Gabriel Hunt - Hunt Among the Killers of Men

“Your sister Valerie was a very strong person,” Ivory began as he swabbed alcohol over her skin. She felt the prick as the needle went in. “As you may have guessed, Cheung is tied into banks all over the world. Stocks, securities, laundered money, much of it from illicit business enterprises. Big money, high security. Valerie gained intimate knowledge of this information stream. But Cheung is not the only man with such connections—all men at his level of wealth and power have similar secrets, and Cheung asked your sister to tap into their information streams on his behalf. To engage in industrial espionage. He wanted details on his enemies’ activities, their resources. Valerie had learned so much so quickly about him; Cheung simply tried to turn this talent to more useful ends.”

“And she balked,” said Mitch, beginning to drift, her eyes growing large and dark. “She found the line she would not cross.”

“But here is the unusual part,” said Ivory, his voice low. “Cheung wanted to convince her so badly that he flew to the United States himself. He exposed himself to capture, to great physical danger, even possible assassination, hoping that his gesture would impress your sister. Valerie showed no appreciation. It wasn’t just that she said no—that he might have accepted. But she didn’t respect the gesture.”

It’s a face thing , Valerie had told her jokingly before heading off to the late-night in-person meeting. It’s all very Chinese.

“Cheung told Valerie he thought she was extremely talented. He wanted to leave the door open for a possible future reconciliation. Valerie said no. She would be happy to return any file Cheung requested, sign any release, pay back the salary she had received, but her decision was final.”

Ivory also remembered how Cheung’s gaze had gone flat, reptilian and metallic, as he merely answered Valerie by saying, “A pity.”

“I asked you how she died,” Mitch said again, half-asleep.

“It was…unpleasant.”

“That’s not what I asked you.”

Ivory called up strength. “He struck her, one time. Not too brutally. I think she expected that to be the end of it. But then he gave her to his men, instructed them to ruin her. There were five. One to hold each arm, one for each leg, and the fifth to…to defile her. They switched off the fifth spot, each man took a turn. She was unconscious before long. They brought her to with water, waited till they knew she could feel it, then continued. It went on for more than an hour. And then they cut her throat.”

“You stood by and watched this,” Mitch mumbled. “You did nothing.”

“My responsibility was Cheung’s security,” Ivory said in a voice redolent with shame. “I did my job. And they did theirs.”

Mitch tried to lift her head but it seemed to weigh a million pounds. “And you have suffered ever since,” she said softly.

“Yes,” Ivory said.

“And then you saved me, when you could have let me die.”

“Yes,” Ivory said.

Mitch felt herself slipping out of consciousness, felt oblivion creeping up on her. “I forgive you,” she murmured. “Valerie forgives you.”

She was swept away, as on a gently rocking boat, to the sound of Ivory’s tears.

Chapter 28

“The vent is corkscrew-shaped, with a switchback,” said Gabriel when they had reached the rockfall that disguised ingress to the cavern. The climbing had been steep, and Cheung had made Gabriel go first, knowing of his physical abilities and desirous of keeping his gun.

“The Killers of Men are inside?” said Cheung.

“Just inside. I can show them to you.”

“And this climbing equipment?” Cheung indicated the gear still scattered around the vent.

“Turned out to be unnecessary,” said Gabriel.

“This is an interesting conundrum, Mr. Hunt. If I let you precede me, you might enact some futile ambush. If I go first, you could conceivably slam the door on me.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have shot your other bodyguard,” said Gabriel.

Cheung steamed briefly. “Pah! Bodyguards are no more than physical extensions of my command. Without my authority, no power exists in the first place, do you understand? Kangxi Shih-k’ai, the Favored Son, was unafraid to lead his men into battle. No warlord fears to put himself at risk above all. That is why I do not fear you.”

Gabriel said nothing. He knew his brother’s life was dependent on making Cheung believe that whatever happened next was Cheung’s own decision.

“Snap these tight, so I can see them,” said Cheung, tossing Gabriel a pair of manacles retrieved from some inner pocket of his jacket.

“The funnel is difficult to negotiate.”

“You will cuff yourself and hold the lamp as we both proceed.” The ever-present gun terminated further debate.

Gabriel dropped the loose climbing gear back into the pile. Why hadn’t he thought to leave himself an extra gun here as well? He cinched the cuffs onto his wrists. Cheung checked them, tightened each to make sure Gabriel was secured. Then they went into the hole.

With his hands locked together by four links of tempered steel, Gabriel was reduced to the motility of a snake, his own lamp blinding him as Cheung squirmed through close behind. The rock jags made even a lucky kick impossible.

Several strands of climbing rope were threaded through the passage, like bright blood vessels.

“What are these for?” demanded Cheung.

“I was going to haul out some of the artifacts,” said Gabriel. “There wasn’t time.”

“Yes—robbing the graves of other cultures is a pastime of yours, isn’t it? And what is that smell ?”

“There are bats in the cave.”

“And my men?”

“I doubt any survived.” Gabriel had to fold up, then extend himself to scoot along, clearing the way for Cheung to follow, never forgetting the pistol pointed at him from behind. The way widened slightly as they proceeded toward the wide end of the funnel. “Kangxi Shih-k’ai rigged the entryway with a series of traps. Once the idol locked shut, there was no way in or out.”

“Except this way.”

“Yes—see for yourself.”

Gabriel expected Cheung’s lust to get the better of him as he approached his goal, and sure enough, Cheung was wriggling past him now like an eager child. But there was no room to move. No leeway for a blow or a chokehold. Gabriel felt the gun against him as Cheung passed.

Cheung swept his light across the blunt heads of the Killers of Men far below, his heart pounding, his breath short with astonishment.

“There must be…thousands of them,” he said in awe. Then he levered his fist right into Gabriel’s throat. “You didn’t say anything about there being a drop! You climbed out!”

“I thought that was obvious,” Gabriel said, chocking his boots against the nearest outcrop of rock.

“Damn you! It must be twenty meters to the floor!”

“I know,” said Gabriel.

In another two seconds, Cheung would be angrily backtracking to get all the mountaineering gear. Which made this the time to act. Gabriel lunged to his knees, swung his chained hands over Cheung’s head, pushed off like an Olympic swimmer, and launched them both into the black sky below.

Together, Cheung and Gabriel fell from the ceiling of the cavern for half a heartbeat, plunging into the void. Their lights and Cheung’s gun toppled away.

Then the carabiner locked around Gabriel’s belt cinched hard enough to compress several of Gabriel’s internal organs into a space rather too small to hold them all.

He had clipped it on before cuffing his hands during his dalliance over the equipment. The lifeline ran anonymously among the other ropes depending down the funnel. Now it convulsed to guitar-string tightness against the anchor pitons in the rock outside, which groaned with the impact and load, but held.