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“Snap out of it. Mac, damn you!”

Macintosh made a small stunting, squealing sort of noise. “Gonna be sick…”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake

Hawke Hunter stepped away as Macintosh doubled over and threw up on the floor.

“Mac, you’re a fucking mess.” said Hunter.

Macintosh wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “Now look what ya gone an’ done,” he said. “I’m gonna break yer bloody neck…”

“It’s your own neck I’m trying to save. you fool.” said Hunter.

“They’re going to hang you!” Macintosh blinked. “What? Who? What the devil are ya talkin’ about?”

“The Tories! The Hellfire Club. you idiot! The followers of the headless horseman! They could be on their way here right now to lynch you, just like they did to those four friends of yours!”

Macintosh paled. “The horseman’s men’? They’re gonna hang me?”

“That’s right, you fool. Sober up if you don’t want to die! You’ve got to get out of hem right now!”

“Sweet Mother o’God,” said Macintosh. “And ya come ta warn me. God bless ya. Reese. you’re a real friend. I’m sorry I took a poke at ya-”

“Never mind that now,” said Hunter, impatiently. “You’ve got to get out of here. Are you sober enough to remember what I tell you?”

“Aye, if comes to my own neck, that I am,” said Macintosh, rubbing his face. “They’re not gonna hang Ebenezer Macintosh. by God!”

“Listen to me carefully,” said Hunter. “We haven’t got much time and lives depend on it. The horseman’s men are going to try to kill off the leaders of the Sons of Liberty, one by one. Get to your South End boys. Tell them that they’ve got to place a constant watch on Adams and the others or they’ll wind up dangling from the Liberty Tree. Have several men watch each of them at all times, especially at night. And you stay out of sight, yourself. You got that’?”

Macintosh took a deep breath and nodded. “The horseman’s men are gonna try ta kill Adams an’ the others. Have my boys watch ’em, day an’ night.”

“Good man. Now come on, we’ve got to get you out of here. Have you got a place to go where you can hide out?”

“Aye. I’ll go an’ see my boys. They’ll take care o’ me. They’ll know what ta do.”

“All right, get moving. Quickly, now!”

Macintosh grabbed his coat and hat and lumbered down the stairs, Hunter right behind him. “God bless ya. Reese,” he said as they stepped outside. “You’re a good friend. I won’t forget this-”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m a saint, I know. Get moving. And for God’s sake, keep to the alleys. Don’t let anybody see you. And don’t forget what I told you.”

“I won’t forget. I’m on my way.” He shambled off into the darkness and turned into an alleyway. Hunter sighed with relief. And then he heard the sound of running footsteps. His fingers closed around the butt of his Beretta, but he relaxed when he saw Johnny Small come running up to him.

“Mr. Hunter! Mr. Hunter! Thank God I’ve found you!” The boy was out of breath. Hunter grabbed him by his shoulders.

“Steady on, lad. What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Its’-it’s your friends, Mr. Hunter.” Johnny gasped for breath. “Andre and the others. I–I can’t find them anywhere! I-have to-”

“Easy, lad, easy, get your breath back first,” said Hunter.

“Hold it right there. Hunter!” said a voice from the darkness. “Don’t move or the boy gets it!”

Two men with drawn weapons came walking out of the darkness. They both looked a little out of breath. As they came closer, Hunter saw that they were dressed in colonial clothing, but holding laser pistols, Network men. They must have picked the kid up at his old place and followed him. Johnny glanced up at him with fear and uncertainty.

“All right, hands out from your sides, very slowly, and clasp them on top of your head,” one of them said. Hunter did as he was told. Looking at him fearfully, Johnny did the same.

“Get lost, kid.” the other Network man said.

Johnny didn’t move: “Didn’t you hear me’?” the man repeated. “I said get lost! Run! Get out of hem!”

“No,” said Johnny. “No, It-I will not run. I have my duty!”

“Stupid kid. You want to die? I said, get out of here!”

“Do as he says,” Hunter said.

“No. No, I will not leave you like a coward.”

“Damn it, Johnny.” Hunter said, “don’t be a fool. Get out of here! Run!”

“No, I won’t run away!”

“Have it your way, kid,” the Network man said, aiming his pistol at Johnny.

“Drop your weapons, now!”

The Network men spun around and Neilson’s pistol coughed rapidly, four times. The first shot from the Colt took one of the men right between the eyes. The second shot struck the other man’s gun hand and he cried out as he dropped the laser, then the third and fourth shots struck each of his kneecaps dead center, knocking his legs out from under him as if someone had yanked the street out from beneath his feet. He fell to the ground, moaning with pain. Hunter hadn’t even had the time to draw his gun.

Neilson ran up and quickly stuffed a handkerchief into the wounded man’s mouth, jamming it in deeply. The man started to gag. He was already in shock. Neilson picked up the laser pistol the second man had dropped and tucked the Colt into his waistband.

“Jesus Christ.” said Hunter. flabbergasted. “Priest said you were lightning with a gun, but… Jesus! Where the hell did you learn to shoot like that?”

Johnny stood, speechless, staring at Neilson with astonishment.

“Practice.” Neilson said. “Lots and lots of practice.” He pulled a disruptor out from underneath his coat. He aimed it at the dead man and fired a stream of neutrons. The corpse was briefly wreathed in the blue glow of Cherenkov radiation, then it disappeared.

“Let’s get out of here.” he said, nervously glancing up at the surrounding windows. It had all taken merely seconds, and fortunately, there hadn’t been much noise. “Come on. We’ll have to take him with us,” he said, nodding toward Johnny as he adjusted his warp disc to a wider pattern.

Johnny didn’t understand what had happened. The stringer had fired his peculiar pistol four times, with astonishing accuracy and impossible speed, all without reloading, and it had barely made a sound. And then he had somehow made the dead man’s body disappear without a trace in that strange blue glow that came from that even stranger, second weapon. He was still trying to take it all in when Hunter brought him up to stand close beside Neilson and the wounded man and the next thing Johnny knew, he was no longer standing in the middle of the street outside Ebenezer Macintosh’s house, but in the center of a room somewhere, in a completely different place, and he was feeling nauseous and dizzy. He gasped and looked around him wildly, and then his eyes rolled up and he fainted. Hunter just barely managed to catch him before he hit the floor.

Moffat was missing. Drakov didn’t have to wonder where he was. He would never have had the nerve to take all somewhere on his own without first asking permission and saying precisely where he was going and when he would return Both he and the female were like servile dogs in that respect, thought Drakov, falling all over themselves to attend him. Moffat’s disappearance could only mean one thing. The Time Commandos had him, which meant there was no question of returning to the house on Newbury Street. It was no longer secure.

Moffat would hold out against interrogation for a while, but they were sure to break him, as Drakov had intended that they should. He knew that people always valued something a great deal more when they had to work for it and they would have to work to break down Moffat, but break him down they would, and then they would believe him when he talked-as Moffat would, of course, believe himself-when the fact was that neither of the hominoids knew what the real mission was. They believed the plan was merely to kill Samuel Adams, the revolution’s Grand Incendiary, as Thomas Hutchinson had christened him, but if the Hellfire Club succeeded in assassinating Adams, which was entirely possible, it would only be an added bonus. But though it was part of what Drakov intended to accomplish, he did not need Adams dead to achieve what he had planned.