Hunters by Matt Rogers (books for 5 year olds to read themselves .TXT) 📕

Yes it is. That’s very important.

He said, ‘You give us everything you know and we’ll come to a deal.’

‘The deal first. Then the information.’

‘You’re in no position to argue.’

Connor knew he wasn’t.

Opal seemed surprised that Connor had his wits together, that he recognised his vulnerability. Connor nodded his understanding to further please him. ‘I trust you won’t betray me.’

‘I’m a man of my word.’

Connor gave him everything.

11

Two hours later, alone in an adjacent room, Opal dialled a number.

It rang, and a man who had all the influence in the world picked up. He was what most people considered the President to be, in that he called the shots that mattered.

Opal had no problem following orders. He was one of several apex predators in the black-operations community, and hunters must be steered in the right direction. When Opal had officially existed, many years before, he’d been in Marine Division Recon, gathering and communicating intelligence for planned raids and ambushes to a commander.

So this was no different.

Now he had a “hunter commander,” whose callsign was Onyx.

Opal had never met him face-to-face.

It wasn’t necessary, and it afforded the head honcho deniability.

Opal said, ‘Did it check out?’

‘We have their location.’

Onyx’s excitement was palpable, in that he was slightly less monotonic, but his voice was still completely dead. When he wasn’t excited, it sounded like he was speaking through a voice scrambler. He was that dull and subdued.

Opal said, ‘You’re certain?’

‘Reasonably. It’s more of a lead than we’ve had since they fled.’

‘You know what this means?’

Onyx’s grin wasn’t audible through the receiver, but Opal felt it nonetheless.

Onyx said, ‘It’s been the only thing keeping me up at night for months. The fact they’re out there, amongst civilians, lost to us. At any second they could go to the media, find an investigative journalist who’d run the risk of printing it. They’d have enough proof, too. They’d be able to name names, dates, locations, faces. It was a fucking disaster.’

‘Was?’

Onyx said, ‘The hunters will deal with them before morning.’

‘You’re sending me to Vegas?’

‘Not you. Others.’

Opal shrugged. Frankly, he didn’t care. It would have been nice to test himself against two of the most feared clandestine operatives in history, but all the hunters were as lethal as one another. Whoever got the lucky ticket would deal with it efficiently.

Opal said, ‘What about the kid?’

‘What kid?’

‘Connor.’

Onyx said, ‘Are you serious?’

‘He gave us good stuff.’

‘So?’

Opal hissed air through gritted teeth and said, ‘Fair enough.’

‘You want to throw him back out there with state secrets in his head? You want to create another Jason King? Another Will Slater?’

‘He’s not exactly on their level.’

‘He doesn’t have to be.’

Opal didn’t respond.

Onyx said, ‘Make sure you and Topaz stay ready.’

‘We’re always ready.’

‘Good lads.’

The hunter commander killed the line.

Opal tucked the phone away and went back out into the corridor. Topaz leant against the wall with his veneers sealed behind pursed lips, standing guard outside the door that led to their prisoner. He raised a questioning eyebrow.

Opal said, ‘We got them.’

Topaz said, ‘Goddamn.’

The ensuing silence spoke volumes. Topaz read the mood in the air, nodded an understanding, and pushed the door of the interrogation room open.

Opal stepped through.

Topaz stayed outside.

Connor was alone in the grimy den, sitting on his heels to alleviate some of the stiffness from his right shoulder. His wrist was still chained to the guardrail fixed into the wall. He’d only been a captive for a few hours, but in his mind it might as well have been months. His face was gaunt, like his skin was stretched too tight over his skull. It never failed to surprise Opal what stress could do to a man.

Connor lifted his gaze expectantly, eyes wide with hope.

Opal said, ‘You were telling the truth.’

Connor breathed out.

Opal said, ‘We found them.’

Connor’s eyes lit up. ‘Already?’

‘Yeah.’

‘So we have a deal?’

‘Sorry, kid.’

Opal unholstered his Beretta and shot Connor in the face.

He made it quick. He drew, aimed, and fired so fast that Connor didn’t even have the chance to wear an expression of shock. His face was still relaxed, his eyes still hopeful, as the bullet blew his brains out the back of his head. The eyes went vacant and glassy as his body collapsed, jerking at the shoulder socket as the handcuff kept him half-suspended like a floppy marionette.

He never would have known it was the end.

Opal considered it merciful.

He scolded himself for even giving a shit about what was and wasn’t merciful, then walked out, leaving the body where it was. The clean-up crew would take care of it. He had more important matters of concern.

Topaz said, ‘You look distraught.’

Opal narrowed his eyes. He might have hesitated to kill the kid, but it was an anomaly, an outlier. ‘Really?’

‘No. But you’re not your usual self.’

‘If we let him go, he wouldn’t have talked. Those types never do. He would have been grateful to be alive.’

Topaz looked at him with disgust, like he’d wasted the last ten seconds of his life listening to that. ‘So?’

Topaz turned and walked away.

12

Summerlin

Las Vegas

Life was good.

Jason King lay stretched out on the sofa with his head in Violetta’s lap, his ear pressed to her stomach. There was still no sign of a baby bump, made more impressive by the fact she barely had an iota of fat around her waist. Even a tiny bulge would have seemed pronounced. Then again, she was only at the very beginning of the second trimester. There’d be a bump in a couple of weeks, they were sure.

The first physical sign of their child.

Violetta ran a hand absent-mindedly through his hair. Rays of late-afternoon sunlight streamed in through the big windows facing the front lawn of the estate and the walled perimeter beyond.

Violetta said, ‘This is unlike you.’

‘What?’

‘Lying here. Doing nothing.’

‘Not sure I could do much else if I tried.’

It had been a busy day. A four-mile run to the shooting range on the other side of the mountains, three hundred rounds of practice with a SIG Sauer P226 MK25, then the same