Victor OReilly - Rules of the Hunt

Rules of The Hunt

Hugo Fitzduane

by

V i c t o r O ' R e i l l y

Prologue

Off Fitzduane's Island, Ireland

January 1

The killingteam needed a cover story for their presence.

As Japanese ina Western environment, they were more likely to be noticed and remembered.

They decidedto come in as a film crew. Gold had beendiscovered in the region amid some of the most scenic terrain of the West ofIreland, and there was controversy as to whether it should be mined. It was a classic environmental issue andattracted international media attention. Film crews came and went, and most hired some kind of aerial transport. Ireland looks glorious from theair.

The teamcarried out their initial reconnaissance in a four-seater Piper Aztec. Discretion minimized their amount of flighttime over the island itself, but it was sufficient for them to becomecomfortable with the lay of the land. Onthe second day, to allay suspicion, they telephoned Fitzduane's castle,explained the story they were working on, and requested permission to film fromthe ground to add some local color. Theywere politely refused.

The islanditself was like a finger, ten kilometers long and four kilometers across at itswidest, pointing west into the Atlantic toward America some three thousand milesaway. It was joined to the mainland by abridge set into the cliffs over a treacherous-looking divide; land accesselsewhere looked impossible. The jaggedcoastline consisted of high, overhanging cliffs or, in the few places where thefall of land was more gentle, was guarded by concealed rocks and changingcurrents.

From the airthey could see shadows of darkness in the sea and in two locations the remainsof ancient wrecks. The sea seemedbeautiful, moody, and dangerous. It wasnot a hospitable-looking spot.

There were twocastles on the island.

The westwardcastle, Draker, was a sprawling Victorian Gothic structure which they knew hadonce been an exclusive school but which was now boarded up.

The castlenearer the landward side was Fitzduane's castle, Duncleeve.

It was thisthat interested them. It stood on arocky bluff at one end of a bay. Inlandwas a freshwater lake overlooked by a small, white, thatched cottage.

Theirreconnaissance covered many things: access, terrain, population, security, cover, threat assessment, andweather conditions. But their mainconcern was with confirming the killing ground.

They bookedthe helicopter and a faster, longer-range aircraft for the last two days. They explained that they were on a deadlineand had to fly some exposed film to make a connection in London. Their credentials were double-checked by a cautious reservations clerkbut were verified as satisfactory.

They wouldcontour-fly in at fifty feet or less by helicopter, and land on the north sideof the island in a clearing to seaward of one of the hills. They would be neither heard nor seen. They would then proceed on foot to the spotthey had chosen. Fitzduane tended tovary the route he took on his daily ride, but there was one spot he normallyvisited either coming or going.

The child andhis desires were the man's weakness. Awatcher had monitored his movements for several weeks before the killing teamhad moved in.

The teammembers were experienced, well-trained, and totally motivated. After the hit, they would escape on foot tothe waiting helicopter, fly to the aircraft, and enplane immediately for France. There, they would vanish.

It was nowdown to implementation and that intangible luck.

* * * * *

Tokyo, Japan

The bodyguardtensed as he saw the gates in the outer perimeter wall swing open and thegleaming black limousine enter the drive.

The gatesshould not have opened without his checking the visitor on the TV monitor and,even more to the point, without his activating the release of the electroniclock. The master received a constantstream of visitors and petitioners at certain specified times of the day, soblack limousines were more the rule than the exception. But this was seven in the morning, and themaster's insistence on privacy while he bathed and prepared himself for the daywas well-known.

It was arunning joke in the circles of power that more careers were made and broken bythe decisions made by Hodama-sanwhile he soaked in his traditional copper bath than by the rest of thegovernment put together. The joke hadmore punch when you realized that Hodama held no official position.

The drivethrough the formal gardens to the single-story traditional Japanese house was short. Even though KazuoHodamawas one of the wealthiest men in Japan, custom dictated a certainmodesty of lifestyle. Overt displays ofpower and wealth were frowned upon. Further, Hodama's simple house and grounds were in the exclusive Akasakadistrict of Tokyo. The ownership of aproperty at such a location was a message in itself. Tokyoproperty prices are the highest in the world. Hodama's dwelling and grounds, not much more extensive than a typicalAmerican ranch-style bungalow and yard, were valued conservatively at tens ofmillions of dollars.

The bodyguard,a grizzled veteran in his sixties, was kept on less for his physical skillsthan for his memory and sense of protocol. Threats were not seriously feared. Those days were long over. Hodama'spower and influence were too great. Instead, the bodyguard was primarily concerned with the proceduralniceties of controlling the flow of visitors. Appearances and appropriate behavior were of enormous importance. The wrong greeting or an inadequate bow byone of Hodama's retainers could be misinterpreted, and damage the harmony ofthe relationship between visitor and Hodama himself. And Hodama attached great importance to hisrelationships. The people he knew andinfluenced, the people he flattered and pampered and manipulated and betrayed,were the basis of his power.

With thesethoughts in his mind, and concerned not to upset some dignitary, the bodyguardtook no action for the few seconds it took for the long black vehicle with itsshining chrome and tinted windows to sweep around in front of the house andpurr gently to a halt. The sight of thelicense plate and the discreet symbol it bore was instantly reassuring. The bodyguard relaxed, immensely relievedthat he had not initiated any precipitative action and caused embarrassment andloss of face. The opening of theperimeter gates was now explained. Thelimousine belonged to one of Hodama's intimates.

The driver'sdoor opened almost as soon as the vehicle came to a halt, and the chauffeur,immaculate in navy uniform and white gloves, jumped out and opened the rearpassenger door.

The bodyguardhad also been hastening down to open the passenger door, as one of the gesturesof respect he would employ for the distinguished visitor. Now, his first actions rendered unnecessaryby the speed of the chauffeur, he stumbled to a halt and bowed deeply, his eyescast down in respect, as the limousine door was opened.

A pair ofexpensively trousered legs emerged.

Something waswrong. Decades of bowing had made thebodyguard expert at making quick assessments with his head at waistheight. Something just did not lookright with the trousers. His master'svisitor was very particular and consistent. His suits were exclusively English-tailored, and these trousers weredefinitely of Italian material and cut.

There was thesound of spitting three distinct short spitting sounds and the bodyguard'suncertainties were abruptly terminated, as three 9-mm hollow-point bulletsentered the top of his skull, expanded as designed as they smashed through thebone, and then wreaked fatal havoc as they ricocheted around inside.

The bow becameabruptly even more respectful until gravity exerted itself to the full and thebodyguard's corpse collapsed in an undignified heap. Blood from his head wound trickled its wayinto the carefully raked gravel of a Zen stone garden.