F. Paul Wilson: Legacies

What'd I do—leave a trail of fluorescent paint along the way?

5.

It is here! Kemel thought, holding back tears of joy. Allah be praised, I have succeeded. I have found it.

He stiffened his knees as he stepped farther into the cabin. He was weak with relief but wanted no one to know.

He looked at the three occupants. He knew Alicia Clayton, and recognized her investigator, but the other man… the Oriental holding the lamp…

"Who are you?" he asked, pointing to him.

The man shook his head. His quick dark eyes showed no fear.

"I can find out for you real quick," Baker said, aiming his pistol at one of the man's knees.

"No," Kemel said. "No shooting in this place."

He had to be very firm here. He could not let this situation get out of control. Not with success now in his grasp.

It did not matter if the Oriental spoke. Kemel was certain he was Japanese. Who else could he represent? Ronald Clayton had been on his way to that country with a promise of a wondrous technology. They had to suspect foul play in the crash.

"All right," Baker said. "Then we'll take them outside." He bared his teeth as he approached Alicia Clayton's man. "Especially this one. He's gonna die real slow."

The man clasped his hands above his head and dropped to his knees. He hung his head and sobbed. "Please… please don't hurt me!"

One of Baker's men stepped forward and pulled his leg back to kick the man. "Why you sniveling pussy—!"

"Barlowe, no!" Baker said, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him back. "That's just what he wants you to do, asshole! He'd have you down and your weapon on us before you knew what happened."

With a half smile twisting his mouth, Alicia Clayton's man abruptly ceased his pleading and returned to his feet. He gave a little nod of acknowledgment, which seemed to please Baker very much. Baker took a single step closer to the man.

"We start off long distance on you, then move in close for the fun stuff."

"Not yet, Baker," Kemel said. "He may have information I need."

"Like what? What is this place, anyway?"

Kemel ignored the question. The less Baker knew, the better. "Disarm them and guard them. You may do whatever you wish when I am through with him."

He had to hold that out to Baker. During the trip into these hills, Baker and his two remaining men had talked of little else than what they would do to the man who had killed their fellows. But Kemel also had to make sure that what he saw before him now was all of it, that there was no other transmitter. He would learn from the Clayton woman and her hireling how they located this one, and if they knew of any others.

And then…

And then they would all have to die.

Kemel did not relish that. In fact, he had been dreading this moment. He had known about the bomb on JAL 27, but that hadn't been his idea. It had disturbed him that so many innocent lives had to be sacrificed in order to take one, yet he had also understood the absolute necessity of preventing Ronald Clayton from reaching Japan. And what were 247 lives compared to the well-being of the entire Arab world? A relative few had been sacrificed for a far greater good. Was it not so throughout all history?

But at least those faceless deaths had occurred far away, and by the impersonal agency of an explosive device. Today would be different. The dead would have names and faces, and their killers would look into those faces, watch them die. By his order.

But he had his orders, and agreed with their wisdom, their implacable necessity: No one outside of Iswid Nahr must know about this technology.

He watched Barlowe hold his assault weapon to the Oriental's head while Baker's other man, the one he called Kenny, took the lamp from him and removed two pistols. They followed the same procedure with Alicia Clayton's man who, surprisingly, was unarmed. Baker moved them and the Clayton woman to the side, allowing Thomas Clayton access to the file cabinets.

Baker had finally proved useful. In fact, despite all the setbacks, he finally had accomplished what he had been hired to do. The little transponder he'd placed in the bottom of the woman's handbag had allowed them to stay miles behind as they'd followed her here. But he would not be rewarded with the huge bonus and lifetime of easy employment he anticipated.

Baker and his men would dispose of these three and bury their bodies far from here. And not long after today—as soon as tomorrow, perhaps—Kemel was sure that Iswid Nahr would pay Baker in his own currency.

Thomas Clayton would have to go as well, Kemel suspected.

No loose ends.

"It's all here," Thomas Clayton said, looking up from an open filing cabinet drawer. "Everything you need to know to broadcast power. And it uses solar energy. You owe me big time. I think I underpriced our deal."

"You should feel lucky you're getting a dime," his sister said.

Thomas looked at her with raised eyebrows. "Oh, really?" he replied, drawing out the words.

"The minute you walked through that door," she said, "you went from asset to liability. They don't need you anymore. You've become as disposable as the rest of us."

"No," he said, turning Kemel's way. "We've got a deal, right, Kemel?"

Kemel held his gaze and tried his best to give nothing away. He found Thomas Clayton a reprehensible human being, but did not want to deal with him now. Let Iswid Nahr handle him.

"Of course. And we will honor our word."

But some hint of what the future held must have seeped into his eyes, for Thomas's expression hardened.

"I was afraid of that," he said, reaching into his pocket.

He withdrew a pistol and pointed it at Kemel.

6.

Tommy-boy, Jack thought as he saw the little .32 appear, you're a class-A jerk, but I love you.

All eyes—Alicia's, Kemel's, Baker's, and his men's—were on Thomas now.

Almost all…

Jack glanced at Yoshio and found him looking his way. A quick lift of one of his eyebrows told Jack that he knew it too: This just might be their chance… the only one they'd get.

"That is not necessary, Thomas," Kemel said.

"Yeah," Baker told him. "Put that away before you hurt yourself… or someone hurts you."

Jack had gathered from talk between their captors that Baker's two men were Kenny—the redhead—and Barlowe—the dark-haired guy with the big nose.

"No," Thomas said. His voice wavered as much as the muzzle of the .32, but the little weapon remained trained on Kemel, who was only half a dozen feet away. Jack doubted even Thomas could miss at that range. "I think it's very necessary. I half suspected that I might get the short end of the stick once we found this. But that's not going to happen."

Jack slid his left foot a few inches toward the door. Then, making it look as if he was merely shifting his weight, he leaned left and brought his right foot over to it. Before leaving this morning, he'd stashed a Tokarev 9mm under the front seat of the Taurus. If he could get out the door alive, he had a chance to make it to the car. And then it would be a whole new ball game.

"Do not be silly, Thomas," Kemel said, holding his hands palms-out like a supplicant. "That is not what anyone was thinking. You will be paid just as we promised."

Another slide left… another weight shift…

"Damn right I will. This is mine, not yours. Mine . And I deserve it. So I'll be dictating the terms."

"We have terms," Kemel said.

"New deal," Thomas said. "It's my deck, and I call the game. But first…" He licked his lips. "First I want all the guns on the floor."

Another slide… Jack was closer to the door… a few more feet and he could risk a break. He saw Yoshio give him a barely perceptible nod, as if to say, Tell me when, so I can time my move with yours .