Freedom Incorporated - Peter Tylee (best biographies to read TXT) 📗

landing a punch on the mirror as he had after Katherine’s murder, he slapped himself hard across the cheek. Damn you.

Something whispered in his mind, a distant memory of a time he had wished to forget. It lured him closer, enticing him to enter a realm that he’d hoped he had escaped forever. That part of him lay impoverished by famine and decay, rusted from over a decade of neglect. With no further regard for what may become of his humanity, Dan reached into his past and donned the mantle of the shrewd exterminator he had once been. He wore it with as much ease as he had all those years ago. It surprised him that nothing visibly changed, despite his inner transformation. His reflection was just as it had been. He’d half expected a putrid aura of death to rise from his shoulders and his eyes to burn red like hot coals.

He snuck into his bedroom and sorted the darkest clothes from his collection. The garb he chose was black enough to put the Raven to shame. Weapons. He needed more than his pathetic Colt, which lay somewhere in the dust above. Long ago he’d carved a secret enclave from the master bedroom that opened into an armoury of forbidden weapons. They comprised some the most innovative slaughtering devices ever conceived. He replaced his Colt with a modified 8mm pistol that used a series of baffles to silence the shots. More. He couldn’t hunt men armed with automatic rifles carrying only a pistol.

The Cobra-KT was next. He stripped the barrel from the stock and slung them separately under his thick winter coat. Ammunition. He slotted five 8mm clips into his belt and filled four magazines for the Cobra-KT. His Ka-Bar Marine combat knife was next. The blade gleamed in the ambient light of his secret armoury and Dan inspected its razor-like edge before slotting it into a hidden sheath in his right boot.

And a pulse emitter. It was the strangest weapon he owned. Designed only 21 years earlier, it was the closest anybody had come to a laser weapon. Except it didn’t use light, it used a focussed beam of sound to decimate the target. Engineers had tuned the low frequency soundwave to the harmonic of human bones. Any human standing in its effective range - ten metres - would literally shatter when he pulled the trigger. The vibrations were beneath the audible range so the weapon was silent. Except for the crackle of exploding bone. Dan remembered the nightmarish sounds from the last time he’d used it. The muzzle was wide, four centimetres across, and the weapon had sleek lines, making it look docile next to the Cobra-KT. Best of all, it couldn’t run out of ammunition. A tiny hydrogen cell provided the pulse emitter with constant electricity, guaranteed for 4,000 uses. Dan checked the counter. Good. It still has 3,932 charges remaining. Charge time was sometimes an issue; it took five seconds to recharge between shots so it wasn’t a suitable primary weapon. But it fired a compact cone of devastating sound; the lethal spread was five degrees. And it was powerful enough to pulverise Esteban’s spine if he shoved the muzzle against his back and pulled the trigger.

Cuffs. Two sets of handcuffs slipped into the deep pockets of his coat.

I’m ready. He swept his room with one final glance before closing the armoury and striding into the lounge room where Samantha and Cookie were waiting.

“Where to now?” Cookie asked anxiously.

“I’m chipped,” Dan said. “And that’ll be a problem where we’re going.”

Cookie nodded thoughtfully. “I know a guy…”

*

Jen closed her eyes, unable to look into the face of the man who was planning to murder her. It was a strange thing, knowing that you were going to die. It put many things in perspective. So many things that she had considered important suddenly didn’t matter. She almost wanted to laugh, and would have if the pain radiating from her wrists wasn’t bringing tears unbidden to her eyes.

One thing was certain: she wasn’t going to beg. Jen had listened to Esteban recount the horror of Katherine’s death and refused to give them the satisfaction of hearing her beg for her life. Dogs beg, not people. It steadied her resolve and she lifted her chin, opening her eyes again. She wondered whether he was sensitive enough to notice the difference in her gaze, to see that she was stronger than the worst pain he could inflict.

Should I talk to him? She wondered whether she could control her impulses to spit and scream if she tried. Even breathing was painful. It sent shockwaves spiralling out from the wire that was rubbing into raw nerves. Or stay silent? Which would he prefer? She would do the opposite. Hmm… Jen knew he liked watching her cower in fear and didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

When she finally mustered the energy to speak, the calm of her voice surprised her. “Do you care to tell me why you’re doing this?”

Esteban smiled slickly. “Let’s just say some people were pissed that you hacked into our network and ordered the Raven to do something he oughtn’t.”

She stifled a gasp. “He did it?”

“And about time too,” Esteban said callously. “That old fart was a pain in the backside. You actually did us a favour, you know? It’s just a pity we can’t let you live now.”

Jen tried to leverage herself to a more comfortable position but couldn’t. “Then would you mind loosening my wrists? You tied them too tight.”

“Uh, no. Sorry.” Esteban twisted to reach into the trunk and hefted a black case onto his lap. “They’re tight for a reason. But they wouldn’t cause you so much pain if you’d sit still.”

She noticed something feral in Esteban’s gaze and it frightened her. He’s crazy… he’s totally fucking insane. That was perhaps the scariest thing of all, not that she was in a car with a man that intended to rape and kill her, but that Esteban was several sandwiches short of a picnic. Jen did her best to mask her fear by studying the other two men. The driver was diagonally opposite and therefore easier to see. He had a thick jaw, but looked too neatly presented to be a thug. He wore a suit and a tie, and probably shoes polished to a high gloss. His strawberry hair curled around his ears and a thick pelt covered his giant paws, which gripped the steering wheel. He chose that moment to shift gears and their land cruiser bunny-hopped before he found the friction point between clutch and accelerator. A cry of pain escaped from her lungs at the sudden jolt and the driver turned to see what the fuss was. She saw compassion in his brackish eyes and he coughed an apology for his clumsy driving. How odd, she thought. It forged the basis for hope and Jen wondered whether she could escape by befriending the driver.

“Watch it Junior.” Esteban leered, slapping him on the shoulder again. “You’ll hurt our grace.”

Junior? Jen jotted a mental note.

Next, she tried to see the man in front. She couldn’t see much: shortly cropped black hair, ears that stuck out like barn doors, and a neatly shaved neck. Another suit. Hmm… figures. It fit her stereotype of ruthless corporate managers. He still cradled his automatic rifle and was nervously checking the side mirror every few seconds. They didn’t know whether Dan had stowed a car in an underground garage and was tearing down the road in hot pursuit.

What if he’s waiting for us in town? Adrian swallowed and said, “We’re not going back to Andamooka are we?”

“How should I know?” Junior retorted. “You’re the nav.”

“No, don’t,” Esteban piped in. “Sutherland might have laid a trap.” He snatched the map and stabbed it with a finger, looking for a new destination. He felt bitterly disappointed to see how far Andamooka was from the rest of civilization; there were no nearby towns. “We’ll have to knock politely on someone’s door.” He flipped the lid on the leather case he’d been stroking and Jen saw needles, lots of them, and fluid-filled tubes.

“Now, unfortunately, we can’t have you messing up our plans.” He extracted a hypodermic needle and plunged it into a reservoir of clear fluid.

“What is that?” Jen could no longer control the fear in her voice.

“Party juice.” Esteban grinned, squirting the air bubble from the top of the needle after flicking it a few times first. “Now, hold still.”

Jen wriggled as far back as she could, trying desperately to reach the doorhandle. She thought she’d rather take her chances tumbling headlong to the road than trust her body to whatever Esteban had sucked into the needle. It was tantalisingly close; the tips of her fingers brushed the latch. But she paid a hefty price, the restraints cut deeper into her wrists and she sobbed in agony.

“Shh… hush child.” Esteban stabbed her in the shoulder, shoving the needle deep enough for the tip to scrape her humerus. He plunged the liquid into her body and yanked the needle free, leaving Jen to wince at the new pain that distracted her from the throbbing in her wrists.

Her feeling was the first to go. At least it numbed the pain. Next was her sight - the world faded to black. In that instant, she clung to consciousness with sound alone, and she heard Esteban slobber something in her ear. She used her last thoughts before the silent void of oblivion swamped her to wonder whether she’d ever wake up.