“We leave in an hour.”
THE WAG WAS in good condition and carried them comfortably over the weed-covered roads toward Fox Farm. Judging by the smell of lubricating oil coming from the wag’s underside, this baron had plenty of jack to spend on the things that were vital to his operation. Ryan had made a mental note of the sec men’s blasters and aside from a few well-put-together remades, they all had quality weapons. Sure, the baron had an advantage with an unlimited supply of electricity, but he was obviously trading more than just fruit.
“What do you think they did with J.B., Doc and Dean?” Mildred asked, her voice masked by the throaty rumble of the wag’s diesel engine.
“I think they’re fine,” Ryan answered. “The sec men left the building after they got Mildred, so they all probably got a good night’s sleep.”
“How long do you think it’ll be until they come after us, lover?” Krysty asked.
“Couple days, mebbe,” Ryan said. “They’ll need to come up with a plan.”
“So we should just relax and make the best of things for the next little while.”
“Yes.” Ryan nodded. “And try to figure a way—”
Ryan’s words were cut off by the butt of a longblaster that caught him square in the jaw.
“No talking until you see the baron, Cyclops!” said the sec man riding in the back of the wag. He raised his blaster again and moved to strike a second blow, but Ryan—with his hands still bound behind him— managed to get out of the way in time, and then put a boot into the man’s midsection. He pushed as hard as he could, sending the man back into his seat, where he hit the wooden bench with a thud.
He got up again, intending to strike Ryan, when the wag began to slow, then came to a full stop.
“Get them ready,” someone called from the cab of the wag. “Baron Fox is waiting.”
At the mention of the baron’s name, the sec man relaxed his stance. Ryan was curious about what the baron might be like considering that the mere mention of his name could put fear into one of his sec men’s eyes.
The wag jerked forward again, and when they were past a heavy steel fence, the gate closed behind the wag, securing them inside the compound.
Ryan figured he wouldn’t have long to wait before he and the baron met face-to-face.
After a short drive the wag pulled into a barn that was full of barrels, bushel baskets and jars. There were remnants of a couple of wags, but they looked as if they’d been stripped for parts. Off to one corner stood an electrical transformer and rows and rows of what looked like batteries. Other items crowded the end of the barn closer to them, everything from farm tools to barrels of diesel and oil, garden tools and power generators, everything a farming operation might need to produce food and keep it guarded until it could be traded for other useful items.
At the other end of the barn was a collection of seven miniwags. These were small, two-man vehicles that ran on electricity. Each of the seven was currently attached to a wall-mounted box that was more than likely the source of electricity that kept the miniwags’ batteries charged.
“I wish J.B. could see all this,” Ryan muttered under his breath as he eased himself off the end of the wag’s flatbed onto the dirty, straw-covered floor of the barn.
A half-dozen sec men ringed the three friends. The rest made their way out of the barn, their mission having been completed. That surprised Ryan since most of the sec men he’d known would have hung around to hear some words of compliment from the baron, but these men obviously weren’t interested in that.
Just then, a small door opened up at the far end of the barn and a man—most likely the baron—entered the building. He was followed by a second man, unarmed, who remained several steps behind and carried a large black book under his arm.
The baron was dressed in a shiny, multicolored bathrobe and wore an equally shiny pair of black boots. He was also smoking a pipe. The man looked pleasant enough, Ryan thought, but if he’d learned anything over the years, it was that looks could be very deceiving, especially where barons were concerned.