The Hunted Assassin (29 page)

“Well, there’s that at least,” Jaxon said sarcastically.

“Ah, yes. They’ve told me that you are a positive thinker. Always looking at the bright side of things. I find that endearing in a man, and I think more people should think like that. Don’t you agree, Mr. Rasner?” Johansson asked, clearly looking for an answer from Jaxon.

Who is this guy?
Jaxon wondered.
As far as I know, I haven’t had a tremendous amount of positive thinking lately.

“Yeah, sure. There’s a bright side to everything,” Jaxon said.

Johansson paid no attention to Jaxon’s reply. “Well, I just wanted to introduce myself. Your time here on the Calliope is about to come to an end. I trust the ride was smooth for you?” he asked condescendingly.

Jaxon ignored the question and asked his own. “Where are we docking?”

“Yes, that’s right. It’s my understanding that you’ve been looking for Mr. Guzman’s secret hideout. Is that correct?” Johansson asked.

Jaxon shrugged but remained silent.

“Well, you’ll be happy to know that your search will be over momentarily. I just came from the control room, and we’re approaching Mr. Guzman’s station as we speak.”

“Guzman’s here?” Jaxon asked, startled.

“Why yes,” Johansson said. “He’s the one that put the hit on you in the first place. Well, Pablo
and
his de facto cohort at the GSA, that is. Isn’t it wonderful how two distinctively different organizations can function as one?”

The moment Johansson’s words hit him, Jaxon began to put the pieces together. Obviously, the mole inside the GSA worked for Guzman. Current mission planning had been in the works for many months, giving Guzman enough time to hire mercenaries to prevent Jaxon from carrying it out. Everything began to make sense.

“Cat got your tongue?” Johansson asked.

Jaxon kept quiet and just glared at Johansson.

“Suit yourself,” Johansson said as he turned toward the control room. “I assure you, though, our conversation would have been far more civil than what you’re about to experience with Mr. Guzman himself.”

And then he was gone.

48

“Clay, I need you to take over my console. Continue to monitor the stealth frequency,” Camille said as she entered the cockpit.

“No problem, Camille,” Francisco said, “but isn’t that automated now?”

Camille walked past him as she headed for the pilot station. Jaxon’s chair. “Yes, that’s right. But I have reason to believe our efforts might be all for not.”

“Then should I just change them manually? Or is that futile as well?” Francisco asked.

“Unknown. If we remove the subroutine, perhaps we’ll be able to stay ahead of them. It’s worth a shot at least.” Camille turned to Oliver next. “Miles, can you program the navigation computer to follow a frequency beacon?”

Oliver nodded. “I don’t see why not. You can program it to follow a specific number of waypoints and even tell it to avoid certain regions, whether it’s spatial radiation or gamma rays, so I don’t see why it would be any different to follow something specific.”

“Okay, great. Why don’t you get working on that and as soon as we can locate Jaxon’s tracking device, be ready to enter it in.”

“Sure thing, boss,” Oliver said, getting to work. “Where should we set our heading for until then? We’ve just cleared the restricted idle zone around Delta Station. But we’re not exactly heading in any specific direction.”

“Leave it be for now,” Camille said as she activated the long-range sensors on her display. “I’d hate to go too far in the wrong direction until we locate Jaxon’s tracer.”

The next several hours passed by wordlessly as each of the remaining team members focused on their individual responsibilities. Camille continued to analyze the readings of the sensors, trying to locate Jaxon’s signal. Not having adequate training on the ship’s systems or even a marginal understanding of what exactly she was looking for made the effort that much more difficult.

When a new signal blip appeared, she highlighted it in zoomed in, only to find out that it was some random freighter ship heading in the opposite direction. She knew enough about the transponder frequencies that once she found it, it would be obvious. But it was still like finding a needle in a haystack.

After what felt like an eternity of benign starts, a new signal blip entered the top of her screen. As she zoomed in and highlighted the signal, the frequency initially read out of range, but after a moment, the frequency readout changed, displaying exactly what she was looking for. It was Jaxon’s transponder.

“Got it,” she exclaimed. “He’s on the far edge of our sensor range, and it looks like he’s … hold on.” Camille paused as she analyzed the signal data for its trajectory. “At zenith: Longitude, 113° 00’ 37.7”. Latitude, +0° 57’ 42.2”. Distance, 697,384 kilometers.”

“Got it,” Oliver said, entering the coordinates into his control panel. “I see it, but it’s—”

“It’s what?” Camille asked, prompting Oliver to continue.

“It’s just there. There’s no ship on our sensors—just the signal. They didn’t eject him out into space, did they?”

Camille cringed at the thought. Not exactly sure who they were dealing with, she couldn’t discount it either way.

“Lord, I hope not,” she said. “Are you sure your readings are correct?”

“Positive, boss. It’s like he’s just zipping through space all by himself.”

Camille pondered the situation. At his current speed, he had to be assisted by some kind of thruster or impulse drive. If he’d just been ejected into space, there’d be no way he could reach that velocity on his own.

“Maybe he’s on some kind of cloaked ship or one that has a stealth device like ours.”

“Could be. Only way to find out is to get eyes on it.”

“Right. How long until we can intercept?” Camille asked.

Oliver tapped in a few computations in his computer and waited. “At maximum speed, we could be there in a little over thirty minutes. That’s assuming they don’t increase their speed in the meantime.”

Camille thought about the attack on the Buddha earlier, and how they somehow got through the stealth frequencies. She was concerned that it could happen again.

“No, I don’t want to crowd them. If they can somehow see us coming, which I suspect they might be able to, I don’t want to provoke a confrontation. Let’s go at half speed, but not on a direct course. I want to plot an undulating course, keeping Jaxon’s transponder on the edge of sensor range. With any luck, if they can see us, they’ll think we’re just some kind of mining vessel.”

Oliver entered Camille’s instructions into the navigation computer and engaged the engines. The ship banked left swiftly, and they were under way. “ETA, fifty-eight minutes,” Oliver said.

49

As the familiar clank and whine of the ship’s docking clamp engaged, Jaxon’s disfigured guard pulled him up from his flight chair and thrust him toward the airlock. Stepping through the docking ring and into the space station, Jaxon glanced back and discovered that they were on a ship identical to the prototype that the GSA had provided for him and his team. Jaxon wondered just how deep the deception ran.

The guard continued to guide Jaxon through the corridors of the space station, which were more like a military installation than the pleasure station that he’d known until now. As they moved through bleak hallways, they passed several men and women wearing white lab coats hustling about.

After numerous twists and turns through the corridors, Jaxon was led down a particularly wide hallway that was lined with glass walls. Because of the transparency, it was clear that they were some kind of chemistry labs, but not the production facility that he’d been looking for. Jaxon attempted to slow his pace to try and glean as much information as he could, but the guard continued thrusting him forward.

Finally, after even more stark hallways, Jaxon was shoved into a small holding cell, and then the door slammed. The door was solid, save for a small window peering out. Inside the room, there was a fold-out cot on the side wall and a combination sink-toilet directly next to it. Unfortunately, the guard did not remove his restraints, so he was still limited in his escape potential.

Jaxon sat on the cot and considered his situation. He only hoped that his tracking device was still functioning and that Camille was on her way. Next, Jaxon thought about the links between the company and his captors. The
prototype
ship was clearly provided to both Guzman and the GSA, no doubt giving Guzman full knowledge of its stealth capabilities and weaponry. Jaxon was honestly surprised just how far he and his team had gotten, considering how underhanded they’d been the whole time. Or perhaps that was the plan all along—get them this close before Guzman swooped in and snatched him away.

Jaxon’s thoughts were interrupted as the door clanked open, and in stepped Pablo Guzman himself.

“Well, if it isn’t Jaxon Rasner in person,” Guzman said. “Let me tell you, you’re a tough man to kill.”

“You’re behind my assassination attempts?” Jaxon asked, already knowing the answer, but he wanted to hear it from Guzman himself.

“Yes, that’s right. I am the monster that you created … when you killed my father all those years ago.”

“But I didn’t—” Jaxon began but was interrupted.

“Do you deny being in Ixtapa eighteen years ago? Do you deny shooting him from the hotel room across the plaza?” Guzman asked. “Do you deny maiming a young man—a mere child?” Guzman turned his horrifically scarred face toward Jaxon. “Do you deny being a coward?”

Guzman’s anger radiated through the small cell. With each accusation, he became angrier, causing redness to flourish across his olive-colored skin.

“You should have been murdered years ago for the pain you’ve caused my family,” Guzman said, relaxing his angry grimace into a pleasant smile. “But if I’d known that this moment would be so glorious, seeing your face in person, I would’ve never put the hit out on you as suggested by Brutus.”

“I’m sorry,” Jaxon said, “but you have me at a disadvantage. Who is Brutus?”

“Ah, Señor. Brutus and I go way back. Actually, Brutus goes so far back that I’m not even sure you were born yet when he and my father agreed to help each other with their various
complications
.”

“So, Brutus is your mole? Does he have another name that I might—”

“Silence!” Guzman demanded.

Jaxon followed the order. He recognized the instability in Guzman and knew that if he wasn’t careful, he could in fact cause the man to lose control completely and exact the revenge that was surging through his veins.

“Good, that’s good, Mr. Rasner,” Guzman said as he paced back and forth in front of Jaxon’s bunk. “Who I associate myself with inside your company, your
GSA
, is none of your concern. If I were you, I would worry more about how exactly you are going to die.” Guzman leaned in close to Jaxon’s face. “And let me tell you, it will not be a pleasant experience. I will not afford you the same consideration that you gave my father all those years ago. It will be slow and painful.” Guzman spat with each word, causing Jaxon to nearly gag at the stench coming past his lips.

“But,” Guzman began, standing upright, “before we get started, I think we first need to neutralize the rest of your traveling companions. Tell me, Mr. Rasner, where exactly are they hiding? I had hoped that I could capture all of you in one, solitary swift motion. But then again, I should have figured otherwise—you’re all trained agents, after all. It was wise of you to split up.”

Jaxon was elated to hear that the rest of the team was still out there. As much as he wanted to throw it into Guzman’s face, he remained silent and only smiled confidently.

Guzman watched Jaxon’s expression, waiting for an answer. Unfortunately, it was too late for Jaxon to retreat before he recognized Guzman’s insanity surface. Guzman reached behind his back before whipping his hand across Jaxon’s face.

Jaxon had been beaten many times throughout his career, and normally a backhand offense would only have a momentary sting, but something was different. Something was more severe with Guzman’s assault. Jaxon ran his tongue across the front of his teeth and tasted a metallic residue. He leaned to the side and spat a mouthful of blood. He looked up at Guzman, who was smiling back. He held his hand up in front of Jaxon, displaying the brass knuckles resting on his palm.

“I have to tell you, Mr. Rasner. I am so very delighted that you are here with me. Our next few days are going to be such sensational fun. Well, fun for me—not so much for you. Or your friends for that matter. To tell the truth, I don’t need anything from you. I was only asking as a professional courtesy before I kill them. What do you say? Would you like to watch—possibly even participate?” Guzman asked before removing his brass knuckles and opening the door. He nodded to the guard and then motioned toward Jaxon. The same disfigured killer stepped in and grabbed Jaxon firmly before throwing him out into the corridor, and off to a new location.

50

Jaxon’s transponder signal maintained its speed and trajectory for an additional twelve minutes before it abruptly stopped. The sudden halt caused Camille to stare blankly at the screen for several moments. Not sure what to expect next, she looked at Oliver.