“Wait” Grant began.
Kane depressed a tiny stud on its surface. “The charge is armed.”
Eyes flashing green sparks of anger, Brigid snapped, “We’ve just spent two hours setting up the microwave sensor perimeter. Blowing the plastique ourselves isn’t part of the plan.”
“I’m making shit up as I go along,” Kane reminded her dryly. “If I can’t bluff the Roamers into turning tail, we’ll have no choice but to drop the hammer. Besides, what difference does it make if Mags touch off the proximity sensors or if we’re the ones to light the charge? The results will be the same. Boom.”
Pausing, he scanned their faces before clarifying his take on the situation. “I don’t want Roamers knocking at our door any more than I want Mags.”
Neither person said anything.
“Look,” Kane continued, trying for a reasonable tone, “if they can be scared off, we’ll disarm the charge and go back to the original setup.”
“What about their captives?” asked Brigid.
Kane shrugged. “Not our business. If warriors are following them, it’s their lookout to rescue the prisoners, not ours.”
“The Cerberus policy of isolation,” Brigid muttered darkly.
His voice and eyes went cold. “Now you’re getting it.”
He tossed the transmitter to Grant, who caught it gingerly with both hands. Affixing the trans-comm to an epaulet on the left shoulder of his shirt, Kane said, “Keep your comm channel open. Depending on what I say, you may have to ignite the charge, but don’t do it unless I say so specifically. Get over to the wag and stay out of sight.”
Brigid and Grant gave him lingering, bleak stares, then did as he said, turning and walking toward the thicket some thirty yards away. Kane strode down the blacktop to the very mouth of the canyon. Finding a granite boulder, he leisurely leaned against it and crossed his arms over his chest, hiding the Sin Eater from view. He hoped he wouldn’t have to use it.
Chapter 3
Within one minute, he heard the steady clopping of hooves, the jingle of harness and the murmur of voices. The gorge mouth was narrow, only a dozen yards from wall to wall, and it wouldn’t permit more than three riders abreast along the furrowed blacktop.
Inside of two minutes, the Roamers turned a bend in the rock wall. Le Loup Garou caught sight of Kane immediately and he reined his horse up so sharply it whinnied in protest. He froze motionless with astonishment and lifted his left hand to halt the people behind him. A half shout went up, reins were jerked and weapons drawn. Instantly several rifles were leveled at Kane, but the sudden shock of finding one man lolling casually against a boulder stayed their fingers on the triggers.
Le Loup Garou and Kane inspected each other silently. Slowly a smile stretched the chieftain’s lips. ‘ ‘What is your thought, encroaching on the territory of the Roamers?” His soft voice was touched by what might have been a French accent a long time ago. Now, decided Kane, it was just an affectation.
“Since when do Roamers have territories?” he retorted.
The man’s smile widened into a disdainful grin. He was missing two teeth, and the others were darkly stained and cavity speckled. “Any piece of ground we cross becomes ours simply by dint of our passage.”
“Not this particular piece.”
Le Loup Garou furtively eyed the undergrowth, the canyon walls above and behind Kane, suspecting the stranger had blastermen hidden on all sides.
Calmly he said, “We wish only to go to the mountains. That is all.”
“Sorry,” Kane replied, “the mountains and this pass are private property.”
Le Loup Garou’s eyes narrowed, puzzled and uncertain. “The property of who?”
“Me.”
“Claimed by one man?” demanded Le Loup Garou incredulously. “Just what kind of man are you? You’re too smooth for an outrunner, too pale for a peau-rouge .”
“A peau what?”
“Redskin.”
Kane imitated Le Loup Garou’s scornful grin. “I am an expatriate.”
The Roamer chieftain rubbed his chin contemplatively. “I have never heard of that tribe.”
“It’s not a tribe. It’s more of an occupation.”
Le Loup Garou nodded. “Ah. We pursue our own occupations.”
“So I’ve heard. Chilling, robbing, enslaving.”