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and leave him nothing. Your Machiavelli understood."
From the other room came Guerrero's call: "Coverage, Hakim!"
The little man turned in his chair, picked up the severed ear, and released the tube which lay ne
invisible against the bag. In three strides he was through the door, to loom at Guerrero's side.
The item was insignificant, merely an admis-sion that an NBN star was a possible kidnap vic
Television was carrying the news, but obviously was not going to dwell on the event. "So, I m
contact another medium," Hakim said, and held up his ghastly trophy.
Guerrero blinked. "You do what you do only too well, Hakim."
"Praise, or criticism?"
"It is my mission to help you do all you possi-bly can." Guerrero smiled at the sharp glance f
Hakim; he had spoken the truth, yet not all of it. Nor could he boldly state what he knew about
second captive. It must seem a bril-liant suspicion. "I have been studying Kenton very clos
Hakim," he went on. "I believe that his face is a masquerade. Either he or the come-dian migh
persuaded to discuss the point."
"The comedian?" Hakim barked a laugh. "Not he; not now."
Guerrero was very, very still. "It has been quiet in there."
"He no longer complains," Hakim answered, deliberately vague.
"You are finished, then," Guerrero persisted.
It was Hakim's pleasure to joke, thinking of the abject terror in the eyes of Charlie George. "
rather, he is finished," he rejoined, and turned back toward the torture room.
Guerrero followed unbidden, his excitement mounting, with only a glance toward Everett, wh
hands were hidden in his lap. He saw Charlie George hanging inert like some butch-ered animal
head half-obscured in glisten-ing red polymer. He could not know that Charlie had spent the
moments desperately inhal-ing, exhaling, trying with an animal's simplicity to bathe his lung
precious oxygen. Charlie's mind was not clear but it held tenaciously to the fact that Guerrero
anxious for his death. Mouth and eyes open wide, Charlie George ceased to breathe as Guer
came into view.
Guerrero's mistake was his haste to believe what he wanted to believe. He saw the plastic suc
against nostrils, the obscenely gaping mouth and staring eyes. He did not seek the thud of Char
heart under his twisted clothing and failed to notice the slender tube emergent from the plastic
"The poor pendejo is dead, then?" He rapped the question out carelessly.
Hakim's mistake was the indirect lie, his au-tomatic response to questions asked in the
Guerrero used now. "Truly, as you see," Hakim said, gesturing toward Charlie George, amuse
Charlie's ploy.
Hakim's merriment was fleeting. From the tail of his eye he saw Guerrero's hand slide toward
Browning and, in that instant, Hakim resolved many small inconsistencies. Still, he flung the k
too hastily. Guerrero dodged, rolling as he aimed, but could not avoid the chair that struck him a
fired. The Iraqi sprang past the doorway, slammed the door and flicked the bolt in place as chu
of wallboard peppered his face. He had counted five shots from the Browning against the door l
but knew the damned thing held many more. Half blinded by debris from Guerrero's fire, Ha
elected to run rather than retrieve his own sidearm. It lay at his media display in the path
Guerrero's contin-ued fire against the door. One slug hurled scat-tered fragments of his belo
Hewlett-Packard unit into the face of a video monitor.
Hakim reached his van quickly, almost forget-ting to snap the toggle he had hidden beneath
dash, and lurched toward the road with a dead-cold engine racing and spitting. He drop-ped
over the wheel, unable to see if Guerrero followed. Hakim had cash and the Uzi, an ex-quisite Is
submachine gun, as Fat'ah emergency rations behind him in the van.
Hakim considered stopping to make a stand on the gravel road but checked his rearviews in
to reconsider. Guerrero was there, twenty seconds behind. Hakim would need ten to stop, ten m
to reach and feed the weapon. He would fare better if he could increase his lead, and guessed
Guerrero would withhold fire as they passed through the village of Piru. It was worth a try.
Slowing at the edge of the little town, Hakim saw his rearviews fill with Guerrero's van. What
his motive, the Panamanian evidently had a hard contract to fulfill and might take insane chan
including a collision in public. Hakim wrenched the wheel hard, whirling through a market par
lot. A grizzled pickup truck avoided him by centimeters and stalled directly in Guerrero's path,
then Hakim was turning north, unable to see how much time he had gained. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]