Starfist: Hangfire (34 page)

Pasquin smiled weakly and shook his head. "Thanks, Joe. Okay," he turned to the others, "as I remember from the map, this woods extends about two klicks to the village. Is there anyone who doesn't think he can make it th-that far? Oooh." He shook himself. "It's getting to me too, Rock." He was shivering. "Let's get moving, if we move we can k-keep w-warm."

It was nearing 11 hours when the village at last came in sight. Pasquin made them stop just inside the treeline again. They had to get inside one of the houses and get warm, but Pasquin knew it would be suicide if watchers were in the village.

"Come on, Raoul," O'Mol urged, "let's run to the nearest house and get under—" He shook his head.

His teeth were chattering so violently he couldn't get the words out.

"No," Pasquin answered. "We do this by the numbers. Olwyn and I will go to the nearest house with a light on and check it out." He paused briefly as a bout of shivering took hold. The others stamped their feet and flexed their arms, their faces white and eyes staring. Pasquin wasn't sure he could keep them from bolting, despite the possibility of danger. "The rest of you stay under cover. Huddle close together to preserve your body heat. We won't be long." They took off at a lope across the narrow strip of grass and through the winter-dead gardens that separated the woods from the nearest house.

Dean, Claypoole, and Katie huddled shivering inside the treeline. It was raining so hard they could barely make out the house with the light on in the window. Dean and Claypoole put their arms around Katie and drew their own bodies as close to her as they could get.

"This is real togetherness, isn't it?" Claypoole said. "I hate this rain!"

"Do that again," Katie said. She was shivering so badly now it was hard to understand her.

"What, whisper in your ear?" Claypoole asked.

"No, breathe on me! At least my ear won't freeze!" The three of them began to laugh despite their desperate condition.

It seemed an hour had passed but it was only minutes before O'Mol returned carrying three fisherman's slickers. "Put these on! Be careful, there are watchers at the inn, but the people in that house are very glad to see us, I can assure you," he smiled. "We are going to kick somebody's ass real good before this day is out!"

"Go 'way!" Klink shouted at the knocking. "Nobody's in!" He laughed and dealt another hand of blackjack. The knocking persisted, louder and more insistent.

"Better see who it is," Fader said.

"You see, then. I'm busy."

Fader got up and went to the door, drew his pistol and, standing to one side, called out, "Who is it?"

"I've seen strangers!" a muffled voice called from the other side. Fader glanced back at Klink, who nodded and drew his own pistol.

Fader fumbled with the unfamiliar brass key and pulled the door open after several tries. O'Mol stepped in, his blaster held underneath his slicker. "Good afternoon, gents." He smiled and shot Fader, with the barrel less than one meter from his belly button. The bolt seared a hole straight through Fader's midsection. Klink was fast. O'Mol swung the muzzle toward him, firing several bolts in quick succession.

Klink leaped away from two bolts and had leveled his gun at O'Mol when the third bolt struck his gun arm, searing through flesh and bone, and the arm below the hit flopped down limply. A fourth bolt burned through his torso. He screeched and stumbled away from the table, then crumpled to the floor.

Dean and Claypoole rushed in, seized the two bodies by their feet and dragged them swiftly outside.

Pasquin, covered by O'Mol, ran back toward the kitchen. The residents in the first house had described the layout of the inn and the three watchers there, besides the widow woman who ran the place.

Bug stood in the center of the large, old-fashioned kitchen, a gun to the head of the hostess, who he held tightly with a stranglehold around her neck. "Don't come any closer!" he shouted.

"Hey, okay, okay! We won't shoot," Pasquin said soothingly, but the muzzle of his blaster never wavered.

O'Mol crept to the side along a wall. Seeing him, Bug didn't know which way to turn, so he ground the pistol into the woman's head all the harder. "Back off or I'll kill this bitch!" he screamed.

The kitchen was full of the smell of scorched flesh from the bar, where Dean and Claypoole, assisted by the villagers, were busy putting out the fires.

"You hurt that woman and you die," Pasquin said. "Drop the gun, let her go, and you live. It's that simple."

"I—I called for help!" Bug screamed. "The boys'll be here any minute now! You ain't got a fucking chance."

Pasquin had no doubt the rat-faced little man had sent a distress signal. But how far away were his reinforcements? The fight in the bar had been over in about six seconds; give him another five to get to the kitchen, and they'd been talking maybe ten seconds already. Less than a minute. They'd have to defuse the guy and get moving pronto.

"I'll count to three," Pasquin said, holding up a free finger.

"Okay! Okay!" Bug dropped the pistol to the floor and shoved the hostage toward Pasquin. As soon as she was clear, O'Mol flamed the little man. He screamed and O'Mol hit him two more times.

O'Mol looked at Pasquin and shrugged. "We can't take prisoners. If we'd left him here, he'd have implicated the villagers. Besides, I owe these bastards a killing or two."

Pasquin nodded. That's the way it would have to be. "Ma'am," he said to the landlady, "we will pay for the damage to your place."

"Pay, hell!" she shouted. "Goddamn, it's I who should pay you boys! You cleaned these bastards up for me!"

Outside, the entire village had gathered in the street despite the rain. When Pasquin and O'Mol emerged, a rousing cheer went up.

"Listen, people!" Pasquin shouted. "We don't have much time. How far is it to Placetas from here by road?"

"Fifty kilometers!" someone answered. Several men volunteered to drive them but Pasquin shook his head.

"Is there any other road to Placetas except the main highway?" Pasquin turned to O'Mol, who shook his head. "Any side roads, back roads where somebody could get here without using the main highway?"

"No, sir," a grizzled fisherman answered. "We seldom use the road. It's only one lane. We take our fish to market up the Franklin instead."

"One lane?" Pasquin grinned at O'Mol, who saw immediately what the corporal had in mind and grinned back "Listen, people. One of those men got a message off to Placeats before he was killed.

More men are on their way here. Go back to your homes! Stay indoors! There will be more fighting today, and soon! But with any luck, these guys will all be out of business by this time tomorrow."

"Let us help!" several of the men cried out.

"You can help by lending us a lorry. But let me tell you up front, you may not get it back. When we leave, everybody get under cover."

A man raised his hand. "I have just the thing. Follow me." Behind one of the houses he pulled a large tarpaulin off a ground-effect car. "Had a very good catch a couple of years ago—and some luck at the casinos—and bought this thing. Wife thought I was crazy, but always wanted one. Haven't used it much.

It's no good for hauling fish to market. Take it."

O'Mol let out a gasp. "You'd let us take this?" The man nodded. "Sir, if I come through this I promise to make everything up to you!"

The man shook his head. "Take the damned thing and go. You've done enough for this village by getting rid of those three bastards."

"Okay, people," Pasquin shouted, "let's mount up and move out!"

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

O'Mol drove. About a kilometer outside Royale, where stone walls closed in on the highway from both sides, Pasquin had him stop in the middle of the road. "El-shaped ambush, one hundred meters from here. Katie and I will form the base of the el, on the left side of the road where I can deliver enfilade fire and stop the front vehicle dead. You three take the flanking ambush, down the right side of the road.

Claypoole, you take out the rear vehicle, if there're more than one. Nobody fire until I do, and then pour everything you've got into them. I'm betting these guys'll be coming on like the wind, no security. If we can stop 'em here, we can kill them all before they can even get out of their vehicles.

"If they're smart and come down both sides of the road through the fields, we've got a problem and we'll just have to fight it out. We've got the firepower advantage. If that happens, use what cover you can get and fight your way back to our car. We'll make a run for it. But I don't think they're that smart. Set yourselves up at about ten-meter intervals."

O'Mol, Dean, and Claypoole took up the flanking ambush along the long side of the el.

Katie and Pasquin jogged along the stone wall to a point about one hundred meters from their parked car. Pasquin picked it because hedges grew up there and would give them cover. Across the road the three crouched behind the wall, their weapons ready.

"I'll tell you when to take the safety off your weapon, Katie," Pasquin told her as he checked her weapon's safety visually and by feel. He smiled. "Don't worry, this time you can shoot all you want to.

But remember, finger off the safety until I start shooting, okay? All you have to do is point the muzzle in the direction of the oncoming vehicles and squeeze the firing lever. Don't worry about hitting anything, just start shooting when I do. If you forget at first to remove the safety and your weapon doesn't fire, don't panic, just flip 'er down and shoot." He checked the power magazine to be sure it was properly seated and then patted Katie reassuringly on the shoulder.

"Raoul, I wanted to go with Claypoole," she said suddenly.

"No. I brought you with me for a very good reason, Katie. Rock loves you. His mind has got to be on his weapon, not on you. That's why you're here with me instead. Hey, once you get to know me, you'll like me!"

Katie laughed. Very careful to make sure the safety was still on, she pointed the muzzle of her blaster over the wall and aimed it experimentally down the road.

They waited twenty minutes before the sound of speeding vehicles reached them at last. Everyone tensed. Pasquin smiled grimly. "Get ready." From around a bend in the road about a thousand meters away the first vehicle came into sight, barreling along at about a hundred kilometers per hour. Water flew in a spray from beneath it. There were four of them.

The column slowed when the lead driver spotted the landcar standing in the middle of the road. He came on slowly. None of the vehicles stopped to dismount troops. The men were professional criminals, not infantrymen, and Pasquin was counting on that. He was right. When the lead vehicle was well into the kill zone, he stood up suddenly and fired a quick succession of bolts into the cab. The windshield exploded and fire broke out in the interior. Then Pasquin raked the left side of the column with a quick volley. Katie started shooting at the same time. Some of her bolts hit the wall, others bounced harmlessly into the nearby fields, but enough hit the vehicles to add to the devastating effect that Pasquin's aimed fire was having.

The three in the flanking ambush, firing at point-blank range, poured a withering fire into the stalled vehicles. Claypoole's first bolt killed the driver of the last car, then he methodically pumped bolts into it until its interior was set ablaze. The other two vehicles were unable to maneuver, trapped between the stone walls on either side and the burning vehicles in front and behind. It was a perfect ambush.

Screaming men burning like torches stumbled out of the vehicles and ran about crazily until they collapsed in the road. In seconds all four vehicles were fiercely blazing wrecks. The fire was so intense the three along the long side of the el had to retreat into the fields to escape the heat. Then fuel cells began to cook off, turning the road into a deadly inferno.

A man, weaponless, his hair and clothing burned away, plunged over the wall and ran stumbling toward Dean. Without thinking about it, Dean killed him with one bolt. No one else emerged from the conflagration.

Pasquin whistled loudly from the road and waved the three back to their car. O'Mol was breathing heavily. His face was flushed and his eyes glittered with excitement. He was also laughing. "We did some damage, by God, we hurt them!"

"That's for sure," Claypoole muttered. While the shooting had been going on he'd fired his weapon in the full rage of combat, but now that it was over and men were frying in the road, criminals or not, they were men, and he felt sick. "It-It was like slaughtering animals," he said, "not a single shot was fired back at us."

"How many do you think we got?" Dean asked. Personally, he wished all the fights he'd ever been in had been so one-sided.

"All of them!" O'Mol exclaimed happily.

"Between these here and the ones at the farm, we sure made a dent in their numbers," Pasquin said "I won't forget this piece of work anytime soon."

"I'll never forget those screams!" Katie said.

The one-lane highway from Royale eventually led into a beltway complex on the outskirts of Placetas.

This modern highway network was necessary for such a small city because tourists used it to get to resorts situated in the nearby mountains. During the tourist season the road network was heavily used, but that day not another vehicle was to be seen.

Taking advantage of the city's side streets, O'Mol guided them into the suburbs. He explained that Culloden's home was in an exclusive neighborhood with its own elaborate security system. "We'll never make it in unless Culloden gives us the clearance or agrees to meet us somewhere else."

"How do we make contact, then?" Pasquin asked. "Originally he was to meet us last Thursday at the Free Library. He has to know what happened at the farm and now at Royale. What if he goes to ground? Maybe he considers it too dangerous to have any contact with us now."

"You may be right. The only way to find out is to contact him. But I think this is the ideal time to make contact. Frankly, the mob's never been dealt a blow like we've given them these past few days, and I'm betting they're confused as hell right now. And we'll make contact by calling him on your comm unit. You wouldn't have his number, would you?"