The time of reckoning for a lifetime of abuse and insult was at hand!
Chapter 4
Jonnie strode two paces inside the door of Char's room.
The muzzle of a submachine gun jabbed into his left side!
A Brigante rose from behind a chair holding another Thompson grimly leveled.
Lars stood up from behind the bed, a blast pistol pointing at him.
“We are not here to kill you,” said Lars. He had worked this entire campaign out and added a few embellishments of his own. From all he had heard, this was a treacherous and dangerous criminal liable to do anything. To carry out his principal orders it was necessary to be very intelligent about this, as intelligent as Hitler would have been. “Just do as we request, and no harm will come to you. This is an entirely legal proceeding. You are under arrest by order of the Council and these are Council troops.”
Jonnie, as he entered, had been in the act of removing his air mask or he would have smelled the badly tanned skins and body stench of a Brigante.
An hour. Angus and Ker required an hour to put the vital finishing touches on that office. These creatures might go up to the office and might even have arrest orders for them. He would buy Angus and Ker that hour.
He realized then that Lars and these two Brigantes had been here for a while. Ker, when Jonnie asked for work clothes, had simply bundled up all of Stormalong's gear. It had been in a neat kit by the bed. Now it was strewn about, thoroughly searched. The food bags from both Africa and the Academy were there. They had also been ransacked. Angus's gear had been very slight and he had his tool bag with him, so there was no trace that two men's gear was in this pile.
The Brigante behind him, with a glance at his mate to see that the action was covered, whisked the blast pistol out of Jonnie's belt.
Jonnie shrugged. Buy time! “And you are taking me somewhere?”
“You are to appear this morning before the Council to be charged,” said Lars.
Jonnie casually swung the door shut behind him, closing out any view of the corridor. Angus and Ker would not come out that way to go to the hangar but they might make some noise. And worse, might foolishly abandon what they were doing and take these fellows on!
“I haven't had anything to eat since yesterday,” said Jonnie. “Do you mind if I have a bite first?”
Lars stepped back to the wall. The Brigante behind him backed away. The one behind the chair stepped to another position and Jonnie collected up the food bag contents and water gourds and sorted them out. He sat down and drank some water out of a gourd. There were some bananas there and he broke some off the small bunch.
The Brigantes hadn't seen any bananas since leaving Africa and eyed them. Jonnie offered them some and they would have taken them, except that Lars barked a reprimand and they quickly snapped back to military duties.
Jonnie ate a banana. Then he found some millet bread and made himself a sandwich from local beef. He had quite a hard time selecting the exact right slices. The huge Psychlo wrist watch on his wrist was whirring off the seconds and minutes. He had marked it for the hour.
“What are these charges all about?” said Jonnie.
Lars smiled very thinly. He was being pumped for confidential Council information. “You will be told in the proper time by the proper people.”
Jonnie finished the sandwich and found some wild berries. He ate these. The wrist watch whirred along. Forty-nine minutes to go.
He looked into the food bags and discovered some wild sugar cane from Africa. He peeled it with care and chewed on it, sipping from a gourd between times.
Then it occurred to him if they were all silent, Angus or Ker might come busting in here to see whether he was gone. Angus would suppose Jonnie had taken his kit to the plane, but still, they might just come barging in and get arrested or shot. Very shortly now he had better start this Lars talking so they would hear a strange voice in here.
Forty-two minutes to go.
“You sure messed up my clothes,” said Jonnie. "I’ll have to repack.”
But Lars was intent on something else. He wanted a real double-check on identity and in his haste he had forgotten it. He wanted to make doubly sure about the collar scars. He became clever. A military maneuver was needed here. He didn't want this Tyler to be able to seize a Brigante and use him as a shield. Right now the collar of the work jacket covered his neck.
“There is no idea of inconveniencing you,” said Lars. “You are in your work clothes and I should think you would want to appear at your best before such an august body as the Council. You can change your clothes if you wish. We've removed all knives and weapons. So go ahead.”
Jonnie had smiled wryly when “august body of the Council” was mentioned. What pomposity! But he said, “Oh, well, in that case I suppose I had better.”
He began to sort the scattered clothes into piles, making noise. It would be better if he could keep Lars talking. Thirty-nine minutes to go.
Ker certainly had brought all of Stormalong's kit. He folded it all neatly and then began picking up items and looking at them critically as though deciding which he should wear, saying, “Would this do?” and “How about this?” and “How do they ordinarily dress when appearing before the Council? In something like this?” He got Lars advising him. The Council was very formal, very strict and mindful of its dignity, and its power was enormous and men were expected to realize it. Twenty-eight minutes to go.
Jonnie suddenly saw that Stormalong, who was always very neat as well as a bit dashing about clothes, had preserved the costume he had been issued in lode days to look like Jonnie.
Chrissie had made several sets, pushed into it by Jonnie to take her mind off her imprisonment, and Jonnie had handed out sets to Dunneldeen, Thor, and Stormalong to improve their duplication. He unwrapped the buckskin hunting shirt and breeches and belt. Yes, even the moccasins. Twenty-three minutes to go!
Jonnie took off his jacket, intending to sponge off a bit before dressing.
Lars leaned forward eagerly. Terl had told him that a good security chief always depended upon body marks for identification. How right! There were the small scars of the collar. He had his man. He became inwardly jubilant. Cheerful.
“You can hurry it along now, Tyler," said Lars. “I know you for sure. The collar scars!”
So that's what he had been looking for, thought Jonnie.
“The others left hours ago, didn't they?” said Lars.
“Well, yes, as a matter of fact they did,” said Jonnie. It came to him that the others had been logged out when they went to the Academy to install the recorders and must not have been logged back in. Great! Twenty minutes to go.
“And you stayed behind to rig some little tricks of your own, didn't you?” said Lars. “We'll find them later, never fear. Your masquerade is over, Tyler." Lars thought that was pretty good. He had thought it up himself. “Get dressed.”
Jonnie took a piece of buckskin and gave himself a sponge bath, a procedure looked upon with total amazement by the Brigantes. They had never seen nor heard of anyone ever taking a bath.
“How did you get onto me?” asked Jonnie.
"I’m afraid,” said Lars, “that that is a state secret.”
“Ah,” said Jonnie. Seventeen minutes to go! “Something you learned from Hitter or Bitter or whomever that was?” He recalled Ker mentioning this fellow was crazy on the subject.
“You mean Hitler!" corrected Lars angrily.
“Ah, 'Hitler,' " said Jonnie. “That doesn't sound like a Psychlo name. Psychlo names aren't two syllables, usually. Sometimes they are, though.”