One by One (Роберт Хантер 5 Поодиночке) - Carter Chris (2) - Страница 89

That was all the chance Hunter needed.

As he dived right, simultaneously extending his arm, time switched to slow motion. In his head, all sounds ceased, being replaced by a vacuum. Hunter became aware of only two things: his target, and his own heartbeat as it pounded inside his chest and thundered in his brain. While in mid-flight, and as his eyes locked with Graham’s, Hunter squeezed the trigger on his gun.

In real time it all happened way too fast for Graham to be able to react.

Hunter’s shot hit Graham’s right shoulder with pinpoint precision, rupturing muscles, shattering bones and slicing through tendons and ligaments.

Graham’s hand instantly lost all its grip, and his gun dropped to the floor. The powerful impact of an ultra-high-performance, center-fire, fragmenting 9mm bullet projected his body backward, throwing him to the ground while a red mist of blood shot up, coloring the air. The bitter tang of cordite filled the room.

Hunter also hit the ground after the shot, rolling sideways twice but expertly keeping his aim on his target.

Graham let out a guttural roar and immediately brought his left hand to his right shoulder, which was now just a gooey mess of blood and torn flesh. He felt the room spinning violently around him, as dizziness, brought on by the tremendous pain and sudden loss of blood, took over. Only in Hollywood films can a person be shot with a high-velocity exploding bullet and still have the strength to dance a jig. A couple of seconds later, Graham fainted.

Hunter shot back to his feet and covered the short distance between him and Graham in a flash.

‘Don’t even think of moving,’ he said firmly with his gun pointing straight at Graham’s head, but Graham was down and out, at least for the time being.

Hunter lost no time in cuffing his hands behind his back, disregarding the new bolt of pain that undoubtedly shot up Graham’s right arm as he did so. After that, Hunter quickly checked on Anna.

She had been heavily sedated. Her pupils were dilated, making her eyes seem lost in time. Her body was unresponsive, but her pulse was strong, and she didn’t seem hurt.

That was when Hunter heard the most terrifying and agonizing scream he’d ever heard. He swung his body around in the direction of the scream and the metal-bar cage, only then his attention returned to the computer monitor to the left of it.

CLOCK: 0:00.

SAVE: 34,471.

EXECUTE: 34,502.

‘Oh God! No.’

He ran toward the cage, but the EXECUTE process had already started. The mechanical arm the metal-mesh mask was attached to had begun pressing it against the woman’s face. The laser-sharp wires were already tearing through her skin and flesh, covering her face with a red mask of sticky blood.

Hunter took a step back, aimed his gun at the lock on the cage’s door and fired twice. The bullets didn’t even seem to scratch it. He fired two more rounds. Nothing.

The wires had now cut through the cartilage on the woman’s nose. Unable to escape the most basic human reaction to pain, she began screaming. Her jaw and head movement only served to shift and grind her face against the sharp wires that had already dug deep into her flesh, making them not only cut horizontally but vertically as well, in a shredding action, mutilating whatever was left.

Hunter took a step to the side and looked around, desperate to help but not knowing how. He needed to find something.

That was when all of a sudden the metal-mesh mask stopped compressing against the woman’s face and began retracting, bringing with it chunks of skin, flesh and cartilage. Hunter then heard a loud buzzing noise, followed by a lock click.

The cage door popped open.

Graham had told Hunter that if EXECUTE was ahead when the countdown clock reached zero, the time-release mechanism would release the door after five minutes, enough time for Graham’s horror-mask to have put the woman through the most agonizing and torturous pain before killing her. But the whole process had lasted less than fifty seconds.

Something had malfunctioned.

Hunter pulled the cage’s door open and quickly got to the woman. She was shaking uncontrollably, just about to enter shock.

Hunter still had the phone the cab driver had given him. He called for help, untied the woman and, cradling her bloody face in his arms, sat on the floor and waited for it to arrive.

One Hundred and Eighteen

Next day

Outside Garcia’s apartment building

5.00 p.m.

As Hunter parked his car, he saw Garcia exiting the building’s entrance lobby, carrying a suitcase.

Captain Blake had ordered them both to take a two-week break, effective immediately.

‘Need any help with that?’ Hunter said, stepping out of his car.

Garcia looked up and smiled. ‘No, I’m cool. Why do women always have to over-pack?’

Hunter had no answer.

Garcia popped open his trunk, placed the suitcase inside it and turned to face his partner. He knew Hunter had spent part of the afternoon at the California Hospital Medical Center in South Grand Avenue.

‘Any news?’ he asked.

‘The doctors have just operated on her again,’ Hunter replied. ‘The second surgery in less than twenty-four hours.’ His eye had a sad gloom to them. ‘And they believe that she will have to undergo a few more in the next few months. But even so, most of her disfigurement will be irreversible.’

Garcia combed a hand through his hair.

‘It wasn’t a malfunction, Carlos,’ Hunter said.

Garcia looked at him.

‘The metal-mesh mask stopping when it did,’ Hunter clarified. ‘It wasn’t a malfunction. Graham Fisher programmed it that way. He lied when he told me that it would take five minutes for the door to disengage, by which time she should’ve been dead.’

‘How do you know? Has he confessed?’

‘No,’ Hunter replied. ‘He isn’t talking . . . yet. But I know that that was what he wanted. He never wanted her dead. He wanted her disfigured.’ Hunter leaned against the car parked next to Garcia’s. ‘If my face were that fucked up, I would’ve killed myself a long time ago. Los Angeles has one less ugly freak to deal with. If all the ugly, fucked-up school-kids who can’t deal with their own problems followed suit and topped themselves, LA would be a much better place.’

Garcia’s brow creased.

‘She troll-posted those words on the Internet,’ Hunter confirmed. ‘Referring to Graham Fisher’s son.’

‘Fuck,’ Garcia whispered.

‘Graham wanted her disfigured because he wanted her to go through everything his son went through. He wanted to teach her what having others stare at you, laugh at you, gossip behind your back, call you names and treat you like a monster for the rest of your life felt like. That was his final revenge, not her death.’ Hunter looked away, shaking his head. ‘Even though we caught him, he won. In the end, he got what he wanted.’

‘No, he didn’t,’ Garcia shot back firmly. ‘His final revenge involved you being dead, remember? And that didn’t happen. Graham Fisher will now rot in prison. He’s never coming out.’ He looked away for a moment, regaining his breath. ‘But that can’t undo the fact that people voted, Robert.’ He looked almost disgusted. ‘Regular people out there, sitting in their homes, in their offices, in cafes, in schools . . .’ He shook his head. ‘They voted. Unlike the two previous times, Graham gave them the chance and the power to save someone’s life, and a great number of them chose not to. They chose to sentence a complete stranger to death, just so they could watch it for entertainment. A human life in exchange for a few laughs – how’s that for a bargain?’