Dodge clamped one hand over the man’s mouth and hammered a fist down at the base of his neck. The guard slumped unconscious in his grasp. “Quick, hide in the plane.”
It had been a plan worthy of Captain Falcon; in fact, it was something Falcon had done in one or two of the stories. Using hollow reeds as snorkels, Dodge and Molly had braved the treacherous waters and swam undetected to the dock where the plane was moored. Fortunately, the turbulence generated by the aircraft’s landing had sent all the river’s deadly denizens scurrying out of the area.
Dodge knew well the risk of bringing water in contact with the force field, but it was a calculated risk that he believed worth taking and ultimately one that had paid off. He stripped the deactivated exoskeleton off the guard and rolled him into the water. It was a cold thing to do, but mercy was often the first victim sacrificed on the altar of urgency.
He warily pulled Molly into plane, but his caution was unwarranted. The plane was completely empty of occupants; in fact, it was empty of almost everything. The experimental prototype was short on creature comforts. The cabin was strictly utilitarian. There were no seats on the rough wood plank floor, and a simple wooden extension ladder provided access to the upper deck and the pilot’s cockpit. Dodge saw several metal barrels strapped down in the rear of the plane, but no cargo to speak of.
“You need to get back out there,” Molly said after their quick inspection. “If they don’t see a guard, they’ll know something’s up.”
“If they see me, they’ll know.”
“Maybe not. You look enough like the guard that they might not notice. At least not from a distance.”
He gave her a sour look, but once again her logic was on the mark. With the skull cap-like headpiece to covering his distinctive sandy-colored hair, he might be able to perpetuate the fraud at least long enough for them avoid attracting any more attention. He pulled on the familiar exoskeleton, but refrained from activating it. “What about you?”
Molly was already scampering up the ladder to the top deck. “I’m going to look around a little.”
“Molly!” His protest went unanswered, and he lowered his pitch to a mutter as he breathed a few choice curses on his way out of the aircraft. Outside, there was no indication that their assault on the guard had raised an alarm.
So far, so good, he thought. They actually had come much further than he could have hoped for; they were in the lion’s den. The real trick would be determining how to keep that advantage and win the day.
He curled his palms — he had discarded the sodden bandages after dispatching the guard — around the grips inside the gauntlets. It felt good to be in control of one of the flying rigs; unlike the guns that everyone but him seemed to possess, the exoskeleton was a weapon and a tool that he understood at least as well as anyone. With the element of surprise on his side, he might be able to take one or two of the sky raiders, before they realized he was in their midst.
A sound he had heard before reverberated in the treetops. Somewhere up there, someone had used one of the energy weapons. He peered up at the fortress in the branches wondering what had happened then looked away as the exodus began. In the space of a few seconds, the entire motley assembly of pirates, along with the hooded mastermind, emerged from the opening at the base of the baobab and started toward the plane. In their midst, towering above every other head, was Hurricane Hurley.
Dodge’s heart sank. He threw the group a wave, and then as nonchalantly as he could manage leaned into the plane. “They’re coming!”
He stood at an oblique angle to the approaching group, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible. When the group was still about fifty yards away, he buckled the clasp on the exoskeleton and heard the familiar hum as the force field activated. There was an occasional popping sound as drops of water fell into the electrical current but that was the least of his concerns. He had about thirty seconds to figure out what he was going to do. And then thirty seconds became twenty, then ten, then he was caught between the mass of armed men and the plane.
Miraculously, none of the missing guard’s comrades noticed the substitution. Their attention was focused on the pair of prisoners they guarded. The pirates were none the wiser, having not paid much attention to begin with, but Dodge saw one man in the group who would recognize him on sight: Marten.
The burly riverboat captain marched a few steps behind the hooded mastermind and another fellow whose face was obscured behind a demonic mask. Dodge averted his gaze, pretending to look out across the river as the throng reached the ramp to the plane. The pirates held back letting the three men in exoskeletons take sole responsibility for the pair of men in custody. Dodge got his first look at the battered, white-haired figure of Father Hobbs — he doesn’t look anything like I thought he would — as he fell in behind them. The raiders’ vision was tunneled on the two dangerous men in their charge and did not give Dodge so much as glance.
The hooded man and the man in the mask, whom Dodge correctly took to be Krieger, conversed for a few moments on the dock and some kind of exchange was made; presumably payment for services rendered. The mastermind then stalked onto the sponson and gave a general order to secure the plane for takeoff as he brushed past Dodge and headed straight for the ladder. Dodge breathed a silent prayer that Molly had concealed herself, and set to work readying the plane for takeoff.
It was a dangerous game he was playing, but victory was nearly in sight. He ran through the possibilities in his head. If he could free Hurricane and Hobbs without raising an alarm, they would be able to overpower the guards and take the ringleader alive. He just had to maintain the status quo until the plane was aloft.
Hurley and Hobbs were restrained only by ropes and the constant threat of violent reprisal from the gauntlets of their guards. Dodge risked a glance in their direction as he pulled the hatch closed, and made brief eye contact with Hurricane. The big man nodded imperceptibly, but managed to keep his expression neutral, which was more than Dodge could do. Grinning like an idiot, he turned back to the door and pretended to check the latching mechanism; this was actually going to work.
The engines roared to life, one by one, and the pilot — evidently the hooded man — revved each engine up to speed before starting the next. It was an interminably long process and Dodge felt anxiety growing like a volcano ready to erupt.
“Where are you taking us?” Hurricane asked abruptly, shouting over the roar of the engines.
Dodge nearly jumped out of his skin at the unexpected voice, but Hurley’s outburst had been intentional; he had noticed the vigilance of the guards straying and feared that one them might, with a casual glance, realize that Dodge was not whom they believed him to be.
The three guards reacted exactly as expected, raising their gauntlets menacingly. The de facto leader of the group snarled in Afrikaans, and another of the men translated in heavily accented English. “Shut up, or we’ll fry you!”
Hurley hung his head submissively, but managed a surreptitious wink in Dodge’s direction. Dodge nodded and then unbuckled his belt clasp, hoping that the other man would intuitively comprehend his message. It was all he had time for as the floor lurched beneath his feet and sent him stumbling for a handhold. The entire airframe shuddered violently as the engines throttled up and the plane began moving into the river channel.
It was the moment Hurricane had been waiting for. He moved so swiftly that the guards were paralyzed with disbelief. Although his hands were still bound, a sweep of his mighty arms sent two of the men tumbling down the length of the cabin; their force fields kept them from making contact with the deck and gave the impression of two figures trapped inside soap bubbles. The third man stabbed out with his gauntlets, but nothing happened. He stared at the metal fists in disbelief then tried again, but this time his frustration was punctuated by a snap-kick from Hobbs. The latter had, in the instant of Hurricane’s attack, slipped his bound hands through the fellow’s electrical shield and unclasped the belt, leaving the guard completely defenseless.