“All right, all right,” Matt grumbled. “Go on, Callio.”
The thief clambered out, trembling, and loosed a long, shuddering sigh of relief. Matt followed, wondering if the little man really was that badly shaken, or if he was that good an actor. The driver unlocked a personnel door to the side of the huge truck portal. “Inside,” the guard ordered. “You boys sure are talkative,” Matt said. “Go on, go on!” the guard snapped. “You make me sick!” He shoved Matt, hard. Matt stumbled into the thief, heart leaping. The thug was already growing nervous. He must have been addicted to Groldor’s drug. What better way to assure loyalty in your bodyguards?
“Come on, Callio, and don’t worry… it’ll be plenty big enough inside.”
He glanced at the other guard, and saw drops of sweat on the man’s brow. He was staring, jaw clenched … another addict. At least, Matt could hope so. Nonetheless, it bothered him. His verse shouldn’t have just canceled the drug’s effects… it should also have eliminated dependency, stopped the craving for the drug. Yes, the guards should no longer be high, but they also shouldn’t be starting withdrawal. Matt had a nightmare vision of all the junkies on the East Coast being strung out, and unable to get a fix. What would they do, before they collapsed?
They stepped into gloom filled with huge crates. The driver and guard shoved them ahead down the loading bay and between avenues of packing cases. “It’s a castle,” Callio said, awed. The guard snorted
“You got a low idea of the high life.” He turned to the driver. “Stuff shouldn’t be wearing off so soon.”
“Bad dose,” the driver agreed “The boss’ll have more.”
The avenue opened out into a huge dark space. Fifty feet away, a single light hung, illuminating a folding table with a man in a business suit sitting behind it, another thug to each side of him. Matt had to give Groldor credit… in its way, this was just as impressive as a great hall and a dais (and much more threatening). “That’s far enough,” the guard grated, and Matt halted five feet from Groldor. But Callio began to tremble again. Matt ignored him long enough to study the boss… eyes alive with amusement under the hat brim, a cruel twist to the mouth, mustache and goatee beneath a grandfather of a nose, salt-and-pepper eyebrows. His complexion was sallow, his cheeks hollow. “Welcome home, Lord Wizard.”
Then Callio lost it. “Let me out!” he howled, and sprang at Groldor’s right-hand guard, catching his lapels to climb up and yell in his face, “I am no beast, to be caged in the dark with demons and ghosts! I am a… “
“You’re a fool,” the man snapped, and batted Callio away as if he were a fly. “Leave him alone!” Matt yelled, and started for the guard. Callio landed, rolled, and leaped up on the left-hand guard, yammering, “Ghosts and goblins! All manner of things haunt the dark! Let me out, so that I may at least run away!”
“You ain’t goin’ nowhere ” The guard pried Callio’s hands off his lapels. “Ease up on the haberdashery, punk.” He gave Callio a backhanded slap that sent him skidding to the feet of the driver, where he huddled in a miserable, sobbing bundle. “No call to do that!” Matt swerved for the left-hand guard and launched a karate kick. The guard laughed, reaching to catch his foot… and Matt yanked it away, slamming a fist into his face. It was like punching oak. The guard snarled and waded in, slamming a left hook into Matt’s belly, then a quick combination that Matt almost managed to block. He staggered back, but the right-hand guard caught him, spun him around, and swung a body blow that sent him staggering back against the car guard. The thug caught him, grinning, and the right-hand guard came for him, flexing his right hand.
“Enough,” Groldor said quietly. The right-hand guard snarled with disappointment and pivoted back to his station, folding his hands in front of him like an usher. Matt looked up at him and had the satisfaction of seeing staring eyes, beads of sweat. At a guess, all four guards were addicts. In withdrawal. Maybe all the more dangerous because of that. His stomach hollowed with fear as he wondered if he was going to die that night. “Hold him up,” Groldor directed.
The car guard complied. “Boss, that last dose must have been milk sugar. I need… “
“You need to be silent and do as I tell you!” Groldor snapped. The man stiffened, clamping his jaw shut.
So did the other three… but they were shivering. Matt managed to start breathing again.
“Sit down, Lord Wizard,” Groldor said with a smile of cruel satisfaction. When Matt shook his head, the boss said, “I really must insist.”
The car guard jammed Matt down on the folding chair in front of Groldor’s card table.
“How… ” Matt had to gasp for breath again; his stomach still wasn’t working properly. “How’d you… find us?”
“Why, quite simply, lack-wit,” Groldor sneered. “I set a needle afloat in a bowl and told it to seek he who had lately come from Merovence. The aura of that land clings about you, and attracts anything that has a trace of magic; like will to like.” He gave Callio a contemptuous nod. “Since there were two of you, the needle swung that much more easily. Then I needed only scry to discover in what place you stood.”
Matt nodded. “Thought it would be something like that.” He glanced at the left-hand guard. “Better see to your men… they’ve got trouble.”
“Yeah, boss,” the right-hand guard whined. “I’m really gettin’ strung out. Gimme another dose, please!”
“You need only one a day.” Groldor stepped over to him, scowling. “I gave you the powder only an hour ago.” He felt the thug’s pulse, set a hand against his brow, slid up an eyelid, then drew down his own brows, eyes almost disappearing in shadow. “It is true… you have begun withdrawal.” He slipped four foil envelopes out of his pocket. “Take one; give the others to your comrades.”
“We ain’t no commies,” the car guard muttered, but the right-hand guard ripped fast and sprinkled the salt on his tongue. “Thanks, boss! That oughta fix me up in a few minutes.” He tossed a packet to the left-hand guard, who grabbed it out of the air frantically, then took the other two to the car guard and driver.
“That won’t do any good,” Matt said quietly.
Groldor swung about, staring at him. The thugs swallowed their powders, then realized how quiet the boss had become, glanced at him, and followed his gaze to Matt.
“What have you done to the drug?” Groldor hissed.
“Only the reverse of what you did,” Matt said.
“You’ve not had time! I’ve not seen you!”
“I recited the double verse as soon as I arrived at the station,” Matt told him.
“Double?” Groldor’s voice was menace itself. “Twofold?”
Matt nodded. “The first part took the kick out of the drug, the second killed the craving for it. Looks like part two didn’t work.”
“You bastard!” the right-hand guard howled, and leaped over to Matt, yanking him up high, fists pummeling. The other three ran to join in.
Matt blocked frantically, kicking and chopping, but he was only one against four very big and very experienced fighters. Punches hit his belly, his chest, his head; he saw one guard fall, another stagger, but the other two had triphammers for fists and were slamming blow after blow at his head, and he managed to block most of them and duck others, but every fifth punch exploded against his jaw, his eye, his ear, and the room dimmed…
A gunshot crashed through the warehouse.
The thugs spun, reaching for their revolvers… then groping, slapping, finally looking.
“What the hell happened to my piece?” the car guard howled.
“You were right, Lord Wizard!” Callio cried. “This little lever on the side prevents the longer lever from moving! I only needed to push it down!”