David Robbins - New York Run

The Minister turned to Captain Wargo. “Silence this moron!”

Captain Wargo nodded and walked to the center of the left-hand wall.

He touched a circular indentation and a recessed panel opened. A metallic tray emerged from the wall bearing a syringe and a box of cotton balls.

The syringe was tipped with a red plastic cap.

“Why is it some varmint is always tryin’ to stick me with needles?”

Hickok quipped, referring to an incident during their last run.

“You leave me no recourse,” the Minister declared, smirking. “Nothing personal, you understand?”

“You’ve got it all wrong, jackass,” Hickok said harshly. “I’m takin’ this humiliation real personal-like. And you’ll see just how personal when you let me down from here.”

“I’m trembling in abject fear!” the Minister joked.

His chorus laughed.

Captain Wargo had removed the red cap from the syringe. He walked over to the gunman and raised the syringe near his left arm.

Hickok’s blue eyes narrowed. “The first thing I’m gonna do if you let me go,” he promised the Minister, “is kill you.”

“Shut the fool up!” the Minister barked.

Captain Wargo plunged the syringe into the gunman’s left arm, brutally, relishing the discomfort he caused.

Hickok winced, then glanced at Blade. “I’ll be right here if you need me.” He was about to say more, but the shot took immediate effect. His eyes drooped, then closed.

“Now that the imbecile is silenced,” the Minister said, “perhaps we can proceed with a modicum of decorum?” He saw Blade examining the gunman with concern. “Don’t worry about your friend. The tranquilizer Wargo administered will render Hickok unconscious for six to ten hours. He’ll awaken refreshed and as obnoxious as ever.”

Blade sighed in relief. He nodded at the shackle on his light wrist. “Why go to all this trouble? We were cooperating with you. We gave our word we would help find the Genesis Seeds. Why did you turn against us?”

The Minister hesitated. “Insurance,” he answered at last.

“Insurance?”

“Of course. A man in my position, with so many relying on my every judgment, cannot afford to make mistakes. My people expect me to perform flawlessly, and I will not disappoint them.” The Minister paused. “I know you promised to assist in retrieving the Genesis Seeds. But what’s to stop you from confiscating the Seeds for yourselves after they’re located?”

Blade leaned forward. “We gave you our word!”

“So you did. But your word means nothing to me. Actions, Blade—may I call you Blade?—speak louder than words. And there was nothing to preclude your taking action against us. I require insurance. I needed to compel your total cooperation. And I’ve achieved my goal.”

“No you haven’t,” Blade said. “You can stuff your Seeds where the sun doesn’t shine! We’ll never cooperate now!”

The Minister smiled, displaying two rows of small, even teeth. He rolled up his left sleeve and stared at a watch. “I think you will.”

“Why should we?” Blade countered. “You may have us, but Geronimo is still free. You’ll never be able to stop him from leaving, from breaking through your fence and returning to the Home. The Freedom Federation will learn about your treachery. They’ll put you out of business, Minister. You and this technological prison you call a city!”

The Minister grinned and shook his head. “My dear Blade! You are suffering from several delusions! First, Geronimo will not warn the Freedom Federation because he won’t be leaving Technic City. Secondly, your bitterness is understandable but unwarranted. I don’t intend to harm any of you. I could have done that while you were unconscious. As I already told you, this is merely a demonstration of my power. To show you what I could do if I wanted.”

“What do you mean?” Blade demanded. “Why won’t Geronimo be leaving Technic City?”

“You’ll see shortly,” the Minister stated. “Once you realize the futility of opposing me, you will assent to my wishes.”

“Don’t hold your breath!” Blade cracked.

The door on the other side of the room swung open, and in came three men. Two soldiers in green fatigues with a captive draped between them, sagging in their arms.

It was Geronimo.

Blade gawked at his friend, startled. “How—?”

“How did we do it?” the Minister finished the question. “Why, it was simplicity itself. Captain Wargo dropped a gas grenade in the SEAL before exiting. It was timed to release its knockout gas thirty minutes after being activated. Your poor Geronimo never knew what hit him.”

Blade could readily envision the result A cloud of noxious gas filling the confines of the SEAL and overcoming Geronimo within seconds. “But the SEAL…”

“Ahhhh. Your vaunted vehicle!” The Minister cackled. “Presumably impenetrable.”

“How did you break in?” Blade asked.

“We utilized a clothes hanger,” the Minister replied.

“A what?”

“A clothes hanger. You know. Wires you hang clothes on,” the Minister said gleefully.

“That’s impossible!” Blade said.

“And an industrial diamond drill,” the Minister added. “You see, we knew it would be useless to attempt any other method. We’ve heard stories about your vehicle. Bulletproof. Fireproof. But not clothes-hanger proof, eh?” He laughed uproariously, joined by his subservient trio.

Blade’s mind was racing. They’d broken into the SEAL! No one had ever been able to do that! With the SEAL in enemy hands, the Warriors had lost their primary advantage. They were at the Minister’s mercy!

“We drilled through the driver’s window,” the Minister was explaining, gloating, savoring his triumph. “I don’t think you realize it, but you were unconscious six hours. In six hours an industrial diamond drill can penetrate any substance known to man, including the SEAL’s unique plastic structure. Captain Wargo advised our driller on where to align his bit, and we drilled in adjacent to the door lock. Don’t worry! The hole is a small one, not even noticeable unless you know where to look for it. Once the hole was drilled, we slid a straightened hanger through and unlatched the lock. An easy procedure, really. Prior to World War III, car thieves did it all the time.” He chuckled. “The SEAL is now ours.”

Blade, in a surge of frustration, strained against the manacles binding him. He’d failed! Failed the Family. Failed Plato. And, worst of all, failed Hickok and Geronimo. Why had he assumed the SEAL was invulnerable?

He’d left it outside like a sitting duck! He’d acted like a grade-A chump! And look at what had happened!

“If you could only see the comical look on your face!” the Minister said, smiling broadly.

Fire flamed in Blade’s gray eyes, and his powerful fists clenched and unclenched.

One of the troopers carrying Geronimo released his grip and marched to the easy chair. He saluted and held up a set of keys in his left hand.

The keys to the SEAL.

The Minister took the keys and waved the soldier away from his chair.

“Do you see these?” He dangled the keys in the air. “I could get in the SEAL and drive it wherever I want. But I won’t. Wouldn’t you like to know the reason?”

“You’ll tell me whether I want to know it or not.”

“Be nice,” the Minister cautioned. “I won’t drive the SEAL off because I’m going to give the keys back to you.”

“Why are you being so generous?” Blade asked sarcastically.

“Because I’ve proven my point. I have no need for your vehicle. You will resume your journey to New York City and retrieve the Genesis Seeds as originally planned.” He paused, smirking. “Wouldn’t you like to know the reason?”