James Axler – Stoneface

Ryan nodded thoughtfully. “That’s one way of looking at it.”

Chapter Sixteen

Ryan and his people saw and heard nothing from Hellstrom throughout the remainder of the afternoon or the following day. They walked around, sampling the sights, sounds and tastes of Helskel, and tried to ward off the fingers of dread and apprehension that clutched at them.

Jak was the most impatient. He was feeling claustrophobic and more than a little trapped. He sorely wanted to boost the AMAC and tear out of there, with no regard to the consequences, shooting, slashing and slugging anyone who stood in their way. However, he was intelligent enough to realize that all six of them were enmeshed too tightly in Hellstrom’s web to escape safely.

On the evening of the second day, a ceremony to induct novitiates into the sec squad was staged in the barroom of the saloon. Unlike the funeral of Zadfrak, this ritual was very quick, almost casual. Ryan, Mildred and Krysty watched it through the front door.

Dog, Phil and three other men kneeled before Hellstrom, while their heads were shorn of hair by the use of clippers and razors. The men performing the tonsorial chores weren’t very careful, and the scalps of all the inductees bore little bleeding cuts and slashes by the time the barbers were done.

Once their heads were shaven, Fleur took an ice pick that had been heating in a brazier filled with red-hot coals and inscribed X’s on all five men’s foreheads. The operation took only a few seconds per man since she was heedless of their blood and pain.

Afterward, as blood streaked down their faces, they bowed to Hellstrom, who proclaimed them warriors and servants of Helskel. He dismissed them with a bored wave of the hand. The bleeding men clutched fistfuls of their own hair and left.

“A new generation of cannon fodder,” Mildred murmured.

Catching sight of the companions, Hellstrom gestured for them to enter. Ryan walked in as the new X-scarred sec men walked out. Dog gave him a sidewise glare as he passed. Fleur studiously avoided looking in his direction.

“At seven-thirty tomorrow evening,” Hellstrom said, “I will have your decision. A war council has been called in the restaurant and your attendance is mandatory.”

“What if I make up my mind before then?” Ryan asked.

“Then you’ll wait until the council convenes, Cawdor. I don’t grant private audiences on war council days. You may go now.”

Though he earnestly tried to conceive of a plan through that night and most of the next day, Ryan couldn’t come up with a suitable strategy to delay making the decision.

The jaws of the Helskel trap had snapped shut neatly and painlessly, but very securely. There was no choice but to go through with the pretense of accepting the position of warlord. Gloomily, none of his friends could offer an alternative, either, except to engage in a firefight they couldn’t hope to win.

At seven o’ clock, a little after twilight, Ryan was alone, walking toward the eatery, when Fleur sauntered around the corner of the building. She had her thumbs hooked into the belt loops of her jeans, and when she caught sight of him, a hesitant, almost shy smile played over the finely chiseled planes of her face.

“Evening, Cawdor,” she said.

Tension lizards crawled along the buttons of his spine, but Ryan returned the smile. “Evening.”

Casually he placed his right hand on his hip, just above the butt of the SIG-Sauer. If Fleur caught the movement, she gave no sign.

Taking a deep breath, she said, “I regret the incident the other day. I was out of line, expecting you to abide by customs that are new to you. I apologize.”

Ryan said nothing, but one of Trader’s favoriteand most tiresomephrases popped unbidden into his mind. “Never apologize. It’s a sign of weakness.” And if there was one thing Fleur wasn’t, it was weak.

“The patriarch has finally decided upon a plan to get inside the Anthill,” she said after a moment.

“Good.”

“Will you be a part of it?”

“I’ll tell that to Lars.”

Fleur nodded, and as Ryan made a move to step around her, she said hurriedly, “Not all of our sec force has assembled. One of the newest members, for one.”