Mag Force - Hung Out Part 33

Meekly, Harry pressed his thumb on it. "Thanks." He looked back at the monster, blinked a couple of times, try-ing to take it all in. "It's really a ... a beauty." The commander snorted and stalked off. "Hoo, boy," said Harry, and sighed.

He was preoccupied, still thinking about the gigantic transport, when he entered the small motel room he'd rented near the s.p.a.ceport. He'd just come from arguing with the s.p.a.ceport manager, who was trying to charge Harry for every single one of the parking s.p.a.ces the transport ship was occupying.

The phone was buzzing when he entered.

"Yeah?"

"Is this Harry Luck?"

"Yes. Look, this better not be any more excuses about my interplanetary vid hookupa""

"This is Mr. Tampambulos's secretary, Archibald Trevor. We spoke before."

"Oh, hi." Harry forgot about his vid hookup and about the manta ray transport. He pressed the phone closer to his ear. "How is Xris?"

"He's fine, Mr. Luck. He's looking forward to that round of golf."

"Golf?" Harry repeated, not understanding at first. Then it struck him. "Oh, yeah. Golf."

The voice was a man's voice, deep, pleasant, but it had an edge to it that always made Harry's neck hairs itch. He scratched the back of his head.

The voice continued. "If you'll recall, Xris has asked that you meet him and a few of his friends at the golf course near his new home, Mr. Luck. You know where that is?"

"Yeah, sure." Harry was quiet a moment, then said, "They got a golf course there?"

"I will transmit the landing coordinates and the exact time and date of your expected arrival."

"Thanks. Say, listen. I've heard about that s.p.a.ceport," Harry said, still scratching.

He noticed, as he was talking, a light flashing on his phone. Someone had left a message for him. He made a mental note to find out who. Unfortunately, Harry's mental notes didn't have much glue and kept falling off.

"Landing a s.p.a.ceplane there can be a real pain in the a.s.s," he continued, "or at least that's what people say. Lots of local interference, stupid questions. One guy I know says they even threatened to shoot him down."

"The people at the pro shop can be a little touchy, Mr. Luck. In the transmission, I've provided you with information that should help, and Mr. Tampambulos will make prior arrangements with the greens manager to deal with the situation. You won't have any problems."

"Okay, fine. Thanks...."

But Harry was already talking to dead air. He wasn't worried, however. Xris was making the arrangements and that was all Harry needed to know. If he had been told that Xris was making arrangements to get him in and out of h.e.l.l, Harry would have packed his suntan oil and been ready to go.

The phone buzzed again.

"Mr. Luck?"

"Yeah. Glad you called back. I had a question about that golf course. Are there any landing lightsa"Oh, it's you. Listen up! You b.a.s.t.a.r.ds promised me you'd be here to hook me up a week ago! I've been stuck in this d.a.m.n motel room with nothing to watch but six hundred and forty-eight channels and Ia" Oh, you will? Well, fine. I'll be here."

Harry jabbed the phone b.u.t.ton to with extra pressure, just to show them he meant business. After that, he stood for a moment, knowing he had to do something but unable to remember what. He looked at the light flashing on the phone. Someone had left him a message. He should really find out who.

His computer buzzed.

"Incoming transmission," he said, and went to his computer.

He downloaded the files. The prison break was set for tomorrow night, which meant that he'd have to leave to-night in order to reach Jango in time. As Mr. Trevor had instructed on his previous phone call, Harry had rented a small apartment on a weekly basis, an apartment near a private s.p.a.ceport on a planet in the Jango system. Harry copied the landing coordinates into a computer remote that he would transfer to his plane.

A map had been provided, showing the location of all the security satellites, as well as their electromagnetic search frequencies. Another map revealed the location of the air-to-ground batteries. Harry didn't need to worry about any of those. Xris would handle that part. But he transferred the map to the remote, just to be safe. Not that Xris ever made mistakes, but other people had the nasty habit of interfering with his plans.

Harry checked his watch. He had plenty of time to pack, recharge his weapons, eat a couple of replicator pizzas, and pack a snack in case he got hungry on the way to the s.p.a.ceport, which was located across the street.

He was spreading mayonnaise and lettuce on a peanut b.u.t.ter sandwicha"Harry was very particular about his sandwiches, never trusted the replicator, which always argued with him about the mayonnaise anyhowa"when the phone buzzed.

Harry slapped the other slice of bread down and went to answer.

"Eye on the Galaxy," said the man. "I'm in my hover, on my way to repair your vid hookup."

"s.h.i.t," said Harry. He'd forgotten all about that. The b.a.s.t.a.r.ds would show up just as he was leaving.

"Look, never mind. I've been called out of town."

"See here, Mr. Luck, I'm making a special trip just to do your hookup. It'll only take a few moments."

"I'm leaving town," Harry repeated. "I don't plan on coming back. I'm sorry, buta""

Luck. I am here at your insistence. You'll have to pay for the service call anyway. And since it's after hours, that'll be triple overtime."

"Jeez," Harry muttered.

If the new Tycho was anything like the old one, Harry probably wouldn't get reimbursed for the extra charges.

"Well, at least the next poor sucker who rents this dump will have decent vids to watch."

He gave the man directions to the apartment and went back to making his sandwich.

The sandwiches were in his duffel bag, along with his clothes and his weapons, a Marcus quad-shot minigun and a snub-nosed .38-decawatt, his computer remote, shaving kit, and helmet. He was already wearing his flight suit.

"Vid man," came a voice calling through the door.

Harry glanced out, saw a man in uniform carrying a toolbox. He opened the door.

"Come on in. I hope you don't mind, but I gotta leave. The vid's over here."

Harry turned to lead the way out of the entry hall into the motel room. He was just about to point out the location of the vid set when he felt something hard press into his back.

"Hey!" Harry complained. "Watch it! You're sticking me with your toolbox!"

"It's not a toolbox, Mr. Luck," said the man. The hard pressure transferred from Harry's back to the bare skin on his neck. He had no difficulty recognizing the feel of cold metal against his skin. "It's a .50-decawatt hand cannon. There won't be much of your head left if I fire this. Follow my orders and no one will get hurt. Put your hands up in the air and turn around slowly. Very slowly."

"Who are you?" Harry asked, pivoting slowly, as ordered. He felt the gun on his skin as he turned, felt it swipe past his ear. The gun backed off only when he was facing the man. Harry looked at him closely, didn't recognize him.

"Is this a robbery? If so, it's a mistake, 'cause I don't have any cash on me...."

"This isn't a robbery, Mr. Luck," the man said. "You're taking a trip in your new prototype transport ship tonight. By the way, it's a little big for the job, isn't it? And slow? But then, they said you weren't too bright. That's one of the reasons I want to go along."

"And I'd love to take you," said Harry earnestly, thinking to distract the man and knock the gun away. "Nothing I hate worse than traveling through s.p.a.ce by myself." He tensed, ready to swing. "But I'm supposed to pick up some people and I don't have rooma""

"Don't do anything stupid, Mr. Luck," said the man with the gun. "Either now or when we're in the s.p.a.ceplane. Your mother wouldn't like it if you did anything stupid."

"My mother..." Harry went cold. His hands clenched to fists. "You f.u.c.king b.a.s.t.a.r.d! Whata""

"Don't get excited, Mr. Luck. Your mother is fine. I'll even let you speak to her when we're on board the plane. Some people from my organization are paying her a little visit. They'll leave when I give them the word.

"Now, Mr. Luck," the man added, stripping off his uniform, still keeping the gun aimed at Harry, "we're running behind schedule. Here, let me carry that."

"Thanks, but I can manage," said Harry.

"I insist." The man picked up the duffel bag. He unzipped it, glanced inside. Seeing the guns, he smiled and zipped it back up. "I'll be glad to carry it. Keep moving, Mr. Luck. Your mother's waiting for your call."

"f.u.c.king b.a.s.t.a.r.d," Harry said again. He started out the door, stopped when his phone buzzed.

"Answer it," ordered the man.

"h.e.l.l, it's probably just the vid people. The real vid people," Harry emphasized.

"I said answer it. Who knows? It might be Mr. Tampambulos's secretary, Mr. Trevor. You wouldn't want to miss that call, would you?"

"f.u.c.king b.a.s.t.a.r.d," Harry muttered, and went to answer the phone.

"Yeah?"

"Harry, this is Darlene. Where have you been? Don't you check your messages? I've been trying since yesterdaya""

"I can't talk now, sweetie," Harry said loudly. "I gotta Good-byea""

Harry, d.a.m.n it, wait! We've heard that Xris might be in danger anda""

"Yeah," said Harry. "I know." He ended the connection. "All right," he said glumly to the man with the gun. "Let's go."

CHAPTER 33.

El pez muere por la boca.

The fish dies because he opens his mouth.

Proverb.

Xris's cell mates were happy to see him. So happy, their pleasure in his return was touching. He might have been coming back from the dead.

"C'mon, guys," Xris said, embarra.s.sed. He mopped his bald head with a towel. "It was only a few days in solitary. I don't recommend it, but at least I caught up on my sleep."

"You're a hero," said Malcolm, grinning. "Everyone's talking about how you took down that fat b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

"Great," Xris said bitterly. "Now Slovenski will go out of his way to prove to everyone that he can take me."

The three sobered.

"I guess we never thought of that," Malcolm admitted.

"Has he been around?" Xris asked.

"It's hard to beat up on people from your hospital bed," Alan said.

"Yeah, but he'll get better, unfortunately." Xris never would have believed it, but he was starting to feel something for these men. Affection? Too strong. Pity? Yeah, maybe. They were a lot different from the three c.o.c.ky b.a.s.t.a.r.ds he'd met on the transport.

Xris tried to think of how to say what he had to say. "Look," he said finally, awkwardly, "if something happens and I'm gone for a long timea"a real long time..."

The three gazed at him somberly, troubled.

"Will you three be okay?"

"What are you going to do?" Malcolm demanded.

Xris shook his head. "Nothing I don't have to. Answer my question. Rec time's almost up and I have business to attend to."

"We'll be okay," said Malcolm, and the other two nodded. "Reality was a tough pill for us to swallow, but we choked it down. You do what you have to do and don't worry about us. We can take care of ourselves."

"I believe you can," Xris said.

He restrained the urge to pat them on their heads. Putting on his jacket, he prepared to go back out in the rain.

Malcolm stopped him at the cell door. "Xris, it's not worth it," he said in a low voice. "Killing Slovenski, I mean. Montieth will crucify you. Slovenski's working for him. Everyone says so. Sure, it may be self-defense, but you'll never even have a chance to stand trial. Montieth will put you away for good. Don't risk it."

"I know what I'm doing," Xris said.

Maybe if he repeated that often enough, he'd come to believe it.

Becking, Mair, and Macdonald were also glad to see him, although they weren't quite as disinterested as his cell mates.

"Anyone want to go jogging?" Xris asked.

"I would," said Macdonald, and grabbed a towel.

He and Xris slogged through the rain to the gym, joined the group of prisoners who were running around and around the track, going nowhere in a tremendous hurry. The track circled the upper part of the gym. On the floor below were basketball hoops and weight machines. Guards kept an eye on everyone from a room at the top, which overlooked the entire gymnasium. Macdonald and Xris fell in at the back of the pack.

"I spoke to Mr. Trevor," said Xris beneath the cover of thudding feet and the echoing shouts from the ball game. "The pro shop on the golf course, 0200 hours."