The companions stayed silent, biting tongues that held ready replies to such arrogance.
“Be ready to be admitted to the presence of glory,” the sec leader said, reaching behind and pressing the single key on the sec door keypad.
Deep inside the room on the other side of the door, they could hear a buzzer signaling their presence. What kind of a man was the leader that he had no keypad or sec code for his door? That he isolated himself from his people in this manner, so that they could only signal their presence and hope for an audience?
As the sec door finally rose in response, they knew they were about to find out.
Chapter Fifteen
The companions found themselves hustled through the open door by the sec squad, pushed through the narrow opening without a real chance to recce the room beyond before being pushed into it. Doc and Mildred almost stumbled as they were prodded by the butts of the laser blasters.
“Move—he mustn’t be kept waiting,” the head sec man rapped out as he cajoled the group… and was that a note of fear that Ryan could detect in his voice? The leader of the Illuminated Ones was obviously a man who was held in awe by his people.
Now inside the room, the companions had a chance to take a look at the surroundings. First thing should have been to look at the leader himself, but the room was an immediate attention grabber by its sheer opulence and grotesque clutter. It was only slightly larger than the usual office rooms found in redoubts, and wasn’t even the size of a larger bunker such as the armory or a med bay. But its size was hard to estimate accurately because of the vast array of ornamentation and treasures gathered within.
They had all seen or heard of things like this. There were some barons who had the accumulated loot of what remained after the nukecaust, and for Mildred and Doc it was a reminder of the world from which they had been expelled. But no one had seen such a collection in such a small space: there were finely carved antique Louis XVI chairs; gold-and-silver ornaments displayed in fine mahogany cabinets, polished to a sheen; beautifully framed oil paintings by artists from Leonardo to Picasso; tapestries and carpets of the finest weave; and—instead of the usual military issue desk—a large oak writing desk with intricate carving decorating the scrolled legs.
To see such predark riches in one place was unexpected enough, but to have them crammed into a relatively small space and bearing down as soon as the room was entered—in stark contrast to the bare corridor outside—was overwhelming. There was so much sensory overload that it took a second for them to notice the man seated behind the desk.
How someone such as this could remain anonymous was a marker of how overpowering were his surroundings. The man, although seated, was a giant. He had enormous girth and was squeezed tightly into his silver-gray uniform. It stuck to his more than ample form and showed rolls of fat dripping from his ribs and overhanging his vast stomach, which was wedged behind the desk. His head seemed almost too small for such a body, with dark hair short and swept back from a furrowed forehead over deep-set eyes, a thin nose and full, fleshy lips. His jowls hung as heavily as the rolls of fat on his body, and he appeared to be breathing heavily even in repose.
“So glad you could make it,” he said in a cold, sardonic tone that was familiar. His had been the voice that they had heard over the PA system in the chamber. “I would offer you a seat, but you’re dripping all over my carpets and frankly I wouldn’t want you to stain the seats on the chairs.”
Mildred curled her lip. “I wouldn’t want to be soiled by anything that was yours.”
J.B. moved quickly, seeing the rifle butt from the corner of his eye as it was directed toward Mildred’s kidneys once more. He deflected the blow so that it grazed harmlessly off to one side, but was rewarded by the back swing, which caught him in the chest. He raised his arms and warded off the full weight of the blow, but it was enough to send him staggering backward, where he was halted by another blow across the back of his neck and shoulders, driving him to the ground.