Yes, sir, it definitely was wiser to have Yama on your side than against you.
Rikki admired the discipline Yama exhibited. The man might be petrified for all the movement he showed. The only incongruity about him was his cropped silver hair and drooping silver moustache.
Bright light suddenly flashed from the direction of the Home, arresting Rikki’s attention. He counted the times the light flicked out. One. Two.
And the light was back. Now it was gone.
So.
It was time.
Rikki studied the Civilized Zone troops in front of him, the men belonging to the Army of Samuel, the ones called the Watchers. They were busily engaged in erecting their monitoring equipment. Rikki was unsure of its function, but he knew that with it they were able to overhear Family conversations at great distances and to take photographs like the ones in the books in the Family library. There was a unit on a tripod, a large bowl-like affair with the convex end toward Rikki and a long metal stick pointed at the Home. A soldier was squatting beside this unit, headphones over his ears, adjusting the dials on a square metal case affixed to the base of the bowl. Another soldier was alongside the first, holding a pen and pad in his hands. Nearby two other soldiers were fiddling with what looked like a huge camera with a telescopic lens. Three more of the troopers were clustered around a portable radio placed on a flat rock. The rest of the troopers were idly standing around, relaxed, apparently not expecting any trouble. Why should they? According to Blade, the Watchers regularly engaged in this spying and had been doing so for years. They were unaware Blade knew about the clandestine operation; to them, this was simply business as usual.
Yama had heard them approaching first. Within moments, Beta Triad had been hidden from view. Rikki, using a small mirror he carried in his right front pocket, had signaled the Home. The soldiers had congregated in this relatively barren section of the hillock. Beta Triad had assumed its positions, and Rikki had awaited the cue from Blade.
Now, he had gotten it.
“What’s the hold up?” one of the soldiers near the radio demanded, looking at the pair preparing the big dish.
Rikki recalled Blade mentioning this thing. He’d heard about it in Montana and researched it after returning to the Home. What was it…
“It’s a bit fuzzy, sir,” the soldier with the headphones replied. “There’s static from somewhere, distorting the microphone.”
That was it! Rikki remembered. It was a parabolic microphone.
“Clear it,” the first trooper commanded. He, evidently, was their officer.
None of the others wore little gold bars pinned to their collars.
The soldier responsible for handling the radio glanced up at the officer.
“I have Colonel Jarvis on the other end, Lieutenant Putnam.”
Lieutenant Putnam took the radio’s microphone from the operator and raised it to his lips. “Lieutenant Putnam reporting as ordered, sir.” He hastily donned a headphone set.
Rikki, only twelve feet from the officer, clearly heard every word.
“No, sir. No problems.”
There was a pause while Putnam listened to Jarvis on the headset.
“We’re just about set up now, sir.”
Pause.
“Twenty-four hours. Yes, sir.”
Pause.
“We have ample cassettes, sir. Anything in particular?”
There was an extended wait while Colonel Jarvis dictated his instructions.
“Yes, sir. Anything dealing with why Blade was in Montana shall be immediately brought to your attention. Likewise, any information pertaining to their efforts at reversing the senility.”
The premature senility. What did these Watchers know about the dreaded affliction?
“…thought it was impossible,” Lieutenant Putnam was saying. “The Doktor must be furious! I agree. Anything the Doktor wants, the Doktor gets. Any references to the G.R.D. will be relayed to you as soon as possible.”
Rikki entertained an inkling of the subject of Putnam’s conversation.
The G.R.D. was the creature called Gremlin. Blade had supplied the essential information.
The capital of the remnant of the United States of America was currently located in Denver, Colorado. But Denver was not the only city still intact in the Civilized Zone. One city, once known as Cheyenne, Wyoming, was now called the Cheyenne Citadel. A contingent of the Army of Samuel was based at the Citadel. Also conducting operations from Cheyenne was the mysterious man known only as the Doktor. The mere mention of the Doktor would suffice to arouse fear in the ordinary army troops. The precise nature of the Doktor’s work and status in the new Government was unknown, although Blade had discovered the Doktor was very close to Samuel II. Blade had also learned that the Doktor operated something called the Genetic Research Division, the unit Gremlin had belonged to before deserting the Doktor and joining the Family.
“The jeeps?” Putnam said, still talking to the colonel. “We left them at the usual spot. No mechanical problems enroute. Yes, sir, will do. Over and out.”
So they had arrived by jeep? Rikki grinned. The Family could use additional modes of transportation. It only owned nine horses and the SEAL.
Lieutenant Putnam handed the microphone and the headset to the radio operator and turned toward the two men beside the parabolic microphone. “Is it clear yet?”
“Yes, sir,” the trooper handling the cassette recorder at the base of the microphone replied.
“Good. Then proceed. Be sure your transcript of the tape is legible,” Putnam ordered.
“Will do, sir.”
Rikki glanced at Teucer and Yama, still holding their positions and awaiting his command. The soldiers were engaged in their respective tasks, oblivious to the three Warriors only yards away.
Perfect, Rikki thought. They’d be able to neutralize this patrol with a minimum of difficulty. Surprise was totally on their side. The setup couldn’t be better if he’d personally planned it this way. It didn’t seem likely that anything could go wrong now.
As if to prove him wrong, a tremendous racket commenced in a tree near Yama.
Rikki-Tikki-Tavi looked up into the branches above Yama’s head and pinpointed the source of the hubbub.
Dear Spirit! Not now!
A blue jay was perched on a limb twenty feet above Yama. The bird had spotted the intruder at the base of his tree and was letting the world know there was danger in the area.
Would the soldiers pay any attention? Were any of them sufficiently versed in wood lore to recognize the traditional warning cry of the jay?
One of the troopers, a lean soldier holding an M-16 and idly standing on guard about six feet from Yama, glanced up at the noisy bird, his brow furrowed.
Rikki tensed. What would he do? Would he investigate, or decide it was just a loud-mouthed blue jay?
The guard shuffled several steps toward the tree.
Yama was still invisible behind the log at the bottom of the tree.
The blue jay was screaming bloody murder.
Shut up! Rikki’s right hand closed on the hilt of his katana.
The soldier had spied the prancing jay and was watching it, smiling at its antics.
Good! Now just turn around, like a nice little boy, and return to your post! Rikki started to slide the katana from its scabbard.
Shaking his head, the trooper began to turn. Apparently, he finally realized the jay was excited about something at the base of the tree. The man hesitated.
Rikki imagined he could read the trooper’s mind. Should I take a peek or not? the man was probably thinking.
Don’t do it!
Leave it alone!
The guard lowered the barrel of his M-16 and advanced on the log, not really expecting trouble.