Ghostwalker 01- Shadow Game

rolled to protect Gator, covering the man's back even as he faced upward. His hands met the solid bulk of flesh and blood.
    He didn't see the knife so much as he felt it as it came swiftly toward him. It was reflex and training that saved him, his hand closing solidly around his assailant's wrist to control the weapon. Recognition crowded in. Russell Cowlings had come out of the night and attacked them. Ryland rolled away from Gator, taking the heavier man with him. Planting his foot squarely in Cowling's chest, Ryland launched the man over his head.
    Cowlings landed with a soft thud, rolled, and came up in a half crouch. Ryland leapt to his feet, his hand slapping away the darting knife as the man came at him a second time.
    They circled each other cautiously.
    "Why, Russell, why would you betray us?"
    "You call it betrayal, I call you deserters." Cowlings feinted another attack, threw himself forward when Ryland stepped to the side, going in low and mean, blade up to do the most damage to the soft parts of the body.

    Ryland felt the tip of the knife slice his heavy shirt, belly level. He was already whirling around, catching Cowlings's wrist and taking him down so that Cowlings's legs flew up and he landed hard. Counter-moving, Cowlings turned his wrist to get control of the blade of the knife. He yelled as he did so, calling out to the security guards for help.
    "Go, Gator, get clear," Ryland ordered as he locked Cowlings's arm, pointing his little finger back behind him so the man's body followed. Cowlings was forced to drop the knife or allow his hand to be broken. The knife dropped to the ground and Ryland kicked it hard, sending the weapon spinning some distance away into the taller grass.
    Man down. Jeff is down. He's having a seizure . Ian Hollister reported in his usual calm voice.
    "Gator, go," Ryland repeated. Help Ian get Jeff clear .
    Cowlings tried to lash out with his legs, scissor-kicking in an attempt to bring Ryland down. "Yeah, send him away," Cowlings spat. "It won't matter, you know, they'll all die."
    Ryland moved to the side, planting a vicious back kick squarely on Cowlings's thigh. "Is that what Higgens told you? Is that why you sold us out, Russ? Did Higgens convince you we were going to die?"
    Cowlings swore and spat on the ground. He turned his head to glare up at Ryland.
    "You're just so bullheaded, Rye. What's wrong with using our skills to make money? Do you know what Peter Whitney is worth? What that daughter of his is worth? Why should they get all the money while we take all the risks? The employees at Donovans make more money than we do."
    Cowlings came in fast, smashing two hard jabs at Ryland's jaw. Both punches were blocked and Ryland retaliated with a body blow going straight up toward the throat.
    Cowlings managed to reel backward, barely escaping the lethal attack.
    Ryland was aware of the dogs again, the sounds of excited voices getting closer. "This is about money, then, is it? It's about your greed, Cowlings, not death?" Ryland snapped.
    "You aren't afraid of dying, are you? Why is that? Did Higgens give us all something to cause these seizures?"
    Cowlings laughed. "They're all going to die, Miller. Every last one of them. You can't save them and then who is going to be valuable? Higgens will need me."
    "You're dancing with the devil, Russ. Do you think the colonel is acting in the best interest of our country? He's selling us out."
    "He's smart enough to see that money can be made. You're in the way, Miller, you were from the start with your Boy Scout attitude. Hell, we tried twice to kill you and you just won't die."

    "Higgens will get rid of you the minute he doesn't need you."
    The sound of the dogs was getting closer. Someone had heard Cowlings yell and had turned the pack around.
    "He'll always need me. I can tell him things no one else can. He knows it and he's not going to kill the golden goose."
    Ryland moved in fast, using the speed he was known for, a blurring motion of hands and feet, driving Cowlings backward. He didn't feel any of the blows Cowlings managed to land, his adrenaline protecting him. His world had narrowed, focused on his opponent.
    There were few who could defeat him in hand-to-hand combat. Ryland was in a life-or-death battle. Russell Cowlings wanted him dead.
    Cowlings grunted as Ryland landed a round kick to his ribs, smashing into bone. The air whistled out of his lungs and he dropped like a stone, fighting for breath. The security guards