The Huntsman Read Online Free PDF

lazy. She appreciated a
sense of humor and a quick wit but preferred her men serious and not kidders.
Miranda smiled to herself. How would his ego react if she told him he’d lost to
a hippo?
    Outside,
a riot of color and floral variety greeted her. Oahu’s magnificently landscaped
aerospace port matched every Hawaii image she’d ever seen and softened the
hectic activity bustling about her. It quickly became a pleasant memory as they
sped along North Nimitz Highway. The black asphalt, white-striped lanes, and
familiar vehicles overshadowed her brief glimpse of tropical paradise. She
looked up through the open-air Jeep to the azure heaven pockmarked with fat,
lazy clouds. How many times had she seen such a sky? Something about this one
though left no doubt she rode atop an island dwarfed by the Pacific.
    Miranda
pressed against the seat’s back and stretched lazily along its lowered length.
She gave up trying to find an apt comparison to the sky’s rich, deep blue but
noticed Ben casting quick, sideways glances. Her less than form-fitting clothes
could not hide the body underneath. She found her reaction curious. The obvious
lust bursting from his eyes suffused her body in sensuous warmth. When had a
man last looked at her like that? When had she last had a man? That she asked
answered the question. The zoo’s schedule cocooned her life and the animals
provided a convenient outlet for pent up emotions. When had she last had a man?
    “Where
are we going?”
    “Foreign
Trade Zone 9, a section of Honolulu Harbor’s Pier 2. Companies can rent
warehouse facilities for assembling imported equipment or disassembling
manufactured goods for export. How much have they briefed you?”
    “Beyond
the bizarre circumstances that prompted this case, I only saw a low-resolution
photo of two men hanging on a wall. Do you mean the victims are inside a
warehouse?” Ben nodded.
    “It
is a bizarre case. I’m in charge of the site. We fenced off the area under
24-hour guard. It’s an industrial zone so secure sections are commonplace. No
one has given us a second look. A plastic wall seals off half the interior. The
temperature within is just above freezing to prevent biological degradation
pending your inspection.
    We
think the two hanging by their faces had something to do with the equipment
missing from Joshua Ang’s laboratory. They might have brought it here and used
a container to ship it. Cross and Dawkins are backtracking the paperwork with
Hawaii’s Department of Transportation which runs the facility. If it’s anything
like your typical bureaucracy, they’ll be a while. Honolulu Harbor processes
over a million cargo containers a year. It could be anywhere. I suspect they
won’t find anything. My nose tells me those two hangers-on weren’t the types to
leave paper trails. But we have to be thorough.”
    “I’ve
heard that. Who discovered the bodies?”
    “Dead
end. Routine security patrol wondered why the lights were on in the middle of
the night with no apparent activity. Anyhow, we’re about five minutes away.
Pier 2 is only fifteen minutes from Honolulu Aerospace.”
    Wolford
signaled for the off-ramp under a sign pointing to Sand Island Access Road.
Neatly maintained, one-story storage and administrative buildings bordered both
sides of a well-marked road free of potholes. Only diners and support services
interrupted the bland, utilitarian structures that described any industrial
zone. Ben turned left into a narrow dead-end where two armed guards waved him
through a chain-link gate. Beyond the road’s end, the huge harbor’s blue water
gently rolled docked boats.
    Another
armed guard stood aside to pass them through the main entrance. Inside, haste
had thrown together a crude prep area next to a zippered flap leading into the
sealed interior. Ben removed two boxes from a stack along the wall then sat on
a bench to remove his shoes and the box’s haz-mat suit. He grinned at her. “I’m
hoping you can figure