Hunter's Games Read Online Free Page B

man in public. Even if they are trying to arrest me, the most they’ll risk is a non-lethal takedown, and I can live with that.
    “Or else what?” I ask, finally.
    Agent Green stops and looks back at me. His eyes narrow and he takes a step back before spinning round to face me, stopping a few feet away. He raises his right hand. I have no idea why. Maybe he intends shaking a disapproving finger at me. Or maybe he’s going to grab me again, I don't know. But I’ve no intention of waiting to find out. I’m past caring.
    I grab his right arm at the wrist with my left hand and twist it away from me. I catch him off-guard, and he almost overbalances. He instinctively moves his body to try to ease some of the pressure on his wrist, which I anticipated. As he does, I thrust the straightened outside edge of my open right hand into his throat, sending him crashing to the ground.
    I drop my bag and step back into a loose fighting stance, slowly turning and eyeing up each agent in the circle in turn. I feel enraged... trapped... and my instinct is to react the only way I know how to… Violently.
    I know it’s not the smartest thing I’ve ever done. I know they came here with nothing on me that they can use to justify an arrest. Although, something is definitely amiss here. I mean, how did they find me in the first place? And why would the FBI want to talk to me? It has to be some kind of misunderstanding. But now, all that’s irrelevant. Because now, they do have something to arrest me for—assaulting an FBI agent. I can imagine what Josh would say to me if he were here. In his sarcastic, British voice, he’d say, ‘ Nice one, Adrian, you muppet!’ I don’t fully understand the reference, but I know that muppet means idiot …and he’d have been absolutely right.
    They swarm toward me, forcing me to the ground, holding me in position as they place handcuffs on me. I don’t offer any more resistance. I’ve proved my point. You can’t get away with threatening me.
    Two of them drag me to my feet while the others follow in a wide arc, guns trained on me from all angles. Agent Green has managed to get back up and is dusting himself down and massaging his throat. He catches up with us and escorts me to a fleet of cars parked a short distance away.
    “That was a grave mistake,” he says to me. “Now you are under arrest.”
    He reads me my rights as they usher me into the back of one of the cars. They slam the door behind me, and everyone retreats to their own vehicles.
    We drive off and I look out the window at all the onlookers who are staring and pointing.
    That went south really fast…
    What the hell just happened?
     
    14:31
    I’m sitting on the world’s most uncomfortable chair, with my hands flat on the table in front of me. I look around the small, gray, generic room, noting every detail. Not that there are many.
    Behind me and to my right are plain brick walls that probably haven’t had a fresh coat of gray paint since the seventies. At the top of the right wall is an analogue clock. On the right hand side of the wall in front of me is the door, made of old, thick wood with frosted glass in the top half. You can see the outline of things outside, but nothing clearer.
    A one-way mirror completely takes up the wall to my left, stretching from waist height to ceiling, and running practically the full width of the room.
    My wrists are cuffed, and chained to the table in front of me through a small metal hook. The table itself is bolted to the floor, though the chair I’m sitting in isn’t.
    In the top left hand corner, just above the mirror, is a CCTV camera, which can easily see the entire layout of the room. I imagine there’s sound recording on it as well.
    I glance up at the clock. A couple of hours ago, I’d arrived at the FBI Field Office a couple of hours ago and Agent Green hustled me straight into this room, secured me to the table, and left me alone. I’ve been here ever since—no sign of