He stopped in his tracks, and so did Jerry and Zoe. The latter gasped. They have finally seen it — the village of the Anai, with its hive-like stone houses and the twinkling lights of its oil lamps. They heard agitated voices, and a group of Anai warriors shot by, brandishing long spears. “I must be losing my mind,” Jerry said, rubbing his eyes. “Scott, what is this… this place? Have you ever been here before?”
But then there was another sound, horrible and familiar — the shot of a gun, which reverberated throughout the valley. “Come on!” Scott shouted, and ran towards the village. He had told Tahan something about guns, but the vast majority of the Anai were kept in the dark about the potential deathliness of these metallic objects.
The scene of terror appeared before their eyes in a moment. Near one of the houses, two of the men Scott recognized as the pals of Victor Nash were holding a crowd of terrified Anai at gunpoint. The gun held by one of the men was smoking, and from the direction in which it was pointing, Scott guessed that the gunshot had just shattered a large clay pot at his feet.
“Next one goes into one of you,” the man snarled, apparently unware of the fact that his audience could hardly understand English. “Unless you tell us where you keep the food. Food, you understand, you old bastard?” he repeated, pointing his gun right in the face of an older Anai man, who stood before him straight, fearless and dignified. With a jolt, Scott recognized Ne Riorag. The other man kept roving his gun around, and the Anai flinched away — apparently, the one shot they had seen served to teach them enough of what firearms can do.
Scott made a motion to the others, and lunged forward. It might have been a rash move, as he didn’t know exactly how many men had come with Nash, and how many were out here somewhere, but he couldn’t help himself. “Hands up and guns on the ground!” he roared. “Your little detour is over, you bastards!”
With very surprised, very ugly scowls, the two criminals dropped their guns and slowly raised their arms. The crowd of Anai swooped upon them and got them firmly tied up in a matter of seconds. “Pick up their guns, Jerry, but be careful,” Scott instructed. At that moment, however, another man from McMurdo flipped aside the entrance flap and got out of the house, holding yet another Anai man at gunpoint. The assailant’s name was Jed Corby, and he was yet another one of those who had gotten all chummy with Nash in the past weeks. The man he was holding hostage was Ne Tarveg.
Instantly taking in the commotion, Corby coiled one arm around Ne Tarveg’s neck, pointing the gun to his temple. The Anai man snarled and gritted his teeth, but apparently had enough sense not to move. “Let us all go at once,” he demanded, looking at Scott, “or I shoot him.”
Scott shrugged his shoulders with feigned indifference. “You can shoot him. It doesn’t matter to us, and it won’t save you. You’ve made a big mistake, Corby.” He looked sideways at Ne Riorag, however, and gave the elder a tiny, barely perceptible, apologetic shake of the head. Ne Riorag nodded ever so slightly, indicating that he understood.
Corby scowled. “We’ll see about that. Easy, now, or your savage pal gets his brains blown out. Tell them to release Jim and Fred at once, and bring out a nice load of their good fresh meat. We’ll be going back now. We can come some other time for all their fine ivory—”
He fell silent, for he found himself looking in the barrel of Petri Karhu’s gun. The Finn squinted at him with a hard, determined expression. “Keep blabbing and I will shoot,” he said. “I don’t miss from such a distance, Corby, so cut the shit. Where is Stanley? Where is that goddamn bastard Nash?”
Corby scowled with disdain. “You shut your mouth. And, if you have anything better than mush in that fat head of yours, join us. You don’t owe anything to the U.S. None of us owes anything to anyone anymore. We must survive, and these stupid savages here—”
He didn’t finish the sentence. A gunshot sounded in the air, and he fell down in a heap upon the ground, moaning and cursing and trying to stem the flow of blood from his arm. Ne Tarveg leapt sideways, massaging his throat and uttering curses, the gist of which was his intention to dispose of Corby at once.
“Easy, now,” Scott said, pushing forward. “Don’t kill him — we need to take him alive.” He pulled out the first aid kit out of his backpack and, with no great gentleness, stemmed the blood flow. The gunshot wound was precise and not life threatening, as far as he could judge. “Tie him up,” he said in Anai, which caused his companions to shoot puzzled glances in his direction. “We’ll deal with him later. Where is Tahan?” he demanded of Ne Riorag.
“In her home — safe, I think, but—”
Scott turned to his friends. Petri was ashen-faced, and his teeth were clenched.
“I bluffed,” he said. “I did miss from such a distance, plenty of times. And I’ve never shot a man before.”
“You did brilliantly, Pete. Now pull yourself together. You keep a close eye on these three,” he told the Anai, picking up Corby’s gun. “Where is Nash, Ne Riorag?” he asked the elder. “You know whom I mean. The man—”
“The evil one, Father,” Ne Tarveg interjected. “He’s still in the village, hiding in one of the houses. We must find him.”
“Be careful,” Scott warned. “Don’t do anything rash. He’s armed, and these little things can kill,” he added, brandishing Corby’s gun for emphasis. Then, unable to restrain himself any longer, he bolted towards Tahan’s house, his three friends on his heels. “Tahan!” he called. “Tahan, it is me!”
She pushed the leather flap aside, and an expression of immense relief spread upon her face. Egan, frightened-looking, was clasped in her arms, and hid his face on his mother’s shoulder. “Scott, thank the Spirits!” she pressed his hand, and gave his companions a fleeting, curious look. “That evil man, Victor Nash…”
“I know. I know it all. The men are looking for him now, and we’ll take him in soon. Are you fine? Did these bastards hurt anyone? Where is Omrek?”
“Omrek is out there — no, I don’t think anyone is hurt. But Scott, there is another man right in here…”
Before she could finish talking, Stanley walked out, looking thoroughly miserable. “Buck, I’m so sorry,” he said. “Please believe me, I didn’t want to cooperate. But the son of a bitch held a gun to my head, and told me I’m dead meat if I don’t fly them to AN-85. Fred, the other pilot, is in league with them. I ran away as soon as I noticed they weren’t looking.”
“It’s alright, Stan,” Scott said. “No one is blaming you.”
“You know, I’ve always thought there was something about AN-85…”
There was another commotion outside, alarmed voices, a shout. Jerry and Zoe exchanged frightened glances and held on tighter to their guns. “Damn it,” Scott uttered under his breath, “it must be Nash. Tahan, you stay inside. You too, Stan. Take care of yourselves.” There was no point to tell them to try and block the entrance — the Anai houses had no proper doors, there being virtually no violence or theft among these people.
They dashed outside, and Scott saw Nash at once. He stood in the midst of a crowd of agitated onlookers, holding a terrified young Anai woman at gunpoint. With a dreadful, sinking feeling, Scott recognized Manari. Omrek was there as well, straining against the arms of four men who weren’t letting him lunge at Nash.
“Keep him away from me — all keep away from me, or I shoot her!” the voice of Nash carried on in the air, cold and clear. Scott stepped forward.
“Game over, Nash. Your little friends are caught, and there’s nobody to fly you out of here. Now let her go and drop your gun.”