Free The Executioner's Game by Gary Hardwick Page A

to admit that he’d seen anyone fitting Alex’s unique description. And who wouldn’t remember a disfigured man?
    Hampton turned on his laptop, which was nestled securely in a holder built in to the dashboard. He pulled up the E-1 Operations Mission Program, called EOPM.
    â€œWhat’s it say?” asked Luther, aware of what Hampton was doing.
    â€œMost of the men interviewed were telling the truth about Deavers, all but one. A man named Kraemer was noted as ‘suspicious’ by the maritime authorities, the FBI, and the Harbor Patrol. Kraemer was part of the Métier ’s rescue team when it came upon the Sjømannskirken at sea.”
    â€œBut his story checked out,” said Luther.
    â€œIt did, but two men on the Métier noted that Kraemer had disappeared for a time after the ship was under way again.”
    Hampton pulled up a picture of Kraemer. He was a round little white man whose features were doughy and bland. His skin was ruddy from years at sea, and his head was a mess of dark, greasy hair.
    â€œA handsome figure of a man,” said Hampton.
    â€œHe’s our target. He’ll lead us to something.”
    â€œYou mean to the wolf.”
    â€œI don’t think Alex is here anymore,” said Luther. “It’s been too long, and I know I wouldn’t sit so close to D.C. for an extended period of time.”
    They soon spotted Kraemer, who looked just like his picture. When he left work, Luther followed him away from the pier and into the city. Luther hit the Ford’s CD player, and Outkast blasted from the speakers. The thick bass and Andre 3000’s rapid-fire rap filled him with energy.
    â€œYou’re going to kill me before the wolf,” said Hampton.
    Kraemer made a pit stop at a 7-Eleven and came out with a plastic bag holding a six-pack of beer. Kraemer got into his car, popped the top on a can, and drank.
    â€œNot a very safe driver,” said Luther.
    Kraemer pulled away. Luther waited a moment and then followed. Although Luther didn’t know the region, he did know that East Baltimore was the black part of the city and considered to be a dangerous area. That’s where Kraemer headed.
    Luther’s mind worked as he trailed Kraemer into the heart of the inner city, watching the faces turn from white to black and the sky fill with darkness.
    The streets in a place like this came to life at night. This didn’tunsettle Luther; it stimulated him. There would be danger, and he was ready. So far this whole wolf chase had been a mental cat-and-mouse game. He was definitely due for some real action.
    A startling thought occurred to Luther. Could Alex still be in the city? Was this a trap of some kind? Luther got excited for just a moment; then he calmed down.
    â€œHe’s going into the inner city,” said Hampton. “What’s a white guy gonna do there?”
    â€œI don’t know. Any man can get into a lot of trouble in the ’hood,” said Luther.
    Kraemer stopped his vehicle in front of a run-down, blasted-out building near East Fayette and North Port streets. Although Luther had never been here, he sensed that it was not a safe place.
    Luther and Hampton watched as Kraemer got out, slipped what had to be money to two young black men, and went inside. The money, Luther knew, was payment for them to watch Kraemer’s car, a brand-new Volvo, much too nice a car to be in this part of town at night.
    Luther rolled by the building, and the two black men gave his vehicle more than a passing look. He drove for another two blocks, then turned around and headed back. The streets had the look of an urban war zone and reminded him a great deal of Detroit.
    â€œSo what’s Kraemer doing here?” asked Hampton.
    â€œMore important, what does his presence have to do with Alex Deavers, if anything?”
    Luther parked his Ford in the well-lit lot of a restaurant not too far from where Kraemer was. Hampton