mobilization, at least a publicized one, might force his man deeper into the shadows. On the other hand, he felt that a challenge to the killer would provide his best chance for confronting and stopping him. He had his own picture leaked to the news services, a clear shot of the specialist who had been brought in to take up the hunt. The killer would see the picture and not be able to resist going for number seventeen, if for no other reason than to prove himself superior.
Medicine Lodge was a small town, with one thousand people for each of its two square miles. Kimberlain convinced Kamanski to limit their work to surveillance until a positive identification was obtained. By him. It was similarly agreed that the latest discovery would be held back from the people of Medicine Lodge, in effect making the entire town the bait, a decision that would ultimately force Kamanski from his job.
The Ferryman showed just enough of himself in town to be sure the killer would see him. The madman was present all right; there was no mistaking that feeling. He knew the man had arrived just as surely as he knew none of Kamanski’s surveillance would pick him up. Kimberlain sat in the town’s single bar from five o’clock on, listening to Kamanski’s team issuing their reports from various sectors and wondering how it would be when the inevitable confrontation occurred. Halfway into the night, the waitress became his only company. She was a pert and pretty brunette, maybe twenty years old, with a knockout figure. Kimberlain nursed club sodas as if they were thirty-dollar shots of the finest cognac, and every ten minutes or so the waitress would appear to ask if he wanted another. Sometimes he said yes just to have reason to tip her. All the time he listened to Kamanski in the walkie-talkie set on the bar.
Kimberlain never really had a concrete reason to suspect something was wrong. In the end it was his watch that told him. Eighteen minutes had passed since the waitress’s last appearance from the kitchen, and she hadn’t once gone that long between tips.
Oh, Christ .
In that moment the Ferryman knew the killer had taken his challenge to heart. He also knew he should have anticipated that the man would do it just this way. He was so agitated he punched the wrong button on his walkie-talkie and jammed it in the receive mode.
With no time to lose fretting over that, Kimberlain leaped over the bar and crashed through the kitchen doors. He saw him standing there in the bright light; huge, without question the biggest man he had ever seen. Kimberlain had met plenty of giants in his time, either abnormally tall or abnormally well muscled, but he had never laid eyes on a creature who was so much of both.
The bald monster grinned and slid the pretty waitress’s head across the floor toward the Ferryman’s feet. The rest made history of a sort, lasting exactly the fifty-seven seconds it took for Kamanski and his men to be attracted to the sounds of a struggle.
The Ferryman’s first thought was to go for his gun, but the monster was upon him in one swift lunge, and he abandoned the notion in favor of striking a blow hard and fast. He tried for the throat, but the monster snatched his hand out of midair and twisted it violently away. Kimberlain went with the move, into it in fact, but the giant was ahead of him again, pulling with a savage motion that dislocated Kimberlain’s right shoulder with a sickening pop .
The Ferryman tried for his gun then, but just as he pulled it free, a huge blur whipped against his wrist and the weapon was gone. The giant smiled and tightened his grasp. Kimberlain understood what the monster was fighting for. If he killed the Ferryman, he would surely be the greatest killer alive.
Kimberlain felt the monster’s hands going for his neck. They clamped on. This was the way the monster dismembered his victims; he tore their heads off when he had killed them.
But this time the victim was still alive.
The
Medicine Lodge was a small town, with one thousand people for each of its two square miles. Kimberlain convinced Kamanski to limit their work to surveillance until a positive identification was obtained. By him. It was similarly agreed that the latest discovery would be held back from the people of Medicine Lodge, in effect making the entire town the bait, a decision that would ultimately force Kamanski from his job.
The Ferryman showed just enough of himself in town to be sure the killer would see him. The madman was present all right; there was no mistaking that feeling. He knew the man had arrived just as surely as he knew none of Kamanski’s surveillance would pick him up. Kimberlain sat in the town’s single bar from five o’clock on, listening to Kamanski’s team issuing their reports from various sectors and wondering how it would be when the inevitable confrontation occurred. Halfway into the night, the waitress became his only company. She was a pert and pretty brunette, maybe twenty years old, with a knockout figure. Kimberlain nursed club sodas as if they were thirty-dollar shots of the finest cognac, and every ten minutes or so the waitress would appear to ask if he wanted another. Sometimes he said yes just to have reason to tip her. All the time he listened to Kamanski in the walkie-talkie set on the bar.
Kimberlain never really had a concrete reason to suspect something was wrong. In the end it was his watch that told him. Eighteen minutes had passed since the waitress’s last appearance from the kitchen, and she hadn’t once gone that long between tips.
Oh, Christ .
In that moment the Ferryman knew the killer had taken his challenge to heart. He also knew he should have anticipated that the man would do it just this way. He was so agitated he punched the wrong button on his walkie-talkie and jammed it in the receive mode.
With no time to lose fretting over that, Kimberlain leaped over the bar and crashed through the kitchen doors. He saw him standing there in the bright light; huge, without question the biggest man he had ever seen. Kimberlain had met plenty of giants in his time, either abnormally tall or abnormally well muscled, but he had never laid eyes on a creature who was so much of both.
The bald monster grinned and slid the pretty waitress’s head across the floor toward the Ferryman’s feet. The rest made history of a sort, lasting exactly the fifty-seven seconds it took for Kamanski and his men to be attracted to the sounds of a struggle.
The Ferryman’s first thought was to go for his gun, but the monster was upon him in one swift lunge, and he abandoned the notion in favor of striking a blow hard and fast. He tried for the throat, but the monster snatched his hand out of midair and twisted it violently away. Kimberlain went with the move, into it in fact, but the giant was ahead of him again, pulling with a savage motion that dislocated Kimberlain’s right shoulder with a sickening pop .
The Ferryman tried for his gun then, but just as he pulled it free, a huge blur whipped against his wrist and the weapon was gone. The giant smiled and tightened his grasp. Kimberlain understood what the monster was fighting for. If he killed the Ferryman, he would surely be the greatest killer alive.
Kimberlain felt the monster’s hands going for his neck. They clamped on. This was the way the monster dismembered his victims; he tore their heads off when he had killed them.
But this time the victim was still alive.
The
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