David Robbins - Green Bay Run

“Sir?” Hufford responded, turning, scarcely concealed anger etching his features.

“You heard me, Colonel,” Darmobray said. “I desire to be alone with our guest.”

“He’s a prisoner, not a guest,” Hufford declared. “And since security is my responsibility, I insist on keeping guards with him at all times.”

A strange smile creased Darmobray’s mouth, strange because it radiated a sinister, chilling intensity instead of warmth and friendliness.

“True, security is your responsibility, my dear colonel. But this entire operation is my responsibility. I’m the Director of the Science Division, in case you have forgotten, and a close friend of the Minister’s. Do you really want me to inform him that you are failing to carry out my instructions?”

Colonel Hufford gulped and shook his head. “No, sir. If you want time alone with the geek, it’s yours. But I’ll post more men outside your doors and guards outside the windows. He won’t escape. I assure you.”

“And your personal assurance will undoubtedly aid me in sleeping better at night,” Darmobray said with a straight face. “But you need not worry yourself over Blade escaping.”

“Why not?”

The Director glanced at he Warrior. “Would you care to enlighten the good colonel or should I?”

“Be my guest,” Blade said.

Darmobray riveted his hypnotic eyes on the senior officer. “Our guest has traveled hundreds of miles to reach Green Bay. Unless I’m mistaken, his sole reason for coming was to ascertain the purpose behind our presence in this fair city. He’s not about to try and escape until his curiosity has been satisfied. Post your guards, if you must, but refrain from worrying until I say you should worry.”

“Yes, sir,” Hufford responded sheepishly. He motioned with his right arm and all of the troopers filed from the chamber.

Captain Perinn glanced back once and nodded at the Warrior.

Once the double doors were closed, Darmobray rested his elbows on the desk and said, “The captain seems to have developed a respect for you.”

Blade said nothing.

“What attribute do you possess that makes men look up to you?”

Darmobray asked.

“I’m seven feet tall.”

The Director chuckled. “And I am six feet seven. But men only obey me because they fear me or fear my influence in high places.”

“Like with the Minister? I thought we took care of him.”

“Hickok disposed of our previous Minister. Naturally, a new one was promptly selected.”

“Did the people vote him into office?” Blade inquired.

“Don’t be juvenile. The masses are sheep who must be led for their own good. No, our new Minister was duly selected by the directors of the various divisions, of which I am one.”

“And probably one of the most prominent,” Blade speculated.

Darmobray smiled. “Thank you for the compliment. Yes, you are correct. Next to the Minister himself, I’m the most powerful Technic alive.”

“How do your shoulders stand the strain?”

“You misjudge me.”

“I do?”

“Absolutely. When I say I’m the second most powerful man in Technic City, I’m not bragging. I am simply stating a fact. My presence in Green Bay demonstrates my influence.”

“How so?” Blade questioned.

“Who else could have persuaded the Minister to establish a Research Facility so far from Technic City? Who else would have been granted freedom to do as they saw fit? Who else could have accomplished all that I have accomplished?”

“What exactly have you accomplished?”

Darmobray waved at a chair in front of his desk. “Have a seat, please.”

The Warrior sat down and waited.

“What have you heard about our activities here?” Darmobray queried after a bit.

“We were alerted to a series of disappearances.”

“Might I ask how you found out?”

“A little birdie told us.”

“Fair enough. I wouldn’t tell if I were you. But you really have no idea about our true purpose for being here, do you?”

“Not a clue,” Blade confessed.

The Director sat back and chuckled. “How ironic.”

“What is?”

“That the ancient adage should prove so correct.”

“Which adage?” Blade asked.

“Have you heard the one about curiosity killing the cat?”

“I have no intention of dying,” Blade stated.

“Please, let’s not be morbid. We have so much to discuss before nine tonight.”

“What happens at nine?”

“I’ll save that for a surprise,” Darmobray said. “In the meantime, I’ll provide the reason for our being in Green Bray, and later I’ll take you on a private tour.”

Blade’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you being so kind?”

“Because Captain Perinn is not the only one who respects you. Men of our caliber rarely encounter peers of an equal stature. When we do, we should treat one another with the respect we deserve. You and I are not simple-minded idiots.” He paused and folded his hands on the desk. “At this very moment, Warrior, you are indisputably the most famous man on the North American continent.”

“Give me a break.”

“I’m serious,” Darmobray stressed sincerely. “Your wide-spread travels, your encounters with most of the major players on the world stage today, and your adventures in the Outlands have all conspired to make you the favorite topic of conversation around many a hearth and campfire. We know about you, the Russians know about you, you’ve had dealings with the Leather Knights, the Androxians, and many others. You’ve probably traveled more extensively across the continent than anyone else. Why should you express surprise at being famous?”

“I didn’t come here to hear about my past escapades.”

“I know you didn’t. You are understandably eager to learn the reason for my activities in Green Bay.”

“So what are you Technics up to this time?” Blade inquired.

Quinton Darmobray grinned, his eyes sparkling, and placed his big hands on the desk. “You’ll appreciate our purpose, I’m sure. We—more precisely, I—have discovered a technique that, in a few short years, will enable us to rule the world.”

“What’s your next move?” Melissa asked.

“We’ll sit tight until nightfall, then enter the city,” Yama proposed, his hands resting lightly on the steering wheel.

They were on the western outskirts of Green Bay, the jeep parked in an alley between high buildings, hidden in the shadows. Their ride into the city had been uneventful. Neither the Technics nor the walking dead had put in an appearance.

“Is it wise to stay here while Blade is in their custody, my brother?”

Samson queried. “Every minute we delay could mean the difference between life and death for him.”

“There are too many Technics patrolling the streets for us to venture out now,” Yama said. “Under cover of darkness, we should be able to penetrate their security easily.”

“Maybe so,” Melissa interjected, “but waiting for nightfall is a dumb idea.”

Yama glanced over his right shoulder. “Oh?”

“There are more of the walking dead abroad at night. They used to only come out after dark, but that changed a couple of weeks ago and some of them started hunting in the daytime too. If you wait until after the sun sets, the city will be crawling with them,” Melissa detailed.

“Where do these walking dead come from?” Samson wanted to know.

“That’s easy. The Technic Research Facility.”

“Which is where they have undoubtedly taken Blade,” Samson said. “I vote we head there right now and try to get inside before nightfall.”

“I agree with him,” Melissa said.