“And he’s doing all of this out of the goodness of his soul,” Mildred said sarcastically.
“I’m trying to give you something to fight for. What’s at stake is bigger than just the people in this room. I want you to see that.”
Ryan fixed him with a harsh stare. “If you believe in what Hardcoe’s doing so much, why don’t you go get nine other people who can fight and believe in the baron as much as you, and you jokers take a dive into that pit tonight.”
LeMarck’s lips tightened as though he’d just bitten into a sour lemon. He didn’t try to answer.
“Got plenty to fight for,” J.B. added. “Our lives are on the line here. That’s enough for us. And when you boil it down, that’s what’s good enough for most people. I don’t give a rat’s ass about docks or boats or trade. Hardcoe’s planning on making plenty of jack out of the deal or he wouldn’t be doing it. And it’s the jack he’s got a greedy eye turned to, not the people you say are going to benefit by it.”
LeMarck’s face hardened. “Move out. Only got a few minutes before they start releasing you people into the pit.”
A SHORT WALK LATER, through musty hallways outside rooms that were filled with wrecked furniture, overturned gambling tables and skeletons that had died of rad-drift, Ryan stood in the center of a smaller room lined with metal walls.
LeMarck and his men left them there, bolting the door behind them.
The ceiling had been torn out, leaving an upper level where people could look down on them. A short railing covered with wrapped lengths of razor wire surrounded the opening. In a short time LeMarck was at the railing gazing at them.
A net was suspended from the ceiling above the sec boss, a length of steel cable running through a pulley system holding it in place.
“Our weapons,” J.B. said.
“That’s right,” LeMarck replied, raising his voice to manage the distance. “Figured you might give a better accounting of yourselves if you had the tools you were most familiar with. You’ll find they’ve been well taken care of, and there’s ample ammunition for all of them.”
“What happens when we run out?” Mildred asked.
“Hopefully you’ll be sparing with it and pick your targets,” LeMarck told her. “Along the way you’ll find you can pick up more from the other teams. Assuming that you’ve killed them. And there are caches where more ammunition has been placed.”
Ryan stared at the double doors in front of him that undoubtedly led into the pit. He crossed the distance and pushed against them. Neither moved.
“Bring the rest of them in,” LeMarck ordered.
A moment later seven men entered the room. All of them had a look of hardness, but it was the black giant, his hair tied with bits of cloth, who captured Ryan’s attention.
The black man’s eyes held yellow madness, like someone who had traveled too long in the rad-blasted lands. His hands were secured behind him. One of LeMarck’s sec men moved in behind him and keyed open the cuffs. Giving no warning, the black giant turned and backhanded the sec man.
The man flew through the air and crumpled against the wall by the door, unconscious or dead. Blood trickled from his ears.
“Black Michael!” LeMarck yelled.
The giant ignored the sec commander and leaped to the door, trying to pry it open with his thick fingers. The other six new arrivals quickly put distance between themselves and the big man.
“Stop, you bastard, and move away from that door, or I swear I’ll chill you myself.” LeMarck drew his side arm.
Black Michael growled insanely. “Do that and you’ll be a man short.”
“Mebbe.”
Ryan wasn’t fooled. LeMarck meant his threat, but there was some hesitation in the sec commander.
Black Michael barked laughter, but moved away from the door just the same. He reached up to his shoulders and started pulling on his armor’s straps. The vest he wore hadn’t been intended for a man of his girth. The outfitters had obviously had a hard time finding something he could wear. The red paint looked fresh.