Three shots cracked out, one after the other, and Savino jerked, then toppled backward into Manelli's burning office. Gulliver stood at the bead of the stairs, his semiautomatic gripped tightly before him in both hands.
"Nice shootin', pilgrim," Hunter said, clapping him on the shoulder, "but I'd keep my head down if I were you."
Pandemonium reigned inside the club. Fine beams of deadly coherent light crisscrossed in midair, creating a lethal lattice-work of laser fire that filled the balcony floor and lanced down at the stage below. The musicians fled the stage as their amps were struck by laser beams and starting arcing, sparks shooting out from them. Smoke filled the club and the fire alarm went off. The young people who had pushed into the club were milling about below in panic, trying to fight their way back to the door while those behind them continued trying to push their way in until shouts of "Fire! Fire!" turned them around as well and sent them streaming back out into the street.
Lueas crawled over to wpere Manelli fell, took his gun and handed it Andre.
"Where's Drakov?" he shouted.
"I don't know! He must've clocked out!'"
"Damn it!"
"Gulliver!" shouted Andre, pointing to where he was huddling underneath a table, clutching his gun and looking up uncertainly, not knowing who to shoot at as the lilliputians
fought and died above him. "We've got to get him out of here!"
"Him?” said Lucas. "Hell, we've got to get out of here!"
As they scrambled over to where Gulliver was taking shelter, Hunter crouched down over Savino's body amidst the flames in Manelli's office.
"All right, you son of a bitch, where is it?" he said through gritted teeth as he pulled back Savino's right sleeve. Was he left handed?
He pulled the warp disc off Savino's left wrist. Now all he had to do was figure out if it was failsafed. The flames were getting very close. He could feel his hair crackling.
"Hunter!" shouted Delaney, from the doorway. He squinted from the smoke. The office was a conflagration. He could not get through the door. Flames licked at
Hunter's clothes. "Hunter, are you crazy? Get the hell out of there!"
"I'm workin' on it, pilgrim." He defeated the failsafe function and quickly punched out a transition code and activated the warp disc.
"Hunter!"
The ceiling fell in.
Hunter materialized in the middle of the living room floor 'of his elegant Upper West Side townhouse. He immediately started rolling around to put out his flaming clothes. Gasping, he tore off his jacket and then rushed, still smouldering, into the bathroom. He turned on the shower and jumped in. His clothes hissed and steamed as the cold water soaked them down. He stayed there for a long time, breathing heavily as the cold water beat down on him, then he stepped, dripping, out of the shower and stripped off his soaked and ruined clothes.
He'd just barely made it. He expelled his breath and inhaled deeply, trying to calm down. That had been close. As close as he'd ever come. He'd have to move now.
He could no longer remain in this time period. Even if the Time Commandos didn't find him once again, there were still people in Manelli's organization he'd have to be on the lookout for. He'd made too many contacts. Too many enemies. He had been in a rush to establish himself and had become too visible. That was a mistake he would not repeat again..
As he changed into a fresh suit of clothes, he quickly ran over in his mind what his next few steps would have to be.
How many of his assets could he liquidate quickly? If he converted some of his wealth into precious stones, he could take them back into the past with him, but if he was able to make a few astute investments, they could mature while he clocked ahead into the future and pretended to be his own descendent. No, he thought, far too complicated and too risky and not enough time to set it up, in any case. That was another mistake. He'd not prepared an escape plan in advance. Foolish, very foolish. He'd become overconfident and it had almost gotfen him killed.
The hell with it, he thought. Be smart. Take what you can get your hands on now, cut your losses and get out while you still can. But first, there was one last thing he had to do.
He knotted his silk necktie and slipped into a brand new jacket. He quickly opened his safe and took out his important papers, domestic and Swiss accounts, stock portfolios, emergency eash, standby forged documents and several different passports. Then he picked up the Browning Hi-Power he had dropped on the carpet when he'd clocked in from the club. He jacked out the magazine and checked it, then he slapped it back in and racked the slide.
Krista was surprised to see him when she opened her door.
"You! But I thought.. How did you get up here'!"
"I slipped the security man downstairs a hundred bucks to let me up," said Hunter, smiling. "Told him I had a special gift for you, a surprise for your birthday."
She glanced at him, uncertainly. "But… I… I don't understand. It's not my birthday."
"Well, I brought you something anyway," said Hunter. He took out the Browning and shot her right between the eyes.
The street was slicked down from the fire hoses blasting water at the club. Finn Delaney, Creed Steiger, Andre Cross, Lemuel Gulliver and Lucas Priest stood among the crowd being kept baek behind the barricades as the firemen gathered up their equipment and the police officers took statements. With the weapons hidden underneath the coats they'd stolen from the cloakroom, they were careful to stay back out of the way.
Reporters from the print and electronic media were milling about. There was some kind of story here. But no-one quite knew what to make of it. There was a good deal of confusion. The police detectives were not surprised to hear that there had been some sort of shootout inside the club before the fIre broke out. They knew about Manelli and his Family business. What they were having a hard time reconciling were the statements of some of the eyewitnesses.
"I'm tellin' you, Lieutenant-“ "Sergeant. Sergeant Lubinski."
"Whatever. Look, I'm tellin' you, man, I know it sounds crazy, but there were these little people… tiny little people-"
"You mean like dwarves?" said the detective, frowning.
"Midgets?"
"No, man, no, smaller, about like this…" The white. haired lead singer of Flesh held his hands about six inches apart, one over the other.
"Like what?" said Lubinski.
"Yeah, like this, man, they were about six inches tall, and they were flyin' around in these tiny, little rocket belts and shootin' lasers, it was fuckin' incredible-"
"Lasers?" said Sgt. Lubinski. " Tiny, little rocket belts?"
"Yeah, it was outrageous, man, there were, like, dozens of 'em, no, more, and they were, like, having a war in there, like dogfights, you know? Swoopin' around and blasting away at each other and-"
"Now wait a minute..
"Look, I know it sounds crazy, but-"
"Just hold on a second," said Lubinski. "You're with that group, Flesh, huh? Aren't you guys the ones who went ape and burned down that club in Jersey a few months ago?"
"Hey, look, that wasn't our fault, man!"
"Yeah, right. And what did you take before?"
"What did I take?".
"Yeah, what are you on?" Lubmski saId. "Dust?" PCP?"
"Oh, man! Come on, don't give me this! Look, I'm straight, so help me, I swear to God! Look, ask anybody, there were these little people-"
"Seems like you guys in the band were the only ones who saw any little people, chum," Lubinski said, wryly. "Everybody else saw some kinda laser light show that went out of
control, and one of your own roadies told us that the club electrician said your wiring wasn't up to code."
"Look, you gotta believe me, man, it wasn't us, I swear! I'm tellin' you, there were these little people flyin' around-“
"I know, I know, with rocket belts and lasers," said Lubinski, rolling his eyes. "I think you'd better come along with me, ace. You got the right to remain silent…"