Read Online Scarecrow by Matthew Reilly - Free Book Online Page A

hunters crossed the drawbridge, dwarfed by the dark castle looming above them, the relentless Atlantic wind blasting their bodies.
    They carried between them a large white box marked with a red cross and the words: ‘ HUMAN ORGANS: DO NOT OPEN—EXPRESS DELIVERY ’.
    Once across the bridge, the two men stepped underneath the fortress’s 700-year-old portcullis, and entered the castle.
    They were met in the courtyard by a dapper gentleman dressed in perfectly-pressed tails and wearing a pair of wireframed pince-nez.
    â€˜Bonjour, messieurs,’ the man said. ‘My name is Monsieur Delacroix. How may I help you?’
    The two bounty hunters—Americans, dressed in suede jackets, jeans and cowboy boots—looked at each other.
    The bigger one growled, ‘We’re here to collect the bounty on a couple of heads.’
    The dapper gentleman smiled politely. ‘But of course you are. And your names?’
    The bigger one said, ‘Drabyak. Joe Drabyak. Texas Ranger. This here is my partner, my brother, Jimbo.’
    Monsieur Delacroix bowed.
    â€˜Ah, oui, the famous brothers Drabyak. Why don’t you come inside.’
    Monsieur Delacroix led them through a garage that contained a collection of rare and expensive automobiles—a red Ferrari Modena; a silver Porsche GT-2; an Aston Martin Vanquish; some race-ready rally cars, and taking pride of place in the centre of the showroom, a glistening black Lamborghini Diablo.
    The two American bounty hunters eyed the array of supercars with delight. If their mission went according to plan, they’d be buying themselves some all-American muscle cars very soon.
    â€˜They yours?’ Big Drabyak grunted as he walked behind Monsieur Delacroix.
    The dapper gentleman snuffed a laugh. ‘Oh, no. I am but a humble banker from Switzerland supervising this distribution of funds for my client. The cars belong to the owner of this castle. Not me.’
    Monsieur Delacroix led them down some stone stairs at the end of the pristine garage, down to a lower level . . .
    . . . and suddenly they entered medieval times.
    They came to a round stone-walled ante-room. A long narrow tunnel branched off it to the left, disappearing into torch-lit subterranean gloom.
    Monsieur Delacroix stopped, turned to the smaller of the two Texans. ‘Young monsieur James. You will stay here, while your brother and I verify the heads.’
    Big Drabyak gave his younger brother a reassuring nod.
    Monsieur Delacroix then led Big Drabyak down the long torch-lit tunnel.
    At the end of the passageway was a magnificent office. One entire wall of it was a picture window offering a stunning panoramic view of the Atlantic Ocean, stretching away to the horizon.
    As they came to the end of the stone tunnel, Monsieur Delacroix stopped again.
    â€˜If I may have your case, please . . .’
    The bounty hunter gave him the white medical transport box.
    Monsieur Delacroix said, ‘Now, if you would wait here.’
    Delacroix entered the office, leaving the Texan bounty hunter standing just beyond the doorway, still inside the stone passageway.
    Delacroix crossed to his desk, pulling a handheld remote from his coat as he did so, and pressed a button on it—
    Wham! Wham! Wham!
    Three steel doors came thundering down into the medieval passageway from slits concealed in its roof.
    The first two doors sealed off the ante-room, imprisoning Little Drabyak in the circular stone room, cutting him off from both the upstairs garage and the narrow tunnel containing his older brother.
    The third steel door sealed off the office from the passageway—separating Monsieur Delacroix from Big Drabyak.
    Small perspex windows set into each steel door allowed the two bounty hunters to look out from their new prisons.
    Monsieur Delacroix’s voice came to them via speakers in the ceiling.
    â€˜Gentlemen. As you both would no doubt appreciate, a bounty hunt of