The Huntsman Read Online Free PDF Page B

it out. I’m not as practiced helping someone dress.”
    Miranda
ignored him, pulled a perforated tab, and figured it out. She fluffed open a
one-piece, white suit. One zipper sealed the front and once she fitted the air
filter over her nose and mouth, another sealed the headpiece. Suited, Miranda
removed a leather-bound toolkit from her bag. Ben held a pencil and notepad in
one hand and opened the flap with the other. His muffled but audible voice bade
her enter. Inside, overhead fluorescent lights illuminated the ghastly setting
enlarged by its emptiness.
    Please,
please don’t let me vomit in this thing, she prayed. A defiant stomach twisted
a tighter knot. Her hands trembled. Sweat beaded on her forehead, laughed at
the cold. She inhaled, concentrated, and began a slow survey.
    Straight
ahead two short men hung about two feet off the ground. Both faced right. Her
head swiveled toward the right wall. Before it two pistols lay in four bloody
pools that had converged into one. Seven, small numbered papers lay in random
fashion atop the congealed blood. Seven numbered pock marks marred the left
wall.
    “What
do those numbered markings signify?”
    “Either
our two friends used the wall for target practice, or they tried to kill
whatever killed them. The numbered papers on the floor are where the shell
casings fell. They match the bullet holes in the wall. One gun clip is minus
two rounds, the other five. They must have missed. All the blood matches the
two victims.”
    “How
do you know that?”
    “Our
forensic team has already been through here. They’ve given me a heads up on
their preliminary findings. Cross and Dawkins should be receiving their final
report at any minute.” He smiled through his headpiece. “If you give me your
number, I’ll forward you a copy of mine.” Again Miranda ignored him.
    “How
could they miss at that distance? What is it thirty, thirty-five feet?” Despite
the suit, Wolford shrugged.
    “You’d
be surprised what nerves do to your aim in a gunfight. They can scatter shots
everywhere except at the target.”
    “But
those shots aren’t scattered. All seven are in the same general area.” Wolford
turned toward the wall then turned back to Miranda with new-found respect. “I
didn’t think of that. You’re right.” He scribbled into his notebook then turned
back to stare at the wall. “How did they miss?”
    Toward
the left Miranda noticed a glimmer from the floor. Her eyes widened then
narrowed as she squatted next to an iridescent feather. A ruled marker
alongside it indicated eight inches. She moved her head back and forth, left
and right. Its colors shifted and shimmered as she changed viewing angles. A
gasp escaped her throat. At certain angles it appeared to move. She stood.
Walked around it. Backtracked, leaned, then bent. At certain angles it appeared
to move only to reappear at its original position when the angle changed. The
scientist submerged the nervous, frightened woman.
    “Did
the forensics team see this?”
    “Yes,
but you’re the zoologist. They left it for you.”
    She
reached to pick it up then stopped. “Wait a minute. This is evidence. Why
aren’t the police here?”
    “National
security. This is federal property leased to the state. Although the local
police were first on site, they have no jurisdiction. As soon as the details
came to us we shut it down.”
    Miranda
thought the contamination risk a calculated one. She picked it up. Holding her
hand steady, she leaned left. The feather disappeared from view yet she could
feel it between thumb and forefinger. “Remarkable.” she breathed. She pulled
out her communicator and videotaped the phenomenon.
    “What
kind of bird is it?” Ben asked.
    “Many
species have iridescent feathers. Ducks, hummingbirds, some starlings to name a
few. I don’t know any with eight-inch feathers.” She reflected for a moment
then made up her mind. “When we’re back outside, I want this specimen bagged
and shipped