Tracker returned to the place he’d last seen the tiger. He was happy, now. At least, for as long as this mission lasted he would be. He loved the hunt; the unraveling of tangled scent trails. He loved pitting his wits against an elusive quarry. He was the best at this game, and he knew it. The only other Defender that came even close to his tracking ability was Animal and since his Animal’s skills were due to some sort of device he wore, he didn’t have the lifelong experience Tracker had. Animal was a human in an animal’s body, lacking the natural instincts to fully understand what he scented. Tracker, on the other hand, was an animal in a human body, or at least a reasonable facsimile of one. He knew, instinctively, what he was scenting when he was on the trail. It filled him with a deep sense of achievement every time he unsnarled another muddled track. And this was even better than usual. He was following a tiger, not to injure it but to save it, as he’d saved that mountain lion out in Kansas two years ago. He was only a tool. He would always be a tool. But he was a good tool.
He followed the tiger’s scent until he came to another wall and lost it against the brick. He cast around, seeking the spoor again, but couldn’t find it. He straightened up and stared at the wall. “Sir,” he said to Scott, who was following him. “The scent trace reaches the wall and vanishes. This isn’t the first time that I’ve lost the tiger’s trace at a wall.” He paused for a moment, then said, “Wait here. I’ll be right back, sir.”
At Scott’s nod, he darted to a broken window nearby, broke out the rest of the glass with the hilt of his sword, then leaped through. A moment later, he reappeared at the window. “Sir!” His voice was excited. “I found the tiger’s trace on the other side of the wall. It’s enhanced, sir. It’s able to dematerialize and go through objects!”
”Very good, Tracker,” Scott said. “That explains why the police couldn’t track it, and why Blacksnake wants it.” Tracker’s ears pricked at the faint, harsh buzz of Red’s whisperjet. The man landed, knees bent to absorb the impact, then walked over to Scott.
”The car stopped a couple miles down the road so Vengeance could get in. I followed it onto the interstate and stayed with it through the I-24/75 split. They took I-75 north. I noticed as I was coming in that people are starting to come out on the street, now.”
”Okay,” Scott said. “Forget about Blacksnake. We’ll take care of them some other time. Right now we’re trying to find an EP tiger.”
”Right,” Red replied. His uniform changed to bland civilian colors and he pulled a false cover over his whisperjet to conceal it as a backpack. As soon as he was satisfied that looked like a civilian, he left the deserted warehouse and started roaming the streets.
Scott turned to Tracker. “You’re on the mark here, Tracker, and I need you for this. We can’t disguise you, but I’ll stick close by in case someone harasses you.” He put the ball back in his pocket, but kept his hand curled around it.
Tracker looked at him with no expression on his face, but his ears lay back, betraying his anxiety. He knew, consciously, that he could out fight or out run any non-EP attackers, but the fear still lay under the surface of his mind, suppressed, but not eliminated. He felt a glow of respect for Scott for remembering his fear of the mob. “Yes, sir,” he said, turning to the door.
After almost an hour and no new sign of the tiger, he heard Jay’s voice over the radio. “Scott? I keep seeing the same six or seven guys wandering around. They seem particularly fond of Joe’s Bar and Grill, a few doors down from that strip joint. They’re armed with shoulder-holstered weapons.”
Tracker scrutinized the people nearby. After a moment, he spotted one of Jay’s suspects. The man was emerging from one of the deserted buildings Tracker had earlier examined and was talking to himself. Tracker focused his hearing on the man.
”…not in here,” the man muttered in a low voice. The man’s earplug gave off a thin whisper of sound, nearly inaudible even to Tracker’s enhanced senses as he hid about fifteen feet away.
”…her room. …”
”Ten-four. Continuing search. Out.”
”They’re hunting for someone. Apparently a woman,” Tracker reported after the other had moved on. “They may be looking for the woman with the tiger.”
Scott nodded. “Okay. I’ll go order a beer and check out the bar. The rest of you, cover the area.”
Jay, who was idling nearby, sent Lady circling overhead. Tracker slipped into the alley behind the bar and crouched between a trash can and a stack of empty boxes. Red, his poly-fiber-steel armor disguised by his clothes, lounged against a nearby light pole to watch the front of the building as Scott walked in.
A few minutes later, Red spoke softly into his radio, “Scott? One of those guys is heading for the bar now.”
Scott clicked the radio twice in acknowledgment. “He went into a storeroom in back,” Scott whispered into his radio a moment later.
Tracker watched as the back door of the bar opened and the man stepped out. He glanced left and right, not noticing the fox hidden in the clutter, then crossed the alley and knocked on a steel door in the opposite wall. It opened to let him in. Once the door was closed, Tracker reported to the others. A moment later, Scott and Red joined him in the alley.
”Jay,” Scott ordered over the radio. “I want you to cover the front. If anyone runs, grab them, but do it gently unless they fight back. We want them unharmed if possible.”
”Ten-four, boss-man,” Jay said.
”Red, you knock,” Scott went on. “Tracker and I’ll be right behind you. We want to find out who they’re looking for. If they shoot, take them down. If they talk, I’ll handle it. Questions?” The others shook their heads. “Then let’s do it.”
Scott and Red reverted their clothes to the Defenders colors. Red pulled his mask over his head and plugged in a small connector which triggered the poly-fiber-steel hood and armor into their hardened forms.
