann was on her
feet;
legs parting, braced. Gun still coming up, pointing now, zeroing on target.

The Beretta roared again.

Mary-Ann was pitched backwards like a rag doll. This time, she made no sound, and did not get up again.

Carey Bloomfield walked up to Mary-Ann’s body, and looked down. “Pudding? The more curves, the better.”

Elland had begun to moan again.

Carey Bloomfield looked at him. “Shut up!”

Elland shut up.

Müller and Jackson got to their feet, Müller putting his gun away Hagen’s soldiers staggered upright, looking bemused, and giving the one that had been Mary-Ann’s plaything strange looks.

The others had looked, but without real curiosity as he left them.

Suddenly, a scarcely human sound came from the direction of the lake, echoing in the rain. Forest animals, hearing it, scuttled into hiding.

“
Semperrrr!”

The soldiers stared at each other.

Jackson looked at Carey Bloomfield. “What the hell. Was that
Müller?”

“I’ll go to him.”

She ran, fear in her heart, a puzzled Jackson staring after her.

When she got to Müller, he was squatting on his heels, phone in one hand, head hanging down.

Unsure of what to do, she said, “Müller, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”

He looked up at her, eyes so haunted, she really became frightened.