Clyde obeyed.
“I’ll count to three. If you haven’t started spillin’ the beans by the time I get to three, I’ll plug you,” Hickok said.
“You’re bluffing,” Clyde declared.
“One,” Hickok stated.
“You wouldn’t dare,” Clyde maintained.
“Don’t mess with him, Clyde,” Bonnie urged nervously.
“Don’t look,” Blade said to Chastity.
“Two,” Hickok continued.
Clyde licked his lips and glanced at Bonnie. “I think he means it.”
“Then tell them!” Bonnie prompted.
“Adios,” Hickok said, gouging the Python into Clyde’s nostrils. “Get set to greet your Maker.”
“No!” Clyde cried. “Don’t! I’ll talk! What do you want to know?” His glasses were tilted at an angle.
Hickok lowered the Colt. “I want you to answer every question the Big Guy asks. If you don’t…” He wagged the Colt for emphasis, then twirled the Python into its holster.
“Now then,” Blade said, “let’s start at the beginning. My name is Blade. This is Hickok and his daughter, Chastity. A friend of ours by the name of Rikki-Tikki-Tavi has been captured by the Hounds. What do you know about them?”
Bonnie uttered a snorting noise. “What don’t we know?”
“Are they based in Memphis?” Blade inquired.
“Yes,” Bonnie confirmed. “Their Headquarters Complex is in the center of the city.” She paused. “The bastards.”
“You don’t like them?”
“I hate the sons—” Bonnie began to respond, but amended her statement after glancing at Chastity. “The scum.”
“Why?”
“Two reasons. First, they wouldn’t let Clyde join the Hounds. They claimed he wasn’t fit enough, but Boynton rigged his entrance test.”
“Explain,” Blade said.
“Boynton has had the hots for me for two years,” Bonnie disclosed.
“Ever since my brother and I came to Memphis.”
“Clyde is your brother?” Blade deduced.
“Yep,” Bonnie verified. “And he wants to join the Hounds. Sergeant Boyndon is in charge of giving the entrance tests for each candidate, and he deliberately fixed the test so Clyde would fail.”
“Boynton told me to do one hundred push-ups,” Clyde interrupted.
“Nobody can do one hundred push-ups.”
“I can,” Blade said.
“That’s not the point,” Bonnie declared. “No one has ever had to do one hundred push-ups to get into the Hounds. Boynton made the test impossible for Clyde to pass because I won’t go to bed with him.”
“What does all of this have to do with ambushing the halftrack?” Blade probed.
“We’re leaving Memphis. And before we go, we want to pay the sons—scum—back for what they did. No one humiliates us and gets away with it,” Bonnie affirmed.
“But ambush a half-track?” Blade queried in disbelief.
“Why do you think we swiped the bazooka from the Hound armory? I distracted the guard last night while Clyde snuck in and took the bazooka.
We know how much the halftrack means to the King and the Hounds.”
“So to teach the Hounds a lesson, you planned to destroy the half-track?” Blade said.
“You got it.” Bonnie laughed. “It was my idea.”
“I couldn’t talk her out of it,” Clyde mentioned. “She’s always doing something rash.” He sighed. “I wanted to forget the whole affair, but she insisted on getting even. She can’t stand being insulted, and she has a temper you wouldn’t believe.”
“I’d believe it,” Hickok interjected.
“Early last night she dragged me off to the rear fence of the Hound Headquarters Complex,” Clyde detailed. “The armory is situated at the back of the complex. She kept the gate guard busy, and I climbed over the fence and took the bazooka. I was surprised at how easy it was. They didn’t even have the door locked—I guess because no one has ever attacked Memphis or tried to sneak into their complex. No one would be crazy enough to try.”
“How did you keep the guard busy?” Hickok asked.
Bonnie smiled seductively and winked. “Use your imagination. Jeff and I were together for a while about ten months ago, and I found out he’d be on duty last night. He was putty in my hands, if you get my drift.”
“I don’t,” Chastity said.
“You’re not supposed to,” Hickok declared.
Blade rose, wedged the Caspian under his belt, and gripped the M-10 in his right hand. He stared at the brother, then the sister. “You’re free to go.”
“You’re not going to kill us?” Bonnie asked.
“Not unless you press the issue,” Blade replied wryly. “You can take off.”
He gazed at the bazooka, on the asphalt alongside Clyde. “Do you have any more rockets?”
“Yes,” Clyde answered. “The bazooka was packed in a small crate with six rockets. Thankfully, there was an instruction booklet.”
“Where’s the crate?”
“In the trees,” Clyde said, motioning at the forest on the left.
“Go get it,” Blade commanded. “We’ll need it more than you.”
Clyde went to stand.
“Hold it, dummy,” Bonnie stated, heaving erect and facing the giant.
“We’ll give it to you on one condition.”
“What condition?”
“That you take us with you,” Bonnie said.
“Forget it.”
“What’s wrong with the idea?” Bonnie demanded. “You can use our help. There are too many Hounds for the two of you to take on by yourselves.”
Blade studied the woman for several seconds. “Why would you want to help us?”
“That’s my business,” Bonnie said. “What do you say? We know Memphis inside and out. We can get you to the heart of the city without being spotted by the Hounds. We’re your best bet to get your friend out alive.”
“I don’t like this idea, sis,” Clyde remarked.
Bonnie looked at him. “You don’t have to go. I’ll understand. I know how your eyes are.”
“What about your eyes?” Blade queried.
Clyde tapped his silver, wire-rimmed glasses. “I must wear corrective lenses. For years Bonnie had to lead me around by the hand, until we stumbled across this old optometry shop. There were dozens of glasses in a partially collapsed room. I tried on every one. These correct my vision adequately if I keep them on the end of my nose.” He paused. “You’re not leaving me behind, Bonnie.”
“You don’t need to come,” she said.
“I’m coming along, and that’s that.”
“Both of you can join us,” Blade commented. “But first, I want the crate.”
“We’ll go get it,” Bonnie said, walking toward the trees. “Our suitcase too, if you don’t mind.”
“Bring it,” Blade responded. He watched them hurry into the woods.
“What gives, pard?” Hickok inquired.
“We can use their assistance. They know Memphis. We don’t. It’s as simple as that.”
“Bull manure. Don’t tell me you’re buyin’ the story about the entrance test?” the gunman asked.
“I believe they were telling the truth, as far as they went,” Blade said.
“But there’s more here than meets the eye.”
“Any clues?”
Blade shrugged. “Time will tell.”
“I’ll keep my eyes on them, just in case,” Hickok promised.
“And I’ll keep my eyes on you, Daddy,” Chastity chimed in.
“I feel safer already.”
Chapter Eight
The King certainly lived in a style consistent with his title. The mansion was huge and immaculately preserved, with a recent coat of white paint and all of its windows intact. Four large marble columns fronted a neatly trimmed green lawn. Access to the estate was through an arched silver gate guarded by ten men in black. A drive curved from the gate to the mansion and looped back again. Flower beds adorned the lawn; hickory trees afforded shade from the summer sun; and robins and mockingbirds foraged for worms.