The smelly jungle heat washed over him like a dead man's final breath, cloying and nauseating, but he ignored it. He could have made a more pleasant scenario, a nice ski lodge in the Alps, or a sunny ocean beach at Malibu, with wheeling seagulls and bikini-clad starlets bouncing past, but this was the place where the tiger had jumped him, and this was the place he had to get back on the figurative horse. If he didn't, he knew he would always be afraid. And you couldn't webwalk if you were afraid; there were too many set-piece scenarios you had to live in, too many jungles out there to avoid them all.
The fear tasted like warm zinc in his mouth. He sweated, he trembled, he felt his wind nearly catch in a sob every other breath. Once upon a time, he had been Super Jay, faster than a speeding bullet and more powerful than a locomotive, able to laugh at any and all dangers in any dark corner of the net. But not anymore. The tiger's massive claw had wiped that invulnerability away. It had shown Jay the darkness at the end of the road. The darkness where everybody had to go eventually, a thing he had known intellectually but had not really in his heart of hearts believed.
He believed it now.
He hated the tiger for that. For making him afraid. For forcing him to acknowledge what everybody knew but nobody really talked about. Jay didn't believe in a benevolent god waiting to greet him at the pearly gates to some mythical heaven, no more than he believed in a malevolent ruler of some never-ending hell. His faith had been in himself, in his own abilities, and the tiger had taken that from him. Saji's talk of Buddhism had helped, and he felt drawn to that religion because it was so pragmatic and based in earthly reality, but it hadn't erased the fear.
He saw a mark in the jungle floor, a slight depression on a patch of old leaves and twigs long since rotted to damp humus. He glanced up at the guide, who stood scanning the jungle, then back at the mark. Not very deep for such a huge tiger, but it was part of a track, he was sure of it. It had gone this way.
Which meant that Jay was going to have to go this way, too.
He raised from his crouch. 'Come on, Mowgli. Through here.'
'Yes,
So far, the scenario was holding steady; that was something.
He wondered how long he could maintain the surrounding imagery if he saw the tiger? Not very long, he figured.
Jay took a deep breath, adjusted the shotgun's strap, and started forward.
Peel smiled at Huard. Inside his office, the former church, the younger man looked somehow out of place. Probably hadn't been in a church since he was a lad, not that Peel could claim too many such visits himself. Outside of attending regimental weddings and funerals and this place, religion hadn't been his cup of tea.
'And your impression of the fellow?'
'Well, sir, he didn't seem all that swift. I mean, he didn't see me until I stepped in front of him, almost on his toes, and he just stood there with his hand in his pocket like he was playing with himself. I'd say he's lost most of his moves since he was with the Russians. If he ever had any moves. Sir.'
Peel nodded. 'You have the recording?'
'Right here.'
Huard tendered an infoball the size of a marble.
Peel slotted the infoball into the computer's reader and clicked it on. The holographic projection appeared at one-sixth scale over Peel's desk. The image of Ruzhyo from the minicam in Huard's belt buckle was remarkably sharp and stable. Ought to be, for what they'd paid for the bloody camera. The former Spetsnaz agent was across the street, his image blocked by passing vehicles as Huard started toward him.
'Computer, magnification times two.'
The holoproj blinked and doubled in size. Ruzhyo stood on the street corner, staring into space. Yes, well, he did look distracted — hello?
'Computer, stop play. Rewind fifty frames, replay, magnification times three.'
Huard, still at a modified parade rest, frowned. 'Sir?'
'Watch, Huard. And learn.'
The image blinked and began again, larger, a closer view of Ruzhyo. There. Just as the image waggled a little — that would be Huard stepping from the curb — Ruzhyo's eyes shifted.
Peel grinned. 'There's where he spotted you, Corporal.'
'Sir?'
'He's just seen you across the street. And without moving his head too much, he's checking out his surroundings. Looking for other players.'
Huard shook his head. 'I don't see it, sir.'
'No, of course not. Computer, normal-size image.'
The view shifted, just as Ruzhyo put his hand into his pocket.
Peel said, 'He's got a weapon in his pocket. Knife, or maybe one of the small South American keychain pistols.'
'How can you tell that? Sir.'
'Because that's what I'd have done if I saw you coming toward me across the street. If you had made any sudden moves once you got there, he would have cut your throat or put a couple of small-caliber bullets into you.'
'I was armed, sir.'
'Huard, this man was killing people when you were still in short pants. That you were unaware of him seeing you and preparing for your arrival is hardly unexpected. Had you reached for your pistol, I expect we wouldn't be having this conversation.'
Huard didn't believe him, but he said, 'If you say so, sir.'
Peel grinned. Youth was so wasted on the young. They thought they were going to live forever; it was amazing that as many of them lived as long as they did. If Huard survived, someday he might understand.
'That's all, then. Carry on.'
'Sir.' Huard came to attention, did an about face, and left the building.
'Computer, replay sequence.'
The machine obeyed. Peel watched. He did enjoy watching a real professional at work. He was looking forward to seeing Ruzhyo again. Good men were hard to find.
Chapter 23
Toni didn't have any spare time, not with the crisis as dramatic as it was, but she'd realized long ago that if she didn't exercise, she wouldn't be much good in the middle of a high-stress environment. She had to have a valve to bleed off the pressure, and if she went a day or two without doing
So, this morning, the workout was going to have to come off the top. Not yet five A.M. and she was up, washing her face, the bathroom door closed so as not to wake Alex, dressing in sweats for a trip to the hotel's gym. True, it wouldn't be the best workout this early, but anything was better than nothing. It wasn't as if she wanted to be up before dawn and breaking a sweat, it was a need. An addiction, maybe, but it was putting money in the bank: Today's deposit might not be as big as she'd like, but at least there would be something to draw on later if she needed it. And given how things were going, she would need it. So much for their vacation.
But in truth, she was a little excited. Carl Stewart was going to meet her in the hotel's gym. When she'd
