Free Kill Decision by Daniel Suarez

out any glitches as best you can in the meantime.”
    There was a chuckle on the other end. “No problem, Professor.”
    Haloren gave her a look. “Those guys were listening the whole time?”
    McKinney shrugged and hung up. She then leaned out to grab the window handle and took one last look at the oddly calm-looking raven, only a few feet away. She’d never thought of ravens as being this big. It was easily the size of a hawk, with a powerful, thick beak that looked like it could crush walnuts. Deep black, penetrating eyes, studying her. It had a tiny, wirelike feather hovering over its head, like a black filament rooted somewhere in the feathers of its neck.
    It cocked its head at her with an eerie, deliberate focus.
    She took a close look at the transponder on its leg and could see a grid of tiny metallic dots. McKinney looked back up at the raven, who was still watching her. “Hi, there. Where are you from?”
    The bird cocked its head again, and then let out a perfect imitation of a chain saw.
    McKinney laughed and looked to Haloren in surprise. “I didn’t know ravens could do sound effects.”
    “Yeah, they’re great at mimicry. My thesis advisor kept a raven. Pain in the ass. Regularly trashed his office, and it hated my guts.” Haloren waved his hands. “Shoo! Shoo!”
    “So maybe it’s the sound of loggers he’s imitating?”
    “Probably.”
    She turned back to face the raven, but it had taken off, leaving a wagging branch behind. “Why’d you scare him away?” She shut and locked the window.
    Haloren held the office door open for her, but pointedly didn’t offer to help lug the forty pounds of climbing gear she was hauling. “After you . . .”
    McKinney marched through the door. “Lock it.”
    “Got it. Got it.”
    In a few moments they were walking fast on the bustling dirt road running down the center of the research station. Local Maasai people in both Western clothes and traditional kanga nodded to them and smiled as they walked past. Haloren engaged them in Swahili, getting laughs out of several. Some of the Maasai were texting on cell phones, getting current cattle and mango market prices from town—an odd mix of the modern and the traditional.
    Haloren kept pace easily alongside her, encumbered as she was.
    “You mind helping with this gear?”
    “I would, but I’m a firm believer in the equality of my female colleagues. Hey, speaking of that: Doesn’t Adwele already have a mother?”
    “Yes, but he’s missing a father.”
    “You applying for the position?”
    “Back off, Bruce. He’s a smart kid, and he’ll need all the help he can get. Babu didn’t leave much behind.”
    “I’m just curious whether you’re doing it for Adwele or for yourself. You will be leaving at some point, you know.”
    McKinney studied Haloren for a moment, then nodded as she realized he really was just looking after Adwele’s best interests. “I get what you’re saying, but Babu was a good friend. He kept me safe on more than a few research trips. If I can help his family, I will. Even after I go home.”
    Haloren studied her too. Then he stopped suddenly. “All right, then. I’ll leave you to it.”
    “Hey!”
    Haloren turned.
    “I promise not to tell anyone you’re not really an asshole.”
    He saluted before heading off. “Much appreciated.”
    She smirked, shaking her head as she watched him fall in alongside another researcher heading in the other direction.
    *   *   *
    M cKinney hung in an arborist saddle sixty feet above the jungle floor. A cacophony of tropical birds and vervet monkeys echoed in the trees around her. She shaded her eyes against sunlight glittering between the leaves overhead and examined the tree’s crown, looking for weaver nests. Fortunately she didn’t see any.
    The lowest branches of this Outeniqua yellowwood tree—or Afrocarpus falcatus —were still twenty feet above her. Her rope hung down from a branch even farther up. She had launched a throw line