“Go with him,” Rikki said to Spartacus. “Keep an eye on him. He may try to commit seppuku.”
“Seppu… what?”
“Ritual suicide. It was practiced by ancient samurai, especially when they suffered what they considered an irretrievable loss of honor.”
“What’d they do?”
“They disemboweled themselves by slicing open their abdomen,” Rikki clarified.
Spartacus began to leave. He paused and glanced at Napoleon. “I’m sorry it had to come to this, but you brought it on yourself.”
Napoleon’s eyes were livid pools of hatred.
Spartacus shrugged and hurried after Seiko.
Rikki moved closer to Napoleon, holding the katana in chudan-no-kumae, the middle position, with the hilt located near his navel and the blade at a slight upward angle.
“So what’s it to be?” Napoleon arrogantly demanded. “A swift execution? Or do I have some say in the matter?”
“You are going to die,” Rikki said coldly.
“You always were a smug son of a bitch,” Napoleon said, intentionally insulting Rikki. His right hand was inches from his revolver, and he debated whether he could draw and fire before Rikki reached him with the sword. Probably not. Rikki-Tikki-Tavi was lightning fast. Psychology was called for. “So what about it? Are you going to give me a fighting chance?”
“No.”
“What? Doesn’t the condemned get a last meal or a final request?”
Rikki shook his head. “This is an execution, Napoleon, not a negotiation.”
Napoleon’s left hand slowly circled his waist, reaching for a pouch attached to his belt. His right hand hovered near his revolver, distracting Rikki-Tikki-Tavi’s attention.
“What if I changed my mind?” Napoleon stalled as his left hand stealthily opened the flap on the pouch. He had one chance to escape. His life depended on an untried, untested, antique capsule. “What if I repent and pledge never to instigate a rebellion again?”
“Do you expect me to believe you?” Rikki was carefully closing on Napoleon, keeping his eyes on Napoleon’s right hand, knowing the Gamma Triad leader would not submit without a fight.
“No, I guess you wouldn’t,” Napoleon said, smiling broadly.
Why was Napoleon so… relaxed… about his fate? It wasn’t in his nature. Something was wrong here. Rikki expected Napoleon to resist, he even welcomed the conflict, not wanting to simply murder Napoleon in cold blood, so he fixed his gaze on that right hand, expecting Napoleon to make his draw any second. With his focus on the right hand and the revolver, it took him a moment to realize the left hand was appearing from behind Napoleon’s back, holding a metallic cylinder the thickness of a finger and the length of a hand. In that instant, Rikki realized he’d been guilty of a Warrior’s ultimate folly: overconfidence.
Rikki was throwing his shoulders into a swing of the katana when Napoleon’s thumb depressed a red button on the cylinder.
A stream of odoriferous greenish fluid shot from a small hole in the tapered end of the cylinder and struck Rikki in the face.
Rikki instinctively backed away, his left hand clutching at his face as the liquid burned his eyes, blurring his vision, and filled his nasal passages, constricting his throat and cutting off his air.
What was it?
A foot slammed into Rikki’s stomach, doubling him over. Another blow crashed against the side of his head, dropping him to his knees.
“You won’t be needing this, bastard!” Napoleon declared.
Rikki felt the katana being wrenched from his right hand. He gripped the hilt, striving to retain his grasp. His lungs seemed as if they were on fire, and he was gasping for breath and wheezing.
“Release it, damn you!”
A third time Napoleon struck, kicking Rikki-Tikki-Tavi in the abdomen.
It was no good! He couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t hold on to the katana.
Napoleon savagely wrenched the sword free and tossed it aside.
Tears poured from Rikki’s eyes, his nose was running, and he experienced an urge to vomit.
What was it?
“Thought you were going to kill me, huh?” Napoleon clasped his hands together and brutally struck Rikki on the back of his head.
Rikki collapsed on the grass at Napoleon’s feet.
“Guess who’s going to be the one doing the killing now?” Napoleon crowed.
Rikki gagged as the foreign substance continued to sear his respiratory system.
“I’ll teach you! I’ll teach all of you!” Napoleon, in a frenzy, pounded on Rikki’s contorted body. Finally, he straightened and raised his arms over his head. “It won’t be that easy, Plato!” he shouted toward the Home.
Rikki was straining to control his bodily functions, mentally forcing the fingers of his right hand to form a fist.
“I’ll be back, you son of a bitch!” Napoleon vowed, kicking the fallen Warrior in the right side. “The Family hasn’t heard the last of me! I’ll find some allies, maybe the Watchers, and I’ll return and reduce the Home to rubble and enslave all of you. You’ll see!”
His lungs were focal points of agony.
“No, you won’t see,” Napoleon corrected himself. “Because you won’t be around when I return. You’ll have been long gone!” he gloated.
My right hand! Must discipline my right hand! Rikki’s mind strained, channeling his energy and strength into his right arm and hand.
Napoleon slowly drew his revolver, relishing the outcome of their confrontation. “I never did like you, Rikki. You were like all the rest. You failed to recognize my natural ability. I’ll prove once and for all that I’m a master of men.”
Rikki formed his right hand into a tiger claw, tensing his fingers.
Napoleon glared at Rikki’s panting form. “Don’t worry, Rikki. You won’t die from that stuff you’ve inhaled. It’s called tear gas. I found a carton of these cylinders in the armory. Didn’t know if it’d still function after all these years. Surprise! Surprise! Although you don’t look like you’re too happy about it!” Napoleon laughed, cackling at his own joke.
It was not working! His fingers were too limp!
Napoleon crouched and jammed his left hand under Rikki’s chin. “Do you need some air, poor boy? Let me help you.” He forcefully pulled on the chin, snapping Rikki’s mouth closed and rattling his teeth. Chuckling, he elevated Rikki’s face until he could see the water-filled eyes.
Was it his imagination, or were the effects of the green fluid beginning to diminish?
“Can’t see a thing, can you?” Napoleon facetiously inquired. “Pity. I wanted you to see what’s coming, but I can’t afford to dally. Plato might have sent other Warriors to cover you.”
Rikki composed his racing thoughts, directing his mind to envision Napoleon’s position.
“So I guess we should get this over with.” Napoleon cocked his revolver.
Rikki perceived Napoleon was squatting directly in front of him.
Napoleon’s left hand was opening his mouth, so Napoleon’s face couldn’t be too far above his own. But where was Napoleon’s right hand? He had to know where it was…
The barrel of the revolver was rammed into his open mouth.
“Have any last requests?” Napoleon ridiculed him.
Rikki formed his right hand into the proper shape for a snake stab.
“I only wish it were Plato or Blade or Hickok,” Napoleon said. “Still, you’ll do. You’ll serve as an example. The others will know I’m not to be trifled with!” He knew he should pull the trigger, but he hesitated, savoring the feeling of power Rikki’s helplessness aroused in him.