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"Yes, but there has to be an arsenal up there in the nose. As far as I know, they may have
guided missiles to nukeblast Helskel from afar."
"What about a siege?"
"Same answer. From their vantage point, an assault force would be cut to pieces, and
there would be no more trading."
"That's really what's worrying you, isn't it?"
Hellstrom tugged nervously at his long nose. "Of course it is. If we could stage a
successful assault, we'd never have to trade again. Helskel would have everything it ever
needs. There's a vast treasure of tech sitting up there, just out of reach."
"Do you have anything approximating a plan?" Ryan inquired.
Pinching the air between the thumb and forefinger of one hand, Hellstrom replied, "A
germ of one. For it to succeed, it requires courage, cunning and a warrior's intrepidity.
Which all of you possess in enviable amounts."
"Assuming, just for the moment, that we're inclined to go along with you," Ryan said,
"what's in it for us?"
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"You don't seem like a fool, Cawdor, but you certainly can sound like one. 'What's in it
for us,' he asks." Hellstrom thrust his head toward Ryan. "What do you think? You'll be
rewarded beyond your wildest dreams of avarice. Blasters, wags and an unlimited supply
of fuel. If you're successful and you care to remain with us, you'll enjoy a position in
Helskel second only to my own. If you wish to continue on your journey, I'll grant you a
special dispensation. Everyone will be so happy with the new toys, they won't question
any decisions I make. We'll be the most powerful barony in Deathlands, mebbe even on
the whole planet."
"And if we're not successful," Krysty said, "you can always claim we were wild-assed
mercies, not connected to Helskel at all, operating without your sanction or knowledge."
Hellstrom smiled. "The Beforetimers called it plausible deniability. Isn't that a lovely
phrase?"
"The freezies in the nose may not believe you, lovely phrases or not," Ryan pointed out.
"That's an acceptable part of the risk."
Glancing over his shoulder, Ryan exchanged quick looks with Mildred, J.B., Jak and
Krysty. He turned back to Hellstrom.
"I'm too tired to give your proposition the consideration it deserves. Let us get back to
Helskel, rest up and have a chance to discuss it among ourselves."
"A fair proposal," Hellstrom replied. "From the moment we reach Helskel, you have
thirty-six hours to reach a decision."
"And if you don't like our decision?"
Hellstrom replied with a smiling face, but there was no humor in his tone. "Then I'll be
forced to make one of my own."
Chapter Fifteen
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They arrived back in Helskel shortly before noon. The driver of the AMAC maneuvered
it into a fenced-in compound behind the saloon, parking the vehicle between several
motorcycles that were locked into stanchions and a pair of open-canopied dune buggies.
There was a fueling station with two gasoline pumps situated on a concrete apron in the
center of the lot. Two sec men armed with the compact Tec-10 machine pistols guarded
it.
Everyone disembarked and trooped to the saloon. Fleur beckoned to a couple of the
compound guards to carry Hellstrom and his chair out of the AMAC.
Upstairs, Krysty and Mildred made it plain that a bath was their first order of business.
Doc, Jak and J.B. opted for naps. Ryan, who felt soiled and grungy, collected a fresh shirt
and pants from the backpack and went to the first-floor bathroom.
The tub was old and deep, but it was equipped with running water. A cake of homemade
lye soap the size of a ham was on a stool. Ryan filled the tub with hot water, removed his
clothes and eased his body into it. He sighed with relief. For a few minutes he occupied
himself with the ordeal of shaving by feel. He nicked himself twice before he'd rid his
face of the stubble.
He scrubbed himself with the soap until his skin prickled, then lay back, closing his eye,
hoping some of the tension and worry would ease from his muscles and mind. He was on
the verge of dozing off when he heard the bathroom door click open. He reached for his
blaster on the stool.
"No need for that, Cawdor."
It was Fleur, wearing a pink silk wrapper, the cuffs of the voluminous sleeves edged with
brightly colored feathers. With her long hair tumbling about her shoulders, she looked
astonishingly feminine, despite the eye patch and the X scar.
"What are you doing here?" Ryan demanded. Unconsciously his knees drew together.
With an easy smile, the woman replied, "I want a bath. No one told me this one was
occupied."
"As you can see," Ryan said, "it is. Close the door on the way out."
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"All right," Fleur said, but she didn't seem inclined to hurry.
Ryan angled an eyebrow at her. "Yeah?" [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]