Part 27 (1/2)

”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 s.h.i.+rt 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 s.h.i.+rt 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 s.h.i.+vered; 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 s.h.i.+rt 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.”