‘No . . . no. I’d rather die than stay here alone for another second. You don’t know what I’ve been through. I can’t stay here. Please don’t leave me here to face him again. You can’t leave me here alone.’
‘Katia, listen, if the three of us move out of this room together right now, and if this guy can see in the dark and move as silently as you said he can, we’ve got no chance.’
‘No . . . I can’t stay here alone. Please don’t make me stay here alone. I’d rather die.’
‘I’ll stay with you.’ Garcia said. ‘Robert is right. We won’t be able to cover each other if we move out of here together. He could easily pick us out one by one and we wouldn’t even know. I’ll stay here with you. As Robert said, he doesn’t know which room we’re in. For all he knows you’re here, alone, just like you were minutes ago. I’ll stay. There’s no way he can know I’m with you. If this door opens without the person identifying himself, I’ll smoke the bastard.’ He cocked his gun and Katia jumped.
‘It’s a good idea,’ Hunter agreed.
‘Why don’t you stay too,’ Katia pleaded. ‘Why can’t we all just wait for him in here and fight him together? We’ve got a better chance that way.’
‘Because he might not come directly here,’ Hunter explained. ‘We know for sure that he’s got at least one more victim held hostage. Our captain. He might go straight for her just to punish us. I have to try and find her before he gets to her. I can’t just sit here and wait. Her life depends on it.’
‘He’s right, Katia,’ Garcia said.
‘We can’t waste any more time,’ Hunter took over again. ‘Trust me, Katia. I’ll be back for you.’
Garcia put his arm around Katia and slowly brought her back into the room.
‘Good luck,’ he said as Hunter closed the door behind him and took a deep breath.
This already looks like a bad idea, he thought. Walking around in pitch-dark corridors, fighting a killer blind. What the hell am I thinking?
Hunter knew that there were about twenty feet between him and the end of the corridor. No more doors on this stretch. He moved cautiously, but he moved fast. The hallway swung left again. He stood still, listening as hard as he could.
Nothing except absolute silence.
Hunter had always been good at identifying sounds. Sneaking up on him would be a tough task. Though Katia had told him that Andrew could see in the dark and move like a ghost, he couldn’t believe anyone could be that quiet.
He was wrong.
One Hundred and Twelve
Andrew stood just a few meters from Hunter, observing, his breathing so quiet and smooth that even a person standing inches from him wouldn’t have noticed him. He’d heard the entire conversation just moments earlier. He knew Garcia had stayed in the room with Katia. But he’d deal with them later. A satisfied smile parted his lips. He could see the anxiety on Hunter’s face. He could sense the tension in his movements. Hunter had guts, Andrew had to give him that. He’d knowingly walked into a fight he couldn’t win.
Hunter started moving forward again. His left hand in constant contact with the corridor’s internal wall as he searched for the next door.
Five steps were all he managed.
The first blow came to his gun hand, so powerful and precise it almost snapped his wrist in two. Hunter never heard a thing. He never sensed another presence. Katia was right. Andrew could see in the dark. There was no other way he could have delivered such an accurate strike.
Hunter’s gun left his hand like a rocket propelled into the air. He heard it hit the ground somewhere in front of him and to his right. Instinctively, he pulled back and assumed a fighting position, but how do you fight when you can’t see or hear your opponent?
Somehow Andrew had moved around Hunter, because the next blow came from behind him, straight to the lower back. Hunter was catapulted forward and he felt an agonizing pain creep up his spine.
‘I guess you decided not to take my advice,’ Andrew said, his voice firm and confident. ‘Bad move, Detective.’
Hunter turned in the direction of the voice and blindly delivered a punch around chest height. He hit nothing but air.
‘Wrong again.’ This time the voice came from Hunter’s left, just inches away.
How could he move so fast and so quietly?
Hunter twisted his body and swung his elbow around as fast and as hard as he could, but Andrew had moved again. And again, Hunter hit nothing.
The next punch hit Hunter in the stomach. It was so well placed and powerful he doubled over and tasted acrid bile in his mouth. No time to react. A quick follow-up punch hit him on the left side of his face. Hunter felt his lip split and the bitter taste in his mouth was quickly substituted by a metallic and sharp one – blood.
Hunter swung his arm around again. A desperate attempt from someone who knew this war was lost. He couldn’t even defend himself. The only thing he could do was wait for the next blow. And it came in the form of a low kick to the knee. A jolt of pain ran up Hunter’s leg and gravity sent him plunging to the floor. His back and head slammed against the wall behind him hard. Andrew wasn’t only invisible and soundless; he knew how to fight too.
‘The question is,’ Andrew said, ‘should I keep on beating you up until you’re dead . . . or should I use your gun and end this with a bullet to your head?’
‘Andrew, you don’t have to do this.’ Hunter’s voice was heavy, defeated, and gurgling in blood.
‘I told you not to call me Andrew.’
‘OK,’ Hunter accepted it. ‘Do you want me to call you Bryan? Bryan Coleman?’
Silence, and for the first time Hunter sensed Andrew’s hesitation.
‘That’s the new identity you chose for yourself, right? Bryan Coleman? Director of Production at the A & E TV network. We sat face to face just a couple of days ago.’
‘Wow,’ Andrew said, clapping his hands. ‘Your reputation is well deserved. You figured out something no one else could.’
‘Your identity isn’t a secret any more,’ Hunter carried on. ‘Whatever happens here tonight, the LAPD know who you are now. You can’t stay in the dark forever.’ Hunter paused, took a deep breath and felt his lungs burn with pain. ‘You need help, Bryan. Somehow, alone, for twenty years, you managed to cope with something that no one could handle on their own.’
‘You don’t know anything, Detective. You have no idea what I’ve been through.’
Andrew had moved again. His voice was now coming from Hunter’s right.
‘I spent three days in that attic, hiding, scared, trying to decide what to do.’ He paused. ‘I decided I didn’t wanna stay in Healdsburg. I didn’t wanna be taken away to some orphanage somewhere. I didn’t wanna be the kid everyone had pity on. So I waited into night-time and then I ran. It was quite easy to hide in the back of a truck at the interstate gas station.’
Hunter remembered that the Harpers’ old family house was less than half a mile from Interstate 101.
‘You’d be surprised how easy it is for a kid to survive on the streets of a big city like LA. But being away from Healdsburg didn’t help. For twenty years I’ve had the same images playing in my head every time I close my eyes.’
Hunter coughed a red mist of blood. ‘What happened in your house twenty years ago wasn’t your fault, Bryan. You can’t blame yourself for what your father did.’