A six-inch length of a switchblade glittered beneath Finn's nose.
An ambulance roared into the bay and disgorged a party of heavily armed men. Finn raised his hands. His mommy didn't raise no dummy.
When the idea of seizing Tachyon's clinic had first been proposed, Brennan had argued strenuously against the plan.
But the word filtered down from on high: Tachyon can lead us to a woman who can sleep with a joker and cure him. Find her. And Tachyon needs to be taught a lesson. Get him.
Brennan wasn't surprised by the order. A year ago Kien had been using the lovely Vietnamese girl Mai to cure jokers. All it took was money-a lot of it-and you were cured. Then Brennan had killed Scar and rescued Mai, and now a new girl had arisen to take her place. A girl who cured with sex. What joker male wouldn't pay a fortune to be cured by fucking a beautiful woman?
The real irony was that Brennan had been given command of the assault. After robbing Kien of his curing machine he was about to provide the crime boss with a new one. It was too bad about Tachyon and his clinic, but Brennan had his own agenda to pursue.
The only problem was that he'd been jumped over Danny Mao, and the Oriental didn't appreciate it. On the other hand it was an indication of how well regarded Brennan had become within Kien's byzantine network. The next step would probably be into the inner circle that surrounded Kien himself, and then Brennan's revenge would be within reach. So he couldn't refuse the assignment. He had worked too hard for too many years to pull down the facade that was Kien Phuc and reveal the rottenness that lay behind.
Brennan rammed a clip into his Browning High Power and touched the pockets of his vest, making sure his reloads were handy. It had been agreed that deaths would be kept to a minimum. Only one person was earmarked for deathTachyon.
Eleven twenty-seven.
Brennan, riding with the driver, peered ahead at the clinic. They'd be pulling in soon. Too bad about Tachyon. If you wish to find the unclouded truth, do not concern yourself with right and wrong.
He had his own agenda. Right or wrong.
McCoy was holding up pretty well. At least he hadn't passed out and been carried out of the delivery room. He was even occasionally remembering to instruct Peri to pant, bear down, breathe. Her responses to these helpful reminders were direct and uncomplimentary Another brittle scream tore from her throat, and she arched in the stirrups. Tachyon, eyes flicking between monitors and her dilated cervix, said softly, "You're doing fine, Peri. Just a little more now."
He reached out and touched the unformed mind of the child fighting its way down the birth canal. Fear, fury at having its comfortable world so abruptly upset. (Definitely Fortunato's child.) Tachyon stroked and soothed, watched the heartbeat slow from its frenzied pounding.
You're going to be all right, little man. Don't give me the satisfaction of being right.
How many times had he hunched between a mother's knees, received a child, and had it turn to sludge in his hands? Too many.
There was a crash that swung him around on the stool, and the alien gaped in amazement at the three armed men who had plunged through the doors of the delivery room. Peregrine reared up on her elbows and eyed them with loathing. "OH, CHRIST!"
"What the devil do you mean by this?"
Tach retreated slightly at the aggressive thrust of an Uzi barrel in his direction. The two other intruders merely gulped and stared with reddened faces at Peregrine's private parts.
"You've broken the sterile integrity of this room. Get out!"
"We're here for you."
"I'm a little busy right now. I'm delivering a baby. OUT!" Tach made shooing motions with his gloved hands.
"Fuck this," yelled McCoy, doing just what Tachyon had prayed he wouldn't.
Tach's mind control dropped the cameraman in his tracks, and his seizure of the shootist sent the rounds spraying into the ceiling. Glass from broken light fixtures tinkled all about him.
"McCoy!" Peregrine struggled in Tina's grasp.
"Lay down! He's fine. He will live to be an idiot yet another day."
"Release my man or I'll kill you. One of the two of us will get you, or these women," shouted the nervous young Oriental. Dr. Tachyon released the gunman. "Now you're coming with us."
"Gentlemen, I don't know why you're here, or who you are, but I will be at your disposal after I have delivered this child. I can't slip away down the drain. I have to exit through those doors, so kindly wait for me in the scrub room."
He pulled his stool back into position between Peri's legs and resumed his quiet external and internal monologue to mother and child.
"McCoy," panted the ace. "Asleep."
Peri's screams and contractions were coming in waves. Tach didn't like her pressure, but… Suddenly baby slid free. Reaching into the vagina, he cradled the tiny head on his palm and helped slide John Fortune into his new world.
Tach tasted blood and realized he had bitten through his lower lip. He enfolded the child in waves of warmth and love and comfort. Don't change! Don't transform! By the Ideal, don't transform!
The baby lay in his hands, a perfectly formed man-child with a thick head of dark hair. The mucus was suctioned from the budlike mouth. Upending him, Tachyon massaged the tiny back, and a powerful yell erupted from the boy. Tach blinked away tears, wiped blood and mucus from the baby, and laid the child on his mother's flaccid stomach.
"He's all right. He's all right." Her fingers played gently across the bawling child.
"Yes, Peri, he's perfect. You were right."
The final details were handled; cord cut, child given a more thorough wash and wrapped in lamb's wool. Tachyon and Tina levered Peregrine onto a gurney, then heaved the snoring McCoy onto another. A face was thrust into the window of the delivery room. Tach hunched his shoulders and ignored it.
"Doctor, what's going on?" quavered Tina.
"I don't know, my dear, but I presume those armed gentlemen will tell me."
Brennan swept into the scrub room and stared at his men. They guiltily dropped the cigarette they had been sharing and studied the floor.
"Where's Tachyon?"
"In there."
"Why in there?"
"He was delivering a baby."
"God, it was gross."
"Embarrassing," amplified the third. "He promised to-"
"Surrender to you. Yes, gentlemen, I did, and you behold me. Now, however, could you help me? I assume you have-" His eyes met Brennan's; he faltered, coughed, and resumed. "You have seized my orderlies, and I have a patient who needs to be taken to the nursery, and one who needs to go to her room."
You! My gods what are you doing here? Seizing your clinic.
But why? WHY?
"So if you would be kind enough to assist with a gurney." The outer conversation flowed on over the internal telepathic exchange.
The three men looked to Brennan. "`Put them with the rest in the cafeteria."
"Cafeteria! Surely you're not moving the dangerously ill or the infants?"
"Don't be an idiot. They're no threat to us," said Brennan, disgusted.
"The man in isolation… you didn't release him?" asked Tachyon.
"No, lie's our cover."
"Cover?"
"Why am I wasting time beating gums with you? Move it," shouted Brennan. "You can take the brat to the nursery, and we'll have a little talk."
Brennan, his Browning gripped tightly in his hand, and Tachyon, with John Fortune cradled in his arms, paced through the unnaturally silent halls.
The nursery staff had all been removed, so Tachyon prepared a bottle and fed the child. Brennan swung a chair around and straddled it, arms folded across the back. -