Countless hours of frolicking in the moat at the Home as a child qualified him as a passable swimmer. He could easily reach the island, which was not more than 20 yards from the dock. But he didn’t like the notion of getting his cherished Pythons wet. The water wouldn’t damage the revolvers, and he would clean them thoroughly at the earliest opportunity, but the idea bothered him and he hesitated.
“Over this way!” someone shouted.
There wasn’t any time to waste! Hickok slid his Colts into their holsters, clamped his hands on the grips to insure he didn’t lose them, and dropped into the lake feet first. He held his body rigid as the cool water closed about him, keeping his eyes open, and he waited until his descent had ceased before kicking his way back to the surface.
The lake was quiet and peaceful.
Hickok released his Pythons and started swimming toward the island in even, powerful strokes.
“He’s heading for the lake!” yelled someone in the trees near the shore.
The assassins were almost to the lake! Hickok swam faster, feeling a clammy sensation as his drenched buckskins clung to him, slightly impeding his progress.
There was a run-down building on the southwest tip of the island.
Between the building and the shore, fringing the bank in a verdant cloak, was a ring of dense vegetation.
Hickok marveled at California’s prolific plant life. Even in January, which was one of the coldest months of the year back in Minnesota, much of the flora was green and healthy. If he could just reach that bank before the assassins appeared! He looked over his right shoulder as he swam, elated to discover the Gild members hadn’t caught up with him yet.
Move!
The Warrior churned the water, his legs and arms pumping, as he rapidly closed the gap to the island. He thought he glimpsed a shadowy form skulking near the building, but when he forced his full attention no one was there.
Must be a case of nerves.
Hickok’s moccasins struck bottom when he was eight feet from the bank. He plunged ahead, checking to insure his Pythons were in their holsters, and paddled behind the protective shelter of a clump of overhanging bushes.
Voices rose from the direction of the dock.
Hickok twisted in the water, peering through a crack in the vegetation.
Kraken and the others were standing on the dock.
Hickok waited to see if they were going to come after him. They were gazing at the island, but they weren’t acting as if they’d seen him. In fact, they were smiling and joking together. Now what was that all about? he wondered. A twig snapped behind him.
Chapter Ten
“The jackass fell for it!” Leftwich said, laughing.
“What a bloody twit!” Charley concurred with a snicker.
Kraken gazed at the pair disdainfully. “We were lucky,” he declared somberly.
“Why so grim, guv?” Charley asked. “Your plan worked, didn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Leftwich added. “I’ve got to hand it to you! When you said we could force him to swim to the island, I figured you were nuts.”
Kraken stared at Leftwich until the latter averted his eyes. “I do not make precipitous judgments,” he stated testily. “The Warrior had three options. Stand and fight. Try to circle around us. Or keep going until he found a place to hide. By staying on his trail, but not pressing him too closely, and by making enough noise to rouse the dead, we provoked him into doing exactly what I wanted.”
“But how did you know he wouldn’t stand and fight or try to sneak around us?” Leftwich queried.
“Elementary,” Kraken answered condescendingly. “If he’d wanted to stand and fight, he would have done so when he took us by surprise at the meeting, when he had the advantage. And he wouldn’t risk trying to return to the hotel until he’s certain we’re no longer after him.” He paused, deliberating. “I suspect he wants to warn the Federation delegates about us.”
“And you’re positive this bloke is a Warrior?” Charley questioned.
“I recognized him from the file our employer supplied,” Kraken said.
“He’s one of the top Warriors, the one who shot Neborak. He probably followed that imbecile here!”
“You mean Hickok?” Leftwich asked in amazement.
“None other,” Kraken confirmed. “And you would have recognized him too, if you’d done your homework.”
“It all happened so fast,” Leftwich remarked.
“A lame excuse, if ever I’ve heard one,” Kraken commented.
“Why didn’t we just snuff this Hickok ourselves?” Charley inquired.
“Why give him to them?”
“I can’t afford to lose anyone else,” Kraken said. “There are only six of us left to complete the mission.” Kraken frowned. “I must have a talk with Farino, and for his sake I hope he has an adequate explanation for his failure to observe Hickok’s approach.”
“Have a heart, mate,” Charley said. “Farino can’t be watchin’ in every direction at once. He must have been keepin’ his eyes on the island, like you ordered. After all, we don’t want another run-in with those chaps, do we?”
Kraken studied the island. “No,” he agreed. “We must keep them confined to the island until we’re done here.”
“Should we use the radio and call for assistance?” Leftwich queried.
“No,” Kraken replied. “We only use the radio in a dire emergency. I doubt the Free State security forces possess sophisticated monitoring equipment, but we won’t take the chance.”
“Should I go relieve Farino?” Charley asked.
“Let him stay on the roof for another hour,” Kraken said.
The fourth Gild member on the dock, the mutant Nightshade, the silent one, stepped up to Kraken and tapped the Gild leader on the right elbow.
“What is it, brother?” Kraken inquired.
Nightshade pointed at the island, then worked his hands in a series of swift gestures.
“What did he say?” Leftwich probed.
“Nightshade wants to know if we should leave someone near the dock,” Kraken said, translating the sign language. “In case the Warrior swims back.”
“That’s a good idea,” Charley said. “Should we?”
“I don’t have the manpower to spare,” Kraken stated. “But after you relieve Farino on the roof, make damn certain you watch the island closely.” Kraken noticed Charley was staring at Nightshade with a peculiar expression. “Is something wrong, Charley?”
“No, guv,” Charley responded. “I was just wonderin’ what it was like, you know?”
Nightshade’s yellow orbs narrowed.
“Nightshade doesn’t like to be reminded of his misfortune,” Kraken mentioned.
Charley grinned at the mutant. “No offense meant, mate. I was thinkin’ about how terrible it would be to have my tongue cut out.”
“Nightshade lost his tongue because he was careless,” Kraken stated callously. “He barely escaped from the Dragons with his life.”
“The Dragons!” Leftwich exclaimed. “They cut out his tongue?”
Kraken nodded. “Nightshade botched an assignment. He was sent to terminate the head of the Dragons, but he was caught.”
“Who are these Dragons?”
Leftwich grimaced. “The freakiest bunch of bloodthirsty mutants you’d ever want to meet! I hate them!” He involuntarily shuddered.
Nightshade’s right hand unexpectedly flicked out and closed on the front of Leftwich’s fatigue shirt. He hardly seemed to strain as he hoisted his fellow assassin into the air.
“Hey! Let go of me!” Leftwich cried, dropping his Darter. “I didn’t mean you!”