He was not at all sure the man got it for he looked blank, but the action was enough to convince Dmitri that it was now all right to follow the ground car so they got back to the truck and the Russian started it up, and they went roaring out of the city to catch up to the vehicle Bittie had seen Jonnie enter.
Chapter 7
Lars Thorenson had taken every precaution. He had gone over it very carefully. If there was no public display of arms and guards, while making sure that this Tyler was thoroughly covered at all times by adequate weaponry, then no alert would go out and no misguided friends of this felon would come pouring around to rescue him.
Lars had left guards in the car, had let no other Brigantes appear on the streets or openly in corridors, had sent word to the commando now posted at the compound to keep out of sight but ready and not to shoot unless attacked.
He had a little surprise for this Tyler at the compound, but all should go smoothly and well. He thought even Hitler would have approved of the tactical skills Lars was displaying.
They would pick up the horses, drive up through the pass to the meadow, order this Tyler to go into his own house, and that would be that. The scourge and menace to the stability of the state would be ended. Thoroughly and with no blame at all to the Council.
The day had gone gray. The sun was more and more overcast. The wind was picking up and billows of dust and clouds of dead grass were running before the approaching storm.
Lars' driving was not all that good to begin with and gusts were buffeting the ground car, swerving it from already badly chosen courses. He was not driving fast.
Jonnie was considering his chances. He had no idea they intended to let him out of this alive for all their smooth assurances. What point of that plaster cast, if hit, would finished the job of breaking this traitor's neck? How familiar were these two evil-smelling Brigantes with a Thompson submachine gun?
The weapon, deadly though it was, had been obsolete for a century at the time of the Psychlo attack. It fired pistol ammunition that was too heavy for a hand-held automatic weapon and caused it to kick upward furiously so that you had to hold the muzzle down with great force. These weapons they had were not equipped with "Cutts Compensators” that used some of the muzzle blast to help hold down the upward kick. They were loaded with sixty-shot drums and the springs of those drums were often weak and failed to feed. A certain percentage of the very ancient ammunition failed to fire and one had to know the trick of recocking rapidly to keep the gun shooting on automatic. Jonnie knew these things for he had fired a lot of practice rounds with them when Angus had first dug them out of the old camion where they had lain through the ages, protected by heavy grease and airtight ammunition packaging. But did the Brigantes? Probably they had fired a few rounds with them, the first firing of powder missile weapons they had ever done in their lives. The improbable and rapidly discarded ploy had occurred to him to talk to them about the weapon and then take one to explain a fine point and blow their foul matted heads off.
Unless he thought of something, this was going to be his last ride. It was in Lars' manner. It was in the looks the Brigantes gave him. They were very, very confident.
The compound appeared in the distance ahead of them. There was some stock scattered about in the plains. Lars narrowly avoided a group of buffalo, dodged a scrub tree, nearly dumped them in a gully, jolted them over some boulders anyone who could drive would have avoided, and finally halted about a hundred feet short of the beginning of the rise that ended in the plateau near the cage.
It was not as close to the compound as Jonnie had expected them to stop. And then he saw the reason for it. The ground, aside from some boulders, was open, and a man trying to run away could be cut down.
There were his horses, three of them standing with their heads away from the wind. Where was Dancer? Then he saw her. She was up on the plateau and she seemed to be wearing a lead rope, not too unusual. She wasn't facing away from the wind. What was that? Ah, her lead rope was caught in some rocks. Just beyond her was a large boulder, and beyond that the compound itself offered numerous points of cover for a marksman as they had learned to their concern in the old battle here. Jonnie looked at it through the windscreen. What was this, some kind of ambush or trap? Where one expected some cadet sentries, there wasn't a soul in sight. Now Lars chose his moment to spring his little compound surprise. He had read in the works of Hitler– or was it Terl?-'If you want someone to remain inactive, crush their hope. Then guide false hope into a new channel where you can finish them off!" It was an extremely wise military maxim.
Lars, lolling easily now over the console, said, “You know that battle plane, the one with the serial ending in ninety-three that was parked and refueled just inside the hangar door? I’m sure you know the one I mean. Well, it isn't there anymore. The fuel was removed from it and it was put way back in the hangar out of sight this morning.”
So that was why Angus and Ker didn't stop when they left, thought Jonnie.
They saw no battle plane and thought he had flown safely away. This accounted for no one's showing up to trace him. Well, he hadn't expected any help anyway. And it was a very good thing they had not walked in on these nervous Brigantes and their submachine guns.
The traitor let him digest the surprise and then said, “But we won't be riding horses to the meadow. I will go down to the garage and get a stake truck and we can load the mounts in and I might even be persuaded to let you drive up into the mountains.” He had no intention of doing that. But it was a good false hope. In fact, masterful! Hitler– or was it Terl?– would have approved. “You can get out and start collecting the horses. The two Brigantes here will keep you covered.”
Lars got out and jogged off in the direction of the garage entrance on the other side of the compound.
Jonnie was pushed out with gun muzzles and he stood on the left side of the car, a Brigante on either side of him with their guns on him and fingers on the trigger. He was studying the apparently unpeopled compound. Was this the assassination area?
Chapter 8
Jonnie heard the rumble of a truck above the wind. He looked to the north. An empty truck was approaching at considerable speed, the occupants of the cab invisible to him in this light. From behind that truck to the horizon in the north it was only empty plain, no other vehicles.
He heard another rumble. A plane? He spotted it in the east, approaching
slowly just below the overcast. Only a slow-flying drone scanning for its endless millions of pictures.
Well, no real help was coming from those directions. He was on his own. The truck, now quite near, was probably one of theirs and part of this snare.
Jonnie looked back at the compound. He had a feeling of watchful eyes and danger there.
The two Brigante guards were on either side of him about a pace to the rear. They seemed to be watching this new truck. That they held guns was masked from the truck's view by the ground car's bulk.
The huge vehicle roared on by them on the other side of the ground car. It went a short distance up the rise toward Dancer. It stopped suddenly, banging to earth in a cloud of dust as its suspension drive cut off.
Somebody leaped down through the dust from the eight-foot height of the cab floor and began to run up the slope toward Dancer.