And it was. Troopers and others were converging on the conference room from all points. A stocky officer with a general’s insignia on his uniform was the first to reach the prone assassin. “I’m General Gallagher,” he declared brusquely.
“General,” Blade said. He had seen the general earlier, supervising the cleanup after the lobby attack. Plato had conversed with him briefly, but Blade hadn’t had the chance.
General Gallagher moved to the soldier with the crushed throat.
“He’s dead,” Blade stated.
Gallagher squatted alongside the other guard. “Are you hurt bad, son?”
His brown eyes reflected sincere concern.
The second guard groaned, holding his privates. “He… kicked me, sir.”
“The medics will be here in a moment,” Gallagher assured the man. The general peered up at Blade. “Any of your people hurt?”
“No,” Blade answered.
Gallagher glanced at the downed assassin. “At least we have one of the sons of bitches alive! I’ll get him to talk.”
“We will question the prisoner,” Blade said, disputing him.
General Gallagher rose, his thin lips compressing. “The prisoner is under my authority, and I will handle his interrogation.”
“We will,” Blade reiterated.
“Now see here!” General Gallagher thundered.
“One moment, gentlemen,” Plato intervened, walking from the conference room. “We are allies. We should be working in tandem. Why not interrogate the captive jointly?”
General Gallagher scowled. “I don’t need his help, thank you! The Free State Army has functioned acceptably tor over a century without the assistance of the almighty Warriors! And we don’t want the Family meddling in our affairs!”
Plato and Blade exchanged glances. “Do I detect animosity in your tone?” Plato asked.
Gallagher stepped up to the Family Leader and poked Plato in the chest with his right forefinger. “You’re damn right you do, Socrates!”
“My name is Plato,” Plato corrected him.
“Whatever you say, Socrates,” Gallagher stated sarcastically.
“Why do you dislike the Family?” Plato inquired.
“I’ll tell you,” General Gallagher replied, jabbing Plato again. “It’s not just your Family I don’t like. I don’t like any of the Freedom Federation clowns! Governor Melnick and his advisors may think signing a treaty with your Federation is essential to California’s future, but I don’t!”
“Why not?” Plato queried politely.
“We don’t need your Federation,” General Gallagher declared.
“California has managed quite well without you. What can you offer us that we don’t already have? Nothing!”
“We offer you our hand in friendship,” Plato said. “We will be your allies. We can establish trade routes and mutually benefit from our association in other respects.”
General Gallagher laughed. “Trade? What can your Family possibly offer us? It seems to me we’re coming out on the short end of the stick.”
“Having allies could be crucial should the Soviets, the Technics, or the Androxians decide to attack California,” Plato remarked.
General Gallagher snorted derisively. “Let them try! We can defeat any of them!”
“Aren’t you being somewhat overconfident?” Plato asked.
“I’m being realistic,” General Gallagher snapped. “Our military power is the equal of anyone else’s! We’re as strong as the Commies or the Technics and the rest, and we’re a hell of a lot stronger than the Family.”
Gallagher snickered. “I’ve heard all that bull about how great your Warriors are, but I don’t buy the lies.”
“Our Warriors are quite skilled,” Plato commented.
“Your Warriors aren’t shit!” Gallagher retorted, poking Plato one more time.
One time too many.
Gallagher was opening his mouth to lambaste the Family Leader some more, when an iron hand clamped on his throat, and a vise grabbed him by the scruff of his neck. He was bodily lifted from the floor and shoved against the wall, scraping his nose and forehead. His neck and throat were released, and he angrily turned to confront his assailant.
Blade loomed above the general, his fists clenched at his sides, his face a livid scarlet. His right arm snaked up, his right forefinger jabbing Gallagher and slamming the officer against the wall. “If you ever lay a finger on Plato again,” Blade warned, his voice an ominous growl, “I’ll break it off and shove it up your ass!”
General Gallagher couldn’t seem to think of what to say. He sputtered, his mouth working like that of a fish out of water, plainly enraged.
“Governor Melnick should be here soon,” Blade said. “If you have a complaint, we’ll take it up with him.”
“I handle my problems myself!” Gallagher stated belligerently.
Blade pointed at the injured soldier. “Why don’t you tend to your man, and then get the hell out of my sight!”
Gallagher glared balefully at the Warrior. For a moment, it appeared he would launch himself at Blade. But his attention was fortuitously distracted by the arrival of a pair of medics. “Take care of him!” he barked, indicating the guard, and then stalked off.
Bear moved closer to Blade. “Whew! What got him so bent out of shape?”
“That’s what I’d like to know,” Blade responded.
“His attitude is most peculiar,” Plato agreed. “Perhaps he is an isolationist.”
“What’s that?” Bear asked.
“Someone who believes a country or state is better off left to its own devices,” Plato explained. “They’re of the opinion that peace can only be achieved if they do not enter into alliances or make commitments with other nations.” He paused. “There were a considerable number of isolationists in the U.S. before the war.”
“Could be,” Bear said doubtfully. “But if you ask me, that turkey hates our guts.”
“I think you’re right,” Blade said to Bear. “We’ll need to keep our eyes on him.”
“I will discuss Gallagher’s behavior with Governor Melnick when he arrives,” Plato mentioned.
Bear gazed across the lobby. “Hey, Blade! Here comes your buddy!”
Blade glanced up, hoping to see Hickok approaching. Instead, Captain Di Nofrio was heading toward them laden with four M-16’s.
“He got the guns,” Bear remarked eagerly.
Di Nofrio halted, looking at the assassin and the two troopers in amazement. “What happened here?”
“We had a party-crasher,” Blade quipped. “You always miss out on all the fun.”
Di Nofrio was studying the hit man. “I know him! He works in the kitchen! I saw him serving coffee to General Gallagher when we arrived.”
“You don’t say?” Blade crossed to the captain and took one of the M-16’s. “Thanks for getting these.”
“I have two men bringing the rest here in a few minutes,” Di Nofrio said.
“Did anyone give you a hard time?” Blade inquired.
“No.” Di Nofrio grinned. “I had a call patched through to the Governor’s limousine. Only took a minute. The Governor said you’re to have whatever you want.”
“I’ll have to put in a good word to Melnick about you,” Blade commented.
“You will? Really?”
“Really,” Blade said. He lowered his voice. “What can you tell me about General Gallagher?”
“Why do you ask?” Di Nofrio rejoined.
“I need to know,” Blade said. “I take it he doesn’t like us.”
Di Nofrio nodded. “I heard he argued with the Governor about the treaty we’re going to sign. He’s dead set against it.”
“Why?”
Di Nofrio shrugged. “I don’t know. Gallagher has always given the governor a hard time. He’s real hard-line military, you know? Sometimes I think General Gallagher would like to be running the state himself. Don’t underestimate him, Blade. Gallagher is popular with the troops. General Owens always sided with the governor, which annoyed Gallagher no end. And Owens was just as popular as Gallagher.”