Free The Hunters by Chris Kuzneski

McNutt, and Jack Cobb.’
    The six of them said hello for a few seconds. Then they just stood there, looking from one to the next. Eventually, everyone was staring expectantly at Papineau.
    He smiled warmly. ‘Would anyone care for refreshments?’

13

    The group relocated to the home’s expansive gourmet kitchen, which sprawled beyond the dining area by way of a wide counter. Once the newcomers discovered that Papineau had no kitchen staff, each made his and her own exploration.
    Garcia went right to the old-fashioned cast-iron stove, grabbed a skillet, and declared his intention to make his famous breakfast burritos. Jasmine, who had tied a blue wrap dress around her, was at the sink cutting up melons. McNutt had his head in the gigantic, silver fridge, pulling out luncheon meats - freshly sliced, not packaged - while Sarah squeezed oranges for juice.
    Coffee had already been made, and Cobb poured some, black. Then, standing by a butcher’s block at the far end of the counter, he set out a variety of breads he cut from a selection of fresh-baked loaves. It was a perfect vantage point from which to watch the others, in particular the one he had never worked with.
    For one reason or another, Jasmine puzzled him. She did not have the kind of muscle tone that suggested anything more than low-impact workouts: health and vanity workouts, he called them. Her knife skills, at least on a melon, seemed ordinary. She had been reading from an e-reader on the terrace, but she had turned it off before he could see what was on it. He knew he could just go over and ask her questions, but where was the fun in that?
    He preferred to figure it out on his own.
    Jasmine pulled some wicker trays from a cabinet beside the sink. She set them on the granite tabletop - not avoiding eye contact with anyone but not going out of her way to make it, either. She seemed oblivious to McNutt’s wide-eyed admiration.
    No doubt she got that a lot.
    Their host, who had disappeared for about five minutes, returned. He stood at the edge of the kitchen and stated, ‘If everyone will please take their refreshments into the dining room, I would like to make this a working lunch.’

    * * *

    Dark clouds had rolled in and the daily Florida summer rainstorm was in full swing by the time the group got to the long dining room. Papineau stood at the head of the large table, waiting for each to take a seat.
    Garcia sat with his back to the sea, closest to their host. Jasmine put a plate of sliced fruit on the table, selected some, and sat opposite Garcia. That made it easier for McNutt, who sat next to her with a self-conscious laugh. Sarah sat opposite.
    Cobb took a seat at the end of the table, opposite their host. He put the platter of sandwiches there, and checked his cell phone in his lap while he waited.
    ‘You are aware by now that each of you has been recruited and tested,’ Papineau said. ‘This was done so that I might offer you the opportunity to become part of a unique mission - one that, if successfully completed, will shower you in riches.’
    Papineau let that sink in, and the reaction was gratifying. McNutt smiled crookedly. Sarah grinned with anticipation. Garcia’s eyes sparkled. Jasmine was reflective. Cobb just watched the others and could see all their minds racing.
    Papineau continued. ‘Jasmine Park is fluent in many languages, with an exhaustive knowledge of ancient cultures and world religions. She is our historian.’
    ‘What did you test her with? A pop quiz?’ McNutt asked.
    ‘No,’ Papineau said. ‘Jasmine? Would you care to share?’
    The young woman looked at the others. ‘I work at the
Korean Daily News
in Orlando. Yesterday my editor asked me to investigate a document that had been sent to the FBI. He’s got a friend in the Bureau who sometimes gives him leads, and in exchange we’ve held certain stories or disseminated information in ways that can help investigations. His friend explained that it was supposedly a ransom