Damn your bones! Not now! Napoleon inwardly seethed at this seeming reversal of his master plan. Outwardly, he smiled. “You don’t want Jenny?” he inquired politely.
“You know I do,” Spartacus replied.
“Then what’s the problem?” Napoleon queried him.
“It’s a big step. If we’re caught…”
“We won’t be caught,” Napoleon hastily interrupted.
“You can’t guarantee that,” Spartacus noted.
“Spartacus, Spartacus, Spartacus,” Napoleon said in a paternal tone.
“What am I to do with you?” He placed his arms behind his back and began pacing, talking as he walked. “For years I have tried to convince you that I could do a better job of leading the Family than Plato, bless his poor, inept soul. I have tried to reason with you, to explain the necessity for the Family to reach out, to attain broader horizons. The Family can’t stay cooped up in the Home for its entire existence. We are at a critical point in Family history. A new form of leadership is called for. Bold, imaginative, aggressive leadership such as you well know I can supply.”
Napoleon shook his head and sighed. “And still you refuse, still you balk. Why? Don’t you want to see the Family assumes its rightful position of dominance in the world today? Don’t you want to be a part of all this?”
“Of course I do,” Spartacus responded.
“Then what’s the problem?” Napoleon demanded again.
“I feel guilty,” Spartacus admitted, “like I’m betraying my trust, betraying the Family.”
“How can you be betraying the Family if you are helping to lead them to bigger and better things?” Napoleon asked, pressing him.
“But what about Plato and Rikki?” Spartacus asked.
Napoleon stopped his pacing. “Progress,” he stated somberly, “demands sacrifice. Study your history.”
“Rikki won’t be easy,” Spartacus said, nitpicking.
“You said the same thing about Hickok,” Napoleon noted. “Believe me, they’re only men, just like us. They’re no harder to kill than anyone else.
Don’t worry about Rikki. We’re going to get some assistance there. We may not even need the assassin alibi.”
“What type of assistance?” Seiko curiously inquired.
“The newcomer Tyson,” Napoleon answered. “I’ll explain once I’m certain we can count on him.”
Tyson? Involved with this horrible plot? Cindy couldn’t believe her own ears! She wanted to jump up and run, to race to Rikki and reveal all the sordid details, but she held herself in check. Napoleon would probably murder her on the spot. Besides, if Tyson were somehow caught up in this scheme, she had to learn to what extent and how best to extricate him before he found himself in serious trouble.
“I guess I’ll just have to trust you,” Spartacus was stating. “You can count me in.”
“Good!” Napoleon almost leaped for joy. At long, long last! The fruition of his cherished ambition was within his grasp! To become Family Leader was a necessary goal, but it was only the first step in his grand design.
Thanks to the information supplied by the Alpha Triad, he knew the Family possessed more raw firepower than most other groups and occupied communities. If directed by a capable military mind, the Family’s arsenal could be utilized most effectively in subduing any opposition. The Watchers might pose a problem, but Napoleon suspected they might be amenable to a mutually beneficial truce. If the Watchers hadn’t wiped out the Family by now, there could only be one logical reason; they simply weren’t strong enough to conquer the Family in pitched warfare. The Watchers would welcome a treaty of peace, and leave him free to prosecute his strategy for reorganizing the pitiful remnants of society still functioning in a world scarred by a nuclear holocaust. What the world needed was someone with vision, someone capable of recharting the course human destiny should take.
Someone, Napoleon knew, like himself.
As he so often did, Napoleon grinned at the thought of his pet motto, one conceived during his turbulent teen years after he had repeatedly approached the Family Elders with his concepts for improving Family life and after his grandoise ideas had been constantly rejected. Today the Family, tomorrow the world!
Chapter Nine
He abruptly became conscious, wishing he hadn’t. His head was sore, his temples throbbing. He had the impression of being carried. And, somewhere close, someone was whistling.
Whistling?
Blade opened his eyes and squinted in the morning sun. He realized his arms were tied behind his back.
“Welcome back, yes? Sleep good, no?”
His assailant was effortlessly toting him across a barren field, one arm under his knees and the other around his shoulders.
“Put me down!” Blade ordered.
The creature chuckled. “You make Gremlin laugh.”
Blade took stock of his situation. His weapons were gone. “Where are my Bowies?” he demanded. “And my revolver and the Auto-Ordnance?”
“Not needed, no. Left behind,” the thing replied.
Damn! Unarmed, in hostile territory, and a prisoner. This day was definitely not getting off to a good start. “What if we are attacked?” Blade questioned his captor.
“Not worry, no. Gremlin protect,” the creature responded.
“I take it your name is Gremlin?” Blade probed.
The thing actually grinned. “You smart, yes?”
Blade realized the creature had a sense of humor. What else? It was incredibly strong and fast, obviously intelligent. So many questions flashed through his mind. Where to begin? “Why do you talk the way you do?”
“Know brain, yes?” Gremlin countered Blade’s query with one of his own.
“Do I know the brain?” Blade repeated. “A little bit. Anatomy wasn’t my primary study, but we had to learn the nervous system, pressure points, kill zones, and the like. Why?”
Gremlin glanced at Blade and frowned. “Warrior training, yes?”
Blade involuntarily attempted to straighten, surprised at the creature’s knowledge of his Family status.
Gremlin stopped and looked around. A patch of grass to their right arrested his attention, and he crossed to the roughly circular area and gently deposited Blade on the ground. “We stop, yes? Walked all night.”
He remained standing, alert for any potential threats.
“How do you know I’m a Warrior?” Blade demanded, perplexed.
“Doktor tell, yes?” Gremlin answered.
“Who is this Doktor? You mentioned him before,” Blade noted.
“You meet soon, yes?” Gremlin chuckled. “Wish you hadn’t.”
“Well,” Blade pressed the creature, “how does this Doktor know so much about me?”
“Doktor know everything,” Gremlin informed him.
“But how?” Blade asked.
“Learn soon, yes,” Gremlin replied.
This was getting him nowhere! Blade returned to his original question.
“You still haven’t told me why you talk the way you do. Does it have something to do with the brain?”
Gremlin’s features seemed to soften, to sadden. He nodded. “Brain control words, yes? Part of brain kaput!”
“Part of your brain has been damaged?” Blade requested clarification.
Gremlin shook his head, one corner of his mouth slanted downward.
“Damaged, no. Gone, yes.”
“How could part of your brain be gone?” Blade asked skeptically.
Gremlin’s jaw muscles tightened. “Doktor.”
Blade struggled to a sitting position. “The Doktor removed part of your brain? Why?”
Gremlin avoided looking into Blade’s eyes. “Experiment.”
Blade’s mind was racing. What was going on here? What type of physician experimented on the brains of… Wait a minute! Inspiration struck. “Gremlin, what are you? Where are you from?”