James Axler - Lost Gates

He finished with a triumphant flourish. In the silence that followed, Ryan was unsure as to whether the baron expected them to cave in and admit that he was right. The demonstration of reasoning that had got Crabbe to this point was disturbing. What other assumptions had he made about Trader? About them? And what, as a result, would he expect from them?

Ryan decided that the only way to find out would be to play him at his own game.

“Okay, so you got us. And you’re right. Question is, where does that get you?”

Crabbe looked at Ryan closely, studying him as though to somehow discern whether he was being deceived. Ryan held the baron’s gaze, steady, impassive.

The baron’s weathered features creased. “Knew it. I fucking knew it. Didn’t I tell you, Sal?” he asked, turning to the tall, thin man.

Sal simply nodded, his face unreadable.

“So where does that leave us then, Baron? All cards on the table.”

“Huh?” The baron looked confused for a moment. “Ah, you mean everything out in the open, right? ‘Cards on the table’—what kind of a stupe expression is that? Something you’ve picked up from the old ways in your travels?”

“Yeah, must be,” Ryan answered blandly. In truth, he’d heard it all over Deathlands, and had no idea where he’d first started using it. But if that was what Crabbe wanted to believe, then that was just fine.

Crabbe shook his head, laughing. “There is just so much that I need to find out, but first, we need to get down to basics. Am I right? There’s a whole network of these underground bases, like on that map. Was that Trader’s secret?”

“Not exactly,” Ryan began carefully. “There are a number of these places, like you’ve worked out. Getting from one to the other is difficult, and some of them have been looted or are damaged in some way.”

“What ways?” Crabbe snapped, as though suspicious of anything that may deviate from his own ideas.

Ryan knew that was worth bearing in mind. “Well,” he said, “you saw how this place was exposed. Sometimes quakes bear down deep, cause cracks in the tunnels. Some places just collapse in on themselves.”

Crabbe nodded slowly. “Right…and looted, you say. So there are places where others have got into these bases.” He looked at Ryan, who merely nodded. “Then if that’s right, how come there ain’t people appearing from everywhere?”

“I told you. Getting from one to another is difficult.”

“But you do it,” Crabbe said quickly. “So you must have the secret.”

“What secret?” Ryan asked slowly.

Crabbe smiled slyly. “One of the legends of Trader. There was a disk that was part of the old tech. It showed where the big stockpile was. Where all the jack and weapons predark were hidden when they knew the nukecaust was going off. It showed where it was, and how to get there. How to get there, Brian. Which means the secret of moving between the bases. And that’s got everything to do with this.”

Crabbe turned and strode the few paces to the mat-trans unit.

The baron once again getting his name wrong was another reminder that the man’s half-assed assumptions spelled trouble. He had worked out that the mat-trans was a means of transportation, but not how it worked. That, presumably, was part of the information that he wanted to extract from the group.

More worrying was his assumption that so much knowledge was contained on one old comp disk. Again, it was rooted in a piece of truth. There once was a disk, but it had contained nothing more than a few codes for redoubts. It had been damaged, and was, in all likelihood, nothing more than a piece of tech that housed some mundane and routine information. The disk was long gone, lost during one of their mad scrambles for survival.

How could they explain that to a man who had already decided to believe what he wanted? He was certain that Trader had had a disk, but he was dead wrong.

Crabbe was on a roll, and so Ryan remained silent. The baron turned back to them, snatching at the sheet in Sal’s hand. The tall, balding man let it go quickly, so as not to anger his baron. Crabbe brandished it at them.

“You know the secret of moving, but you don’t have the disk. Think about it. If you use your knowledge to help me find the disk, how far could they take us?”

Ryan was bemused and relieved, but managed to keep this from his voice as he said, “We? An alliance?”

Crabbe grimaced. “Not exactly. A deal, sure. I like to deal. Who doesn’t? But not really what you’d call an alliance. See, I didn’t get to be baron by cutting people in on the deal. You know how it works, right? You did learn from the great Trader, after all. And I’m betting he wasn’t the kind of guy to make an alliance where he could make a bargain. You know what I’m saying?”

Ryan stole a look at his companions. Doc still looked dazed, but the others had their attention on the baron. And there was no doubt that they, like Ryan, were totally clear on what Crabbe’s meaning might be.

“Okay,” Ryan said slowly, “let’s just say that we do know how to get from one base to another. Are you saying that the disk you’re looking for—the one that contains all the information you want on how to find the kind of stash you’re looking for, and how to go from base to base easily—is in one of the places on that list?”

Crabbe smiled slyly. “I think you know it is, Brian. But if you want to play it that way, then fine. I believe the marks on this paper show the bases where the disk might be. And they also have something that shows you how to work the thing—” he gestured at the mat-trans unit “—but I don’t understand the way that they used to write stuff down predark. There ain’t no one in the ville who does. That kind of stuff has never been any use to us before.”

“Couldn’t you just ask someone else to read it for you?” Mildred asked, breaking her silence. She could barely keep the sardonic edge from her voice. “Seems a whole lot of bother just to look for us to read a list for you.”

Crabbe stared at her. He seemed to be torn between towering rage and astonishment. The latter won out.

“For fuck’s sake, how do people as stupe as you get to be the keepers of the secrets? Fuck’s sake, Brian, haven’t you ever thought that it might be an idea to keep Millicent from opening her stupe mouth?” Before Ryan had a chance to answer, Crabbe sighed then continued. “Of course they know how to do it in places around here, but you think I’m going to let any of them in on the secret? I’d be forever looking over my bastard shoulder. Sure, I could say little about it, but there would always be questions. I don’t want to be distracted by those fucking insects while I’m about my work.”

“So you want us to read that list for you, then go to all of these places and try to find the disk you want,” Mildred stated, bristling at the way in which Crabbe had spoken of—rather than to—her. The fact that he kept getting their names wrong was also irritating her out of all proportion. “So what, Mr. Smart-ass, is to stop us finding your disk and then not coming back?”

Crabbe stared at her as though he couldn’t believe she could speak to him in this manner. “Brian,” he said softly, “you should really keep a better hold on your people.”

Ryan, on the other hand, was content to let Mildred lead, to see where it took them. “She has a very good question,” he said. “I would have asked it myself. So would any of us.”

Crabbe snorted, shook his head and turned away. It took him some time to compose himself. When he had, he turned back to them, shaking his head again.

“Shit, just how stupe do you think I am? Look around you. I got men with blasters aimed at you, could take you out anytime, and yet you still talk to me like I was shit. You’ve either got balls the size of a fucking boulder, or you’re triple stupe. And that I don’t believe. Is this your way of pushing me, see how far I’ll go?”