Kraken surveyed the men and women in the chairs. “Did you hear Neborak, brothers and sisters? Do his words trouble you as much as they do me?”
“I couldn’t stay to verify the kills!” Neborak cried. “I was hit!”
“Ahhhh, yes. Your wound.” Kraken gazed at Neborak’s left arm. “The elbow, I believe?”
“Yes.”
“And who shot you? A Free State soldier?” Kraken inquired.
“One of the Warriors,” Neborak answered. “I think it was the one called Hickok.”
“You encountered Hickok and you’re still alive?” Kraken rejoined.
“Most remarkable. Hickok is a formidable adversary.”
Hickok nodded. Now he knew who the brains of this outfit was.
“It was Hickok, I tell you,” Neborak insisted.
The man named Kraken sighed. “All this prevarication is most distressing.”
“All this what?” Neborak asked.
Kraken placed his hands on his hips, the baggy sleeves of his robe draping over his knuckles. “Why don’t you reassure us, brother? Go over it again. The Gild will be your judge.”
Neborak looked at his seated peers, licking his lips.
“Proceed,” Kraken ordered.
“I followed my instructions exactly,” Neborak said. “I took one of the uniforms Emery stole for us and met him at the northeast corner of the hotel grounds where they have the garbage cans. I scaled the wall when the guard on the roof was looking the other way, and Emery led me to the rear of the hotel. I stashed my Darter in the garden, in case I needed it for my getaway. Emery took me to a locked closet in a hallway, then unlocked it so I could hide there. There was a fully loaded M-16 in the closet.”
Kraken smiled. “Emery is a consumate professional. If only all the Gild members could be so dedicated to their craft! Go on.”
“I waited until Emery came back and told me that Plato and two Warriors had arrived,” Neborak said, continuing his narration. “I went to the lobby and shot at Plato and the other leaders. I know two of them went down. Then before I knew it, soldiers were pouring out of the woodwork after me. I barely got out with my life.”
“I thought you said Hickok was after you?” Kraken queried.
“He was,” Neborak quickly answered. “So were the soldiers.”
“This gets better and better!” Kraken said sarcastically. “Now you managed to escape with half the Free State Army and one of the Warriors after you!”
Neborak didn’t appear to notice the sarcasm. “I felt it was my duty to return and report.”
“Your duty?” Kraken repeated, then said the words again, his voice booming. “Your duty? I seriously doubt you know the definition of the word! Foster performed his duty, when he blew himself up rather than be taken at the airport. Emery is performing his duty by going undercover, by allowing me to plant him on the kitchen staff as our inside man at the hotel. But you! You spineless worm! You wouldn’t know what duty was if it jumped up and bit you on the ass!”
“Kraken—” Neborak began.
“Silence!” Kraken roared.
Neborak backed up a step.
“I will tell you what you really did!” Kraken bellowed. “I will tell you what really happened! Emery snuck you inside the hotel, as he was supposed to do. And he obtained an M-16 for you, so you could mingle with the other soldiers without drawing attention to yourself. But when it came time for you to terminate the Freedom Federation leaders, you suddenly sprouted a yellow streak down your spine! Instead of mingling and getting as close to the leaders as possible, as ordered, you opened up too soon, and from too far away! Am I right?”
“No,” Neborak responded, his voice wavering.
“Don’t lie to me!” Kraken admonished. “If you had gotten as close to the Federation Leaders as you should have been, you would know which ones were dead! And you wouldn’t have only shot one or two of them! If you’d been as close to them as you are to me, and if you’d used the M-16 on full automatic, all of the leaders would be dead!”
Neborak retreated another step.
“And after making your ineffectual attempt, you fled!” Kraken stated.
“Instead of seeing your mission through to its end or perishing in the effort, you decided your life was worth more than your duty! You’ve placed a higher premium on yourself than on your membership in the Gild.”
Neborak didn’t respond.
Kraken’s attitude abruptly altered. His shoulders slumped and he sadly shook his head. “I am very disappointed in you, brother. Very disappointed. I expected much better from you. You knew the rules before you entered the Guild. No one forced you to join. No one was twisting your arm. Foster nominated you for membership because he believed you were proficient at our trade. I’m glad he didn’t live long enough to discover the error he made.”
“Please, Kraken,” Neborak said. “Give me a break! I never could have pulled it off anyway! There were too many soldiers there! And the Warriors! At least I tried!”
Kraken straightened. “Any endeavor is a waste if success is not achieved,” he philosophized.
“I’ll do better next time,” Neborak promised. “You wait and see! I’ll nail those bastards next time!”
Kraken frowned. “There will be no next time, brother.”
“What… what do you mean?” Neborak asked iremulously.
“You know what I mean,” Kraken stated. He surveyed those seated before him. “Brothers and sisters of the Gild! You have heard the testimony. What is your verdict?”
In turn, each of the men and women extended their right arm, fist clenched, thumb pointing downward.
“The verdict has been rendered,” Kraken announced.
“No!” Neborak cried, glancing anxiously about the room as if seeking an avenue of escape from his fate.
“This isn’t fair! I should get another chance!”
Kraken looked at one of the seated men. “Nightshade.”
Hickok saw the man rise. This assassin was of average height and build, but he wasn’t entirely human in appearance. Somewhere along the line his ancestors had been subjected to massive doses of radiation or been exposed to some of the physiology-warping chemicals polluting the environment. His oily hair was coal black, his skin a dark gray. Slanted yellow eyes and a hooked nose dominated his facial features. Prominent cheekbones accented his unnaturally reddish lips. Nightshade was a mutant.
Neborak stared at the hybrid in undisguised fear. “Nightshade! No! Don’t!”
The one named Nightshade stood still for a moment, his arms at his sides. Then his right arm swept up, his hand bent vertical.
There was a streak of silver, and a six-inch needlelike shaft pierced Neborak’s forehead, snapping his head back. Neborak stiffened, his eyelids fluttering, and then pitched forward.
“Thank you, brother Nightshade,” Kraken said. “Now would you be so kind as to dispose of the coward? Feed the corpse to our saurian friend.”
Nightshade walked to the body, stooped, and effortlessly lifted Neborak, draping his former comrade over his right shoulder.
Hickok watched Nightshade exit the chamber through a door in the north wall. His eyes narrowed as he spied a row of weapons leaning against the wall near the doorway. The mystery weapons! They were similar to a conventional rifle, with a stock and a barrel, but they were outfitted with an odd, oblong metal cylinder attached to the underside of the barrel in front of the trigger mechanism. A slender tube, apparently utilized to house whatever ammunition the weapon fired, ran from the cylinder to just shy of the tip of the barrel.
“Brothers and sisters of the Gild!” Kraken declared. “Our employer would not be pleased with our performance to date! And frankly, neither am I! We have made three attempts to fulfill our contract, and each one has failed.” He paused. “Even discounting Brother Neborak’s dismal inefficiency, we are not earning our commission. This is deplorable! The Gild has never failed to execute an assignment, and we will not fail this time!”