Stricken’s smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared. “Like I said, your reputation precedes you. So full of annoying questions…Participate or not. Your decision. The rules of the contest are as follows. Whoever kills this thing first collects the money, wins a bunch of contracts, and gets to brag that they’re the best. I want it dead and I want it dead now. I do not give a shit how you do it as long as it gets done fast. The rest of you can cry about it to each other in the hotel bar later. When it’s dead, call the provided phone number and everything will be arranged.”

“This is not fair,” shouted one of the Europeans. “We were not allowed to bring most of our equipment into the country!”

This time Stricken didn’t even bother to look up the man’s name. He pointed at himself. “Does this look like the face of a man who gives a flying fuck about the concept of fair? Improvise, asshole. The world’s biggest arms expo is being held down the street. You’ll think of something. What the hell are you waiting for? The clock is ticking.”

The Hunters looked at each other, confused.

“What’s wrong with you? It’s a race. Act like it!” Stricken shouted. “Go!”

Uneasy, several of Hunters rose. The early standers sized each other up, wheels turning, because no matter who you were, ten million dollars was a lot of money, and to some of these smaller companies, a single decent contract could guarantee their future, and so the rush began. Several of the Hunters went for the exit at the same time in a big ungainly clump.

“Monster Hunter International, stand down,” Earl said with the utmost calm, knowing that every one of his people would comply instantly. “We ain’t going nowhere.”

However, most of the room ran for it. Cody had to get out of the doorway to keep from being trampled, as men from five different companies tried to push the doors open at the same time. The burly Pole didn’t want to try to squeeze past me, so he kicked his chair over and went out that way. Some of the smarter commanders simply pulled out their phones and alerted their subordinates, rather than trying to fight the mob. I spotted Armstrong shoving his way out, but he was too busy thinking about how to spend that much PUFF money to notice me violating his restraining order. The violent, struggling clot of Hunters finally broke loose, and they spilled out into the hall as Stricken’s image continued to watch the monitors with approval. There was something about his smile that was simply unnerving.

Lindemann stopped next to Earl. Unlike many there, he didn’t seem ruffled in the slightest. “This man Stricken, you are certain he is with your government?”

“He ain’t from the nice part,” Earl said.