Blade felt a cement chip strike his left cheek, drawing blood and he leaped up and ran for a large tree ten feet away.
The two Leather Knights opened up at random.
Blade reached the tree and ducked from sight. What now? He was afoot, in enemy territory, and he had no idea where Rikki was being held—if Rikki was still alive—in St. Louis, an immense city impossible for one man to adequately cover.
The Leather Knights had stopped shooting.
Maybe Hickok had been right. Maybe both of them should have ventured into the city.
Far off, to the east, appeared more bikers.
Terrific!
It was probably Jeff with reinforcements. So now he had Knights behind him and Knights in front of him.
What to do?
Blade peeked around the trunk of the tree. All was quiet in the vicinity of the hedge. He darted from the tree and raced to the corner of the street.
A weather-ravaged sign indicated this was the junction of Delmar and 23rd. He jogged to his right, staying on the worn sidewalk, seeking a hiding place or somewhere he could make a stand. He lost track of the distance he ran as he took one side street after another, first in one direction, then in another, hoping to lose the Leather Knights. He could hear their bikes to his rear and to his left. They were probably conducting a sweep.
Over a dozen residents saw him run by, but none of them displayed any inclination to interfere with a bronzed giant carting a machine gun.
An alley appeared on his right, its entrance filled with rusted trash cans and other debris.
Blade paused and surveyed the street he was on. He was alone. Perfect!
He hurried into the alley and slid behind a pile of moldy boxes and piled garbage.
None too soon.
Two Leather Knights thundered into view, slowly cruising the street, each biker concentrating on one side.
Blade flattened against the west wall of the alley and tensed. Would they stop and investigate the alley?
The pair of Knights, a woman and a man, a “sister” and a “stud,” drew abreast of the alley.
The woman braked.
Blade could see them through a crack between the boxes.
The woman was eying the alley speculatively, apparently considering whether to check it out.
The man stopped and glanced at the woman. “Come on,” he said. “No one would hide in that crap.”
“You never know,” the woman stated. She turned off her bike and dismounted.
Blade placed his finger on the Commando’s trigger.
The male Knight sighed and did the same.
Blade focused on the slim opening dividing the boxes and garbage at the mouth of the alley.
The sister drew an automatic pistol in her left hand and cautiously advanced.
The stud was ten feet behind her, his revolver still in its holster on his right hip, certain they were wasting their time.
Blade made a calculated decision. If the women ruled the Leather Knights, then one of them was his best bet for supplying the information he required.
This woman was of average height, about five feet six, and in the neighborhood of 115 pounds. She wore a black vest and black shorts, revealing an ample cleavage and very shapely legs. Her hair was a dusty blonde, her facial features lean but attractive. The automatic was aimed straight ahead and her brown eyes alertly probed the alley as she neared it.
Blade held his breath and clutched the Commando.
The woman reached the mouth of the alley. She took a tentative step forward and glanced to the east.
Blade sprang, sweeping the Commando stock around and in, catching the Leather Knight in the abdomen.
The woman doubled over as the stock plowed into her stomach. She gasped and dropped the pistol, dazed, out of breath.
The stud’s face had betrayed his astonishment as the sister was struck, and now he went for his revolver, clawing at his holster, frantically attempting to draw.
Blade, thankful his opponent lacked even a third of Hickok’s speed, raised the Commando and fired over the woman’s back.
His hand still striving to draw his gun, the Knight was hit in the head by the burst. His eyes and nose caved inward in a spray of red and he toppled to the street.
No time to lose!
Blade clipped the woman on her jaw as she took a step backwards. She moaned and sagged to the ground, unconscious.
If only he knew how to ride a motorcycle!
Blade knelt and lifted the woman in his brawny left arm. He effortlessly draped her over his broad shoulders and wheeled, making for the gloomy interior of the alley. His nose was assailed by absolutely revolting odors, almost prompting him to gag. Avoiding soggy mounds of garbage, his boots squishing with every step, he reached a low wall at the end of the alley. The top of the wall was six feet from the ground.
The Leather Knight groaned.
Blade slung his Commando over his right shoulder, then leaped, his arms clearing the top of the wall up to his elbows. He easily pulled himself over the brick wall, with the woman over his shoulder, and dropped to the ground on the other side.
A vacant parking lot fronted the alley wall.
Blade unslung his Commando and began walking across the lot.
Tumble-down buildings bordered the parking lot on three sides, possibly former apartment dwellings now in a state of terminal decay. The north side of the lot was adjacent to a street.
Would the Leather Knights be hunting for him in this area? Or had they already done so and departed?
Blade glanced in both directions when he reached the street. Good! No one was in sight. On the other side of the street rose a three-story brick building, obviously uninhabited to judge by the number of broken windows and its grubby appearance. He jogged across the street and up a flight of cement steps to the landing. The door was slightly ajar, and he eased it open with his right foot. The hinges creaked as the door swayed outward. He crept inside, keeping his back to the wall, listening for sounds.
All was quiet.
Blade resisted an urge to sneeze. There was a lot of dust in the air and a musty scent about the place. He was in a wide hallway leading into the dim recesses of the building. A flight of stairs to the right led to the floors above.
The woman was moaning.
Blade opted for the stairs. He took three at a stride as he climbed to the third floor. This floor received considerable light through its missing or cracked windows, illuminating the rooms with a diluted, dusty haze. He entered a room providing a vista of the street below and deposited his prisoner on the floor, near the one window, propping her against the wall to the left of the sill. He took a step back and aimed the Commando at her head.
She woke up.
Blade had to admire her reaction. There wasn’t a hint of fear in her brown eyes, just a trace of surprise and unconcealed defiance.
“Who the hell are you?” the blonde demanded angrily.
Blade grinned and wagged the barrel of the Commando. “I’ll ask the questions, if you don’t mind,” he said.
The blonde shrugged. “Suit yourself, slime! You’ve got the upper hand, for now anyway.”
“How are you feeling?” Blade asked.
She gingerly rubbed her sore chin. “I’ll live, no thanks to you.”
“What’s your name?”
“Mel,” she answered, examining him from head to toe.
“Mel? That’s a strange name for a woman,” Blade said.
“It’s short for Melissa,” Mel revealed.
“I’ll get right to the point, Mel,” Blade said. “I’m looking for a friend of mine, a short man dressed in black with what you might describe as Oriental features. Have you seen him?”
Mel’s face tightened. “No,” she responded defensively.
Blade moved the Commando closer to her face. “You’re lying. I don’t have time to play games with you. Either you cooperate, or I’ll take this gun and smash your teeth in.”