O'Doyle pulled against the rope and the river's current, fighting to reach Sanji, who lay face down in the water, his fat body floating limply in the shallows. A fist-sized rock smashed into O'Doyle's right arm, spinning him around. He lost his one-legged balance and fell into the water. The swift current pulled him ten feet downstream until the rope that connected he and Sanji snapped taut.
Sanji remained face-down in the water, unmoving.
Connell stared at the onrushing mass of screeching rocktopi, now within twenty-five yards and moving impossibly fast. “O'Doyle, let's go!” He kicked hard, pulling Veronica farther into the current.
"We can't leave him!” she screamed at Connell.
O'Doyle looked up at the rocktopi, his face filled with anguish, then back at Lybrand and Connell and the hysterical Veronica. Another rock thudded off his broad chest. The crew dangled at the rope's edge, held in place as if Sanji were a human anchor. The first of the rocktopi splashed into the shallows, moving forward with lightning quickness. Rocks splashed about O'Doyle like machine-gun fire.
He pulled his knife.
"No!” Veronica screamed, trying to pull away from Connell.
Connell pulled hard on the rope, yanking her back. “He has to — or we all die!"
O'Doyle cut Sanji's rope.
The current seemed to rejoice in the sudden freedom from the anchor, catapulting them downstream. Rocks ripped the water like stone rain. Connell chanced one look back as he fought the raging current, and recoiled in horror.
Sanji's head lifted, and he took a deep, gasping breath.
It was his last.
The rocktopi swarmed on Sanji's body, platinum knives flying through the air along with his blood.
The greedy river sucked Connell and the others into the ship's shadows, and within seconds the butchers were left behind, out of sight.
Chapter Forty-four
Hands roughly shook his body. Angus slowly opened his eyes. Shooting pains bounced through his head, a pinball game of agony. He wasn't sure if he had any teeth left. His face felt numb and swollen. He couldn't feel his tongue. He lay facedown. He tried to rise, but his hands wouldn't move from behind his back. The digging sting of thin wire held his arms in place.
"Mphmh,” Angus said. He couldn't see what she'd stuffed in his mouth, but whatever it was made it nearly impossible to breathe. It tasted like rubber.
"Well, the little fucking prick is awake,” the woman said. “Now we can get cracking."
"Mpphhm.” His eyes were now wide open, watching her open and close a rust-speckled pair of pliers.
"Hush, darling,” she said, a loving smile on her face. “Don't bother talking till I take the ball-gag out of your mouth."
Open and close.
Angus watched the pliers carefully, noting the wear on the stainless steel handle, the nutcracker-like notches just inside the business end.
"Now I'm going to remove the ball and ask you a few questions,” she said sweetly, brushing a wild lock of bright red hair away from Angus's sweaty, dirty face. “You're not going to make a sound, except to quietly answer those questions. Nod if you understand."
Open and close.
Angus nodded once, eyes never leaving the pliers.
"Good. Now we're going to make this quick. Unfortunately, I don't have the proper amount of time to spend with you. I'd love to get to know you better, buddy boy, believe me. You've caused me a lot of grief in the past few days. Do you know what I used to do for a living?"
Open and close.
Angus shook his head no.
"I used to torture people.” Her tone remained soft, almost loving. “I did a few other things, too, but my main job was interrogation. And I'm good at it, buddy boy. Believe me. So if you make any noise, it's going to get rough on you. Understand?"
Open and close.
Angus nodded violently.
"Good.” She stroked his hair. “You're a smart man, Angus Kool, the smartest I've ever met. However, as smart as you are, I want to make sure you've got all the data you need to make a decision. That's what you scientists need, isn't it? Lots and lots of data?"
Open and close.
Angus picked up her gist immediately and shook his head violently no.
"Oh, sure you do.” She stood and walked behind him, out of his line of sight. He pulled against the bonds with a desperate panic, but the wire only dug deeper into his wrists. He tried kicking, but found his feet bound firmly as well.
He felt a knee on his back, pressing into his spine.
"You need lots of data, buddy boy. Enough data to keep me out of the NSA. That's what you want, isn't it? You want to keep me out of the NSA? Isn't that right, you little fucking prick?"
Angus felt her hands on his gloved fingers. He tried to fight, to make a fist, but it was too late. She cranked hard on his index finger, straightening it toward the back of his hand, almost breaking it.
He felt the cool steel of the pliers close around the first knuckle of his finger.
"Mpphh! Mmmhph!"
The pliers crunched down. He screamed and screamed, but little could be heard around the ball-gag.
The party clung to the breakwater at the river's bend. All of them stared into the dome, stared at the large, reflective orb hanging from the center.
"Oh my God,” Connell said. “It's still here."
Veronica floated in the water at the wall's edge, clinging to her silverbug bobber. Fatigue sapped her, both physically and mentally, the strain of sleepless hours and the anguish of Sanji's brutal death filling her with a dark spirit. She'd raged against Connell and O'Doyle as she floated down the churning, pounding river, so weak she could barely keep her head above water. They'd cut Sanji loose, left him to die. Her mind churned with pumping thoughts of violent revenge against the two, how she could get them for their cowardice.
But those thoughts faded before she'd even reached the river's bend. If O'Doyle hadn't cut the rope, they'd all be dead, not just Sanji. Victims of the bloodthirsty aliens who'd long since outlived any purpose in the cosmos. Thoughts of revenge against Connell and O'Doyle quickly faded. They weren't to blame anyway.
The rocktopi were.
And the silverbugs.
She floated weakly in the water, her hair hanging limp and wet around her face, staring at the instrument of revenge dangling like a giant Christmas ornament over a shaft that ran straight to the depths of hell. Hell. That was where she'd send the rocktopi and their vicious little machines. Straight to hell.
"Connell, there're silverbugs all over the place,” O'Doyle said. “Get the damn scrambler out."
"Screw that,” Connell said. “Let's just go! Let's get the hell out of here."
"I need a rest, Connell,” O'Doyle said gravely.
Veronica tore her eyes away from the orb and looked at O'Doyle. One thick arm held Lybrand's head, making sure her face stayed above the surface. She hung limply; the float tied to her chest the only thing keeping her from sinking.
"Yeah, Connell,” Veronica said quietly, just loud enough to be heard over the river's metallic, plinking echo. “I need a rest too."
Connell swam to the wall and pulled himself up. Platinum flakes clung to his hands and his body, to any part of him that touched the dust-covered wall. Silverbugs converged toward him, coming across the damp ground, scrambling down from their perches inside the arced roof above the giant orb. Veronica heard small splashes, and was stunned to see silverbugs skittering like water beetles across the surface at the river's edge. An angry chorus of clicks and whirs filled the air.