She smiled gently at him. "I would like to know that feeling," she said quietly. "I could use that feeling."
"You could do it," Hunter said, holding the Marlin easily. "You're as good as anyone I've ever seen."
"Not as good as you."
"Sure you are."
"Nobody is as good as you, Hunter. And you know it." She smiled with it, meaning it. Of a sudden, Hunter was surprised that they were so physically close. He hadn't really been aware of it until her eyes closed and her head leaned against his chest.
She continued, "I've never seen anyone like you. I've never seen, or even heard of anyone, who could see so much. Who understood so much." She paused. "Is it like that for you in everything? Is that why you don't like to be around people? 'Cause you see so much?"
Hunter paused, shrugged. "Could be. Never claimed to be too sharp. Maybe it's just that I don't need much."
"Just that crazy wolf."
He laughed. "Yeah, he's crazy all right. But he's my friend."
"Is he the only one you trust?"
He shook his head. "No."
"The doc?"
"Yeah." Hunter looked at the professor. "Yeah, I trust him. Always have."
She was staring at Ghost. The big wolf was resting without removing his coal-black eyes from the shattered wall. "You know something, Hunter. You and that wolf are a lot alike. You both like being alone. You're both quiet. And you don't play games. But you're always there when someone needs you." She paused. "I could stand being like that."
Absorbing the words, Hunter studied her face. She continued to stare at Ghost for a moment, looked at him close. "Do you always want to be alone?"
Hunter waited, let the silence speak for him for a moment.
"No," he said, and she smiled. He looked away, sniffed. "I guess I'd like a family. Always have, I suppose. I… I really love kids. I just never got around to it. Not the right person, whatever." He laughed lightly. "Wouldn't be so easy for a woman to live with me, anyway."
"And why is that?"
"Oh," he began slowly, "I don't know. I travel a lot. I prefer a hard life to a soft one. The things that matter to me aren't money and power. I got plenty of that, but it ain't life. I guess what I call life are kids, love, a family. Old-fashioned stuff. It don't go over too good nowadays when people think life is jet-setting and doing as much as they can as fast as they can."
"Tell me about your place in New York," she said. "Why don't you stay there more?"
"Oh, I stay there a good bit," he answered. "That's where I have my equipment. Sort of like a base. When I'm dealing with all the environmental agencies, or the Institute, I generally stay there. Got all my computers, my library."
"You read a lot?"
"I don't know. I guess I've got a few thousand books, maybe more. Read all of them. And I've collected some things, mostly art. I like art. And I've got some work from the Baroque period, some Neoclassical and Romantic period work. I…you may have never heard of him, but I have some bronze work by Antoine Louis Barye."
She laughed. "You're right. Never heard of him."
They smiled.
"Well, he was a French sculptor. He primarily portrayed animals in tense, dynamic situations. His bronze work is his best, and I invested in a few pieces in Paris. His romantic works, his strongest images of the wild, usually depict one animal struggling against another for supremacy." Hunter paused a long time, as if even he wasn't exactly sure why he enjoyed the work. "That might be why I like them so much," he added softly. "The reality of the struggle."
"But you don't like the struggle, do you?"
He shook his head lightly. "No… no, I don't."
"That's why you're so good at it. Did you know that? Because you really don't like it. To you, it's a terrible thing. So you do it quick. Get it over with."
He raised his brow slightly. "Could be." Smiled. "You're pretty smart, girl."
She laughed. "And something else. I know that, inside, you're really soft. You don't want to hurt anything, or see anything hurt. That's why you repeatedly risk your life tracking these kids, Hunter, when you're their only hope. You care. It's also why you stay away from other people, really. It's not because you're a hard man. It's because you're a hard man who has a gentle heart. It's not that you don't care. It's that you care too much. And that's not so bad, either." She smiled gently. "Seems like a good place to be."
Turning to her, Hunter gazed seriously a moment. "Some things aren't so hard."
She met his eyes, silent.
A long time passed, no words spoken, then Hunter added, "You know, when this is over, maybe you'd like some R and R." He hesitated, easy with it. "I know a nice place where you could relax."
She laughed softly. "After this, I might retire for some permanent R and R, Hunter." Silence. "Do you really think we're gonna make it out of here?"
He frowned, knowing it was the second time she had asked, and she wasn't someone prone to doubt. She was a professional soldier, trained to fight to the last, no matter what. But as he considered his answer it was clear that she had her reasons; good ones.
They were cut off from support and hunted by something that couldn't be stopped by small-arms fire. They were alone in a million acres of wilderness and nobody knew where they were. Plus, they were handicapped with the burden of carrying Dr. Tipler, unable to leave the old man or move quickly as they carried him. Except for the fact that Bobbi Jo possessed a weapon powerful enough to injure the creature, they had no advantage. He had set out to track it; he had succeeded too well.
His eyes settled once more on the Magellan Phone Satellite System. Something within kept piquing his attention, drawing it back again and again to the instrument.
It was odd that the Magellan had become inoperative almost immediately, when it was a highly dependable communications instrument. He had used one himself on several occasions without complications or glitches. Something wasn't right; so much didn't fit together.
Hunter's eyes narrowed as he leaned forward. Slowly, he reached back and removed a Gerber all-purpose pocket tool from a pouch on his belt. Moving quietly, so as not to attract more attention than necessary, though he knew he would, he knelt over the satellite system. Takakura's voice came from the gloom. "What is it, Hunter? The system is inoperative. Wilkenson already attempted to fix it."
"Yeah." Hunter nodded. "I know."
He opened the case and then the system, which resembled a portable laptop with a phone built inside it. Instantly a screen lit up, stark white. He shut the monitor and flipped it on its face. Then, carefully, he removed the screws holding the back-plate in place.
"What are you doing?" Takakura asked again.
"I'm gonna take another look," Hunter said, indicating that he wasn't asking permission.
In ten minutes Hunter was staring at the guts of the machine.
"Wilkenson already did that, Hunter. I even attempted myself." Takakura seemed less patient. "I have already told you this."
"Yeah, I know." Hunter took his time, scanning the interior. From his pouch he took out a small flashlight the size of a cigar and shined it over the schematics. "Well, if Wilkenson took a look at it, and you couldn't fix it either, then it must be seriously broken. I can't do any harm taking another look."