Blade was up and running as the gunfighter fired his third shot, taking the stairs three at a time. He reached the next landing, finding all three of their adversaries twitching and thrashing in the throes of death. He also discovered two doors, one to each side of the landing.
“That was close, pard,” Hickok commented as he reached the landing.
Blade stepped over one of the expiring troopers and crossed to the door to the right. He carefully eased it open a fraction. As expected, there was the large lobby, packed with milling Superiors and troopers. The Superiors appeared to be engaged in organizing the troopers for a complete sweep of the Intelligence Building. He also saw the familiar glass doors on the north side of the lobby, the long corridor over by the west wall, and, after craning his neck and pressing his eyes to the opening, he could see the row of elevators not more than 12 feet away.
“Psssst!” Hickok whispered.
Blade closed the door to the lobby and turned.
Hickok was crouched alongside the dead android, waving a key chain in his right hand.
Blade slid his left Gaskell under his belt and took the keys. He moved to the other stairwell door and tried the knob. It was locked.
“Hurry it up!” Hickok advised. “I hear somebody comin’ down the stairwell.”
Blade inserted the first key on the chain, the first of seven.
No luck.
“I heard footsteps down below too,” the gunman stated.
Blade attempted to unlock the door with the second key.
No go.
“I wonder if this is how David Crockett felt at the Alamo?” Hickok queried.
Blade inserted the third key and turned the knob.
The door swung wide open, allowing sunlight to shine inside.
The Warriors quickly exited the Intelligence Building. The door provided access to a narrow alley, bordered on the opposite side by a five-story structure. Blade removed the key before closing the door, then locked the exit from the outside.
“Which way?” Hickok asked.
Blade placed the key in his left rear pocket, debating. If they went to the left, the alley would take them to the front of the Intelligence Building.
“We go right,” he said.
The two Warriors ran toward the rear of Intelligence.
“They’ll find those three on the landing any second now,” Hickok remarked.
“I know,” Blade said. “But the locked door may throw them off. They may think we went up or down. And even if they suspect we used the exit, I have the key. They may need to find another one before they can come after us.”
“And the tooth fairy may show up and save our hides,” Hickok joked, “but I wouldn’t count on it.”
They slowed as they neared the end of the alley. Blade took the lead, flattening against the wall and advancing until he could peer around the corner.
A parking lot filled with dozens upon dozens of vehicles was located behind the Intelligence Building. Perhaps ten people, four of them troopers in black uniforms, were either walking from the parking lot to Intelligence or moving from the building toward one of the parked vehicles. To the south of the parking lot was a circular concrete landing pad, and resting on the concrete was a sleek white helicopter with the words ANDROXIA AIR EXPRESS painted on its tail section.
“What do you see?” Hickok inquired.
“Have a look,” Blade recommended.
The gunman edged to the corner and surveyed the parking lot. “I don’t see any Superiors,” he observed.
“Do you see that copter?” Blade asked.
“Yep. And I see two guys in blue uniforms right beside it,” Hickok said.
“Stay close,” Blade directed, and boldly strolled around the corner.
Hickok alertly scanned the parking lot as he hastened after his companion. “Mind tellin’ me what we’re up to?”
“Head for the copter,” Blade stated.
“Are you thinkin’ of takin’ flying lessons?” Hickok responded.
“I’m thinking of paying Primator a visit,” Blade disclosed.
“Are you loco?” Hickok questioned in surprise.
“This may be the smartest move we’ve made so far,” Blade said.
“How do you figure?”
“Think about it,” Blade said. “Ever since we arrived in Androxia, we’ve been running around like chickens with our heads chopped off. Half the time, we’ve had no idea where we were or what was happening. Initially, we didn’t even know the identities of our enemies. We didn’t know why we were brought here. We didn’t know if we were coming or going.”
“I’m used to that,” Hickok remarked. “I’m married. You should be used to it too.”
“Now we know who our enemies are,” Blade continued. “One of them, Clarissa, is history. The androids are little more than puppets. They’re just doing what Primator tells them to do.”
“Primator is the head honcho,” Hickok noted.
“Exactly,” Blade concurred. “And if we can destroy Primator, maybe we can escape from Androxia in one piece.”
“Destroy that know-it-all contraption? How?”
Blade patted the front pockets on his fatigue pants.
“And how are we goin’…” Hickok began, then stopped, staring at the helicopter.
“Still think I’m loco?” Blade asked.
Hickok grinned. “I’m with you all the way, pard.”
They skirted the parking lot, staying to the left of the parked vehicles as they moved toward the copter. The two men in blue uniforms were busy unloading boxes from the helicopter and depositing them in orderly piles at the edge of the four-foot-high concrete pad.
“I just thought of something,” Hickok said. “We don’t have those disks on our foreheads.”
“We’re too far from the cars for anyone to notice,” Blade said. “And the two up ahead won’t care if we have disks or not,” he added ominously.
The two in blue were concentrating on their job. Once, the heavier of the pair glanced at the approaching Warriors. He resumed his work without displaying any apprehension.
Blade held the Gaskell Lasers alongside his legs as he walked up to the landing pad. He halted, smiling.
The heavyset man in blue looked over as he was setting a box on the edge of the concrete. “May I help you?”
“Are you the pilot?” Blade politely inquired.
“We’re both qualified pilots. Why?” the heavyset man replied.
“You can both fly this helicopter?” Blade reiterated.
The leaner of the pair, in the act of carrying another box to the rim of the concrete, gazed down at the giant and the blond in buckskins. “Who are you? Is there a problem?”
“My problem is I only need one of you,” Blade answered. “Sorry.” He extended his right arm and fired, frying the brains of the heavier flyer, who collapsed behind the boxes with a protracted gasp. Blade leaped onto the concrete, his Laser aimed at the thin man. He moved between two stacks of boxes and tapped the Gaskell’s barrel on the skinny pilot’s nose.
“I’m only going to say this once. If you don’t do exactly what I say, when I say it, I will add another nostril to your face. Do you understand?”
The thin man nodded vigorously, his wide brown eyes on his dead associate.
Hickok climbed onto the concrete. He surreptitiously scrutinized the parking lot. None of the pedestrians appeared to have noticed the heavy pilot’s demise.
Blade lowered the Laser. “Put down the box,” he ordered.
The lean man immediately obeyed. “What do you want?” he blurted out.
“We want to take a tour of Androxia,” Blade answered.
“But this isn’t a charter copter,” the pilot said. “This is a mail and cargo carrier. I…” he began, and abruptly froze, his mouth gaping. “You’re not wearing an O.D.!” he exclaimed. “Neither of you!”
“I took mine off,” Hickok commented. “It wasn’t doin’ a thing for my complexion.”