Stinger Part 27

"Undoubtedly," she answered.

"Then you can tell your people all about 'em, 'cause that's what you're about to ride on." He went to the Honda, got on, and kickstarted the engine. "Climb on behind me and hold tight." She did, nervous about the machine's vibration and the noise, and Cody wheeled the cycle away from the Cat Lady's house and sped toward Travis Street.

41 Blue-eyed and Smiling

"Maybe it didn't mean this place," Vance whispered shakily. "Maybe it meant somewhere else."

"No, I don't think so." Rhodes spoke in a normal voice. There was no need for whispering, because Stinger had to know they were waiting in Creech's den. He aimed his flashlight at the hole in the floor. There was no movement, no sign of life-in whatever form-down in the darkness. "What time is it?" he asked Tom.

"Almost twenty till two," Tom answered, checking his watch in the beam of his own flashlight. Jessie stood beside him, her hair in sweat-damp curls and a fine layer of dust on her face. Rhodes had asked them to come, to see what they were dealing with, but he'd warned them not to say anything about Daufin. David Gunniston stood on the other side of the colonel, the younger man's face still ashen with shock but his eyes alert and his hand on the b.u.t.t of the.45 he'd taken from Vance's gun cabinet. Vance had a Winchester repeating rifle, and Rhodes held the shotgun loaded with tear-gas sh.e.l.ls at his side.

"b.a.s.t.a.r.d's making us wait," Rhodes said. They'd been here for almost thirty minutes, long enough to drink the thermos of cold coffee they'd gotten from Sue Mullinax at the Brandin' Iron. "Trying to make us sweat a little."

"It's doing a d.a.m.ned good job," Jessie said as she wiped her face with her forearm. "One thing I want to know: if Stinger's somehow making... what did you call them?"

"Replicants."

"If Stinger's making replicants, what's happening to the real people?"

"Killed, most likely. Maybe stored like lab specimens. I don't know." He glanced at her and managed a faint smile. "We'll have to ask when it shows up."

"If it shows up." Vance had backed away from the hole, and stood pressed against the wall. His shirt stuck to him like glue-dipped wallpaper, and sweat dripped from his chin. "Listen... if it looks like Dodge, I'm gonna have to be excused. I don't think I can take that again."

"Just don't start blasting with that rifle. I'm not sure it'd do much good anyway." Rhodes kept rubbing the hand-shaped bruise on his arm.

Vance snorted. "Mister, it'd do me a h.e.l.l of a lot of good!"

"Colonel?" Gunniston bent down at the rim of the hole. "Listen!"

They all heard it: a thick, wet sound, like boots slogging in a swamp. Something moving through the slime-walled tunnel, Rhodes knew. Coming closer. "Get back," he told Gunny, and the younger man scrabbled away from the edge. Vance c.o.c.ked the Winchester, and Rhodes darted a warning glance at him.

The sounds stopped. Silence fell.

Rhodes and Tom kept their lights aimed at the hole. From below, a man's voice drifted up: "Put your lights out, folks. I'm picking up some real bad vibes."

It was a mellow, laid-back voice. No one recognized it but Vance, who had heard it often enough. His face bleached fishbelly gray, and his body mashed harder against the wall.

"Do it," Rhodes said. He turned off his flashlight, and so did Tom. Now the only illumination in the room was the dusty yellow glow of the remaining oil-burning lanterns. "All right. You can come up now."

"Oh no. Not yet, pardner. Throw them down to me."

It can't stand electric light, Rhodes thought. No, more than that: it's afraid of electric light. He tossed his flashlight into the hole and nodded for Gunniston and Tom to do the same. A moment later there came the snapping sounds of the flashlights being broken apart.

"That's it. You can come up," Rhodes said.

"I can come up anywhere and anytime I f.u.c.king please," the voice replied. "Haven't you figured that out by now?" There was a pause. "If you have any more of these up there, you'll be very sorry."

"Those are all we brought."

"They're little pieces of nothing anyway, aren't they? I can break them with my breath." The voice was jaunty, confident now that the flashlights were destroyed. A quiet thud and a scuttling noise followed. Rhodes figured the thing had just leapt up and pulled itself into the bas.e.m.e.nt. Then another thud, and one hand caught the edge of the hole. Saw-blade fingernails gouged into the broken wood, and the creature's head rose into view.

Jessie gripped Tom's hand with a strength that popped his knuckles. Vance gave a feeble moan. It was Mack Cade's face, blue-eyed and smiling like a choirboy. He was hatless, his thin blond hair plastered to his skull. His tan had faded to a sickly yellow hue. He pulled himself up with one-armed ease, got his knees on the hole's edge, and stood up.

Vance almost pa.s.sed out, and the only reason he did not was the knowledge that he would be unconscious on the floor with that G.o.d-awful thing standing ten feet away.

"Oh... Jesus," Gunniston whispered.

"Everybody stay where you are," Rhodes said, as calmly as he could. He swallowed; his insides had given a savage twist. "Just take it easy."

"Yeah," the creature with Mack Cade's smile said. "Hang loose."

In the lamplight, they all could see it much too clearly. Mack Cade had a left arm, but his right one was squashed and melted into something that had grown from his chest. It was a black-streaked lump of meat with a flat, almost reptilian head on a squat and muscular neck. In that head were slanted amber eyes, and two stubby, deformed legs dangled from the bony wedges of its shoulders. Jessie knew what it was: a dog. One of Cade's Dobermans, implanted in the thing's chest like a bizarre Siamese twin.

The gold chains around Cade's neck were now part of his flesh too, braided in and out of his skin. The cold blue eyes moved slowly from one figure to the next. The dog's head, splotched with patterns of human flesh and Doberman hide, writhed as if in profound agony, and around the lump of its body the folds of Cade's wine-red shirt crackled like waxy paper. "Wow," the Cade mouth said, and lamplight sparked off the close-packed rows of needle teeth. "You came to party, didn't you, Ed Vance?" The thing's gaze speared him. "I thought you were the head honcho."

Vance couldn't speak. Rhodes took a deep breath and said, "He's not. I am."

"Yeah?" The eyes fixed on him. The dog's mouth stretched open and showed more silver needles. On each paw were two serrated metal hooks. The creature took two strides toward Rhodes, and the colonel felt panic rise up like a scream but he locked his knees and did not retreat. Stinger stopped about three feet away. The eyes narrowed. "You. I know you, don't I?" The squashed Doberman's head made a low groan, and the jaws snapped wantonly. "You're Colonel Matt Rhodes United States Air Force. Right?"

"Yes."

"I remember you. We met before, down there." A jerk of the head toward the hole. Still smiling, Stinger lifted its left arm and extended the index finger. The arm glided forward, and the metal nail pressed against Rhodes's cheek. "You hurt me," Stinger said.

There was a quiet click as Gunniston eased back the.45's hammer.

"Hold your fire." The saw-blade edge had cut his cheek, and a drop of blood coursed slowly down to his jawline. He met Stinger's intense stare without flinching. The thing was talking about the old woman down in the tunnel. Wherever the true Stinger was-most likely in the pyramid-it must have a direct sensory bond with the replicants, including reaction to pain. "We came here in good faith," Rhodes said.

"What do you want?"

"I want to deal."

Rhodes knew what Stinger meant, but he wanted it spelled out. "Deal for what?"

"The superfine, high-quality, grade-double-A package you've got stashed somewhere in this joint."

The fingernail withdrew, taking a smear of human blood with it. "You know: the guardian. The little girl."

Jessie's heart kicked. Vance shivered; the thing had Cade's slick salesman's drawl down to perfection.

"What little girl?" The drop of blood fell from Rhodes's chin and hit the green scrub shirt with a soft plop.

"Don't s.h.i.t me, amigo." The dog's head growled hoa.r.s.ely, its neck straining. "I've been... like...asking around, if you get my drift. Kicking back, seeing the sights. You've got a real trippy world here, dude. But I know the guardian's a little girl, and I know she's somewhere close. I want her, and I mean to take her. So do we deal or not?"

Rhodes knew dangerous ground lay ahead. He said, carefully, "Maybe we know who you're talking about and maybe we don't. If we do, what do we get from the deal?"

"You get to keep your a.s.ses," Stinger said, the eyes bright-almost merry-with the prospect of violence. "That clear enough?"

"You've already killed quite a few people. That's not good business."

"Sure it is. My business is squashing bugs."

"A professional killer?" Rhodes's throat felt dry enough to crack. "Is that what you are?"

"Man, you people are dense! Ugly too." Stinger looked down at the twitching ma.s.s hanging from its chest. "What is this s.h.i.t?"

"I'd like to know where you came from," Rhodes pressed on. "What planet?"

Stinger hesitated, the head c.o.c.ked over to one side. "The planet Moondoggie, in the constellation Beach Blanket Bingo," the thing said, and cackled. "What the f.u.c.k does it matter? You wouldn't know where it is, anyway. Face it, man: I'm not leaving without the guardian, so you might as well hand her over and let's be done with it."

Jessie could stand being silent no longer. It was the wrong, stupid thing to do, and she knew that, but it burst out of her anyway: "No! We're not giving her up to you!"

Rhodes twisted around and his stare burned holes through her. She got control of herself again, but the damage was done. The counterfeit Mack Cade face watched her impa.s.sively, while the dog's jaws snapped at the air as if ripping off hunks of fresh meat. Stinger said quietly, "Now we've got it clear who we're talking about, so we can quit d.i.c.king around. First off, I know my bounty's here. I tracked her ship to this world, and my sensors are picking up the pod's energy. Exactly where it is, I'm not sure-but I'm narrowing it down, and I know she won't be too far from it." A metallic smile flashed. "Technology's a great thing, huh?"

"What do you mean, your 'bounty'?" Rhodes asked. "Are you being paid for this?"

" 'Paid' is a relative term, man. I'm being rewarded for carrying out a mission."

"To find her and kill her?"

"To find her and take her where she belongs. She-" Stinger stopped, a grimace of annoyance rumpling the face. "You don't know a d.a.m.ned thing, do you? This is like trying to talk to my a.s.shole and expecting it to"-there was a pause and a slow blink, and Rhodes could almost see the thing searching at mind-boggling speed through the man's language center for the correct a.n.a.logy-"sing like Aretha Franklin. Man, this is primitive s.h.i.t!"

"Sorry we're so uncivilized," Rhodes said, "but we're not invading other worlds trying to kidnap children, either."

"'Invading,'" Stinger repeated after a few seconds of reflection. The eyelids had slid down to half mast. "There's another relative term. Listen, I couldn't care less about this dump. I'm just pa.s.sing through. As soon as I get my prisoner, I'm history."

"What makes her so important?" Tom spoke up, and the creature's head twisted toward him.

"I see the problem around here," Stinger announced. "Too many chiefs and not enough ensigns...engines... Indians," the thing corrected itself. "You ought to know 'she' isn't what you'd call female. And she's not male, either. Where she comes from, that doesn't matter. All the s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g on her world's done by the tides or something. 'She' could just as easily take a man to be a guardian; the guardian's a sh.e.l.l for her to walk around in. But since I don't find any description of the creature in your lingo, I guess it's okay to call it a 'she.'" Stinger sneered the word. "And for her to take a little girl as a guardian is a real laugh, because she's as old as dirt. But she's smart, I'll give her that much, and she's sure run me a chase." The thing's gaze slid back to Rhodes. "It's over now: where is she?"

"I never said we knew who you're talking about."

Silence stretched, and the replicant's gray lips twitched like cankerworms. "What you can't seem to figure out is that I'm on the side of law and order. My a.s.signment is to find the criminal and return her to a maximum-security penal world-from which she escaped. She got into a guard and stole a garbage scow. I figure the ship went haywire, sailed off course, and got sucked into the gravity field here. She must've jettisoned her guardian and gotten back into her pod before the crash; she ejected, and that's the story."

"Not all of it," Rhodes said. He kept a poker face. "Why is she a criminal?"

"After her planet was liberated, she decided to disobey the new prime directives. She started urging her kind to resistance, violence, and sabotage. She's nothing but a wild animal."

" 'Liberated'?" Jessie didn't like the sound of that. "Liberated from what?"

"From waste and stupidity. See, there's a natural chemical on her world that's poisonous as all h.e.l.l anywhere else. What you folks don't know is that all kinds of little wars are going on out there-alliances breaking up, new ones forming, one group deciding it wants a planetary system and another kicking sand about it. Goes on all the time." The thing's shoulders shrugged. "Well, suppose some up-and-comer decides to get hold of the poison and start spreading it around. I'm telling you, the s.h.i.t is deadly. That stuff gets out in s.p.a.ce, and it might even drift this way. It cuts right through body armor and dissolves the bones and guts into mush. That's why we liberated the planet-so we can keep that s.h.i.t from getting into the a.r.s.enals of fruitcakes. Everything was going fine until 'she' started raising h.e.l.l. Made herself out to be a 'revolutionary' and all that c.r.a.p." The head shook back and forth, the face puckered with a scowl.

"She's trying to get back so she can stir up more trouble-maybe sell that poison to the highest bidder."

Rhodes didn't know whether to buy the story or not. "Why didn't you tell us this before now?"

"Because I didn't know anything about you. As far as I knew, you were helping her. Everybody seemed like they'd rather fight than talk like sensible folks." Stinger's eyes bored into Rhodes's. "I'm a forgiving kind of dude. Let's be friends. Okay?"

Just like Mack Cade would've done it, Vance thought. Sucker 'em in with a glad hand and squash 'em with a fist. He found his voice, and he said, "Colonel? I inkthay it ielays."

Rhodes saw Stinger blink with incomprehension, saw the gears of language start turning behind the manufactured face; they slipped on the grease of pig Latin. I think it lies, Vance had said.

"Explain," Stinger demanded, the metallic voice all business again.

"We've got to talk about this. The others and myself."

"Nothing to talk about, man. Either we deal or not."

"We need some time."

Stinger didn't move, but the dog's head thrashed angrily. Seven or eight seconds crept past. Rhodes felt sweat trickling from his armpits. "You dudes are playing games with my brain," the creature said.

"Trying to f.u.c.k me up." It advanced on Rhodes, and was right there in his face before he could back away. Gunniston lifted the.45 and aimed it at the monster's head, and Vance hefted the rifle up and put his finger on the trigger.

"You listen," Stinger hissed. The thing was breathing-its imitation lungs doing the job of the originals. The breath was a faint rumbling, like the noise of a blast furnace going at full burn miles distant, and the air from Stinger's mouth washed into Rhodes's face and reeked of hot plastic and metal. The dog's teeth snagged Rhodes's shirt. "Playtime's over. I want the guardian and the pod."

"We need... more time," Rhodes said. If he retreated one step or otherwise flinched, he knew those saw-blade nails would be on his throat. "We'll have to find her."

"I tried to be friendly, didn't I?" The index finger rose up and glided across his chin. "You know, I create things. Out in my ship. I've got a workshop in there. Just give me the flesh, and I can create...wonders." The smile came up again, and the needle teeth glittered inches away from the colonel's face.

"I've seen one of your creations. The flying thing."

"Pretty, huh? If you'd like to see my workshop, I could s.n.a.t.c.h you under my arm and take you there right now. I could make you over, better than you are. A lot stronger... and a lot meaner too."

"I'm already mean enough."

Stinger cackled; there was a sound like grind wheels turning in its throat. "Maybe you are, at that," the creature agreed, and lifted its left wrist. Embedded in the flesh was the diamond-studded face of a Rolex watch with a tiny inset second hand. "I figure this is a tool to mark the pa.s.sage of time. I've been watching it work. What's the time right now?"

Rhodes was silent. Stinger waited. "Three minutes before two," the colonel said.

"Good boy. When that long spear rotates again, I'll be back here. If you don't have the guardian and the pod, I'm going to create a real special bug squasher."

"That's only one hour! We can't find her in that short a time!"

"It's all you've got. You understand, Colonel Matt Rhodes United States Air Force?"

"Yes," he answered, and felt doom settle on his shoulders like a cold shroud.

"One hour," Stinger said. The thing's head turned, and Stinger stared at Gunniston and the.45 the man aimed. "Would you like to eat that?"

Gunniston's hand shook. Slowly he lowered the pistol.

"I think we understand each other now." Stinger walked to the edge of the hole and hesitated with one foot over empty s.p.a.ce. The dog's eyes shone red in the lamplight. "One hour," the voice emphasized. "Think on these things."

The replicant dropped into darkness. They heard it hit bottom, followed by the smack of its boots as it raced away through the tunnel's ooze. The noise faded, and Stinger was gone.