“LET ME FINISH!” The words rapped out as if they were being hammered on steel. For one second, the incandescent hatred that Rob Falk held for all diplomats blazed across his face and eyes. Then, as if he were slipping on a mask — or donning a proxy — he returned to the distant, ironic pose he’d used in talking to the prisoners.
“I suppose you might tell someone what went on here,” Rob said mildly, “If you were still alive.” He raised the old pistol and aimed it carefully. “Fortunately, that won’t be an issue.”
Chapter 18
Rob Falk and his friend James, the warlord of the Buzzards, filled the sudden silence with loud, harsh laughter. Rob lowered his gun.
The young computer genius stuck the pistol in his back pocket. “Oh, we’re not gonna do it now,” he said, as if this should make the prisoners feel better. “But we really have to shut your mouths. After all, you only served two uses for us. You could get into places that my friends and I — well, I guess you’d say we were a little too rough for polite society.”
James laughed again, but Rob went on. “The other use was to take the heat — create big headlines and make the big-time commentators and politicians buzz and moan about the state of young people today.” He sneered. “Why should we go to all the trouble of creating scapegoats if they’re just going to point the finger at us?”
“You got a point there, brother,” James said.
“Besides, if you die, there’ll be just enough tragedy to keep the publicity machine running overtime.” Rob might have been discussing how to talk up an upcoming dance, or how to get the word out about a charity car wash. Matt had never heard something so evil discussed so casually.
“So that’s it?” Cat said in a shocked voice. “You’ve used us up, so now you throw us away?”
Rob turned, grinned, and nodded. “Go to the head of the class! That’s exactly it! Just like you and your so-important friends use people and toss them away. Of course, we have to make it a little more permanent. But then, we’re playing for higher stakes than a good grade in Bonehead Computing.”
His voice dripped phony compassion as he leaned toward the girl. “Oh, I know it’s tough. All this time, you’ve grown up thinking you were a human being with rights and privileges. Well, I’m sorry, honey. But you’ve got to learn it’s different out here in the cold, cruel world. My mom thought she was a human being. But some drunk, rich diplomat saw her as an obstacle — or maybe as a target.”
The false sympathy was gone from his voice. Each word came out as if it were chipped from ice. “We’ll never know what was going through his mind. He hightailed it back to Whatzislavia as soon as his ambassador pried him away from the police. Now, it’s too bad you don’t have an ambassador to go to bat for you. We don’t need another pretty face around here. We don’t need your daddy’s money. We need someone to take the heat for us after this operation goes down. And you’re elected. Grow up and face it, girl. It’s the last thing you might be able to do in this life.”
It was a cruel little speech, but Matt could see Caitlin wouldn’t give Rob the satisfaction of seeing tears. The effort made her shake, but she stood straight and glared at him.
“Good work!” Rob applauded. “See, you’re growing up already.”
He turned his attention to the other prisoners. “Okay, now, I expect you guys to be cool. Keep annoying us”—he looked especially at Serge as he spoke—“and you’ll wind up with marks that will make it harder for us to set the right picture. We want the public to see a bunch of rich, privileged kids who got in with the wrong crowd and came to a sorry end. Behave yourself, and I promise your sorry end will be relatively painless. Give us trouble, and we’ll hurt you before this is over. Then we’ll have to come up with a nasty end to hide what we did. You’ll end up flipping a car and being burned to death. Or maybe even have your cruel gangbanger pals kill you execution-style.”
“And what happens if we’re good boys and girls?” Matt asked, amazed that his voice stayed steady. “What nice way will you use to kill us then?”
“Well, there is no nice way,” Rob admitted. “Maybe we’ll get you drunk or high so you’ll scarcely feel somebody’s home security system taking you out.”
He glanced around. “So, if there are no more questions — and I really hope no more ‘you can’t get away with this’ silliness — it’s time to get to work!”
For one wild moment, Matt was tempted to reveal his Net Force connection and tell Falk that he was working undercover. That would rip away his condescending attitude.
As if he were reading Matt’s mind, Rob said, “Don’t try to threaten me with Net Force, Hunter.” He smiled at Matt’s openmouthed response. “Come on! I’ve been in your computer — and a lot of others. You really thought I didn’t know you’re a Net Force Explorer? Seems to me you’ve gone beyond whatever your Captain Winters had in mind. Perhaps I’ll e-mail him a suggestion about better training for Explorers going undercover. Your effort was pretty…pitiful.”
His fellow prisoners looked at Matt with different expressions. At least his effort had been good enough for them.
Now he’d keep quiet, wait, and try to pull off the duty of every prisoner — to escape.
That, of course, would depend on wherever Rob and his gangbanger friends decided to store their captives.
Since no one had anything more to say, Rob and James declared their little meeting over. The guards closed in around Matt, Caitlin, Luc, and Serge, and began herding them through the door in the far wall of the room — the door the boys had come through earlier.
They went out of the room, then down a short, dark hallway ending at a big, heavy oak door, the kind you couldn’t buy anymore. Not that anybody would want this one, Matt thought. The heavy wood panel was torn and gouged. There were even a couple of bullet holes, as if someone had used it for target practice.
But the door was still able to block out sound. Matt was surprised at the noise level on the other side when the guards pushed the door open. He was even more surprised when he went through the doorway into a huge, high-ceilinged room filled with row after row of scarred wooden pews. They were in a church!
A quick glance told him that it had to be an abandoned church. Leaks from the steeply angled roof had caused huge smears down the dingy walls, rotting the plaster away from the red brick beneath. Most areas were thick with dust, except for the pews. They were thick with people, but these people hadn’t come to pray.
The congregation consisted of hard young men, many younger than Matt, the rest ranging in age on up to a couple of guys who looked to be in their late twenties. Beefy or rail-thin, black-skinned, brown, or pale and freckled, they all had the same wary, street-smart hardness. And whatever they wore — most were in jeans and shirts with the sleeves torn away — their outfits mixed the colors green and black.
There had to be a couple of hundred of them, smoking, laughing, checking their guns. Yes, each young man was armed. Hunting rifles, stolen armory weapons, and every variety of pistol Matt had ever heard about seemed to be on display. There were even a couple of antique Beretta M9s like the one Rob Falk had waved around.
This was Rob’s strike force, the fighting strength of the Buzzards called together at their warlord’s orders.
They fell into a dangerous silence for a second as they saw strangers coming through the door. But James came in after them, and the warlord was definitely in a cheerful mood. “Be nice to these people, now,” he warned his troops. “They’re the ones who’re helping us get into the Gardens at Carrollsburg!”