The Fourth Bear

Jack’s thoughts turned to escape, but on reflection things didn’t look terrific. The facility was locked down tight, and even if he did get away, he wasn’t sure where he could go with a killer on the loose who could run four times faster than he and was eight times as strong. It was a bit like being handcuffed to a hungry and demented rottweiler, smeared with a steak and then locked in a wardrobe.

The Gingerbreadman released Jack, who took a welcome step back, rubbing his arm. The Ginja smiled again and showed Jack the place where his thumb had been.

“This was the closest I’ve ever been to death, and you know what?”

“What?”

“I felt so liberated. As if I had finally met my match. You and the delightful Sergeant Mary were a formidable team.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

The smile dropped from the Gingerbreadman’s licorice lips. “Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, Jack. You and I are going to play a little game. Ever seen a cat playing with a mouse?”

“Ye-e-es.”

“Ever wanted to know what the mouse felt like?”

“No, never—not at all. Not once. Nope.”

“Too bad. Here’s what we’ll do: To tip my inevitable triumph a few millimeters into your favor we’ll do this as gentlemen. Back to back, ten paces, turn and fire. Any questions?”

“Yes,” replied Jack. “Are you a cake or a cookie?”

The Gingerbreadman glared at him. “Don’t make this any worse for yourself, Spratt. Insult me again and I’ll ensure that the agony of your demise is stretched out so long that you will beg me for death.”

He smiled a disquieting smile, the edges of his licorice mouth almost reaching his large glacé cherry eyes.

“Right, here we go, then,” he said cheerfully, handing over Demetrios’s revolver. Jack’s prints were now on the weapon that had killed Bisky-Batt, but armed was better than not armed—he hoped.

“Five shots left. Make them count.” He drew his sawed-off shotgun at the same time and flicked off the safety. “And since you’ve been such a tremendous sport over the past few days, I’m willing to give you the first shot. Am I not the most magnanimous of murderers?”

“To a fault.”

“There’s that sarcasm again! Jack, you disappoint me sometimes. We’ll do this out in the corridor where there’s more room. You stand there. Ready?”

Jack nodded, and they stood back to back. Jack thought of turning and plugging him there and then, but he had seen the speed at which the Ginja assassin could move.

“Eight paces, then,” said the Gingerbreadman, enjoying himself tremendously.

“You said ten earlier.”

“I did?”

“Yes.”

“Well, let’s not be small about it. Ten it is.”

They both started to walk, the Gingerbreadman glancing over his shoulder now and again to make sure Jack was playing by the rules. Jack was walking back toward the stairs and the rest of the visitors’ center. He looked at the revolver. He’d used one only three times before; he didn’t like them, and NCD work generally called for brains, not firepower. He reached his tenth pace, stopped and turned. The Gingerbreadman’s paces were longer than his and he was a lot farther down the corridor than Jack had thought, while Jack was only about two strides from the top of the stairs. He had planned to aim for the Ginja’s head, but given the distance a chest shot seemed like a better option.

“Your go, then, Jack!” called out the Gingerbreadman cheerfully. “Take careful aim, now.”

Jack lifted the gun, aimed and fired. The shot struck the Gingerbreadman in the area of where his heart might have been if he’d had one, but to no effect—the slug went straight through and embedded itself into a doorframe at the other end of the corridor with a resounding thunk.

The Gingerbreadman smiled at him and said, “Oh, I’m sorry, I should have said: Bullets have no real effect on me. My turn.”

He raised the shotgun and fired in a single swift motion. Jack dived to one side as the blast struck the wall behind where he’d been standing. Without pausing for a second, he dashed down the stairs four at a time and ran back into the darkened atrium to take refuge behind the tank.

“Cheat!” he heard the Gingerbreadman yell. “I stayed still for you!”

Jack looked around desperately as he heard the assassin walk noisily down the staircase. The tank was a battle-scarred example and was peppered with shell holes. He peered through one hole and saw the Ginja padding across the area outside the entrance to what would one day become The Phosgene Experience. Jack waited until he was opposite the turnstiles, then jumped out and fired. The shot blew a small patch of ginger off the assassin’s shoulder, and the Gingerbreadman bounded with surprising dexterity into the entrance of the Scents of the Battle Odorama™ exhibit. Jack took the opportunity to make a move and dashed across the atrium to the Virtual Trenchfoot attraction, shut the door behind him and then swiftly jammed a chair under the door handle.