He had reason to be pissed.
Toporski and Therkelson, going ahead of the rest of the team, were supposed to neutralize the cop.
But that hadnt happened.
The cop was gone.
They might be able to catch him still.
Haber had already gotten the hunting party started.
He wanted this cop good and dead.
Ever since he was a little boy, hed loved guns and hunting and the woods.
His father was an avid deer hunter, as his father had been before him.
But for the first time, he felt something was wrong about all this, something off.
There were only seven of them now.
Haber, Irvine, Leighton, Willard, Monroe, and De Souza.
One little, two little, three little Indians,Devine thought as the bosss door flew open.
He was dressed in Sitka Optifade camo bibs and jacket, with Crispi Italian hunting boots.
Even at rest, Haber had a stately presence.
There was something old-fashioned about him.
A hunter, an alpha.
Devine watched Haber expertly load, check, and sight his automatic weapon.
He did it with a skilled workmans quick yet reverent efficiency.
There was something pretty about it.
Like watching a musician tuning his instrument, or a master chef honing his knife.
The inside of his office was as spare and rugged as the man.
Haber said, tapping at the map.
I have him on this perimeter, Devine said, stepping over and drawing a line with his finger.
So you definitely think he went south here?
Haber said, pointing.
His track through the mud puts him on this downslope to the southwest right toward the state land.
Thats some of the most uninhabited timberland in the state.
In the northeast, probably.
Okay, good, Haber said.
Why arent you on the bird yet?
I wanted to talk to you in private, sir.
I think we should medevac out Therkelson.
We could have Monroe fly him over the hill and down to Chapman and call 911 anonymously.
Cmon, he has a broken arm, Haber said.
Last thing we need is more heat.
