Page 46 of Hunter

His throat clenched, cutting off the song. What was his time? His season.

This morning he felt caught between two different worlds. The old world where he did what he was told without question and without feeling anything. And the new world where his mind seethed with questions and emotions.

It was strange to admit that he took a kind of grim pleasure in Beckton’s new fear of him. But he kept it well hidden, he hoped. He must not let them know how much he had changed since meeting Kathryn.

Kathryn. That was her first name. He didn’t have to call her Kathryn Kelley, he suddenly decided. He could think of just the first part. The part her other friends would use.

If things were different, the two of them might—

Hands clenched on the steering wheel of the truck, he stopped the daydream before it could form. He would finish his instruction at Stratford Creek, then go on to his primary assignment, and that would be the end of it. But now he had another mission, as well. He must keep Kathryn safe while she was here. The problem was, he didn’t know what would happen if he came to a juncture where the two aims clashed.

The worry made him lose his concentration, and he tapped the right front fender of the truck against a barrel. He had made a mistake, he thought as he forced his mind back to the obstacle course. He had taken this test before. He’d better not do worse than the last time. Or Colonel Emerson would ask questions.

###

Long after McCourt had left, Kathryn sat rigidly in the living room chair, afraid to trust her legs. She’d always been good about putting up a calm front. She hoped she’d fooled McCourt.

She’d felt like a prisoner ever since she’d arrived at Stratford Creek, but the security chief had just given her a vivid demonstration of his power over her. In a way, he was worse than James Harrison. Fear of the man had driven her here, because she knew what to expect from Harrison. From the beginning, she hadn’t known what to expect here.

Finally, she looked at her watch and pushed herself out of the chair. She’d better pick up the groceries she’d promised Hunter.

She had been thinking about what extra treats to buy him. Now she was sorry she hadn’t made a list, because her brain was a complete blank. Well, maybe when she looked at the grocery shelves, she’d remember what she was supposed to be doing.

She started for the door, then stopped abruptly. Was it safe to leave the house, she wondered, glancing uneasily toward the kitchen cabinet that held more than food? For a split second, she thought about putting the gun in her purse. Then she sighed and headed for the door. If she got caught with a gun tucked in her purse, she’d have some tough explaining to do. If somebody found it in the kitchen cabinet, she could truthfully say she hadn’t put it there.

###

Hunter had bragged to Kathryn that he could get personnel information. Now he realized his desire to please her had made him speak too quickly.

As he sat in front of the computer screen in a windowless basement room of the administration building, the chances of getting the files she wanted seemed slim.

Pushing the printer button, he half turned to look at the man sitting directly behind him.

“You need some help?” the man asked. His name was Hertz. He was small and stoop shouldered and wore a baggy sweater in the cool climes of the basement office.

“No,” Hunter answered, wishing that Hertz would leave the room. Apparently, he’d been told to stay. In fact, he realized, someone was almost always watching him, except when he was being tested on a solo exercise. He’d never thought much about the lack of privacy. Today, however, he was vividly aware of the constant scrutiny—and a lot of other details of his life he’d never questioned.

He didn’t know what Hertz had been told about him, besides that he was preparing for a special assignment. Maybe Hertz had been told the same thing as Kathryn—that he was instructing a prisoner volunteer. They’d only worked together on a sporadic basis and always stuck strictly to business. Searching his memory, he decided that the man wasn’t usually as conscientious a watcher as the regular instructors. Yet today he hovered nervously in the background like—

Like what”

A fifth wheel?

No, that was the wrong phrase. The wrong idiom.

Like a watchdog. That was better, he thought with a little grin. The grin vanished as he considered why the man was being so conscientious. Probably the incident with Beckton was being talked about around the compound.

Again, he reproved himself for hitting the training chief. It was a mistake. But it was in the past, and he couldn’t change it. He could only go forward, he thought as he booted up a government-restricted Internet search engine.

He had used the Net before, and he had no problem locating a directory of the faculty in the physics department at the University of Stockholm and printing the biographies of selected department members. Then he went on to download and print out product specifications from an aircraft manufacturer in California.

But while he was doing the assigned work, part of his mind was on Kathryn’s requests. She wanted Stratford Creek personnel records and a list of decathlon winners.

Perhaps he would have to make a choice between the two options. If he had time to get only one of the things, he would pick the personnel records. That was more important, he told himself. It would help her.

Finding out about dead athletes was another matter, he thought with a sudden prickle of fear at the back of his neck. He wasn’t sure why he was afraid of putting a name to the face he saw every morning in the mirror when he shaved. He told himself that he didn’t want to open a door that had always been closed.

After about forty-five minutes, he stood up. “I’m going to the men’s room.”

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