Logan Trilogy (32 page)

If.

At the cables, working with the Flamer, Mary-Mary had ignored the demands of the speakerbox, but she could not ignore the shouts, the crackle of laser fire…

No chance to finish now. Only a chance to escape.

She threw the Flamer aside, began running toward the Auxiliary Powerchamber; a stepway there could lift her out of the main danger area.

A black shape filled her vision. A pair of strong arms gripped her; a Gun was jammed against her neck, forcing her head back, painfully.

Sandmen! Two of them, prowling the inner Core.

Instantly, she relaxed, knowing that struggle was useless. She did not resist as the gogglemask was peeled from her face.

"I don't know this one," the first Sandman said.

"She's no worker," said the second.

"I know her," said a harsh, familiar voice.

Mary-Mary drew in a quick, strangled breath—a sob of utter defeat…

As her eyes locked on the cruel face of Gant.

BOLDNESS

"It was my fault," said Logan. "The whole thing, my fault."

They'd regained the caverns, had reached the cave of Mary-Mary. Finding it empty, Logan knew at once that the girl had been taken; otherwise, she would have been here, waiting for them.

"But she insisted on going back…There was no stopping her," said Jessica.

"Not that," said Logan, shaking his head. "I mean the whole plan. It had no chance from the beginning."

"But you're wrong, Logan! It almost worked."

"A thing works or it doesn't. There are no 'almosts,' " he said bitterly. "It was a fool's idea, and it's cost us Mary-Mary."

He slumped to the sandy floor of the cave, eyes dulled with pain in thinking about the girl.

"What will Gant…do to her?" asked Jessica, easing down beside him. Her voice was soft, the words strained.

"I know him," said Logan tightly. "I know how his mind works. There's no doubt of what he'll do to her."

A long moment of silence. Then Logan quietly said a word. It stiffened Jessica's back; she felt a chill mount her skin as she heard it:

"Stormroom."

Standing naked and alone in the steel chamber, facing the vented walls, Mary-Mary knew she would never leave this place alive. Gant would have his full revenge on her for snatching Logan from his grasp; he would eliminate her with the same terrible device he had used to subdue Logan.

This time the storm would continue, would end only when her life ended. She would be battered and destroyed by its hurricane force…

Mary-Mary discovered, amazingly, that she was not afraid of death. She had a burning faith in Logan; she knew that, somehow, he'd find a way to stop Gant. No other Sandman had defied the full might of DS, but Logan had done so, and survived. No other Sandman had reached Sanctuary, but Logan had reached it. He was capable of incredible actions, extraordinary deeds—which was why Gant so desperately wanted him dead.

Gant feared Logan 3 as he feared no other man.

Thus, in a deep sense, she was content. Everything she could do had been done. She had revealed Gant's plan to Logan, made him aware of the danger, fired his will and given him a purpose.

He would fulfill that purpose.

Mary-Mary was ready to die.

She felt a stirring in the room. Faintly, imperceptibly, from the wall vents, a soft current of air probed at her.

Mary-Mary shivered.

The storm had begun.

Logan fought the rage that was consuming him. It required a full exertion of will for him to remain a reasoning, thinking man and not a beast bent on slaughter. He fought against an overwhelming impulse to plunge out of the caverns, Fuser in hand, and blast his way to Gant.

I'd never reach him, Logan told himself; they'd burn me down before I was ten steps into the light.

Every Sandman in Crazy Horse envisions me dead under his Gun; that sight lives behind their eyes.

Gant's reward for my death must, by now, be very great indeed.

Yet he could not hide like a frightened mole in these caves while Gant destroyed the girl who'd saved his life, who'd brought him Jessica…

The man, not the beast, would go forth.

But go forth he must!

They were on a thick shelf of rock with a clear view of the large, circular structure just ahead.

Without Mary-Mary, Logan was dependent on Jessica's limited knowledge of Gant's mountain stronghold.

"And you're certain that's it?"

"Yes," said Jessica. "Gant keeps them all locked up there between work shifts."

"Communications?"

"There's a vidphone connecting the prison area directly to Gant's personal quarters."

"Good," nodded Logan. "Who's in charge of the cells?"

"Steratt. You saw him leave."

"How many Sandmen are usually in there?"

"Three. One just inside the door. One patrolling the cellblock. Another on the vid-deck. There may be more now."

"I doubt that Gant would use extra men here," said Logan. "This is the last place he'd expect me to be."

She looked hard into his eyes; her own were glistening. "Just remember that I love you," she said softly.

"You think I'll never come out…That we won't—?"

"I love you," she repeated.

And he kissed her.

Boldness was Logan's last hope. No cat-stalking, no stealthy penetration. No time for subtle moves now. Bold action remained to him, and that alone.

He reached the outer door as Jessica melted back into the shadows. With the butt of his Fuser he banged loudly on the metal.

A Sandman's sharp voice from inside: "Who is it?"

"Who do you think it is? It's me, Steratt! Open the damn door. My key's with Gant."

Logan held his breath, the Fuser poised in his hand. He had heard Steratt's voice many times from the caverns, and his imitation was convincing. Muffled by the double thickness of the metal door, it might pass.

His heart jumped; the door was opening.

In the flicker of an eye Logan had the guard by the throat. A quick snap—and his head rolled loosely.

Logan allowed the body to spill out along the floor as he pulled closed the massive, self-locking door.

He quickly stripped the body, putting on the guard's gray uniform. He pulled the cap low over his eyes, walked casually toward the cellblock.

Twenty feet…fifteen feet…ten…

"I thought Steratt was coming with you," said the second guard, peering down at Logan from his station on the block.

"I come alone," said Logan—and fired straight up at the man.

He didn't wait to see him die, he spun like a dancer in the direction of the vid-deck, leveled his weapon at the third Sandman. Logan's voice cracked across the chamber: "Gun on the deck! Quick!"

Logan could hear the murmur of excited voices from the cells lining the block.

"What's happened?"

"I don't know!"

"Guard's been killed!"

"Who? Who did it?"

"Must be Logan!"

"Logan's here!"

The name ran the cells like a chant: Logan…Logan…Logan…

He was on the vid-deck now, his weapon covering the guard. "Give me the block keys."

"Can't," said the man. His face was pearled with fear-sweat as he looked at the death in Logan's hand.

"Why can't you?"

"Cells are set to open automatically at shift-time, when the crews are changed. Only Gant can open them between shifts."

"Then get him on the vid." Logan's eyes were blood-fired. "Call him over."

"He won't come," protested the guard. "What can I tell him?"

"Tell him you have word of Logan—that you think you know where to find me, but that you want to lead him there yourself, alone, so that no one else can claim the reward."

"He'll never believe that! And if he did he'd bring a dozen men!"

"Your life depends on what he believes," said Logan. "He wants me dead by his hand. That's Gant's prime passion…He'll want to believe what you tell him. And personal greed is a thing he understands. He'll come."

The guard, still sweating, turned to the vidphone.

FLAMER

Gant keyed the outer door, stepped quickly inside.

His step was light. There was an exultation in him. Somehow, this fool guard had discovered Logan's hiding place; the how of it didn't matter. No one would come up with such a story unless it were true.

What could it gain the man to lie? No one lied to Gant about Logan; no one would be mad enough to try.

It was true, then: Logan 3 was once again within his grasp. And this time nothing on Earth could keep Gant from killing him.

He felt like singing!

But wait…

He stopped, eyes narrowed. Where was the inner guard? Gant swept his gaze to the upper cellblock.

No guard there either.

A trap!

"You wanted me. I'm here," said a voice from the shadows.

And Logan stepped into the light, a Fuser aimed at Gant's head.

The dark man could not speak; his throat muscles worked convulsively in the shock of this meeting.

"Your Gun…let it fall," said Logan.

Gant hesitated, glancing toward the vid-deck.

"No guards to help. They're all dead. Do it."

The holstered Gun thumped the floor.

"Now—the central block key. Give it to me."

"I don't have it."

"I won't ask twice." Logan raked the side of Gant's head with the Fuser's barrel. Blood pulsed on the tall man's ripped cheek. He handed over the key.

"All right," said Logan, "walk ahead of me. Fast."

They moved toward the block.

Behind Gant, Logan said, "What have you done with Mary-Mary?"

"She's alive."

"Where?"

"In a cell. Main building."

"She's in the stormroom, isn't she?"

Gant said nothing.

"After I free the workers we're going there. If she's dead you'll wish you were…and you'll be a long time dying."

After his call to Gant the guard had jumped Logan. A foolish move. But, in killing him, Logan's shot had severed the vid-line. Meaning that there was no way to force Gant to cancel the storm that must, even now, be battering Mary-Mary.

The thought of the girl's anguish distracted Logan for the split-second it took Gant to feint left and kick the Fuser from his enemy's hand.

Logan surged at Gant. But, like a great dark cat, the man had whipped back—to palm a wall switch.

Instantly, a series of mirror-bright steeloid panels dropped from above, sealing Logan within a circular area perhaps thirty feet across. A final panel slid over the others to form a dome above his head.

Leaving him blind and alone.

Outside, the triumphant voice of Gant: "Another of my inventions, Logan…in case I had to discipline one of my workers. And really quite imaginative…Watch!"

The blackness grew less intense as the circular walls surrounding Logan began to glow. Heat began to sweat Logan's skin; the panels glowed a furious blue-orange. The heat was stifling.

This place was an oven—an immense human cookery, in which Gant literally roasted his victims!

Logan bellied flat, knowing the heat would rise, giving him a partial respite from the worst of it. But his gesture was futile. Each breath he took scalded his lungs. His eyes burned. He'd be dead soon enough, his flesh blistered and curled to ash.

Gant's final revenge.

Logan's thoughts reeled in confusion: the heat seemed to be lessening, not increasing!

The glow slowly faded from the walls. Darkness returned.

And with it, the voice of Gant: "You didn't think I'd let you die in there, did you, Logan? And cheat myself of watching your finish? No, that would never do. Not after all we've been through together."

What was next? What new torture had Gant devised?

"I'm coming in, Logan. To watch you die. But under my hand. I don't want one of my inventions to finish you. That pleasure I reserve for myself."

And a panel slid back. Light flooded the circular area.

Logan squinted, saw Gant standing with a Flamer in his jeweled hand.

"You were using one of these in your clumsy attempt to destroy my beautiful Core. Now it's only appropriate that I use it to destroy you."

And the panel whispered shut, killing the light.

Logan and Gant were together in darkness.

DUEL

On the rock shelf, Jessica waited.

Logan had told her he would need her help if he managed to free the workers. Until then, all she could do was await some sign of his success.

It did not come.

She'd seen Gant enter the prisoners' compound alone, and assumed that Logan was responsible for his appearance—but no one had come out. Not Logan. Not Gant. Not the workers.

What had happened inside the compound?

Logan knew that the first rule of fighting in the dark is not to be where your enemy expects you to be.

Therefore, as the steel panel was sliding closed, killing the light, Logan was in swift motion, catapulting himself across ten feet of flooring.

A long bloom of yellow-green flame told him he'd been correct—as Gant aimed at the spot where Logan had been standing. The fire lit the chamber for a brief instant, showing Gant Logan's new position.

Again, he triggered the Flamer.

And, again, Logan was gone.

A dry chuckle from the darkness. "I could make this an easy kill," Gant's voice declared. "In one hand, the Flamer, in the other a flashbeam. To pick you out, Logan. To reveal you in the dark…" The chuckle was repeated. "But that would be too simple. There would be no joy in it. I want our little…contest to last. I want to enjoy burning you to ash."

In one way, Gant was wrong. Even with a flashbeam, spotting Logan's exact position within the circle would be difficult—since the polished curving-steel panels acted like a hundred mirrors, casting back a multiplicity of images in their reflective surfaces.

If Logan kept moving…

His foot caught on a panel projection; he stumbled. Instantly, a blade of flame jabbed at him. He rolled away from the heat blast, his right leg singed, the cloth burnt away to raw skin.