McCade's Bounty (18 page)

Molly waited for Pong to introduce her, curtseyed in turn, and drifted away as the adults began to talk.

Each wall was completely different. One was hidden by a curtain of rich-looking fabric, another consisted of floor-to-ceiling glass, and the third boasted an enormous holo tank. But it was the last wall that caught and held Molly's attention. It featured a heroic mural.

The painting showed a man, woman, and child in the foreground, and behind them a colony ship that was already being stripped of useful metal. The mural incorporated lots of detail, including some of Salazar's most famous wildlife, and Molly studied it while the security team inspected the room.

Pong shrugged apologetically as Raz looked behind the curtain. "I'm sorry about that, but you know how security people are, once they get going there's no stopping them."

The others nodded sympathetically, well aware that the security people were following Pong's orders, and not in the least insulted. They would've taken similar precautions had positions been reversed.

Once Raz had signaled his satisfaction with security, Pong chose a seat with his back toward the holo wall, and wasted little time getting down to business. Molly took a seat right next to him with the security team fanning out behind.

Under normal circumstances the conversation would have centered around price, but given the fact that Pong was offering his army at cost, the discussion went off in another direction.

Not knowing of Pong's relationship with the 56,827, or their existence for that matter, Drang's officials assumed that his low asking price equated to ulterior motives. Pong was after something, but what was it? The mineral rights presently held by the combine? A role in Drang's government? What?

The officials needed answers to these questions and more before they signed a formal agreement.

Pong understood these concerns and knew how to handle them. The key was to show a little greed, but stop short of scaring them and breaking the deal. In other words it should be a rather enjoyable process that ended up the way Pong wanted it to.

So as the adults plunged into their negotiations Molly eased her way out of the chair next to Pong and drifted away. The guards ignored her.

First Molly looked out the window, wrote her name on the slightly fogged glass, and watched the snow fall. But the snow reminded Molly of home, of Mommy, and made her hurt inside.

She walked across the room, running a finger along the smooth surface of the holo tank, and over to the mural. It was a truly wonderful painting, full of interesting detail, and bright clean color. It absorbed Molly's interest for a full five minutes.

Then, without conscious thought, the ball left Molly's hand and bounced off the floor. The carpet absorbed the sound. She caught it and looked toward the adults. No reaction.

Molly smiled and bounced the ball again, and again, and again, until it hit the toe of her boot and hopped away. Molly followed as the ball headed straight for the drape-covered wall and rolled underneath.

Molly looked at Raz but the bodyguard was looking in another direction. She checked the other security people. Ditto.

As Molly turned back something strange happened. The ball rolled out from under the curtain, and just as it did, Molly saw the tip of a highly polished boot. There was someone behind the curtain!

Curious, Molly waited for the ball to reach her, and bent to pick it up. Now she saw more boots, at least six in all, suggesting three people. Molly straightened up and pretended interest in the ball.

Why would people hide behind the drape? And where had they come from? Molly remembered how Raz had pulled the curtain aside and looked behind it. She'd seen no sign of a door. A secret passage then! Like in the books she'd read.

Something cold fell into Molly's stomach. Suddenly she knew that the people shouldn't be there.

Forcing herself to walk very slowly, Molly ambled toward the table and took her seat next to Pong. Except for a glance in her direction the adults took little notice.

Trying to hide her action Molly tugged on the side of Pong's tunic.

Pong felt Molly pull at his tunic and felt annoyed. Couldn't she see that this was the critical moment? In a minute, maybe two, he'd call for closure. And given the way things were going there was little doubt that he'd get it.

Molly tugged again. Pong forced a smile. "Excuse me. You know how children are. This will only take a moment."

Pong turned toward Molly. His voice was an urgent whisper. "Damn it, child, can't you see this is the wrong time to bother me?"

Molly bit her lip. Was she wrong? Was there some simple explanation for the people behind the curtain? Would Pong know that and be angry with her?

"I dropped my ball," she whispered, "it went behind the curtain. Someone kicked it out to me. When I bent over I saw three pairs of feet."

Pong started to say something irritable, stopped when he realized what Molly had said, and turned slightly pale. He subvocalized and smiled as he turned toward the officials.

"Wouldn't you know it? She needs a bathroom."

Then all sorts of things happened at once. Molly found herself on the floor, Raz and the others sprayed the curtain with stun beams, and a man fell forward bringing the entire drapery down with it. Then two more men toppled over, weapons falling, bodies hitting the floor with a soft thump.

At that point Pong's security team shouted orders, one of the officials pulled a blaster, and fell facedown when Raz stunned her. The woman's head hit the conference table with a loud thud.

A few seconds later and Raz had guards on the secret passage and the room's man entrance. Reinforcements would get a big surprise.

Silence descended on the room. Pong was on his feet. During the confusion a small slug gun had materialized in his hand. The barrel was touching the inside of Ethan Mordu's right ear.

Mordu looked distinctly uncomfortable.

Pong caught Raz's eye, nodded toward Mordu, and removed his gun from the diplomat's ear. Turning toward Molly he bent to help her.

"Are you alright, child? Sorry about throwing you down but there wasn't much time. What you did was very brave."

Molly didn't
feel
brave. She felt cold and shaky inside.

Pong turned his attention to Mordu and the two other officials who sat frozen in their seats, hands on top of the table, faces etched with fear. "So, were the assassins just an option, or were they the entire plan?"

The officials looked at one another but remained silent.

Pong shook his head sadly. "Come, come. No need to be modest. It was a good plan and would've worked except for my little friend here."

Mordu cleared his throat. "The assassins were an option. In case negotiations broke down."

Pong nodded understandingly "I understand. Quite sensible. Always have a backup."

Pong smiled. "Of course it helps if the backup works."

Raz put a hand to his ear as if hearing something. "The aircar is almost here."

Pong pulled on his coat and looked around the room. "Excellent. You may prepare our exit."

Raz swiveled toward the window and squeezed the trigger on his automatic weapon. The slug thrower made a roar of sound.

Molly held her hands over her ears as the window shattered and fell in a shimmery cascade of glass. She staggered as air rushed out through the opening, taking loose pieces of paper with it. An alarm sounded out in the hall.

Then the aircar appeared and hovered just outside the window. It looked huge and somewhat ominous with its flashing beacons and ugly-looking guns.

"So," Pong yelled over the whine of the aircar's drives, "that brings this meeting to a close. In just a moment Raz will say good-bye as only he can."

Something about the way Pong said it, and the look on his bodyguard's face, told Molly what would happen. The moment Pong climbed aboard the aircar Raz would kill them. She pulled at Pong's coat.

"Don't kill them! What good will it do? We survived. That's the important thing."

Pong frowned, started to say something, and changed his mind. He looked at each official in turn. "This is your lucky day! The child is right. Killing you will accomplish nothing. But when my army comes, and pulls your government down, remember this moment. You brought this end upon yourselves."

A cold wind entered the room, picked up some papers, and threw them down. Snowflakes settled toward the top of the conference-room table.

Pong took Molly's hand and led her toward the aircar. "Come on, child, let's go for a walk in the snow."

"Hammerfall leader, this is hammerdrop one."

McCade chinned his mic. The drop module was only slightly larger than his combat-equipped body. He could smell his own sweat. "Hammerdrop leader. Go."

"We are five to the zone. Repeat, five to the zone. Stand by."

McCade swallowed hard. In less than five minutes he and his special ops team would fall through Drang's atmosphere, pray that their drop mods would hang together long enough to get them below the government's radar, and hope that their electronic countermeasure gear was as good as the sales literature claimed it was. If not, they'd be easy targets for the government's air defense battalion.

McCade chinned the team freq. "Hammerfall leader to hammerfall team. We are minus five and counting. Auto sequence and sound off."

McCade flipped a switch and pushed a button. There was an armored box under his seat. Inside the box was a mini-comp. It ran an auto check on the module's systems, found everything to its liking, and lit a green light on the instrument panel.

Meanwhile the special ops team checked in.

"Mod one . . . green board."

"Mod two . . . green board."

"Mod three . . . green board," and so on, until all twenty-four men and women had checked in. Two members of McCade's team had turned up at sick call. Some kind of virus. Lucky bastards.

"Roger," McCade replied. He eyed the digital readout in front of him. "Prepare for drop. One-thirty-six and counting."

Time became plastic and seemed to stretch. The readout worked its way down with frustrating slowness until there were fifteen seconds left. At that point Major Davison's voice came over both command and team freqs.

"Hammerdrop one here. We're in the zone. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, see you dirtside, hammerfall team! Good luck!"

McCade was thrown violently sideways as the egg-shaped module shot out of the port launch tube and began its journey toward the planet below.

McCade couldn't see them, but knew that eleven modules had followed his, with twelve more to starboard. Phil's would be last. The variant would assume command if McCade were killed.

The team was heading dirtside two rotations prior to Pong's main force so it was important to avoid detection. There was no point in providing the government with an early warning. That's why the techs had gone to the trouble of installing an expensive launch system in a tramp freighter. After it had dropped McCade's team into the upper atmosphere the ship would land and unload a legitimate cargo.

The module jerked as it hit a slightly thicker layer of air and McCade felt the temperature start to climb.

Outside the tiny passenger compartment layer after layer of ceramic skin was burned away as the egg fell. And as the layers of protective material became increasingly thin, more and more heat was conducted inside.

Eventually, after the module had fallen through all of Drang's interlocking radar nets, the hull would disintegrate and a parachute would open. At that point McCade would float gently to the ground.

Or so the techies claimed. Needless to say none of them had tried it.

McCade's vision blurred as the module began to vibrate. He strained to see the instrument panel and couldn't. The egg tumbled end over end, stabilized when the mini-comp fired the module's steering rockets, and fell like a rock toward the reddish orange planet below.

Strange things went through McCade's mind. Unconnected memories of places that he'd been and things he'd experienced. He remembered Sara, Molly, and his long-dead parents. He thought about Molly's birthdays, and how many he'd missed over the years, always assuming that there'd be more.

McCade blinked sweat out of his eyes and whispered a prayer he hadn't used since childhood.

The module began to shake and shudder again. Pieces flew off. Air pushed its way in through the holes, roared around McCade's head, and spun the module like a top. Blackness appeared where the instrument panel had been just moments before. The rest of the hull leaped away in chunks, broke into smaller pieces, and spread itself out over twenty square miles of desert.

The chair, with McCade still in it, continued to fall. And fall, and fall, and fall.

The chute? Shouldn't it be open by now? Scooping air and slowing his fall? Something must be wrong. It was time to pop the reserve chute. McCade had flipped the protective cover up and was closing his fingers around the lever when the main chute opened. It made a loud cracking sound.

Air filled the chute and McCade felt as if it was pulling him upward. The force of it pushed him down into the chair's padding. Things slowed. The chair twirled under a canopy of fabric.

Still on duty, the mini-comp used radar to make a tightly focused sweep of the terrain below. It located the best place to land and activated a pair of servos.

Lines grew taut, air spilled from one side of the chute, and McCade felt himself slide toward the ground. He braced himself. The chair fell away a few seconds later. With less weight pulling down on it the chute slowed even more.

There was a distant thump as the mini-comp blew up and took the chair with it.

Air rushed around McCade's face. He was worried. Sure, the mini-comp had aimed him in what it thought was the right direction, but mini-comps could be wrong. What if he landed on some rocks? In a river? Right on top of a missile battery?

McCade strained to see the ground but couldn't. There was a scattering of lights to the right, many miles away, but only blackness below. Should he switch to night vision?