Men were piling out of several buildings in the darkness, shouting in languages Lou didn’t understand. He went to the back of the car, lifted the engine hood and groped for the fuel feed line. He ripped it out and felt a spurt of fuel slick his fingers. Then he went back to the front seat, grabbed the two extra guns, and fired several shots into the engine compartment, backpedaling onto the dock as he did so. The third shot did it; the car erupted in flames.
Lou raced down the dock, the burning car between him and anyone who wanted to come and get him. There were a few crates piled on one side of the wooden dock, and Lou ducked behind them. In front of him was the flaming turbowagon; through the blurring heat waves of its fire he could see men running around the dockside area, some of them brandishing guns, all looking red and lurid in the light of the fire. Behind him was the open harbor, and the small boat tied up at the end of the dock.
But somebody had already thought about the boat. Lou heard a funny crunching sound, and then the crash of breaking glass. Looking over his shoulder, he saw a chunk of the boat’s gunwale poof into splinters and vapor. Laser rifle! They’re breaking up the boat to keep me from using it. Maybe they think I’m on board it already.
Then another thought: When they find out I’m where I really am, they’ll start blasting those rifles at me!
Lou froze into a motionless, thoroughly frightened little knot of humanity, crouched behind the packing crates, trying to look totally invisible or at least as small and unnoticeable as possible. Long minutes ticked by. The fire in the car died down, the boat slid over on its side, gurgling obscenely.
Things up on dockside had quieted down. It was harder to see now, but there must have been dozens of guards milling around during the height of the blaze. Lou knew he was trapped and he was going to die. But not just yet. He realized that he had picked up a splinter in his left foot and it hurt. And his jaws ached from being clenched. He wondered how Kori was doing.
Maybe I ought to make some more noise or something, he thought. On the other hand, maybe the guards thought he had been aboard the boat and was now drowned. If I let them know I’m here, I’m just inviting them to shoot me.
He shook his head. They’re going to find you sooner or later, hero. Right now your job is to make enough noise to distract them from Kori.
Squinting out into the darkness, he could barely make out a row of what looked like fuel drums lined up neatly on the shore, near the foot of the dock. A dozen drums. Maybe fifty meters away. An easy target.
It took him five shots before one of the drums burst into flame. In an instant they all went up.
Now the shouting and running began all over again. Nobody was shooting at him, either. They were all running toward the fire or away from it. Lou watched the guards. They were good, no question of it. After the first momentary shock and surprise, they fought the raging fire with hand extinguishers, blankets, anything they could find. Finally, somebody trundled up with a portable foam generator and they started smothering the blaze with billowing white foam. But it took time, lots of time.
The fire was smoldering and smoking when Lou heard:
“Christopher! I know you’re out there on the dock. Give yourself up, you can’t get away.” Marcus’ voice.
Lou almost laughed. Marcus didn’t sound angry or frightened or even very upset. He was talking as calmly as the first day they’d met. That meant that he didn’t realize what Kori was up to, or that Bonnie was hidden.
Or, Lou heard himself counter, it could mean that he’s got Kori and Bonnie and the whole game’s lost.
“Christopher, I don’t want to have you killed. Come out now and stop this nonsense.”
Like a schoolteacher scolding a kid, Lou thought.
“You can’t get away, Christopher. We know you’re sitting behind those packing crates. We…” Suddenly his voice cut off.
Lou peeked out from behind the crates. Marcus was listening to a guard who was gesturing and pointing up the road, toward the other end of the island.
“So the three of you are in on this together!” Marcus’ voice sounded a little edgier now. “All right, we’ll just find the other two and bring them out here. You can watch and see what happens to them.”
“Marcus!” Lou called out.
Everyone at dockside froze. In the back of his mind, Lou realized that it was nearly dawn. There was enough gray light to see the whole dockside area now.
“Marcus, did you ever stop to think of what a good target you make?”
Marcus jerked a step backward.
“No, don’t move!” Lou yelled. “Don’t any of you move. If anybody twitches, you’ll get it, Marcus. I mean it!”
Marcus stood frozen at dockside. He was out in the open, the nearest guard a meter or so away, the nearest cover the burned-out hulk of the car, at least ten meters away. Lou prayed that none of them knew how many shots it would take him to hit anything at this distance.
“Christopher, you can’t get away with this.”
Lou grinned. “Can’t I?”
As if in answer, the packing crate in front of him exploded in a deafening blast and a shower of splinters. Lou felt himself soaring, slow motion, tumbling off the dock, seeing the green land swing wildly and the greener water rushing up toward him. As he hit the water and lost consciousness, his last thought was that some rifleman had missed his head by just about a centimeter.
18
The pain woke him up. It would have been pleasant to stay asleep, unconscious, oblivious to everything. But he hurt everywhere, like knives were being twisted under his skin.
His eyes were gummy when he tried to open them. Everything was blurred, out of focus. There was a gray expanse of ceiling over his head. And faces. He tried to raise his head, but somebody’s hand pushed him back onto the pillow.
Turning his head slightly, he could make out a window off to his right. It was bright, bright enough to make him shut his eyes.
What time is it? flashed through his mind. He started to speak, but all he heard was a thick, scratchy-throated groan.
“He’s conscious,” said a voice.
Marcus’ face slid into view. Still calm. But was that perspiration beading his brow?
“That was a foolish bit of nonsense,” Marcus said without rancor “What have you done with the girl? And where’s Dr. Kori?”
Lou found the strength to shake his head.
“It’s a small island, Christopher. We’ll find them sooner or later.”
“Not before…” he croaked.
“Before what?” Marcus asked.
“Nothing.”
Marcus leaned closer. “We can find out. You can’t keep any secrets from us.”
“Go ahead and torture me… it won’t…”
“Don’t be an ass,” Marcus said. “There are drugs that will make you do anything.”
“No…”
Somewhere beyond Lou’s vision a door opened and footsteps clicked quickly toward his bed. A voice muttered something, too low for Lou to hear.
“What?” Marcus snapped. “Why wasn’t I told sooner? When did…”
Marcus’ face slid into view again. It was red now. With anger. Or fear? Lou smiled.
“Where’s Dr. Kori? What’s he doing with a bomb?”
“Planting it in your lunch.”
Lou saw Marcus’ hand blurring toward him but couldn’t move out of the way. It stung and snapped his head to one side. He tasted blood in his mouth.
“Get him talking. And quickly,” Marcus ordered.