split second, she pondered whether Kier would be better off if Tillman pulled the trigger.
Chapter 31
Some men would invent evil spirits if they learned they did not exist.
Kier landed squarely on the man's back, flattening him to the ground. One twist around the neck with the garrote and Kier had a lethal hold. Soon the mad flailing gave way to unconsciousness, allowing Kier to release the pressure. The guy had no cuffs in his pack like the rest. Instead, Kier used the laces from the man's boots to tie his hands, then cut one Achilles tendon. What ammo he didn't keep, he tossed in the brush. To make them useless, he removed the firing mechanism from the two pistols and the M-16, discarding the vital parts.
Kier worked quickly, knowing that the watcher-by far the deadlier of the two-might arrive at any moment. As soon as they knew a soldier was down they would send out a squad.
Passing through the densest part of the forest, mostly on his belly, Kier returned to the rock and the dogwood. No one remained there. Kier had no thought as to where the man might have gone, except down the trail to find the flunky.
Kier decided to wait before proceeding to the house. A feeling that it was the wrong target began to take hold. If Tillman was around, he would likely be near the Donahues' house, watching and waiting. It was much more like this man to be part of the trap than the bait.
Something made him look back in the direction he had come. A chipmunk sat in a moon ray, frozen on a log, watching, flicking his tail as if it had been disturbed. There was no sound, but a shadow stood against the leaves of a nearby myrica. If it was a man, he was good. No more than twenty feet separated them. Despite his will to remain watchful and still, Kier's heart quickened. Every fiber of his being said he was in danger. For just a second, he wondered why the man didn't strike.
Without a plan, without thought, he bolted to his right just before he heard the sound of a clip sliding into a pistol. Then he sprang for a log, rolling next to it. At any second, a grenade could drop beside him. If the man was throwing a grenade, he wouldn't be able to shoot for a couple of seconds. It was a horrible gamble, but Kier curled to a crouch, then jumped the log. Straight at
his target he ran, knowing that at any moment he could be shot to pieces by an M-16.
He saw the hand cocked, poised to throw, the bulk of a pistol in the other hand. Kier fired into the metal breastplate that would cover the man's chest. The bullet knocked him backward. Then Kier fell upon him.
A tangle of gouging fingers and raining fists fought the encumbrance of the so-called bulletproof jackets. Of their vitals, only the men's faces were unprotected. The soldier fought with a ferocity that Kier had never encountered. Kier could feel thick fingers closing on his neck. They had come to rest almost head to head. At the same moment, each struggled to get atop the other. As they both came to one knee, Kier grabbed a thumb to break the man's chokehold. When the fingers started to slip, the man pulled back and swung with his fist. It caught Kier straight on the jaw, stunning him. Kier shook it off and plunged at his opponent, pinning him back to the ground.
He realized the man was looking in his face, talking, no longer struggling.
'Stop fighting. I'm the FBI. Special Agent Doyle.'
Kier barely comprehended the words. With the opening, he swung again, landing the punch squarely on the smooth-shaven chin. The man's face went slack and Kier struck again. He didn't move.
'FBI, my ass,' Kier muttered to himself, cuffing the man with his own handcuffs. Still, something in the back of his mind made him uneasy. What if he was the FBI? No. Couldn't be. This was a hired killer. He had been about to throw a- Kier's eye went to the green metal shape. Unbelievable. It was a stun grenade-wouldn't kill anybody.
A groan made Kier turn. Returning to Doyle, Kier knelt and shook him until he became fully conscious.
'I'm Doyle,' the man said. 'I was trying to talk.'
'How does the FBI get with a madman like this guy?'
Doyle shook his head as if trying to think. ''We were tipped off that Tillman-Jack Tillman's his name-was doing criminal things. I got hired through a mere agency overseas just like everyone else, only I'm undercover FBI.'
'Why should I believe you?'
'You've got to. And when you hear what I have to say, you will believe me.'
Kier crossed his arms, silent. 'You were holding a pistol.'
'Check the clip. You probably heard me pop in the rubber bullets,' he said. 'It might help if I speak with Agent Mayfield.'
'She's not here. What's Tillman up to?'
'It's a very long, involved story.'
'Try me.'
'What I know is mostly from FBI files. But yesterday I got him to confide in me, and I was able to fill in some gaps.'
'So?'
''First off, we think he created a number of cloned infants for medical research. He mapped the human genome.'
'I know that. What else?'
'You read it in Volume Six?'
'Volume Five.'
'Have you got Volume Six?'
'Not so fast. Tell me more.'
'Right. Well, you know he's using the Tilok clinic to get surrogate mothers for the clones?'
'My cousin gave birth as a surrogate-they said it was for adoptive parents,' Kier said. 'Beautiful baby.'
'I'm sorry to hear that.' Doyle fingered his bloody lip with cuffed hands. 'They make the babies brain dead with a chemical cocktail they call Whiteout. Call the babies tissue samples. The child barely functions. Just eats, defecates, and sleeps.'
Kier felt as though he had been dealt a blow to the stomach. He stared at the dark outline of Doyle, hatred boiling in him.
'Were these kids all mutilated after they were taken?'
''None of the babies was adopted by wealthy families like they said.'
Kier was dizzy with disgust, with loathing. ''Tillman cloned me.' His voice shook when he said it.
'I'm sorry. I had no way of knowing. How did you find out?'
'Tillman. I believe him when he says one of those birth dates and social security numbers was mine. I've seen the ID. numbers for other people in the summaries.'
'I'm telling you all this so you'll believe I'm not just some mercenary,' Doyle said. 'Okay?'
'Go ahead.'
'Tillman made one move that didn't work out the way he planned.'
'The vector-virus work.'
'You figured that out too?'
Kier didn't answer.
'It was only a tiny part of their work,' Doyle continued. 'But it went really wrong. They rushed too fast to make a vector of an African virus thought to be harmless. Which wasn't and was worse after the bug mutated in a Tilok. It's very slow acting. Goes to the bone marrow and could take years to kill you. Or it can go faster depending on your immune system. They ended up studying the DNA makeup of the Tiloks.'
'Was 1220 a Tilok?'
'She was. She was exposed to the naturally mutated vector-virus RA-4TVM when they discovered quite by
