The Hunters

girl. When the proprietor objected, I objected back with the gun.’

‘You shot at the guy?’ Jasmine asked.

McNutt shrugged. ‘Don’t worry: it wasn’t a real guy. It was a carnie. Bullets can’t kill carnies. Nothing can. They’re like cockroaches.’

Papineau rolled his eyes and continued. ‘And finally, allow me to formally introduce you to Jackson Cobb, Junior — son of Brigadier General Jackson Cobb, Senior. Our Jack began his career as a member of the Army’s one hundred and sixtieth Special Operations Aviation Regiment-’

‘The Night Stalkers,’ McNutt elaborated.

‘- much to the reported displeasure of his father, who wanted him to join the Marines. In fact, once the Marines finalized their Special Operations Regiment in 2007, General Cobb used his far-reaching influence, both personally and professionally, to see that his son took a commanding post in the unit.’

‘You name it, they can do it,’ McNutt said with admiration.

Papineau elaborated. ‘According to my sources, Lieutenant Commander Cobb had an exemplary career in many bases of operation. He is one of the finest leaders the US military has produced in the last few decades. Exceptional at empty-handed combat, extremely well regarded amongst international authorities, he is our … hmmm? What would you call yourself, Jack?’

Papineau already knew the answer to his question. He meant to put Cobb — the obvious leader of the group — on the spot.

Cobb shrugged. ‘I would call myself the fifth member of this team.’

McNutt laughed. ‘Don’t let his modesty fool you. The SEALs begged the Marines to loan him out for a couple of missions. So did the MANIACs. And if they wanted to work with him, you know he’s the best of the best.’

Sarah eyed Cobb with a new level of respect — and curiosity.

Why was someone like him sitting in a room with them?

She pulled no punches. ‘Sorry to be nosy, Lieutenant Commander Cobb, but what did you do to fuck up such a perfect life? Did you shoot a carnie, too?’

‘Something like that,’ Cobb said as he turned his attention to the tropical landscape outside of the dining room window.

Sarah smelled weakness and pounced. ‘That’s it? That’s all you’re going to give us? You teased me all week about my checkered past, now you’re unwilling to tell us what you did to end up here? What kind of bullshit is that?’

Cobb remained silent.

He knew Papineau would fill in the blanks for her.

‘Jack was court-martialed,’ Papineau explained. ‘For “offenses against the uniform code of military justice”. Articles eighty-seven, eighty-eight, and ninety-nine, I believe.’

Sarah frowned. ‘Sorry, I don’t speak military. What did he actually do?’

‘I really wish you’d shut up,’ Cobb said quietly.

Papineau ignored him. ‘The thing about Jack Cobb, according to the court-martial transcript, is that when he was assigned a mission, he finished the mission, even when the senior brass changed their minds. In this case, they wanted to spare a terrorist to use as a political pawn. A knife, concealed in Cobb’s palm, disagreed.’

‘What kind of blade?’ McNutt asked.

‘Enough,’ Cobb said louder.

Papineau continued. ‘Suffice it to say, Monsieur Cobb got off fairly lucky considering what they could have charged him with. He received a dishonorable discharge with no prison time. I’m guessing his father had something to say about that as well.’

‘I said, enough!’ Cobb glared at Papineau. He had no idea what the Frenchman was trying to achieve, but the bastard had gone too far. It was one thing to highlight his resume for the team; it was quite another to reveal classified details of his court-martial.

Sarah patted his shoulder, trying to calm him. ‘Relax, Jack. You did what you thought was right. I see nothing wrong with that.’

‘Me neither,’ McNutt agreed.

‘Nor do I,’ Papineau said in a tone that was tough to read. ‘I apologize if I brought up an incident that you would rather not talk about, but as I said early on, I think it’s important to clear the air before we proceed any further.’

Cobb continued to glare. ‘I couldn’t agree more, Papi. With that in mind, why don’t you tell us about your past? Specifically, how did you acquire your money?’

Papineau forced a smile. He didn’t like being on this side of the spotlight. ‘I made my fortune in a variety of businesses too numerous to recount.’

‘Name one,’ Cobb demanded.

‘Pardon?’

‘One business in which you invested. Something Hector can check.’

Garcia glanced at Papineau. ‘Yeah. That would be nice. Your name doesn’t show up anywhere I’ve looked.’

‘I noticed,’ Cobb said, holding up his phone and wiggling it.

The Frenchman explained. ‘My background is very private, and my investments are deep and diverse. Energy, banking, entertainment — anything that is profitable and challenging.’

‘Enron? Pyramid schemes? Porn?’ Sarah pressed.

‘I have money managers who handle that. I do not become directly involved.’

Cobb leaned forward. ‘Except here.’

Papineau nodded. ‘Except here.’

Cobb was willing to bet the man wouldn’t know an annual report from a yearbook, and he was confident that ‘Papineau’ wasn’t his real name, either.

But that was a mystery for a later day.

15

Papineau sensed the troops were getting restless. He knew he needed to grab their attention before they turned against him completely. He raised his finger to his lips, asking for silence.

‘Thank you,’ he said politely. ‘Now that we know a little more about each other’s accomplishments, I think it’s time that we get to the purpose of this gathering.’

‘It’s about time,’ McNutt grumbled.

Papineau chose to ignore him. ‘As I entered the dawn of my twilight years, I became intent on finding a way to leave my mark in history. Initially, I had no intention of focusing on the subject of history itself, but after giving it some thought, I decided to use the mysteries of the past as a starting point. To achieve what I had in mind, I understood the error of simply hiring the top experts in a variety of historical fields. Rather, I wanted to assemble the best team possible: a group that would combine to form the ultimate squad of hunters, whose talents were specifically tailored to meet my goals. I spent months searching for each of you, and several weeks more finding the proper way to test you all.’

Sarah frowned. ‘What was your criterion?’

‘I used a test called SAR, which stands for Stress-Action Ratio. It was developed by NASA when they first began recruiting men to fly into space. The examiner took something that people claimed to be an expert in and tested that skill under pressure. Either the pilots succeeded in overriding a malfunctioning space capsule system — or they perished. Even with that initial test, at least one of the original seven astronauts appears to have cracked under pressure on a mission. So NASA instituted double-jeopardy examinations unimaginatively called SAR-B. The systems fail and the lights go out, or some combination of troubles.’

Cobb wasn’t buying it, not entirely. NASA’s half-century-old winnowing process was not part of any modern curriculum he had heard of, but Cobb was willing to play along for now. ‘Which explains our homework assignment