The Flock Part 15

"Then that's what it is," Grisham said. His expression grew very hard, his brow knitting into a fleshy shelf. "Any other questions?" he yelled.

"What about human targets? Do you foresee any problems there? There's a lot of bush to whack out there."

"Ah. We have an ace in the hole," he told them. "Someone on the inside has made it much easier for us to find our main target, if he's out there. He has a transmitter he doesn't even know about, and I have the frequency. Piece of cake.

"Anything else?"

There was silence.

"Then get busy reading. After that, give the folders back to me. Then prepare to go in-country."

"Where am I?" His head hurt. Someone was slowly pounding a hole in the base of his skull. And it was dark. The lights were out.

"You're with me," she said.

Ron immediately recognized Kate's husky voice. "Kate. Oh." So that's that's whose lap his head rested in. He was slowly getting his bearings. He was pretty sure where up was and that down was against his back. whose lap his head rested in. He was slowly getting his bearings. He was pretty sure where up was and that down was against his back.

"Are you going to be all right?" she asked.

"I think so. Yeah." It was very dark in the room. He couldn't see Kate's face, and although he knew his eyes were searching the room, he couldn't see any sign of a flaw beneath door and floor. Or any place that looked like there might even be be a door. "I'm going to try and sit up," he told her. He groaned and fell back. a door. "I'm going to try and sit up," he told her. He groaned and fell back.

"Just lie still."

"No. No. I'll be okay. It was just that first try. I can do it." He made another attempt and succeeded this time, propping himself up with one arm while he twisted his torso until he was sitting with his back against the wall. His legs splayed out in front, he could feel his shoulder touching Kate's arm. "How about you? Are you okay? That was a nasty bruise you had, too."

"I'll be fine," she said.

"How long have I been out?"

"I couldn't say. I came to just when you and Niccols were brought here. But I was too woozy to do more than just lie here. I think I pa.s.sed out again when the door was shut, but if I did I don't know for how long."

"Where's Mary? What did they do to Mary?"

"I don't know. They didn't leave her here. I wouldn't worry about her anyway; your pal looks like she could maybe just pound a door down if she was of a mind to do so."

"She might at that," Ron told her. "What the h.e.l.l's going on? What're Levin and those others up to?" He shifted and pushed a bit closer to Kate. Not completely involuntarily.

"He thinks he's going to save the birds," she said. "I think he believes that when Vance comes back, all of his troubles will be over. Vance will have all of the answers and will save the day."

"He wouldn't have shot us, then." Ron reached back and gingerly touched at the bruised and swollen knot on the back of his head.

"I don't think so. But that guy's an Earth First-er if ever I met one. I think he'd exterminate all of Mankind if he had the chance."

"For real?"

"For real." She arched her back, and brought herself a little closer to Ron. At least it seemed to him him that she was closer. More of her was making contact with more of him, at any rate. "He used to be into all kinds of terrorist dogma. Spiking trees, poisoning livestock, setting mantraps in old growth forests. Pleasant stuff like that." that she was closer. More of her was making contact with more of him, at any rate. "He used to be into all kinds of terrorist dogma. Spiking trees, poisoning livestock, setting mantraps in old growth forests. Pleasant stuff like that."

"Jesus."

"He's not a bad sort, really. He's just sick of seeing Mankind eating away at the natural world."

Ron said nothing. He didn't quite know what to say.

"Ron?" He could feel Kate turn toward him. One of her long arms reached over and she grasped his right hand in hers.

"What is it?" He swallowed hard. Ron was nervous. Grade school nervous. He was being stupid.

"Since we've got nothing better to do, why don't we have that talk we were going to have?"

He could feel her breath against the side of his face. "Sure. I'd like that, I guess. It'll help pa.s.s the time until Holcomb gets back and they let us out of here."

"Yes," she agreed.

"You were going to tell me about some things I needed to know about you," he said. "I can't imagine what it might be, but if you think it's important, go ahead and tell me. If you're Jewish, I can always convert."

She laughed. "I will tell you," she said. "But first I want to ask you something."

"Fire away."

"The other night, when I took you back to your truck. You wanted to kiss me, didn't you?"

"Well. Sure I did. Fact is, I've wanted to kiss you just about since you came across that field and found me sitting under the pines."

"Well. Kiss me then."

"You don't mind?"

"Kiss me, dammit."

In the darkness, Ron reached out and found her. His hand closed gently on her long neck, and he turned and lifted himself to a kneeling position, leaned toward her, and found her lips. Their mouths met warmly, softly. It was as he had hoped. The smell of her, the taste of her, the feel feel of her was good. His breath came quicker; his heart beat a little faster. They remained that way for a few seconds, soft lips caressing and tasting one another there in the darkness. Finally, their mouths parted. Ron edged back a bit, feeling an erection. of her was good. His breath came quicker; his heart beat a little faster. They remained that way for a few seconds, soft lips caressing and tasting one another there in the darkness. Finally, their mouths parted. Ron edged back a bit, feeling an erection.

"That was nice," Ron told her.

"Yes," Kate said. And then, "You enjoyed it?"

"Very much," he admitted.

"You trust me?" she asked.

"What do you mean? Trust you concerning what?"

"Let me put it to you another way," she said. "We've both been zapped in the noggin and tossed here in what serves as the lockup, right?"

"Yes."

"So we're both pretty much in the same boat."

Ron nodded, remembered that there was no way for Kate to see the movement, then said, "Yes. We're both stuck here. We were both sapped on the skull. As far as your former friends are concerned, I guess I trust you as well as I would anyone. What are you getting at?"

"Well." She paused. "I know you're not going to want to hear this."

"Hear what?"

"I think Mary is in with the studio. I think she had something to do with Dodd getting aced."

Ron's breath caught in his chest. And although he wanted to, he found he couldn't so much as swallow.

William Tatum looked up from the papers on his desk to see a true horror enter his office. The building was quiet, and not a sound filtered into the room from the hallway outside: not so much as a whisper. Of course the figure standing in the doorway had shocked everyone and everything into complete silence. His presence was not unlike G.o.d's, Tatum often thought. Michael Irons closed the door behind him and looked down on the seated figure of a suddenly very small and very insignificant Bill Tatum.

Tatum wondered what Irons had said to keep his secretary from announcing his visitation. He wondered if he'd said nothing at all. He could see, in his mind's eye, the perfectly manicured index finger coming up to those rosy, almost cherubic lips, just the suggestion of a mischievous smile painted on. Hush, little Miss. I'm here to suuuuuuuuurPRISE your boss Hush, little Miss. I'm here to suuuuuuuuurPRISE your boss. And she had remained obediently still, like a good little scared rabbit.

The chairman stood easily inside the doorway, saying nothing. Calmly, he reached into his coat and withdrew a silver tube from which he produced a cigar. He lit it with a gold lighter produced from another pocket, tilting his head as he did so, peering down at Tatum. He puffed, obviously enjoying each inhalation. A strong and pleasant odor was soon wafting throughout the room, despite the fact that a truly superlative circulation system drew out and replaced the air in the building every few minutes. Cigar smoke seemed to make a nearly straight line toward the ceiling, where it vanished invisibly. With the cigar champed firmly in those shark-like teeth, Irons replaced the gleaming lighter.

"You look a bit stunned stunned to see me. Surely you can't say my visit is completely unexpected." Irons was not smiling, was not frowning; he seemed neither pleased nor angry. to see me. Surely you can't say my visit is completely unexpected." Irons was not smiling, was not frowning; he seemed neither pleased nor angry.

Tatum shuddered, visibly. "I thought that you would call me in," he said.

Irons removed the cigar and waved it with a great, exaggerated flourish worthy of any stage. His bio, which every employee was required to read, said that he'd been an actor as a youth, and had abandoned that career by his twenty-fourth year, when he'd worked his way into surer, more lucrative work in the film industry. "You thought that I'd call you in call you in." He blew out a puff of smoke. "That's really amusing, Tatum. Truly it is."

The security chief sat motionlessly, afraid to move, afraid to stand, afraid to comment. He merely sat and breathed, and waited.

"I thought you were a professional. I thought that you knew how to get the job done, my friend." His face remained a stony, unreadable mask.

"The men I chose for the job were a poor choice. I admit it. I won't even try to lay the blame elsewhere. It was my fault," he admitted. And, really, it was was his fault. his fault.

"Well, I'm happy to hear you claim that." Irons moved toward the desk, toward the frozen William Tatum, chief of security. As soon as he was at the desk, his thighs just just touching the oaken platform, he brought his perfectly manicured fist down on the top of it with a great deal of force. "I touching the oaken platform, he brought his perfectly manicured fist down on the top of it with a great deal of force. "I like like it when a man admits he has it when a man admits he has completely completely f.u.c.ked up!" f.u.c.ked up!"

Even though he had known something like that was coming, Tatum flinched. He knew deep down that the somewhat voluntary reaction was at least partially for Irons' benefit. It was best not to make him any angrier than he already was. This was, in fact, the only time Tatum had seen anything like a true, human emotion coming out of the man.

"Fortunately for you, no one has been able to trace the idiots idiots you hired back to this company. G.o.d," he breathed out hoa.r.s.ely. "I'd hate to think of the money I'd have to outlay to shut it all up." you hired back to this company. G.o.d," he breathed out hoa.r.s.ely. "I'd hate to think of the money I'd have to outlay to shut it all up."

His voice cracking, Tatum tried to squeak a further apology. "I'm sorry, Mr. Irons. These men have worked for me in the past. Had done some exemplary work. Up until...until the moment they were discovered with...with," Tatum was struggling with a way to say it without stating the obvious. He could see himself trying to explain away his words in a court of law.

"With Dodd's body, you mean?"

Tatum stared at the boss, the ultimate chief.

"They got away, though," Tatum said. "The police didn't capture them, even though they recovered the...the...his..."

"Dodd's body. Yes." Irons continued to stand and to silently puff away, examining Tatum as if he were some interesting but bothersome pest. "Did you know that they even fouled up their little visit to that fellow from Fish and Wildlife? The one who had talked to Dodd?" He waited for Tatum to answer, but got no reply.

"You won't have to worry about the police questioning them. They weren't around to be questioned. They did that much, at least. And even if they left a fingerprint, it won't matter. Neither has a criminal record."

Michael Irons used the cigar to jot a decimal point in the air. "Oh, we'll never never have to worry about those particularly inept have to worry about those particularly inept a.s.sholes a.s.sholes. I won't. You won't. The company won't. Their families won't. No one will. No one will ever again have to waste a moment's grief on either of them."

"What?" Tatum croaked.

"Well. To put it in plain terms, my fine, stupid friend: I had them both aced. They're dead." He removed the cigar from his lips, unclenching his jaws in what appeared to be an almost painful manner. There was something akin to a grimace upon his smooth, unblemished, too-young-for-a-chairman face.

"And as for you, Mr. Head of Security..." He paused, drew in a breath and released it almost silently. "You will sit here for a while and do nothing beyond see to it that n.o.body picks any pockets in the malls, or steals some tourist's rental car, or takes advantage of some dumb broad visiting one of our fine hotels. I've pa.s.sed along the responsibility of taking care of our...eh, our problems problems. You will not not interfere in any way with the Colonel or any of his actions. Do I make myself clear? Hmm?" interfere in any way with the Colonel or any of his actions. Do I make myself clear? Hmm?"

"Yes, sir. Very clear, sir." Tatum remained sitting rigidly in place, but risked a swallow.

"You know...it's not right right for a man of my position to raise more than an eyebrow in a situation like this. A man such as myself needs to not have to worry about such trivialities. It's not for a man of my position to raise more than an eyebrow in a situation like this. A man such as myself needs to not have to worry about such trivialities. It's not right right for me to pick up a phone and deal with such unpleasantness and be forced to make for me to pick up a phone and deal with such unpleasantness and be forced to make outrageous outrageous offers or spend ridiculous sums of money. It isn't right, d.a.m.n it." offers or spend ridiculous sums of money. It isn't right, d.a.m.n it."

"I understand, sir. You should never have felt the need t..."

"Shut up, Tatum."

Tatum stopped. Did not finish the syllable. Looked up at his fate.

"You will stay here. Right here in Salutations and act like you're nothing more than small town police chief. You'll stick your nose in nothing more serious than a fender bender, because that is the absolute limit of unpleasantness that I want anyone to experience in the confines of my town for the next little while. Do I make myself clear?"

Tatum nodded.

"Good. I'm glad that you are aware of my position." He put the cigar back in his mouth and clamped down on it. Tatum could hear his teeth mashing the rolled leaves of tobacco. "And Tatum? Stay here. Go nowhere." He held his arms out to indicate Salutations. "This township will be the extent of your little world until I say otherwise."

With that, he turned and walked back to the door. Quietly, he opened it and stepped out into the hall, which remained just as silent as when he had entered Tatum's office. No face peered their way from down the hall, no head popped out of any adjoining room to see what had happened. Everyone in the building was currently doing his job at peak performance. The Shark was about, cruising, and it was best to lie low during such times.

Irons went out into the hallway, closing the door to Tatum's office as he left. Inside, Tatum put his head in his hands and actually contemplated suicide.

Chapter Twenty-Nine.

In the dawning, Walks Backward was not entirely surprised to see that the heads of the Flock had decided to bed down in close proximity to his own position. There were plenty of reasons for such a move. The Scarlet was not adhering to the laws, was not acting in a rational way. It could be that they were there at precisely the one point that the rogue would be most likely to attack were he to do the unthinkable and pierce the carefully hidden daylight sanctuary they had chosen to rest out the sunlit hours. It could be that they merely wanted to be close to Walks Backward, who guarded the welfare of the Flock as no one but themselves, and who was sometimes to be rewarded for that service by the honor of their physical presence while he lightly slept.

Or, more likely, this pair of intelligent mates suspected that their faithful watchguard was preparing for mutiny. Perhaps they knew that he had already chosen a prospective mate and that even the embryonic moves toward a mating ritual had begun. It could be that these two, who had spent their lives guarding and watching over their fellows, were aware of what was going through the mind of Walks Backward, and they wanted to be as close as possible should he actually threaten their primacy.

Walks Backward lay in the temporary nest he had chosen for himself. It was clear of the bothersome ants, and the colors of the forest floor and the surrounding plants perfectly matched his mottled coloration. The shadows and patterns of light that played over his feathered body revealed nothing to any eye but that of another of his own kind. He was merely a bit of brown there between the branches; it an additional patch of darkness in the shadows. He crouched there, at rest, but his hugely powerful legs bunched lightly beneath his torso, those gigantic claws even then tentatively touching the loam, prepared to dig in to produce solid purchase in the softness of decaying plant matter.

His head was locked into a position low to the ground, but high enough above it to afford him maximum sight of the surrounding territory. By flicking his great head in the tiniest of movements, he could make a complete circuit of their defensive bubble. He could see in each direction of the compa.s.s, and clearly, and he could also watch the forest canopy for any suspicious motions. And he could observe the skies. Few creatures bothered to search the skies or the roof of the forest. Men did that. And the Flock did that. Walks Backward twitched his huge, menacing head and looked toward Egg Father.

The rival-to-be was looking directly at him. There was something new in that wide, unblinking gaze. And Walks Backward had to admit that Egg Father knew. His leader, his lawgiver, his commander commander was aware of the ideas that had been forming in his mind; the emotions at war with long held beliefs. Walks Backward met Egg Father's gaze, the two great eyes, each clearest blue rimmed in crimson, staring unflinchingly into the other. was aware of the ideas that had been forming in his mind; the emotions at war with long held beliefs. Walks Backward met Egg Father's gaze, the two great eyes, each clearest blue rimmed in crimson, staring unflinchingly into the other.

I know what you are planning, that gaze said to the watcher. that gaze said to the watcher.