Net Force--Kill Chain by Jerome Preisler (e book reader txt) 📕

see where he was going in the water. He did not need to give anyone the chance to see him.

Finally ready, Tai keyed on the engine, took the wheel, and pulled out, rain and sleet skipping through his light like excited insects. He’d seen no sign of Mori and her friend, so they obviously hadn’t been stupid enough to try getting off the island on the Big Dipper. Which meant they would probably try sitting out the storm and then make for their kayak.

He didn’t think they would get that far. He was convinced his brother would track them down first. But if they did somehow manage to elude him, there would be a surprise awaiting them.

The boat bobbing and pitching on the furious chop, Tai steered east out of the inlet and took a slight southward turn around the island’s shore. Then his masthead lamp revealed the crescent of the shell beach ahead to his left, looking like a wide white grin in the darkness.

He made for it at once.

The tree house was a leaky six-foot square, like a large shipping crate, the nails holding it together caked with rust, the boards sodden and moldering and well advanced in their slow decay. There were gaps in the roof, small animal droppings, and the papery remains of a wasp’s nest in one corner. It smelled dank and musky inside, and the whole thing was creaky and cramped. But somehow it had held more or less together over the years and was sturdy enough to support Bryan and Natasha’s weight.

Climbing into it hadn’t been difficult. Bryan went first, strapping the Maglite to his forearm with an elastic cord from his pack, then fastening it with a couple of Boy Scout slipknots. After that, he’d reached up, tested a low hanging branch, taken a backward step or two, and made a kind of running leap at the trunk, grabbing the branch with both hands as his foot met the maple’s wet bark. He quickly scampered up to the fork, his flash swinging from his arm, scribbling crazy loops of light into the darkness.

Standing below, Natasha had watched Bryan get a solid foothold in the crotch, then scramble up some more and hoist himself inside, where he crouched and then shone the Maglite down at the ground for her. She’d been nine or ten when she last climbed a tree, but even in the rain, with the wood slippery and wet, she shimmed easily up the trunk, grabbing his offered hand as she boosted herself off the fork and wriggled through the entrance.

That was five minutes ago. Now they sat beside each other in the cramped little space, the bulk of their packs making a tight squeeze even tighter, their arms and shoulders pressed so close together they could barely move them.

“We did good,” Natasha said, and grinned. “Teamwork.”

Bryan had put his flash down between them on its lowest setting. She saw him smiling back at her in the muted light and shadows.

“Teamwork,” he said.

They were quiet. The wind swooped in from above and shook the tree house walls. Rain pelted down on it.

“Those two guys... Do you think they’re looking for us?” Bryan asked. “Even in the storm?”

She nodded.

“Yeah,” she said. “I do.”

“How long can we stay here? Before they find us, I mean.”

Natasha shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said. “But I’m starved.”

“Me too.”

“So let’s eat.”

Bryan nodded and tried reaching into his pack, but he could hardly budge.

“Wait,” she said. “I’ll help you get it off your back. Then you help with mine. We’ll have more room in here if they’re on our laps.”

She squirmed and maneuvered to free up an arm, then unbuckled his shoulder straps. It did in fact give them some added wriggle room. But the boards creaked and shifted underneath them, and she told herself not to move around too much.

The backpack across his legs, Bryan opened his accessories pouch and reached inside for their sandwiches. He’d packaged them in wax paper, then sealed each in a ziplock bag.

“Here’s yours,” he said, handing one to her. “It has white-wine mustard.”

“How’d you know that’s my favorite?”

“I heard you mention it to somebody,” he said with a shrug. “At Columbia. We were having lunch on campus.”

Natasha looked at him a moment. They had finished grad school over three years ago.

She carefully unwrapped the sandwich. The bread was thick with a firm crust. The meat inside was also sliced thick. She took a large bite and chewed. It was moist and seasoned and full of flavor. He’d put it on some crisp, fresh lettuce.

“Bry,” she said. “What is this exactly?”

“Meatloaf.” He looked worried, his own sandwich suspended halfway to his mouth. “You don’t like it?”

“Are you kidding?” she said. “I love it.”

He smiled, pleased.

“I used ground turkey,” he said. “And dried porcini mushrooms. Some purple garlic, onions... I found Vidalias at the store, and they get super sweet when you caramelize them.”

Natasha looked at him and swallowed her second mouthful of the sandwich.

“I never knew,” she said.

“Oh.” He paused. “Knew what?”

“That you cook,” she said. “This loaf’s delicious.”

He nodded and shrugged again.

“It’s just a hobby,” he said. “I baked the bread too.”

She smiled. “Why am I suddenly not surprised?”

Bryan didn’t say anything. The wind revved up outside, slapping and rattling the tree house, hissing through its boards. Natasha looked around.

“Did you build this place yourself?”

“With my mother,” he said. “The summer after Dad left. We came to the island almost every day. It’s when she started her research into the trees.”

She nodded and ate. Their combined body heat was warming up the shelter, despite the seeping wind and leaky boards. It almost lulled her into feeling safe, and she warned herself that was a mistake.

Those two were still out there, she thought. Even in the storm.

“Bry, you asked how long we can stay here,” she said. “I still don’t know. But I can’t see how we’d be better off out in the woods. Not in this weather. And