“Look,” Blok said, leaning in close to one of the small video feeds.
Hawkins took a closer look. Trees framed the view on either side, but the shot showed the clearing in front of the sterilized gallery. Standing in the center of the clearing was Bennett. Joliet knelt on the ground in front of him, a gun to the back of her head.
It took all of Hawkins’s self-control to not fling himself out of the room and charge around the complex looking for an exit. But he knew that would likely just get him killed. So he clenched his fists instead.
“He doesn’t know about the choppers,” Bray said. “No way he’d be standing around waiting for you if he knew an army of mercenaries was about to drop on his doorstep.”
Hawkins looked at the incoming helicopters. “We don’t have time. Bennett knew we escaped, so he’s set a trap. Whatever he has waiting for us, even if we can survive it, the mercs will arrive first.”
Bray smiled fiendishly.
“What?” Hawkins asked.
“I have a wicked awesome idea,” Bray said.
45.
Bray’s idea was actually suicidal, but it was the best they had. He’d tried to come up with a good Sun Tzu quote to justify the tactic, but settled on one of his own making. “Chaos is only chaos to the people who aren’t expecting it.”
It had taken them just two minutes to prepare the first part of the plan, though it had nearly cost Blok his life. He’d escaped with a three-inch gash on his thigh, which he was now nursing as he waited for the signal that would announce the beginning of the plan’s second stage.
Bray had gone off to take care of his part of the scheme. Hawkins wasn’t sure if it would work, or even if it was needed, but Bray insisted on maximizing the confusion. That made sense to Hawkins, but given the conflagration of opposing forces they planned on bringing together, he wasn’t sure anyone would survive, let alone escape.
But it was their best chance. Their only chance. And it fit GoodTracks’s “more aggressive predator” theory. Actually, what Bray had planned was closer to “most aggressive predator ever,” which was something only the human race could truly pull off, because it involved the recruitment of other species.
Of course, Bennett had his army, too. Creatures conditioned to do his bidding populated the entire island. Including Kam’s mother, who might be able to handle anything thrown her way outside of a M1A1 Abrams tank.
Hawkins’s thoughts returned to his part of the plan when he saw the top of the curved, concrete gallery building emerge from behind the tree line. The gray stone path curved through a small stretch of jungle before opening up to the clearing at the front of the building—the clearing where Bennett—and Joliet—waited. Hawkins had the machete sheathed at his waist, along with his broken knife blade and the captive bolt stunner in his right hand, but he longed for a gun. He wasn’t a bad shot. From twenty feet away, he could probably shoot Bennett without fear of striking Joliet. He suspected he could have found one inside the medical complex, but time was short.
As he rounded the corner with six minutes remaining, the time felt like an eternity. He made no effort to mask his approach. In fact, he did the opposite, feigning a leg injury and scraping his feet through the rough stone. When he emerged from the jungle and faced the gallery, Bennett stood waiting for him with a smile on his face.
Joliet knelt at his feet.
The shot would have been so easy, Hawkins thought, looking at Bennett’s exposed torso and head.
Hawkins did his best to look surprised. “Joliet!” He hobbled forward, moving with a purpose.
“Mark!” Joliet said, sounding both relieved and concerned.
Bennett gripped her hair and pressed the gun against her skull. “Quiet.”
Hawkins’s suspicions were confirmed. There was a trap, and Joliet knew what it was, but if she spoke, he’d kill her and the trap would be sprung anyway. “Let her go.”
“Pfft!” Bennett laughed. “Where would she go?”
Hawkins knew it was a silly request. Bennett wouldn’t let her go, and if he did, she’d be in no less danger. But Hawkins wasn’t looking for a fight, either. He just needed to kill five more minutes.
“That’s close enough,” Bennett said when Hawkins got within twenty feet.
Hawkins shuffled to a stop, looking exhausted and beaten, which wasn’t really a stretch. He considering going for his knife and whipping it at Bennett. With the handle broken off, just about any part of the blade would do the trick. But getting the handleless blade out of the sheath and throwing it before Bennett pulled the trigger wouldn’t be possible. So he just stood and waited, letting the seconds pass by.
Bennett’s smile faded. He apparently expected a little more banter from Hawkins. “The others are dead?” he finally asked.
Hawkins grimaced.
“Blok stayed in his cell.”