Michael Palmer - Oath of Office

It was at that moment Lou knew exactly why the chief had let him tag along.

Lou had no doubt that any moment he was going to die, and most likely die horribly. Another thing he had no doubt about was that he was not going to go down without a hell of a fight.

He took a single step back to size up his situation and the potbellied lawman who he was certain was about to kill him. The first thing he warned himself of was that under no circumstance was he going to underestimate the man. Despite his bulk, Stone carried himself with the balance, grace, and confidence of a fighter-probably a brawler. At the moment, though, he appeared totally at ease, almost blissful. Holding his pistol loosely in front of him, he looked like anything other than a man who was preparing to kill.

Lou wondered if Stone was aware that his target had figured out what was coming. More than likely, he decided.

Desperately, Lou searched for a move, any move, that would shorten the odds against him. His advantage was his quickness, his skill as a boxer, and the surprise if he managed to make his play before Stone made his.

Trying to run would result only in a bullet between the shoulder blades. Lou did not know when Stone intended to strike, only that it would happen and happen soon. The pit made for the perfect human disposal receptacle. If the man was trained in martial arts, he might try to gain leverage to flip Lou over the rail. The bugs would devour his clothes while they were mulching his flesh. His bones would be last.

More likely, Stone would neutralize him first with a single shot, possibly to a nonvital spot. From where the policeman was cradling his gun, Lou would have a second or so before he could raise it and fire. Cap would have shown him the move he should go to-possibly a jab-uppercut combination. He would have more confidence if he could connect with a weapon of some sort. Then he realized that he had one in his pants pocket-the pencil he had been using to graph the termites’ ventilation shafts.

Stone was gesturing below them and commenting on the setup.

Easy, Lou warned himself as he turned away an inch or so and slid his hand into his pocket. The pencil was there, complete with point.

Perfect.

Lou gestured into the pit. “Look,” he said. “Look there.”

Stone kept a wary distance and peered below. “I don’t see anything.”

The termites’ clicking seemed to have gotten louder, as if they sensed a meal was on the way.

With thoughts of Emily and their last, too brief, conversation, Lou slipped the pencil out of his pocket, then held it under his wrist and concealed it against the top of the catwalk railing. Leaning forward, hoping Stone would react to his vulnerability, he gestured down at the golden necklace.

Lou’s grip on the handrail was tight. His feet were well spaced and his knees wedged up against the sidewall.

Make your move, Stone … make your move … make your move. …

Sweat slickened Lou’s grip. He wanted to wipe his hands dry to strengthen his hold, but feared letting go of the handrail for even a moment. Below him, he watched the bugs scamper about. He imagined their jaws sinking into his flesh-digesting him one small piece at a time.

Come on. …

One second … two … three …

Maybe I’m wrong about the man, Lou found himself thinking.

The loss of concentration was only momentary, but it was enough.

Stone grabbed Lou by the back of the shirt and slammed the muzzle across the back of his head. Lou was still prepared enough to twist away, reducing the force of the blow. Still, his vision blurred and his knees buckled. He would have gone down had he not been wedged against the sidewall.

“You should have stayed out of Kings Ridge,” Stone said, raising his gun for another blow.

Lou released his grip on the railing, ducked as if he were avoiding a vicious right hook, and brought the pencil up behind his shoulder. Still bleary, he approximated where Stone’s neck would be and stabbed at it with a broad, sweeping motion. The pencil sank into the muscle beside the man’s throat. Lou hoped to tear into the jugular vein, but sensed right away that hadn’t happened. Stone cried out and stumbled backwards, raising his gun.

Lou parried the pistol with his left forearm and rammed his fist into Stone’s abdomen with as much force as he had ever hit a man. Stone splayed backwards, crashing into the railing and teetering perilously over the edge for a moment before righting himself. The pencil stuck out from his neck like a bloodied yellow dart.

Bellowing like an enraged bull, Stone hunched over and drove his head into the center of Lou’s chest. Intense pain exploded from the spot, and Lou’s initial fear was that the bone had shattered. His vision dimmed, then went dark. Moments later, when he regained his senses, he was kneeling on the catwalk. Stone was looming above him, clawing at the pencil.

As the pencil came free, followed by a jet of blood, Lou dived for the man’s ankles, got ahold of the right one, and twisted it sharply. Stone fell backwards, landing with a force that shook the entire catwalk. Lou straddled him, grabbed his head on each side, and slammed it onto the catwalk-once, then again, and again. Stone grunted with each blow, and finally went limp. Lou, gasping for breath and feeling as if his sternum might have been broken, slumped over onto the catwalk, then painfully pulled himself to his feet.

At that moment, from beyond Stone’s prostrate, motionless body, Lou saw the radiation room door swing open. A man dressed in a bright yellow biocontainment suit emerged from the shadows of the room beyond. Groaning with each breath, Lou steeled himself to turn and run, but the suited man held up a hand in a nonthreatening gesture. Then he lifted the hood away from his face.

“Jesus,” Lou whispered.

He stepped over the fallen police chief and met Edwin Chester halfway past the convergence of the catwalks. Below them the clicking had grown more intense.

“I was involved in an experiment and didn’t hear anything that was going on,” Edwin said. “For as long as I can remember, Gilbert Stone has been owned by my father. He can be one of the most heartless, frightening men I have ever met.”

“He brought me down here to kill me,” Lou said.

“I don’t think you’d be the first. He does a lot of my father’s dirty work.”

“Edwin, this whole business has gotten out of hand.”

“I didn’t want any of this to happen. I told my father the corn wasn’t ready, but he just wouldn’t listen.”

“I thought you were his protector.”

“I am, but that doesn’t keep me from trying to cancel out some of the things he does. That’s why I contacted Darlene Mallory in the first place.”

“You? You’re Double M?”

Edwin grinned. “You expected someone a little taller and heavier? I have boots with six- and seven-inch lifts, and specially padded jackets. In my world, trust can be a very expensive commodity. I tend to stand out because of my lack of height, so when I need to, I just do something about it.”

“But why the charade? Why didn’t you just come forward and tell what you knew had happened?”

“You don’t know my father,” Edwin said. “He’s really a very wonderful man-by far the most important person in my-” His eyes widened. “Lou! Behind you!”

Lou whirled. Stone had unsteadily pushed himself to his knees and, eyes glazed, was fumbling for his gun, which had been on the catwalk underneath him. There were no choices available this time-no strategies. The distance between him and Stone was ten yards. Ignoring the pain in his chest, and keeping as low as he could manage, Lou charged. Stone rattled off two wild shots that clanged off the steel walls. The third one, fired from no more than six feet away, tore through the outside edge of Lou’s left thigh.