The congressman nodded, then rose into a crouch and began running toward Lian. Murray seemed to quickly realize the merit of the idea, and followed closely behind Guerrero.
As Quinn waited for them to disappear between the containers, rain began to fall. It went from nothing to downpour without any warning. The deluge pounded against the tops of the containers in a thunderous staccato.
Quinn turned and ran back over to where he had left Tasha. He no longer worried about masking his footsteps, as the rain effectively negated all other sound.
But before he even reached the metal maze, he brought himself to an abrupt stop, slipping nearly a foot on the new mud, but not falling down.
Tasha was no longer standing near the containers. She was lying on the ground, writhing in pain.
Standing where she had been was Jenny.
CHAPTER
JENNY BROUGHT HER PISTOL UP TO FIRE AT QUINN.
Without even thinking, he aimed his SIG in her direction, and pulled the trigger as he dove to the right.
He hit the ground hard. Mud and water splashed up onto his face and clothes. He fired again, but Jenny was gone.
In an instant, he was on his feet and running. Staying in the clearing only meant death. When he reached Tasha, he knelt down. It didn’t look like she’d been shot, but there was a large gash on the side of her head.
“Can you hear me?” he said.
“Yes.” Her voice was infused with pain. “I’ll be fine. Just go find her.”
Quinn looked back to the clearing and saw Lian heading in their direction. The man pointed at Tasha, then at himself. The message was clear: he’d take care of her, Quinn could go.
Instead of heading for the aisle he’d last seen Jenny in, Quinn veered to the right, taking the next path over.
He was soaked, but he barely noticed as he raced between the containers. He tried to listen for her steps, but he was again defeated by the storm.
He came to a small opening between the containers. It was not quite a path, but was wide enough for him to squeeze through. As he worked his way between the metal boxes, he realized there were thousands of places she could be hiding. He might never find her before she found him. This was the advantage the hunted had over the hunter, especially when the hunted was armed and deadly.
When he reached the next aisle, he paused for a second. There was no sound but the rain from beyond. Slow and deliberate, he moved out into the aisle just enough so that he could get a look in either direction.
To the left was the way back to the clearing. It was empty. And to the right, more metal containers. And rain.
And movement.
Jenny.
The rain had cut down visibility so he had almost missed her. But there she was, about seventy-five feet away, and headed deeper into the compound, toward the back fence.
Quinn moved into the aisle and began running after her. He stayed to the left, hugging the containers and using what little camouflage they could provide him.
She was moving fast, and he had to sprint to gain even a few feet on her. He was in serious danger of losing her again.
Without stopping, he brought his gun up and aimed in her direction. He knew as he pulled the trigger there was very little chance he would hit her. And he was right. There was no sign she had even noticed the bullet.
He took aim again and fired.
Another miss, but this time she reacted, jumping to her right as if she was getting out of the way. She glanced over her shoulder, then cut to her left and disappeared around the end of a stack.
The rain was still continuing its relentless assault as if it were trying to erase all signs of man from the island. Quinn almost felt like he needed a machete to hack through it as he took the first opening to the left, down a parallel path to the one Tasha was on. The aisle at the next intersection was empty.
He continued on.
Another empty aisle.
But when he reached intersection number four, he caught a glimpse of her on the parallel path at the far end of the stack. Then she disappeared again.
He turned to his right, intending to move in behind her, but his movement had been too abrupt, and he slipped on the mud and slammed into the side of a box marked evergreen.
His gun was knocked loose from his hand and landed in a dirty puddle a few feet away.
Quinn wiped the excess water from his forehead, then pushed himself onto his feet. His left shoulder pulsed with searing pain, and the arm below it felt like someone was randomly applying electroshock through his elbow.
