The Killing Game by Toni Anderson Read Free Book Online Page B

in no uncertain terms exactly who he’d like to share it with.
    She parked the bike, and Dempsey watched her expression through the scope. Her mouth was pressed into a determined line, her eyes narrowed into a glare. Not a happy camper. The local guy came outside wringing his hands in an agitated gesture of distress. She stormed past both men into the tent, the redheaded giant’s shoulders sagging as he followed. The body language was undeniable. She was the leader of this little ragtag band of warriors, and whatever she was telling her cronies was going down as smoothly as a suicide pill at a birthday party.
     
    ***
     
    “One of the snares has been triggered.” Axelle strode into the tent to check the satellite download. She needed to know where each of the collared cats was. “What’s the data telling us?”
    When in range of the satellite, the units transmitted positional data every hour. The rest of the GPS coordinates were stored ready to be downloaded when they retrieved the device after the collar fell off—theoretically two years after they were deployed. Anji had found Sheba’s collar yesterday—sans snow leopard—which left no doubt in her mind that they had a poacher on their hands. A big, fat, murdering poacher who was targeting the animals using telemetry devices she’d attached.
    They had to be careful how this played out. It was a political and ecological nightmare.
    She stabbed her keyboard. Wanted to rip out the sonofabitch’s heart with her bare hands and stomp on his fingers so he could never hold a rifle ever again.
    Josef grabbed the backpack of supplies, slung the tranquilizer rifle across his chest. “Which snare?” he asked, eyeing her as she rapidly typed instructions into the computer.
    “Sector three. The first one we set yesterday.” She’d fallen in love with the sublime beauty of cats and had discovered something worth living for. Now someone was trying to rip that away from her, the way an IED had ripped away her husband all those years ago. If she weren’t so insignificant she’d think this was divine payback for her mistakes, but it was man who craved vengeance, not God.
    She wiped the dust from her cheeks. Despite her morning wash she already felt grimy and hot. Tension drew tight across her chest. They needed to move fast because theoretically the snares could be used the same way the collars were. If the hunter took a leopard out of one of her traps she would track him to the end of the earth and crucify him. Forget justice and the law. You couldn’t bring back a snow leopard with a heavy fine or prison sentence. You couldn’t revive a species from an expensive fur coat.
    She pushed away from the computer and grabbed her water canteen. “Sven’s signal is closest to the snare. Let’s get over there before this bastard beats us to it.”
    “Can we both make it on the bike?”
    “Damn straight.” Axelle went outside and swung onto the dirt bike and started it. The suspension sank considerably under the additional strain of Josef’s weight. She took a moment to readjust her balance. “Hold on,” she yelled and opened up the throttle.
    She couldn’t go as fast as she wanted, the terrain was too rocky. She reminded herself that whoever was hunting these animals was either on horseback or on foot, and the bike was faster. “Come on, baby,” she urged the Yamaha.
    They sped past scrubby bushes and over shallow streambeds that were bursting with spring melt. They slid sideways in the shale but Josef put his boots down and steadied the machine. Her heart sped as they climbed the last ridge into the canyon where they’d set the snare. The collars had an accuracy of about five meters so even though the signal showed Sven was nearby, it didn’t mean he was actually caught in the snare. A markhor or wolf could have been captured, and Sven could be nearby hoping to score an easy meal. If so, she didn’t want to scare the leopard away. Josef muttered under his breath