"Everybody have your weapons handy," said Johnny, "and be ready for anything."
"That's useful advice," said Hari Mata Karma tartly. The little woman was obviously feeling the tension, thought Middenface. But who wasn't? He braced himself and shoved on the tall door. It swung fully open, but emitted a blood-chilling, grinding shriek as it gave way.
"Someone needs to oil them hinges," said Granny Haxer. Johnny was the first one through the doors, moving nimbly, spear held high and at the ready, with Middenface at his side. Behind them came Hari Mata Karma and Slim Drago, followed by Granny Haxer and Stella Dysh. Ray and Bel brought up the rear. They flitted silently into the courtyard beyond the tall doors, jagged shadows in the moonlight with ancient weapons at the ready.
The courtyard was about twenty metres square with a set of steps straight ahead, leading up to an arched doorway on the second floor. There were stone troughs on the left and the right of the courtyard, full of water that glinted in the moonlight. The high shadows of the fortress rose all around them, silent and menacing. Their feet struck on the cobbled square of the courtyard, the echoes rattling off the stone walls all around them.
"Middenface, HMK, come with me," said Johnny, moving towards the steps in the far wall. "Ray and Bel, check out the door to the right. Granny, Slim, take the one to the left. Stella, stay here. If anyone sees or hears anything, shout long and loud."
Stella took up a position in the middle of the courtyard square. The others melted silently into the shadows. Watching them disappear, Middenface was reminded forcefully that these were some of the finest bounty hunters in the galaxy. But would they be any match for Preacher Tarkettle if they found him? There was no time for doubts, though. Johnny was already jogging up the steps to the arched doorway, HMK close behind him. Middenface had no intention of being the last man through the door. He set off at a run.
The moon was setting over the mountain range that flanked the fortress by the time they finished searching the place. Middenface and HMK stood behind the battlements at the top of the fort, among the antique cannons that had proved so lethally effective against their ships a few days earlier. There were seven cannons in all, with pyramids of steel cannon balls and barrels of gunpowder stacked between them.
But there was no sign of their prey anywhere. Preacher Tarkettle simply was not at home. As this finally became clear, Middenface had said to Johnny, "I guess he thought we were dead."
"Or he's out hunting for us."
Tarkettle may have been absent, but his fortress was fully equipped. The posse took advantage of this fabulous stroke of good luck to feed themselves on his fine foodstuffs - pork and beans and chilli con carne cooked by Granny Haxer on the cast iron stove in the damp basement kitchen - drink sourmash whiskey from his liquor cabinet and ransack his collection of vintage guns. The guns had been in a small underground armoury that was to the left of the courtyard, part of a cellar complex that had been built into what looked like a series of natural caves. The caves themselves had been adapted into an extensive powder magazine, equipped with enough dynamite and barrels of gunpowder to start a small war.
On the other side of the courtyard, a separate cellar complex contained the kitchen and a library, in which Johnny discovered a collection of maps, which charted the arid wastes of this desert world.
Now, well fed and fully armed, albeit still in a low-tech fashion, the posse was ready to confront the fiend who ruled this world. Hari Mata Karma and Middenface stood on the battlements, keeping watch.
"Maybe he knew we were coming and just took off," said HMK.
"Instead of staying and blowing us to pieces with his artillery?" Middenface sat down on the cold barrel of one of the cannons.
"There's no guarantee he would have succeeded," said HMK. "Maybe he realised that. We're a pretty mean team, you know. When he didn't manage to blast us out of existence on that first day, maybe he decided that discretion was the better part of valour and high-tailed it for the hills."
"Maybe," said Middenface. "Anyway, Johnny's getting ready for him in case he's only gone temporarily."
"That's right," said HMK with satisfaction. "If he comes back he'll have quite a surprise waiting for him." She lifted her rifle so it gleamed in the dying moonlight. The rifle was a vintage Remington No. 1 rolling-block, and it was just one of many vintage weapons they had found in an arsenal on the third floor of the main building of the fort. HMK had chosen the Remington and a bandolier of spare ammunition, which she now wore diagonally across her chest, draped from shoulder to waist, making her look like a diminutive, but dangerous brigand. For his part, Middenface had chosen a pair of chromed Colt six-guns, which provided a comforting symmetrical weight in the holsters on his hips. He had also chosen a large and vicious bowie knife that he wore in a sheath on his belt, for fighting at close quarters.
He had felt strangely sad, though, to set aside the flint daggers and spears they had so painstakingly constructed. It seemed a shame to discard them, never having used them.
"Yeah, we'll give Tarkettle a warm welcome all right," said HMK, working the action on her Remington with a well oiled click.
Middenface smiled and nodded, but said nothing. He moved away from the cannons and the battlements, back to the inner wall that overlooked the courtyard. He stared down at the horses in the moonlight. Once the fort had proved empty, Johnny had ordered them brought in for the night - or what was left of it. Granny Haxer and Slim had returned back down the path and found all eight animals placidly waiting. Now they were happily tethered by the troughs in the courtyard, thirstily drinking the cool, moonlit water.
As Middenface stared down at the horses in the moonlight, he felt oddly light-headed. He told himself it was just fatigue after the long day's ride and the thwarted anticipation of violent action. But he had never felt like this before. He gazed at his own horse amongst the others, busily drinking. In the fading moonlight it was utterly monochrome, a black and white beast, zebra striped.
Zebra striped.
Middenface felt something giving way in his mind. He closed his eyes and rocked back unsteadily on his feet. "Middenface. What's wrong?" said HMK, a note of fear in her voice. He tried to answer, but couldn't. His legs seemed to be made of springs instead of muscle and bone, and feeble, over-stretched springs at that. They gave way under him and suddenly he was tumbling to the cold stone pavement between the cannons. The world spun dizzily for a moment.
Middenface awoke to find someone wiping his face with a damp cloth. He looked up to see HMK and Johnny bending over him with identical expressions of puzzled concern on their faces. Johnny was wearing a pair of binoculars he had found in the room with the maps. They dangled on a strap around his neck. HMK was wielding a damp cloth, wiping it across his forehead. "I don't know what happened. He just went down," she said.
"Looks like he's back now," said Johnny.
Middenface stared up at his friends and, seeing them, he remembered everything. He remembered the black and white horse, and all the memories it had triggered. "It's a trap," he said, his voice hoarse and clumsy.
"What's a trap?" said Johnny.
"This place."
"The fort?" said HMK. "Of course it's a trap. And if Preacher Tarkettle returns we'll spring it on him."
"No," said Middenface. "It's a trap for us, and we've walked right into it."
CHAPTER TEN
AMBUSH
Charlie Yuletide walked alone through the desert night. His horse was nowhere in sight in the desolate, moonlit landscape.
On his wrist, where the horse had bitten him, Charlie wore a clean bandage. He was carrying his banjo and as he walked he played it, strumming awkwardly with his injured hand. His voice, though, was clear and steady as he sang.
"Watch out, Johnny, Tarkettle's coming. Somewhere in the night, hooves are drumming. The hammer of a gun, someone is thumbing. Watch out, Johnny, Tarkettle's coming."
The moon was slipping behind the distant range of jagged mountains. In
the shadows of the fort's battlements, Middenface lay on the cold flagstones between the long iron bodies of the cannons. Johnny and HMK stared down at him. Johnny said, "You think this fort is a trap for us?"
"It's not just the fort," said Middenface, struggling to sit upright. As he did so, the blood rushed to his head. "It's this whole shite-heap of a planet."
Johnny and HMK exchanged a silent glance. Middenface felt anger flare in him. "I'm not mad or paranoid, or having a funny turn. Just listen to me."
"We're listening, partner," said Johnny, calmly.
"It's been bothering me ever since we visited the weapons shop," rasped Middenface. His voice was hoarse, his throat dry, but he didn't want to waste time asking for a drink of water. He felt a terrible urgency. He had to tell what he knew before it was too late.
"Since you got bashed on the noggin at the jewellery shop," said HMK.
"Yes," said Middenface. "I knew there was something I had to remember. I knew it was important, but I couldn't remember it no matter how hard I tried. Then suddenly just now, it all came back to me, and it was too much. I blacked out."
"Sounds like a psych truncheon," said HMK thoughtfully.
Johnny nodded. "She's right. If somebody hit you with one of those, it would set up a mental block in your brain that would prevent you remembering any of the events immediately preceding the attack. They'd be sealed away in your mind for weeks, or months."
HMK smiled at Middenface. "You've done well recovering so quickly, champ."
"It was the horse," said Middenface. "My horse. It's black and white, almost like a zebra."
"It's a genetically modified thoroughbred," said Johnny.
"But the thing is, it reminded me of what I saw just before I was coshed in the jewellers. I saw this woman. She had hair like that. Black and white. Zebra striped."
Johnny and HMK exchanged another silent, sceptical glance. "I'm not going nuts!" said Middenface. "Let me explain it. I saw this woman with the weird hair and she reminded me of someone, so I followed her into the jewellers, so I could get a good look at her. And I did. Just for a moment. Then somebody knocked me out, because they didn't want me to tell you what I'm telling you now."
"And what are you telling us?" said HMK gently.
"I'd seen that woman before. The woman with the striped hair. I'm sure of it. Exactly the same woman."
"Where did you see her?" said Johnny.
"In Asdoel Zo's mansion, that first day he invited us there for our job interview."
"So what?" said Johnny. "There were lots of women there. Asdoel Zo likes his women."
"No," said Middenface. "She wasn't one of the gardening girls. She was the woman in the hologram."
"In what hologram?"
"His wife," hissed Middenface. "It was Asdoel Zo's wife. The one who's supposed to be dead."
Johnny and HMK stared down at him in silence. The blood red light of the desert dawn began to spread across the cloud streaked sky. "Are the implications beginning to seep in?" said Middenface. "Do you see what this means?"
"And you're sure you're not mistaken?" said Johnny.
"I'm damned sure."
"But you only got a quick look at the hologram, and that was some time ago now."
"Johnny-"
"And it was a very odd hairstyle," said HMK gently. "Two quite different women with the same weird hair-do would tend to look alike. You'd notice the bizarre hair colouring rather than anything else about them, like their faces."
"It was the same woman," said Middenface stubbornly. "I know what I saw."
"And you said yourself you only got a glimpse of this woman in the jewellery shop before you were knocked unconscious."
"I'm sure about this!"
There was silence on the battlements again, except for the distant calling of a bird. A small winged shape swooped across the dawn sky and disappeared into the shadows of the desert below.
"Johnny," said HMK, "I think he's right."
Both Johnny and Middenface looked at her in surprise. "You said it yourself," she went on. "Middenface only got a glimpse of the woman before someone knocked him out. Maybe he got a look at something he wasn't meant to. Why else would anyone go to the trouble of hitting him with a psych truncheon and scrambling his memory?"
"If that's what happened," said Johnny.
"It is what happened!" snarled Middenface. He staggered to his feet, clinging to the iron mass of a cannon to maintain his balance, ignoring the attempts of the others to help him. He stared at Johnny. "You do see what this means?"
"If you're right..."
"Let's assume for a second I am right."
"I think he is right," said HMK.
"You do see what this means, don't you Johnny?"
"If Asdoel Zo's wife is still alive, then he was lying to us about Tarkettle murdering her."
"That's right."
"So, how much else was he lying to us about?" Johnny's eye blazed with disquieting anger.
"That's also right."
"It doesn't make any sense, though," said HMK. "Why would he go to all the trouble of hiring us and convincing us that his family had been killed?"
"One thing at a time," said Johnny.
"It all begins to fall into place," said Middenface. "All the strange events and coincidences. Like those eight horses just happening to turn up exactly when we needed them."
"And our drop ships taking us on a convenient course, right past these guns, so we could get blown out of the air."
"That's right," said Middenface. "Asdoel Zo is playing some kind of game with us. He can't be trusted. Maybe he's in league with Preacher Tarkettle. We must tell the others."
"I don't know," said HMK.
"A minute ago you said you believed me."
"I know, I know. But it all just seems like a lot to assume, based on one woman having the same hair colouring as another woman."
Middenface could feel his teeth clenching with frustration. "But you said yourself, they used the psych truncheon on me. Why else would they do that?"
"I don't know," said HMK, biting her lip. "It's one thing for us to discuss the notion up here, just the three of us. It's something else to go the others with it as if it's definitely the truth."
"We can't tell the others," said Johnny.
"Why the hell not?"
"Have you forgotten what happened to our weapons on that first night?"
Middenface stared at his friend. Johnny continued in a patient, measured voice. "There's a traitor among us, old friend."
"That's right," said HMK.
"If you're correct in everything you're assuming," said Johnny, "then Asdoel Zo is manipulating us for unknown reasons. And if there's a traitor in the posse, maybe they're working for Zo."
"You're right," said Middenface wearily. He leaned his weight on the cold iron of the cannon barrel. He still felt dizzy and disorientated.
"And if Zo's planted a stooge among us, we can't tell the others what we've discovered, because one of them is that stooge. And the only advantage we have at the moment is that they don't know how much we know."
"All right," muttered Middenface. "So we'll keep our mouths shut. But what are we going to do about it?"
Johnny opened his mouth to reply, but he was cut off by a cry from above them and to their left. At either end of the battlement chunky towers rose, square in section with observation posts on their roofs, equipped with antique telescopes. Johnny had posted Bel and Ray in one of these towers - he had tried to split them up and assign one to each tower, but the twins had refused to separate - and now they were calling out in excited voices, their words overlapping and blending.
"Look, Johnny!"
"Out there!"
Johnny and the others turned to the battlements and saw what Ray and Bel had spotted. A speck, approaching in the distance. Johnny took hold of the binoculars dangling around his neck and pressed them to his eyes. "What is it?" said Middenface and HMK simultaneously. Johnny didn't reply. He low
ered the binoculars, then slipped them off his neck, passing them to Middenface.
It took a moment for Middenface's eyes to adjust to the primitive, twin lenses. At first, two images danced independently before his eyes, then they merged to reveal a surprisingly sharp view of a figure, about four kilometres away, heading in their direction.
It was a man, riding on a burro, small clouds of dust rising under the animal's feet as it picked its slow way up the mountain trail towards the fortress. "For God's sake, let me see," said HMK. Middenface passed the binoculars to her. He looked at Johnny as HMK peered eagerly through the glasses.
"Tarkettle?" said Middenface.
"Looks like it," said Johnny. "Let's see if we can arrange a little welcome home party for him."
Middenface whistled from the battlements when Tarkettle and his burro disappeared into the old river hollow, a few kilometres from the fort. Johnny sent the twins and HMK out the doors of the fort and followed them, checking out their positions among the rocks. "Where's Granny?" said HMK, setting her bandolier of ammunition on the sloping, inner face of the boulder where she crouched, in easy reach for reloading.
"Still stabling those precious horses of hers," grunted Johnny. He left her there and inspected the cluster of rocks Ray and Bel had chosen for their lair. It offered a field of fire, which covered the path and the entrance to the fort without compromising HMK's position. He tersely nodded his approval and left them there, checking their guns. HMK waved cheerfully to him as he headed back towards the doors of the fort and Johnny gestured savagely for her to get back into hiding behind the boulder.
He trotted back into the courtyard, his boots echoing urgently on the rough flagstones in the pregnant stillness. Slim and Stella watched him from either side of the doorway, stationed behind barrels of grain, which they had found in the kitchen and which Slim had laboriously hauled up the stairs. The troughs had proved to be too far from the doors to offer both protective cover and a clear shot at Tarkettle the instant he stepped inside. But the barrels were perfect.
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