The Hunted (50 page)

And Vail had to admit that so far it was not going well. She’d already blown protocol about as well as any rookie could her first day on the job. She should’ve yelled “Freeze, scumbag, FBI!” and he would have then just pissed his pants and dropped the gun, surrendering to law enforcement and ending the nightmare before it started. At least, that’s the way it always happened in the old TV shows she watched as a kid.

But this was reality, or at least it was for Vail. For the Alvin lookalike standing in front of her, it was some speed-induced frenzy, a dream where he could do anything he wanted, and not get hurt. That was the part that bothered her.

She kept her Glock locked tightly in her hands, lining up Alvin’s nose in her sight. He was only about twenty feet away, but the woman he was holding, or rather choking with his left arm, was too close for Vail to risk a shot.

The other part of protocol she’d screwed up was that she should’ve been talking calmly to Alvin, so as not to incite him. But that was according to the
Manual of Investigative and Operational Guidelines
—known throughout the Bureau as MIOG, or “my-og.” In Vail’s mind, it should’ve been called MIOP, short for
myopic.
Narrow-minded. And if there was one thing Vail was sure of at the moment, it was that the guy who wrote MIOG didn’t have a crazed junkie pointing a snub-nosed . 38 at him.

So they stood there, Alvin twitching and shuffling, doing what looked like a peculiar slow dance with his hostage, and the level-headed Karen Vail, practicing what was sometimes called a Mexican standoff. Was that a politically correct term? She didn’t know, nor did she care. There was no backup outside, no tactical sniper focusing his Redfield variable scope on Alvin’s forehead, awaiting the green light to fire. She’d just walked into the bank to make a deposit, and now this.

She let her eyes swing to Alvin’s left, to a spot just over his shoulder.

She quickly looked back to him ... making it seem as if she’d seen someone behind him, about to sneak up and knock him over the head. She saw his eyes narrow, as if he’d noticed her momentary glance. But he didn’t take the bait, and for whatever reason kept his ping-pong gaze bouncing to either side of Vail. She realized she needed to be more direct.

She turned her head and looked to his left again and, reaching into her distant past as a one-time drama major, shouted
(deeply, from the abdomen),
“No, don’t shoot!"

Well, this got Alvin’s attention, and as he swiveled to look over his left shoulder, he yanked the hostage down and away, and Vail drilled the perp good. Right in the temple. As he was falling to the ground in slow mo, she was asking herself, “Was this a justified shooting?”

Actually, she was telling herself to get the hell over there and kick away his weapon. She couldn’t care less if it was a justified shooting. The FBI’s OPR unit—Office of Professional Responsibility, or Office of Paper-pushing Robots—would make the final call on that.

The hostage, though frazzled and rough around the edges, was alive. That was all that mattered at the moment.

Once Vail knocked aside Alvin’s weapon, she took a moment to get a closer look at his face. At this angle he didn’t look so much like Alvin. Could’ve been because he had the blank deer-in-headlights death mask on, or because of the oozing bullet hole on the side of his head. Hard to say.

Vail suddenly became aware of the commotion amongst the tellers and security guards, who had emerged from their hiding places. The hostage was now shrieking and blabbering something unintelligible. A man in a gray suit was by her side, attempting to console her.

“Don’t just stand there,” Vail yelled to the closest guard. “Call 911 and tell them an officer needs assistance.”

It wasn’t entirely true, but it wasn’t exactly a lie, either. Still, she thought the cops would come faster if they thought it was one of their own who needed help instead of an FBI agent. Sometimes they don’t like fibbies much, the locals. But with banks, the police had to share jurisdiction with the Bureau, so she didn’t anticipate much of a tiff over it.

As she stepped away from Alvin’s body, her BlackBerry’s vibrating jolt made her jump. She yanked it from her belt and glanced at the display. Her intestines tightened. Her heart, still racing from adrenaline, precipitously slowed. The brief text message sucked the air from her breath.

She had hoped she’d never see another day like this. She had hoped it was over.

But the Dead Eyes killer had claimed another victim.

...three

In six years as an FBI profiler, Karen Vail had not experienced anything quite like this. She had seen photos of decomposed corpses, eviscerated bodies, bodies without heads or limbs. Seven years as a cop and homicide detective in New York City had shown her the savages of gang killings and drive-by shootings, children left parentless, and a system that often seemed more interested in politics than in the welfare of its people.

But the brutal details of this crime scene were telling. A thirty year-old woman lost her life in this bedroom, a woman who seemed to be on the verge of a promising career as an accountant. A box of new business cards from the firm of McGinty & Pollock was sitting on her kitchen counter, the toxic odor of printing press ink burning Vail’s nose.

She curled a wisp of red hair behind her right ear and knelt down to examine a bloody smear outside the bedroom doorway. “Whoever did this is one sick fuck.” Vail said it under her breath, but Fairfax County homicide detective Paul Bledsoe, who had suddenly materialized at her side, grunted. The baritone of his voice nearly startled her.
Nearly
startled her, because there weren’t many things that did surprise her these days.

“Aren’t they all,” Bledsoe said. He was a stocky man, only about five-eight, but plenty wide in the shoulders to make anyone think twice about screwing with him. Deep-set dark eyes and short, side parted black hair over an olive complexion gave him the look of Italian stock. But he was a mutt, some Greek and some Spanish, a distant Irish relative thrown in for good luck.

• • •

Read the rest of
The 7th Victim
...available wherever eBooks are sold. For more information on Alan Jacobson’s Karen Vail series, visit
KarenVail.com
.

The Hunted
debuted in hardcover in 2001. In the intervening years, many things have changed, from technology to statistics that—at the time of initial publication—were accurate. I chose to leave most everything intact, opting instead to do only a very light edit to remove obvious anachronisms. In the process, I realized that I still love this novel. And it gave birth to some memorable characters—Hector DeSantos and Douglas Knox, in particular, who have since appeared in my newer books. I hope you enjoyed reading
The Hunted
as much as I enjoyed writing it.

It’s important for me to recognize those people who help me tell my stories. I would like to thank:

Supervisory Special Agent
Mark Safarik
, profiler at the FBI Behavioral Analysis Unit, who assisted me with FBI policy and procedures, threat analysis and forensics, and who took me behind the scenes at the Academy. Every writer needs good contacts to make sure his information is technically accurate. Years ago, Mark started out as a good contact—and became a good friend. I thank him for the many hours upon hours of time he’s given me over the years. I could not have written
The Hunted
with the accuracy and richness regarding the FBI without Mark’s assistance.

Special Agent
Jeff Mullin
of the FBI Academy’s Firearms Training Unit, for his assistance and personal instruction at the Academy’s indoor shooting range.
Nester Michnyak
, at the FBI’s headquarters in Washington, and Special Agent
Laura Bosley
, at the Los Angeles Field Office, for their extensive time and effort on my behalf.

Jeannine Willie
at the California Department of Justice Unidentified/Missing Persons Unit, for her candor and time in educating me about the state’s missing persons program. I hope that I have accurately conveyed the difficulties and issues that this courageous group of people face daily.

The scenes contained an
the Hunted
involving the El Dorado Sheriff’s Department were, of course, fictional and were intended to provide drama, character development, and conflict. They were not intended to reflect on the fine people of the real sheriff’s department. At the real Sheriff’s Department, I would like to thank
Shannon Murphy
, community service officer, provided valuable information on the department’s rules and procedures for handling missing persons.
Jim Applegate
, community service officer, who spent a great deal of time with me discussing the department and its history, and who took me through the paces a person filing a missing persons report experiences. These are very accommodating people who handle the interviews of bereaved people with much greater care and compassion than the characters depicted in the book.

Fred Ilfeld
, Jr., M.D., psychiatrist, and
David Seminer
, M.D., neurologist, for their information and thoughtful discussions on the effects of head trauma and posttraumatic amnesia. Dr. Ilfeld also provided important information on agoraphobia and MPD.

A. David Lerner
, M.D., who took me on a private tour of our local hospital, including... the morgue. David and I are best kept apart, as we have a propensity for getting into trouble when we’re together...

Paul Seave
, the U.S. Attorney of the Eastern District of California, for his assistance on matters pertaining to federal law involving the character Anthony Scarponi’s release from federal prison. Professor
Joseph Taylor
on the legal mechanics of prosecutorial options should additional evidence come to light years after a conviction.

My brother, attorney
Jeffrey Jacobson
, and my good friend, attorney
Perry Ginsberg
, for their feedback and comments on the manuscript, and assistance with all other things “legal” in this novel.

Sid Dunn
, executive vice president of AEPi, for his background information on fraternity record-keeping methods. Paramedics
Monique Becker
and
Doran McDaniel
and trainer
Jeff Rheault
.
Steven Schneiderman
of Schneiderman & Associates LLC (
schneiderman.net
) for his knowledge base and net savvy.

Richard Herman
, fine writer and good friend, thanks for all things air force, covert, and military. “Check six,” buddy.

Paul Ortega
, IBM, for assistance with computer worms, hacking, cracking, and all that techno-fun stuff.

Gerry Gaumer
, National Park Service’s Washington Monument site manager, and Park Ranger
Peter Prentner. Debbie Meier
, registered veterinary technician, for her assistance with rat and mouse behavior. If you read
The Hunted,
you’ll understand why.
Stephanie Bersee
, Warrenton-Fauquier Visitor Center, for being “my eyes” on the ground.

Kip Hakala
, assistant editor at Pocket, for his insightful comments and for helping me get everything accomplished on time.
Emily Bestler
, Pocket vice president and editorial director, for opening the can of worms and forcing me to do something I didn’t initially think was necessary. It was, and it ended up making the manuscript a better read.

My wife,
Jill
, to whom this novel is dedicated, gets the ultimate thanks. She sees things I don’t see and edits my material with an entirely different sensibility.

Though I have attempted to be accurate wherever possible, errors of fact, unintentional or intentional, should not reflect on the professionals noted above.

Alan Jacobson is the national bestselling author of several novels, including
Velocity, Crush, The 7th Victim, The Hunted, and False Accusations
. His novels have been translated internationally and two are in development as major motion pictures.

Alan’s tireless research enables him to bring realism to both character and story. His seven years of work with the FBI Behavioral Analysis Unit gave him the creds to create and write his character of FBI profiler Karen Vail, the series protagonist of his most recent novels.

For video interviews and a free personal safety booklet co-written by Alan and FBI Profiler Mark Safarik, please visit Alan at
AlanJacobson.com
.

Alan Jacobson is the national bestselling author of several novels, including
Velocity, Crush, The 7th Victim, The Hunted, and False Accusations
. His novels have been translated internationally and two are in development as major motion pictures.