Curious, Ryan clambered onto the narrow tiled sill of the window and pressed his face against the cold, frosted glass, peering through the slits.
Four or five sec men, wearing quilted white jackets, were sliding around, throwing snowballs at one another. It was a scene of unusual good fellowship, and Ryan felt a momentary pang of envy for the fun they were having.
His face had to have been visible, dark against the opaque window, as one of the men stopped and stared directly up at him, pointing to the others.
Though Ryan knew there was no way they could recognize him, he pulled away.
One of the men had a scarred lip and was either Ellison, who couldn’t humanly have gotten out there so quickly, or a dead ringer for him.
Or his identical twin, as Buford had said.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Permission was granted for Mildred to remain in the Melissa Crichton Institute, along with Krysty, subject to the codicil from Ladrow Buford that there would be times that they would wish to interview Krysty on her own without anyone else being present.
Mildred thought that wasn’t unreasonable. “Keeps your research untainted,” she commented.
“Are you sure that you would not rather come hunting with us, to track down the great bear and mighty jackaroe?” Doc asked. “Chance of real meat for a change.”
“I dare not go a-hunting, Doc, for fear of the little men in white coats. You know them better than anyone. Best to be careful.”
Doc nodded. “I cannot but agree with that, my dear Dr. Wyeth.”
THE BIG CLOCK in the atrium clicked over from 1159 to 1200 while they stood and waited. Most of the group of friends were happy with their own clothes, but Doc had borrowed a heavy jacket as had Abe.
They were all armed.
J.B. had left his Uzi with Mildred, deciding that the big 12-gauge Smith amp; Wesson M-4000, with its murderous Remington flechettes, was a better weapon for hunting bear.
Ryan carried the SSG-70 Steyr rifle across his shoulders, with the SIG-Sauer bolstered, as ever, on his hip, balanced by the heavy cleaver.
Trader had his Armalite while the rest of them carried their usual handblasters.
A group of a dozen or so of the institute’s sec men waited on the far side of the open hallway, glancing across at the outlanders, obviously discussing them in soft whispers. They were mostly armed with Mossberg scatterguns, five of them carrying the big M-16 A-1s that Ryan had seen them holding before.
Ellison strode through the double doors from the main accommodation wing, heels clicking on the plastic tiled floor. He nodded to his men, marching straight across to Ryan. “Your people all ready?”
“Sure. Did you enjoy your snowball fight, Ellison, outside there?”
“What?” The man’s face showed bewilderment. “I ain’t been outside since yesterdayno, the day before. When you and your friends were brought in here.” He paused. “And there wasn’t no snow then. Except on the high peaks.”
Ryan smiled. “My mistake. Just that I looked out the window of the john and I could’ve sworn that I saw you and some other sec men fooling around outside.”
Ellison sniffed and tugged at the lobe of his left ear. “I don’t reckon Well, it sure as shit wasn’t me.” He hesitated, as if he were thinking about saying something else.
“Yeah?” Ryan prompted.
“No. Nothing.”
“Who’s coming with us?” Trader asked, joining them. “Any of the whitecoats?”
“Probably Buford. Likes squeezing the trigger on something living, and maybe Professor Gibson.”
J.B. joined the group. “Which one’s Gibson? The woman with the squint?”
Ellison nodded. “Best you don’t mention Thea Gibson’s walleye to her, or you’ll finish up under her knife.”
“Knife?” Ryan queried. “I thought that the scientists were supposed to have forgotten all the medical ways of curing people with surgery?”
“You don’t get cured with old Thea’s knife.” The sec boss grinned. “Absolutely the opposite, in fact.” His face changed as he saw two figures come through the double swing doors toward them. “That’s enough said, outlanders. Not a whispered word about this to any whitecoat.”
Buford wore a full-length slicker over what seemed an amazing array of padded clothes. He carried a long gun over a shoulder and leaned on his walking cane. Ryan recognized the rifle as being a Winchester 94 centerfire carbine, a six-round lever-action weapon.
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