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“Pitiful.”

“What is?” Blade queried.

“Havin’ to put up with five days of this if we don’t nail those buzzards sooner,” Hickok said. “At the rate this trip is going, when we get back I’ll need a vacation from my vacation.”

Blade watched a flicker of orange flame sprout from the demolished limo, his facial contours tightening grimly, bothered by a somber thought.

If we get back!

Chapter Four

Governor Melnick had explained his reasons for selecting Anaheim as the summit site in a letter to the leaders of each Freedom Federation faction, a letter relayed by President Toland a month before the summit. Toland had initiated negotiations with the Free State of California by sending two envoys to the state under the protection of a Civilized Zone army convoy.

Under explicit orders from Toland, the two envoys had remained in California for months, arranging the details of the summit. On their return to Denver with the good news, the envoys had carried the letters from Melnick.

Governor Melnick had picked Anaheim for several reasons. The state capital had been relocated from Sacramento to Los Angeles twelve years after World War Three. The rationing of fuel and the decline in the number of functional vehicles had made traveling to Sacramento increasingly difficult for the populace. Finding themselves relatively isolated from the major urban centers on the coast, the lawmakers and the governor had elected to move the seat of government. Because of Anaheim’s proximity to L.A., and because one part of Anaheim, in particular, was ideally suited for the summit, Melnick had chosen the city as the site.

As with every other city in the state, Anaheim had suffered a drastic drop in population after the war. Six months prior to World War Three, close to 250,000 citizens had resided there. One hundred five years after the war, only 20,000 called Anaheim home, and the majority of them occupied the northern half of the city. The southern section was sparsely populated, and Governor Melnick had wanted a site where the summit would not attract undue attention, would not be surrounded by crowds of the curious every day. Melnick knew the leaders would require an undisturbed atmosphere for their discussions, and he picked the perfect spot.

Before the war, an elaborate amusement park, now fallen into decay, had drawn tourists by the millions to Anaheim. But while the park no longer resounded to the peal of laughter and the hubbub of excited voices, a hotel southwest of the park was periodically utilized for seminars, conferences, and other governmental functions. The hotel, Melnick had decided, was the ideal place for the summit.

Blade mentally reviewed the letter from Governor Melnick, which Plato had allowed him to read, as their Free State Army escort wheeled onto West Street. He saw the hotel ahead to the left, and off to the northeast was the dilapidated amusement park. The hotel and vicinity were literally crawling with soldiers, all of them carrying M-16’s and bolstered pistols.

“I’d like to see those assassins try something here,” Captain Di Nofrio commented from behind the wheel. He steered the jeep toward the curb in front of the hotel.

Seated on the passenger side across from the officer, Blade frowned at the idea. “I wouldn’t,” he said.

“You don’t have anything to worry about here,” Di Nofrio assured the Warrior. “Our security is airtight.”

“If there’s one lesson I’ve learned from my years as a Warrior,” Blade remarked, “it’s never to become overconfident.”

“Look at all the troopers we have here!” Di Nofrio stated. “How could the assassins possibly get past us to kill the leaders?”

“Where there’s a will,” Blade noted, “there’s a way.”

“Never happen,” Di Nofrio said obstinately.

“I hope you’re right,” Blade mentioned.

“Do you have guards on the roof of the hotel?” Hickok asked from his seat behind the captain.

“Of course,” Di Nofrio replied. “And there are guards posted at ten-foot intervals all around the perimeter. I’m telling you, if those sons of bitches get in here then I’ll eat my shorts.”

“Well-done or rare?” Hickok retorted.

“Never happen!” Di Nofrio reiterated.

Blade saw the helicopter hovering above the hotel. The whirly-bird had caught up with them about seven miles from Anaheim.

Captain Di Nofrio braked the jeep, then turned off the motor. He glanced over his right shoulder at Plato. The Family Leader was quietly sitting next to Hickok, serenely contemplating the activity around him.

“The other Federation members are probably in the lobby,” said the captain. “They’ve been socializing since their arrival, waiting for President Toland and yourself to arrive. They know you are due to arrive about this time.”

“And there haven’t been any attacks on the other leaders?” Blade thought to inquire.

“None,” Di Nofrio said.

“No incidents of any kind?” Blade queried.

“There was one incident,” Di Nofrio answered, the corners of his mouth turning downward.

“What incident?” Blade asked.

“One of the Cavalrymen caused quite a stir yesterday,” Di Nofrio disclosed. “The Cavalry leader, a Mr. Kilrane, brought two bodyguards with him. A Mr. Boone and a Mr. Hamlin.”

“And?” Blade prompted.

“Well, Mr. Boone apparently took it upon himself to conduct some target practice without notifying security,” Di Nofrio elaborated. “He took a half-dozen bottles from the bar and went into the gardens behind the hotel. You can imagine the commotion when he started shooting.”

“Was anyone hurt?” Blade questioned.

“No, but some heated words were exchanged,” Di Nofrio detailed. “A corporal made the mistake of referring to Mr. Boone as an ignorant clod…”

Hickok cackled.

“…and Mr. Boone flattened the corporal,” Di Nofrio concluded.

“That’s Boone for you!” Hickok said. “I love it!”

“You know Mr. Boone?” Di Nofrio inquired.

“Sure do,” Hickok said. “Kilrane, Boone, and Hamlin have been to our Home a number of times for Federation get-togethers. Boone has a rep as being fast with his irons, almost as fast as me.” He paused, recollecting the fiasco at the airport. “Of course, he probably shoots straighter.”

“What makes you say that?” Di Nofrio asked.

“Never mind.”

“Let’s go inside,” Plato suggested. He removed the helmet and handed it to the captain, then extracted his beard from under his shirt.

“I’ll go with you,” Di Nofrio offered. “Governor Melnick has appointed an officer to act as your official liaison during your stay. I’ll find him for you.”

“You’re not our liaison?” Blade queried.

“No. The liaisons are all high-ranking officers,” Di Nofrio responded. “I believe a colonel has been assigned to you.”

“Well, you find this colonel and tell him we already have our liaison,” Blade instructed.

“You do? Who?” Di Nofrio asked, clearly confused.

“You,” Blade told him.

“Me!” Di Nofrio exclaimed. “I’m not your liaison!”

“You are now,” Blade stated.

Di Nofrio’s brown eyes widened. “You can’t be serious. I’m under orders to escort you here and then report to internal security. I expect to be assigned to oversee the guard detail on one of the hotel floors.”

“Tell your superiors your assignment has been changed. I want you as our liaison,” Blade directed.

“I don’t know,” Di Nofrio said, apparently flattered but unwilling to make waves.

“Give me one reason why we can’t have you as our liaison?” Blade demanded.

“It’s most irregular,” Di Nofrio said.