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Locklin studied the martial artist for a second. “I’ve never thought of our rebellion in quite that light. How is it you know so much about revolutions?”

“I’m a Warrior,” Rikki revealed. “I am one of the select few who were chosen to protect my people from any and all threats. Warriors are required to take many classes in the art and psychology of warfare. We’re trained to develop the capacity for creative thinking. My logic is elementary.”

“I agree with everything you’ve said,” Locklin stated. “But it’s easier said than done. Killing the Peers would be next to impossible.”

“But not impossible?”

Locklin’s forehead creased and the shadow of a smile touched his lips.

“No,” he replied slowly. “Not utterly impossible.”

Rikki gazed at the three dead Freedom Fighters. “Would you mind some advice from an outsider?”

“Not at all.”

“If you want to resolve this conflict once and for all, if you want to end the persecution and restore freedom, if you want to insure future generations will not live under the yoke of tyranny, then you must eliminate the Peers and establish a new government. Unless those responsible for formulating and spreading totalitarianism are eradicated, no one can ever be truly free.”

“Will you help us?” Locklin asked bluntly.

“I did not come here to fight a revolution.”

“I don’t care why you came here,” Locklin said. “The fact is, you’re here, and now you have a decision to make. Will you aid us in overthrowing the Peers, or will you stand idly by and do nothing?” He paused. “Somehow, I can’t see you as the type to stand by and allow hundreds of thousands of innocent people to suffer.”

Rikki-Tikki-Tavi gazed to the west.

“There is one chance in a million we can pull it off,” Locklin went on, striving to convince this sagacious stranger. “Once a week the Peers meet in the Civil Directorate for an executive session of the Civil Council. It’s the only time we can get them all under one roof with any certainty. They meet every week without fail.” He grinned. “And guess what? They meet tomorrow night.”

Rikki placed his left hand on the hilt of his katana.

“If you led us, we might be able to do it.”

The Warrior glanced at the rebel leader. “You are the head of this band. I cannot lead your Freedom Fighters.”

“Why not?”

“There could be repercussions,” Rikki said.

“What kind of repercussions?” Locklin queried.

“Repercussions against my Family,” Rikki replied. “Ordinarily, we do not meddle in the affairs of others unless they pose a threat to our existence. If I led your mission, I would be violating the cardinal rule of noninterference established by the Elders.”

“Can’t you make an exception in our case?”

Rikki contemplated a moment. “On the other hand, my Family is now a member of the Freedom Federation, and the Federation is devoted to restoring liberty to the land.”

“What’s the Freedom Federation? I’ve never heard of it,” Locklin said.

“There are seven factions banded together in a mutual self-defense pact,” Rikki explained.

“Would they help us fight the Peers?”

“They might,” Rikki answered. “But I honestly can’t guarantee they would.”

Locklin ran his left hand through his hair. “In any event, we’re not waiting to find out. Tomorrow night the Civil Council meets. Tomorrow night we will put an end to their evil, or we will perish in the attempt. Are you with us or not?”

Rikki-Tikki-Tavi was a long time in responding. When he did, his mouth was curled wryly. “I’ll tell you what. I must go into Atlanta to find a friend of mine—”

“One of those you mentioned earlier?” Locklin said, interrupting.

“Precisely,” Rikki said.

“Why is he in Atlanta?”

“He’s looking for a relative of a young girl we found,” Rikki elaborated.

“Her parents were killed. She blamed her father’s death on the Peers, and she told us her mother was slain by the Bubbleheads.”

“Does this girl have a name?”

“Chastity Snow.”

Locklin exchanged glances with several of his band.

“Do you know her?” Rikki asked.

“I know of her,” Locklin replied. “Rather, I know of her father. His name was Richard Snow, and he was the publisher of The Atlanta Tribune.”

“Why would the Peers have killed him?”

Locklin shook his head. “Beats me. All a person has to do is cross them once, and the Peers make sure they are never crossed again.”

“Would the Peers eliminate a whole family because one member aroused their wrath?”

“If the Peers were angry enough, they’d eliminate the entire Snow family tree,” Locklin stated. “Sons, daughters, cousins, in-laws, you name it. The Peers are ruthless.”

Rikki’s expression became thoughtful. “So if my friend starts asking questions about Chastity’s relative, he could wind up in trouble?”

“He could wind up dead.”

The Warrior faced in the direction of the metropolis. “Then I must enter Atlanta as quickly as possible. Every moment of delay increases the danger to my friend.”

“You mentioned two friends,” Locklin reminded the man in black.

“My second friend is with Chastity Snow,” Rikki disclosed. “We must inform him of our plans.”

Locklin smiled. “Then you’re going in with us?”

“Technically, I won’t lead you,” Rikki said. “But I must go into the city anyway. And if your band wants to tag along, I would have no objection.”

Locklin chuckled. “I like the way your mind works. Let’s find your friend with Chastity and go kick ass. Where are they anyway?”

From perhaps a mile away, maybe less, came the blast of gunshots.

“I think I know,” Rikki stated.

Chapter Thirteen

Blade’s grip on the blackjack tightened as the Storm Policeman stepped up to them. The trooper was staring intently at the hobo.

“Hey! Glisson! It is you, isn’t it?” the policeman asked.

Blade nudged the old-timer with his elbow.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Glisson answered in a fearful tone.

“Don’t you remember me?” the trooper inquired. “Corporal Schwartz? I conducted you to the Civil Directorate about seven or eight years ago. Remember?”

Glisson studied the trooper’s features, then beamed. “Sure. I remember you. You were the young private who was asking me a lot of questions about life on the road.”

Corporal Schwartz grinned. “I always was the curious sort.” He glanced at the light. “I’d better cross before the light changes.”

“Nice seeing you,” Glisson said.

Corporal Schwartz took a stride, then stopped. “Where’s your Escort?”

Blade quickly nodded at the far curb. “Already crossed.”

“Oh.” Schwartz began to turn, to look at the opposite curb, when the light changed. He hesitated for a second, smiled, and hastened on his way.

Blade hurried to the sidewalk with Glisson right behind him.

“That was too damn close!” the hobo declared once they were safely on the curb.

“Didn’t you know you’re famous?” Blade quipped.

“Very funny,” Glisson snapped.

“Lead on,” Blade instructed. “We’d better reach the Visitors Bureau before another of your fans spots us.”

“Smart-ass son of a bitch,” Glisson mumbled.

“Let’s go,” Blade said impatiently.

They strolled toward a row of glass doors at the base of the Civil Directorate, mingling with a constant stream of humanity flowing into and exiting the structure.

“The Visitors Bureau is on the ground floor,” Glisson informed the giant. “We go in those doors and hang a right.”