Do I have your permission?” Captain Williams asked hopefully.
“Permission granted,” Colonel Jarvis agreed. “But Williams…”
“Yes, sir?”
“You have a dozen men left, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Under no circumstances,” Colonel Jarvis directed, “are you to engage them unless as a defensive maneuver. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” Williams stated.
“Hold them until we arrive and we’ll mop them up,” Jarvis predicted.
“No problem,” Williams promised.
“Captain…” Jarvis added as an afterthought.
“Yes, Colonel Jarvis?”
“Don’t feel too bad,” Jarvis suggested. “You know the reputation these Warriors have.”
“I certainly do.”
“Any identity on the prisoner?” Jarvis asked.
“He won’t talk,” Williams replied. “But from the file description I’d guess it’s Blade.”
“Blade?” Colonel Jarvis sounded impressed. “Then Hickok and Geronimo must be inside.”
“That’s my assessment,” Williams concurred.
“You heard what they did to the Trolls?” Colonel Jarvis inquired.
“It was in the classified pouch I received about two weeks ago,” Captain Williams stated.
“Then you know how dangerous they are. Don’t take chances. Sit on them until I arrive.”
“Will do, sir.”
“Charlie-Lima-Two-Four-Seven-Seven, over and out.”
The compact radio buzzed with static.
“I don’t understand,” Joshua said.
“That makes two of us,” Hickok conceded.
“They knew about your fight with the Trolls!” Joshua stated. “How?”
“Forget the Trolls!” Hickok rejoined. “They know all about us, all about Alpha Triad. For that matter, they seem to know all about the Family and the Home.”
“How?” Joshua repeated.
“I wish to blazes I knew,” Hickok said. “None of this makes any sense!”
“Didn’t Blade believe there was a connection between the Trolls and the Watchers?” Joshua asked.
“Yeah. But he had no idea what kind of connection.”
“How would they know about the Family?” Joshua questioned.
“Josh,” Hickok said, peeved, “you ask too many questions. I’m just as much in the dark as you are. Right now, it doesn’t really matter how they know about us. We have something more important to worry about.”
“We do?”
“They’ve got Blade, remember?” Hickok growled.
“What are we going to do?” Joshua inquired.
“Go up on the roof,” Hickok instructed him, “and get Geronimo and Bertha. We need a conference.”
“On my way.” Joshua ran up the stairs.
What were they going to do? Hickok leaned against the wall, debating their course of action. The first priority, obviously, was to free Blade from the clutches of the Watchers. But how? He glanced out the door, noting the activity near the park had ceased. They sky was still too dark to distinguish details accurately, but there was… something… or… someone… near the line of trees.
Hickok walked to the bar and retrieved his Henry from the counter top.
Captain Williams had mentioned an ultimatum, one the Watchers would undoubtedly present at daybreak or shortly thereafter, which didn’t leave much time to devise a plan to rescue Blade. The Watchers still were a dozen soldiers strong, exactly three times the number of guns Hickok could rely on. A considerable advantage.
There was a commotion upstairs, and Geronimo, Bertha, and Joshua appeared.
“What’s this about the Watchers?” Geronimo asked as he descended the stairs. “Joshua says they know all about us?”
“Evidently,” Hickok confirmed. He proceeded to narrate the monitored conversation between Captain Williams and Colonel Jarvis.
“So what’s our next move?” Geronimo questioned when Hickok concluded his explanation.
“I’m open to any suggestions,” Hickok stated.
“Inside the building! Listen up!” abruptly boomed a voice from outside.
“What the…” Hickok began. He hurried to the door, the rest on his heels.
“I know you can hear me!” shouted the voice.
“How can he make his words so loud?” Bertha inquired, puzzled.
“He’s utilizing a device designated a bull horn,” Joshua conjectured.
“The Family owns a pair, inoperative because we lack the batteries required for proper performance.”
“I’m definitely getting you that dictionary for your birthday,” Hickok muttered.
“I know you can hear me!” the voice reiterated.
“Can anyone see who’s talkin’?” Bertha asked.
“No,” Geronimo answered. “He’s probably in the park.”
“My name is Captain Williams.” Williams spoke slowly, deliberately, enunciating each word.
“I thought I recognized the creep,” Hickok said.
“Pay attention to what I am about to say…”
“What’s that?” Geronimo leaned forward, spotting the result of the Watchers’ earlier labors. As dawn approached, the light was rapidly increasing. “It’s Blade!” he exclaimed.
The others pressed closer to the opening.
“As you can plainly see by now,” Williams declared, “we have your friend in custody.”
“He’s tied to a pole!” Bertha stated.
“We have secured him to a pole. Any rescue attempt would be futile.”
“He’s not moving,” Bertha said. “Are you sure he’s still alive?”
“That’s what they said on the radio,” Hickok replied.
“We will cut you to ribbons if you try to free him,” Williams declared.
“I’d like to cut you to ribbons,” Hickok said.
“Listen closely! Sunrise will occur soon. You have until the sun is completely above the horizon to surrender, or we will shoot your friend.”
“Doesn’t give us much time,” Geronimo commented.
“Remember!” Williams arrogantly bellowed. “The second the sun is completely visible, we’ll turn your friend into a sieve!”
“Do we surrender?” Joshua inquired.
“Do rabbits fly?” Hickok responded.
“Then what do we do, White Meat?” Bertha frowned, concerned. “They have us right where they want us.”
“Do they?” Hickok said, grinning.
“I’ve seen that look before,” Geronimo noted. “It usually means your minuscule mind has come up with a plan.”
“Do we have any rope in this place?” Hickok asked them.
“I haven’t seen any,” Geronimo answered. “How long do you need it to be?”
Hickok absently rubbed his chin as he calculated. “At least ten feet. You can drop the rest of the distance.”
“We have the blankets,” Bertha said. “If we tied them together and used some odds and ends, we could get ten feet. Why?”
Hickok began pacing. “The way I see it, we’ve got to make our move at sunrise, when they’ll be expecting us to surrender.” He faced Joshua. “Is the Ruger loaded?”
“Yes,” Joshua replied.
“Give it to me,” Hickok ordered. He took the revolver and slid the barrel under his belt, just to the right of the buckle, leaving the grips and the hammer free for quick action. “This will give me eighteen.”
“Eighteen?” Bertha repeated.
“Yeah. Eighteen shots.”
“What are you going to use them for?” Joshua inquired.
“I’ll need them,” Hickok smirked, “when I go out the front door. Now here’s my plan…”