Red Limit Freeway s-2

by John Dechancie

  "It's open all night?"

  "Never closes."

  "Good. So there'll be some activity besides the guests exiting."

  "What exactly do you have in mind, Jake?"

  "I'm going to trade him his hotel for Winnie and Darla."

  We let Sean and Liam off about a quarter-klick from the 'Snatch. They had express orders to see that all the guests were out of there before we arrived, and to make sure Winnie and Darla were not in Moore's apartment. I told them to keep quiet and report back as soon as possible if anything went wrong. After shooing out the guests, they were to go down to the Blade and chase everyone out of there as soon as trouble started out front, which is where I intended to start same. If the guests refused to open the door or leave, they were to be given fair warning. We'd wait a full hour, then move in. If possible, one of the two was to report back before then.

  "Do you think they'll be able to do all that without arousing Moore and his gang?" John asked as Sean and Liam disappeared into the trees.

  "I don't know," I said. "They know more about old Zack's habits than we do."

  I went back to the kitchen to brew myself a cup of coffee. I needed it. John and Roland followed.

  "Besides," I went on, "I suspect Moore's guard is down As far as he knows, I'm on ice and you guys are scattered. And if Sean is right about his drinking habits, we might catch him with his pants down."

  "If his henchmen drink as heavily as he does," John added.

  "Everybody on this planet drinks like a fish," Roland said.

  "Your fins are showing," I told him.

  He sneered at me, then burped. He rubbed his stomach. "My incipient ulcer's acting up again," he groaned.

  I rummaged through the medicine cabinet until I found something for him. "Here," I said, throwing him a bottle of pills. "Cimetidine. Just take one."

  He caught the bottle and shook his head wonderingly. "Is there anything you don't have in that drug locker of yours?"

  "Got everything," I said. "Ups, downs, highs, lows―you name it."

  "I believe it."

  "Never thought I'd raise my kid up to be a pusher," Sam said.

  Liam returned in forty-five minutes.

  "Not as many guests as we'd thought," he told us, "and some of 'em were down in the Blade. We warned the rest―they buggered off with no protest."

  "Any guards?"

  "Two were dozing in the office. I suspect Moore has one or two lads with him in his flat. They don't seem to be expecting anything."

  "Good. Where's Sean?"

  "In the Blade. Don't worry, when the donnybrook starts, they'll all bee out the back door in a flash."

  "Fine. Don't want any innocent casualties. You're fairly sure Darla and Winnie aren't there?"

  "There's a chance, but I doubt it. They're likely out in the woods somewhere."

  "Okay. "

  I fired up the engine and started forward. Brooding boughs swept over us, barely clearing the top of the cab. Pairs of tiny eyes peered out at us from the shadows―or so I thought, but when I looked at them directly they disappeared. Was I still high? No, I'd come down but I still wasn't sure what was reality and what wasn't. Which was really no change from the. usual state of things, when you think about it.

  The road bore to the right, and lights appeared up ahead. I gunned the engine, making it roar. I didn't need stealth or subtlety now; this was my grandstand play, and I wanted an audience. I rolled into the nearby empty parking lot and came to a stop about fifteen meters from the entrance. I flicked on the high-intensity headlamps and focused the spotlight on the windows next to the hotel office. I juiced up the 5,000-watt amplifier, switched the feed to the outside speakers, put on my headset, and spoke.

  "ATTENTION, ATTENTION," I heard my voice boom into the night. "I AM ADDRESSING THE OWNER OF THIS ESTABLISHMENT, MR. ZACHARY MOORE."

  "Mother of God, you'll be waking the dead," Liam complained, digging a finger into one ear.

  "I SAY AGAIN, ATTENTION, MR. ZACHARY MOORE. YOUR PRESENCE IS REQUIRED FRONT AND CENTER."

  I gave him twenty seconds.

  "MOORE, GET YOUR ASS OUT ONTO THIS PORCH, LIKE, PRONTO, OR YOU'LL GET A MISSILE THROUGH YOUR BEDROOM WINDOW."

  A face appeared briefly at a window directly off the porch. I couldn't tell who it was.

  "Sam, let's give 'em some wake-up music."

  "I've got just the piece, too," Sam said gleefully.

  We blasted the hotel with a stirring rendition of The Golden Eagle March for about half a minute. Then the front door opened arid Moore staggered out, shielding his eyes with both hands. He was barefooted, dressed in gray long johns.

  "Turn that bloody light off!" he bellowed.

  I deflected the spot, but kept the headbeams on.

  He peered out. He looked half-asleep and mortally hung over. "What the bloody fuck is going on?"

  John said, "I'm surprised he came out."

  "He's used to having his way," Liam said. "He's got brass, I'll give him that."

  I turned down the gain on the amplifier, but not a whole lot. "Maybe you don't recognize the voice. You're talking to Jake McGraw."

  He took a half step backward. "What do you want?"

  "You know damn well. I want my friends back. Now."

  "I'm not responsible for your bleeding friends. I don't know what you're talking about."

  He was still blustering, but his eyes betrayed the sudden realization of his vulnerability. He'd walked right into it. And I'd known he would, too. He was just the kind of big pushy bastard who can't imagine things not going his way. Didn't even occur to him to look out and see our truck and think, hey, this could be trouble. He had probably thought it was the local gendarmerie come to investigate the kidnapping report, and he'd come out to scold them. How dare they disturb a big cheese-wheel like him in the middle of the night. You lads come back in the morning and we'll clear up this bit of nonsense straightaway.

  "You know, Zack," I said. "I'm tired. It's late. I'm not going to argue with you. There's an exciter cannon trained on your midsection. You are going to stand right there and call out for your flunkies to go fetch them while we all wait. They're to be delivered here, unharmed, within a reasonable period of time―say, one and a quarter eyeblinks. If not, I'm going to cook your kidneys and feed 'em to the dogs for breakfast."

  He drew himself up and squared his shoulders. "Really now," he said evenly. "Don't count on ever seeing your friends again."

  "Oh, I see. Suddenly we're on a different level of argument. You're admitting you have in fact abducted my companions and are holding them against their will?"

  "I'm admitting nothing." He cleared his throat and spat on the wood of the porch. "What makes you think there's been an abduction? That woman is a fugitive. 'Arrest' would be the appropriate term."

  "Crap," I said. "What difference does that make in the Outworlds? If you're telling me there's extradition I'm telling you you're full of shit."

  "Not a question of extradition," he said. "'Preventive detention' might cover it. Besides, I don't feel compelled to be telling you much of anything, mate. Except this. Leave these premises immediately or you're a dead man."

  His brass amazed me. "I'm a dead man? Buddy, you're about three nanoseconds away from becoming breakfast sausage."

  He folded his arms. "Start counting nanoseconds, then."

  I set the targeting mode on the missile rack for line-of-sight aim and pulled down the target scope. I drew my bead and pressed the ARM switch. "We'll get to the countdown in just a sec, pal, First I want to find out a few things. Who're you taking orders from?"

  "I take no orders."

  "Take suggestions? Take in laundry? Come on, Moore, somebody clued you in about me and told you that Winnie was a valuable object. Was it Pendergast?"

  "It seems everyone's heard about you and your heroic exploits. You say your alien pet is missing? You may report it to the local office of the Home Guard in the morning, if you wish. Poor thing probably strayed in
to the woods."

  "Whoops," I said, "now we're not admitting things again. Contradicting yourself, there. Two of my friends are missing, whom you've admitted abducting. One human, one alien."

  He snorted. "I've admitted to nothing, and you can ram your contradictions up your arse."

  I clapped my hands twice, then poised my finger over the FIRE switch. "Well spoken, for a man who's about to die."

  "Do you really think," he sneered, "that you'll get off Talltree alive if anything happens to me? I happen to be well thought of around these woods and it would ill behoove you to―"

  I hit the switch and there was a whoosh and a flash, followed by the hollow crump of an explosion. Debris rained about the parking lot.

  When it had all come down, Moore stepped from the porch and looked up.

  "You bloody… bastard!"

  "Yeah," I said. "That was a nice chimney. Fine stonework. Local masons, were they? A real pity."

  He turned and fought an impulse to rush the truck, his face dark with rage. "You―!" He swallowed hard.

  "Stay right where you are, Moore, or I'll fry you. Sam, keep the exciter on him while I have some fun."

  "Will do!"

  "You have lots of nice chimneys," I said. "Real pretty."

  I aimed and fired another missile. A chimney on the far right corner of the building flew apart. Moore ducked and sought the refuge of the porch again.

  "Let's see," I said. "Maybe I can hit the top of that one on the far side. Then again, that fancy decorative fascia might make a good target for the exciter―"

  "No!" Moore screamed.

  "Or maybe I'll just chuck a missile through your apartment window."

  "Damn you!" He was turning purple.

  "Hurts, don't it? I want 'em back, Moore. Darla and Winnie both, unharmed… and now."

  "All right! All right!"

  "I think you got him where he lives," Sam said.

  "Very well, Mr. Moore. We'll all wait right here until―" An exciter bolt lanced out from the shadows to the left of the hotel, hitting the left stabilizer foil. Another quickly followed, striking the roller. A plume of smoke billowed up from it. No need to worry about that roller going sugar on us now. Sam returned fire instantly. I floored the throttle and swung sharply to the right, but we began to draw fire from that direction, too. A coherent beam came through the windscreen, barely missing my head. I fired a missile without aiming and hit the comer of the building. Flaming debris showered the cab as we passed. I continued in a tight circle. The damaged roller was burning, but the automatic fire extinguishers were hard at work shooting foam at it.

  "Sam, let's get the hell out of here," I yelled. "You agree?"

  "Right, we blew our chance. No use shooting it out with them."

  "We can still get in a parting shot, though."

  But when the rig swung around I saw that it wouldn't be necessary. The Bandersnatch was in flames. The roof was well involved, and Sam's return fire had ignited a wide section of the front wall.

  "That wood must be highly flammable," Sam guessed. "It's really going up."

  Liam said, "It's devilish hard to start, but once Talltree wood catches, it bums like hellfire."

  The sniping had stopped, so I slowed. A huge gout of flame roared from the roof of the hotel.

  Liam whistled. "She's a total loss. They'll never get it put out. Good thing we got everyone out of there."

  I nodded. Just then another beam hit the trailer. I gunned the engine and roared out of the parking lot―and almost ran over Sean. I braked hard and he jumped out of the way. I stopped and popped the hatch. Sean climbed in and I took off down the road.

  Sean watched the side parabolic mirror. "Pity," he said.

  "But we'll find another place to carouse."

  "Dammit," I was saying. "Dammit to hell."

  "Easy, son," Sam consoled me. "We didn't have the manpower to rush the place."

  "It might've worked. Liam said the guards were nodding off."

  "Yeah, it might've, but we would've taken casualties. Yours was the safest bet, even though we didn't bargain on a portable exciter cannon."

  "We could've given it a try. Damn."

  "Forget it, Jake. Obviously there were more men there than Liam thought."

  "He's right, Jake," Liam said. "Moore has at least two dozen rowdyboys on his paysheet, and that apartment of his has a room full of bunk beds."

  "Still," I said, "we didn't get Darla and Winnie back. And now… "

  "We'll find 'em, Jake," Sean said, squeezing my shoulder reassuringly. "We've a few ideas of where they could be."

  "But how long will it take? And now that they know I'm up and about, it's gonna be rough."

  "We'll find them," Sean said. "Liam and I know these woods like―"

  "Hold on," Sam interrupted. "I'm getting something."

  After a moment, I said, "What is it, Sam?"

  "It's our beacon. Lost it, though. Wait a minute."

  "It's Darla"' I shouted. "She has the key!"

  "Shut up and let me… There it is again. Son of a brick. Okay, let me launch the earlybird and we'll do a little triangulation."

  We heard a thump and a whine as the turbojet-powered surveillance drone came out of its hidey-hole on the roof of the cab. It warmed up, then screamed off into the night.

  Half a minute later, Sam had a fix.

  "We're heading generally in the right direction. The signal source is a little over three kilometers away and the direction is forty-five degrees to the right as we drive."

  "Just keep on this road," Sean said. "I have a feeling I know where they are."

  We bumped and thumped over the rutted logging trail for fifteen minutes, making slow progress. Then a large piece of the still-smoking roller fell away and the cab lurched violently, listing to the left.

  "Hell," I said. "We might not make it."

  "Disconnect it from the power shaft and oversteer to correct," Sam said. "Never mind, I'll do it."

  Sam did and we started forward again.

  "Just take it easy," he said.

  "Turn right here," Sean said. "See that little trail?"

  "Don't know if we can fit," I said.

  I eased to the right. Branches scraped against the trailer. The port was open just a little and I could hear night sounds again. Bork-bork, greep-greep, jub jub, bleu!

  "Goddamn noisiest woods I've ever been in," I grumbled.

  "Live here for a few months and you wouldn't hear it," Liam chuckled.

  "You'd be deaf," Roland said.

  "No offense," I said, "but no thanks."

  "Talltree's only for poets and loggers and other hopeless romantics," Sean said. "You level-headed types always run screaming from the place."

  "You know, when I was out there," I began, but stopped. "Never mind. No time now."

  "We're dead on," Sam said. "The source is directly ahead."

  Sean nodded, his face set grimly. "Tommy Baker's place. I knew that if there was a woman to be had, he'd be first in line."

  I shut off the headbeams, pulled down the general-purpose scope and shoved my face into it. It was set for thermal-imaging; I changed it to night-vision, turning on the photomultiplier circuits. The gain needed was minimal. The full moon was still doing its job.

  "Sam, rig for silent running."

  "Scramming main engine," Sam answered. "Auxiliary motor engaged, secondary power cells on. We are rigged for silent running."

  "Aye, aye, and all that," I said. "Okay, we're going to do it right this time."

  We tried. I stopped within five hundred meters of the signal source. After arming ourselves, we set out into the woods, following Sean over a trail that would take us to Tommy Baker's farm. We would come out directly behind the farmhouse.

  Twenty minutes later, lights appeared among the trees. We crept the rest of the way, coming just to the edge of the clearing. Sean and I stationed ourselves behind a tree and peered out into the darkness. A shadowline cut across the yard, nea
tly bisecting a neglected garden. Junk and refuse lay everywhere.

  A weathered and probably rarely-used tractor was parked next to a small shed. The house lay in shadow, but its outline was easily discernible. A tiny, square rear window glowed dimly yellow.

  "Let me go reconnoiter," Sean whispered to me.

  "Okay. Be careful."

  "That I'll be."

  He stepped around the tree, paused, then tiptoed across the moonlit area and into shadow. I lost sight of him quickly, and was worried that he might trip over a piece of junk and blow everything. But he didn't.

  Someone came up beside me. It was Liam.

  "You think they have a radio in there?" I asked.

  "I'm fairly sure they do. Why?"

  "They may have had advance warning. Maybe they've moved Darla and Winnie somewhere else by now."

  "I think Moore has his hands full back at the 'Snatch. His first priority would be to put out a fire call. Besides, what about the signal?"

  "Don't know. Darla may have dropped the key, or left it behind. Could be someone's just fiddling with it."

  We waited.

  Sean returned about ten minutes later.

  "Jake, you'd better come see this," he said.

  I looked at him.

  "I really think you should," he said, then turned, beckoning me to follow.

  I did.

  "Mind your step," Sean hissed as we threaded our way through the debris.

  We crept up to the window. Sean crouched beneath it, then pointed upward, inviting me to have a look.

  Okay, I'd have a look. Flattening my back against the rough log wall, I inched along until I could peer through the corner of the window. Through a big tear in a tattered paper blind I could see everything.

  Darla was in there. She was nude, sitting on the lap of a man who had his back to me. He was sitting on the edge of a large bed with a carved wooden headboard. A small lamp glowed on a nighttable on the far side of the bed, throwing their shadows against a white plaster wall.

  They kissed, and he fondled her.

  After a moment, their lips parted. She drew back and smiled.

  Running his big rough hands along her white thighs, he said something. She giggled, then kissed him passionately.

  I'd seen enough. I lowered myself to a crouch and looked at Sean.