"What is it?"
The voice belonged to Gomez. "Streicher wants you down in the living room in twenty minutes. Both of you."
Vickers blinked. "How did you know I was in here?"
"Don't be ridiculous."
His boots moved away down the corridor. Debbie sat up. "Do I look as bad as you do?"
"Probably."
"That's not very complimentary after all I did for you."
"I didn't mean it that way. You ever been in a firefight before? It has its own unique hangover."
"I feel kind of numb."
"That's a part of it."
Debbie got out of bed and headed for the bathroom, Vickers was so numb that her legs caused no reaction. The hiss of the shower caused him to wonder about his own cleanliness. He was dirty and unshaven but what the hell. He rolled from the bed and started pulling on his pants. "Are you going to shower?"
"No. I need some clean clothes out of my room. I'll see what Streicher wants first."
Before going to the living room, they stopped by the kitchen to see if Albert had any coffee. Fenton was already there with Linda.
"Streicher want to see you too?"
"Both of us."
Linda mock pouted. "He didn't ask for me."
"You might be the lucky one."
"That's always possible."
Parkwood was already in the living room as was Streicher, who was standing staring out of the picture window with his hands locked behind his back. He not only looked as though he hadn't slept but as if he'd been through a hard morning as well. Even so, Vickers didn't bother with courtesy.
"What do you want?"
"We'll wait until everyone's here."
Eggy crashed through the door. "What the fuck do you want, Streicher? I was spark out. You had your money's worth out of me last night."
"Close the door."
Parkwood looked slowly around with quizically raised eyebrows.
"Just the five of us?"
"I've been told to ship you out."
"Why us? What did we do?"
"Around here we just follow orders."
Parkwood pursed his lips. "Could it be anything to do with us having the highest scores on that ridiculous combat range of yours?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Streicher's face had already given him away, however. Parkwood smiled.
"You don't take enough care of your computer."
"You shouldn't have done that."
Streicher didn't sound as though he had anything to back up the threat. Parkwood continued to smile.
"What was it? Some kind of selection process? Somebody playing Darwin?"
Eggy glared at everyone in turn, finishing up with Streicher.
"So where the fuck are we going now? I've had a gutfull of this place, I can tell you."
"You'll find out when you get there."
Vickers shook his head.
"Sweet Jesus Christ, this is ridiculous. This secrecy is obsessive."
Eggy snarled. "Can you manage to tell your asshole when to shit?"
"Transport is already here."
"What?"
"The transport is already here. You have fifteen minutes to gather up your stuff. I won't say it's been nice knowing you."
Debbie moved to protest. "Wait just a minute. What about the others? What's going to happen to them?"
"I don't have any instructions. I imagine they'll be transferred too. It seems that this place is going to be shut down."
"And we never filled the heart-shaped pool."
"Fuck you, Fenton."
Streicher stalked out of the room. Eggy spat after him.
"Fuck!" He again looked around. He still disliked the other four but he seemed to accept they were in the same circumstances and therefore had some common interests. "Shit!"
Vickers yawned and rubbed his eyes. He could have done with a couple more hours' sleep.
"That's the truth."
Debbie started for the door.
"I'm going to get my stuff together and say good-bye to the girls."
Apart from the wire mesh over the windows, the heavy duty, rough country tires and the lack of license plates, it was a regular, yellow school bus, the current year's model. The two men who came with it were less conventional. They were two of the most exquisitely turned out soldiers that Vickers had ever seen. The army-style steel helmets, the kind with the communicator in the side blister, were finished in polished chrome and the visors were mirrored to match. Their jump-boots were shined to a parade ground polish and their lightweight combat suits had knife-edge creases. Instead of the normal olive green they were a rather attractive mushroom gray. Of the five transportees, Eggy was the most disbelieving. He seemed to take their stylishness extremely personally. He bore down on them with a stiff-legged lurch.
"What the fuck are you supposed to be?"
The nearest of the pair raised his M90 and pointed uncompromisingly at Eggy's chest.
"Sir. You will surrender your weapon and board the bus." Eggy looked down at his worn MT and back to the soldier with a look of brute incomprehension.
"Run that by me again."
"Sir. You will surrender your weapon and board the bus. Your weapon will be stored in the luggage compartent and returned to you when we reach our destination."
The soldier had the robot voice of the hardcore corporate warrior. They might be prettied up but they were cold bastards who'd put a bullet through Eggy as easy as blinking. Debbie must have reached exactly that conclusion. She put down her bag and put a hand on Eggy's arm.
"Why don't you relax and go with the program until we get where we're going. He's got you cold anyway."
Eggy looked down at his gun again. He spun it on his finger and pushed it butt-end first toward the soldier.
"Here, cutie, stash it with the bags."
He climbed on board the bus. One by one the others followed him. Vickers paused before handing over his bag and his guns.
"I suppose it's no use in asking you where we're going."
"No sir."
"I thought not."
The bus was empty except for two more uniformed men. One was acting as a third guard, the other as driver. The five passengers spread out as far as possible, as though each one of them needed his or her privacy. Parkwood went all the way to the back and opened a dog-eared copy of Proust's Remembrance of Things Past. Debbie pulled her knees up to her chin and, almost immediately, appeared to go into a trance. Fenton flopped into a middle seat and stared out the window. Vickers did the same. Eggy, on the other hand, moved up to the front and stared through the windshield with the dumb rapt interest of a dog on a car ride. This rather discomfited the guard at the front. He'd positioned himself at the front of the bus with his back to the windshield. His M90 was slung across his chest. He tensed a little and his hand gripped the butt as Eggy lurched toward him. Eggy, however, simply looked him up and down and then ignored him. He took up position right beside him, only facing in the other direction. The other two guards boarded, the door closed with a hiss of air pressure, the air conditioner came on and the driver eased the bus into gear. They took up position in the back seat, one on each side of Parkwood. Parkwood apparently took exception to this as he immediately moved two seats forward and went back to his book.
The bus rolled and wallowed on the uneven desert road. The passengers hung onto the seats in front of them and, on a number of occasions, Eggy was jolted against the guard. On the third collision, he broke into a fiendishly vacant grin. Among the totems and geegaws festooned to his neck and chest was an old fashioned .45 caliber brass and lead bullet. It was clutched in an ornate silver eagle's claw that was in turn attached to a silver chain. Eggy dangled it in front of the guard's face.
"You know what's inside this?"
The guard was doing his best to keep his balance. For a brief instant he looked quite horrified. Beside Eggy he was just a callow boy. He swallowed and shook his head as the bus lurched again. Eggy laughed.