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

this value attracts—how shall I put it—some rather unscrupulous individuals. You will stay where you are while I verify the identity of the heads that you have brought me.’
    Monsieur Delacroix placed the medical delivery box on his desk, opened it with expert hands.
    Two severed heads gazed up at him.
    One was speckled in blood, its eyes wide with horror.
    The other was in poorer condition. It had been badly burned.
    Monsieur Delacroix was unperturbed.
    Donning a pair of surgical gloves, he calmly extracted the blood-speckled head from the box and placed it on a scanning device beside his computer.
    â€˜And who do you claim this is?’ Monsieur Delacroix asked Big Drabyak over the intercom.
    â€˜The Israeli, Rosenthal,’ Drabyak said.
    â€˜Rosenthal,’ Delacroix punched the name into his computer. ‘Hmmm . . . Mossad agent . . . no DNA records. Typical of the Israelis, really. It is no matter. I have instructions on this. We shall have to use other means.’
    Delacroix initiated the scanning device on which the severed head sat.
    Like a CAT scan, the device ran a series of laser beams over the exterior of the severed head.
    Once the device had finished scanning the head, Delacroix calmly opened the mouth of the blood-speckled face and exposed the head’s teeth to the laser scanner.
    Delacroix then pressed another button on his keyboard and compared the analysed head to a collection of records on his computer screen.
    The computer beeped, and Monsieur Delacroix smiled.
    â€˜The cross-reference score is 89.337%. According to my instructions, a verification score of 75% or higher is enough to warrant payment of the bounty. Gentlemen, your first head has been successfully verified by cranial shape and known dental records as that of Major Benjamin Y. Rosenthal of the Israeli Mossad. You are now 18.6 million dollars richer.’
    The two bounty hunters smiled in their respective stone cages.
    Delacroix then pulled out the second head.
    â€˜And this one?’ he asked.
    Big Drabyak said, ‘It’s Nazzar, the HAMAS guy. Found him in Mexico. Buying M-16s from a drug lord.’
    â€˜How utterly fascinating,’ Delacroix said.
    The second head was blackened with burn-damage, and it appeared as if half its teeth had been blasted out with a gunshot wound . . . or a hammer.
    Monsieur Delacroix performed the cranial and dental laser tests.
    The two bounty hunters held their breath. They seemed to get increasingly apprehensive with Delacroix’s examination of the two heads.
    The skull and dental records returned a verification score of 77.326%.
    Monsieur Delacroix said, ‘The percentage is 77%, no doubt due to the extensive fire and bullet damage to this head. Now, as you know, according to my instructions, a verification score of 75% or higher is enough to warrant payment of the bounty . . .’
    The bounty hunters grinned.
    â€˜. . .  unless there is a DNA record of the individual at issue, in which case I am to consult it,’ Delacroix said. ‘And it appears from my records here that there is a DNA sample for this individual.’
    The two bounty hunters whirled to face each other, shocked.
    Big Drabyak said, ‘But there can’t be . . .’
    â€˜Oh, yes,’ Delacroix said, ‘according to my records here, Mister Yousef Nazzar was imprisoned in the United Kingdom in 1999 on minor weapons importation charges. A sample of his blood was taken in accordance with the UK’s prisoner-intake DNA policy.’
    As Big Drabyak shouted for him to stop, Monsieur Delacroix injected a hypodermic needle into the left cheek of the blackened head in front of him and extracted some blood.
    The blood was then placed in an analyser attached to Delacroix’s computer.
    Another beep.
    A bad one.
    Delacroix frowned—and suddenly his face took on a far more dangerous