Page 14 of Hunter

“I’m fine,” she lied, clamping down on the need to press a hand to her temple, which had begun to throb.

“Well, I’m impressed with the way you came in here cold and figured out what needed to be done. I was worried we might damage him.”

The casually delivered comment made her lower her hand so that he wouldn’t see it tremble. “Damage,” she repeated. “You sound like you’re referring to a piece of equipment.”

“Yes. Sorry. Habits die hard.” He paused for a fraction of a second. “We’ve thought of John Doe as a test subject for so long that it’s difficult to shift our attitudes.”

“Perhaps it would help if you told me what he’s being trained to do,” she said in as nonconfrontational a voice as she could manage.

“Yes, I was about to fill you in on some pertinent background when we were so rudely interrupted. Our subject has volunteered for a dangerous mission in a foreign country. He must go in by himself, maybe set up a temporary base of operations, which means he’s got to function in a public setting without drawing suspicion to himself. In other words, he needs a crash course in acceptable social behavior. That’s where your expertise will be needed.”

Several pointed observations flitted through Kathryn’s mind. The first was that Hunter was backward socially because he was living with a bunch of jerks. The second was that it was a bit unfair to be undertaking a dangerous assignment when you couldn’t remember having volunteered. All she said was, “What kind of mission?”

“You don’t need to know any more than I’ve told you.” Emerson answered crisply. “You just have to make sure he’s ready to go.”

The way he said it made her blood run cold. But she only gave him a little nod of acknowledgment.

Emerson pulled into the same parking spot behind the administration building. However, instead of taking her to his office, he showed her into an adjoining conference room.

“Take a few minutes to relax before the meeting starts,” he advised before leaving her alone.

She didn’t have any problem following his advice. The moment he closed the door behind her, she slumped in one of the seats around the conference table. She’d only gotten a few moments of blessed repose when a disturbing thought drifted into her mind. Emerson had mentioned that the surveillance equipment in the locker room was broken. What if he had a recording system in here? Sitting up, she looked around, seeing nothing as obvious as a camera. Maybe it was hidden behind a picture—like in Orwell’s1984, she thought with a grim little twinge as she inspected a landscape on the opposite wall. Well, she’d have to learn to adapt to the conditions here, she told herself, and knew she’d made the decision to stay.

Minutes later, the brunette secretary bustled into the room with a tray of sandwiches and muffins and a pot of coffee. She also opened a lower cabinet and brought out a selection of canned sodas.

Kathryn helped herself to a turkey sandwich and coffee. But as she tried to eat, an image of Hunter being dragged away by the security team flashed into her mind.

Dropping her sandwich on the paper plate in front of her, she started to rise from her seat, seized with the irrational notion that if she could make physical contact with him—grasp his hand or something—she could somehow make him understand that she hadn’t tricked him on purpose. But she didn’t even know where to find him, she conceded as she sank back into her chair. Even if she did, she’d only be demonstrating an unprofessional personal involvement with the Stratford Creek research subject. Not a smart move, under the circumstances.

At that moment, the door opened, and Winslow strode in. After several seconds hesitation, he gave her a curt nod and took a seat across the table. Where he could keep an eye on her? Or did he want to make it clear they weren’t allies?

“How is he?” she couldn’t stop herself from asking.

“Sleeping. Dr. Kolb is checking him out.”

At least that was something. Before she could ask any more questions, McCourt arrived. To her surprise, he turned out to be the Assistant Chief of Security. What was he, the boy wonder?

Other men followed, each introducing himself and briefly filling her in on his job. Sam Winslow worked under Jerome Beckton, the Chief of Training. Doug Granger, who looked like a college wrestling champion with bulging muscles and a ruddy complexion, was also on the training staff. As Emerson had already mentioned, Dr. Swinton was Chief of Research. Dr. Kolb, the facility’s physician, a small man with a pale complexion and a deeply lined face, came hurrying in last.

Like Emerson, everyone was dressed in civilian clothing. But as she studied the men he’d referred to as the Senior Staff, she noted that they all projected a military bearing, except for the tall, balding Dr. Swinton. She pegged him as an academic type when she spotted his white socks and plastic pocket protector stuffed full of ballpoint pens. Of the men in the room, he looked the most uncomfortable in her presence. Maybe he was sensing her antipathy to his line of research.

Apparently, the staff members often combined a meal with meetings because everybody helped himself to sandwiches and a drink. None of them went out of his way to be friendly, but they were definitely curious about the new recruit.

Of the group, she found Dr. Kolb the most unsettling. Although he didn’t want her to know he had any special interest in her, his bloodshot eyes kept swinging in her direction when he thought she wasn’t looking

Emerson came in late, poured himself a cup of coffee and snagged a ham sandwich before taking the place at the head of the table. “Where’s Anderson?” he asked.

“My assistant had other duties,” Dr. Swinton answered, making it sound like he didn’t feel Anderson was entitled to a place at the table.

Emerson gave a curt nod, then turned abruptly to Dr. Kolb. “How is John Doe?”

The doctor jumped. “Uh. . . his vital signs are normal, under the circumstances, colonel.”

“Good.” Emerson took in the information, then addressed the rest of the men. “I trust you’ve all met Dr. Kelley, our newly hired psychologist, and that you are all familiar with her excellent background in working with various types of disadvantaged individuals.”

There was a chorus of murmurs around the table.

So, he’d already circulated her résumé, Kathryn thought. Fast work.

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