The corridor was as empty as it had been on their first trip. Some of the blocks of light from the rooms were gone. They had only three such danger spots to cross now. Two they negotiated without trouble, but as they stepped into the third, it was broken by a moving shadow, a man was coming out of the room. He wore a scarlet and gold tunic, with more gold on it than Dard had ever seen before—plainly one of the hierarchy. And he stared straight at them with annoyance and the faint stirrings of suspicion.
“Pax!” the word was hardly the conventional and courteous greeting, it carried too much authority. “What do you here, brothers? These are the night watches—“
Kimber drew back into the shadows and the man unconsciously followed him, coming out into the corridor.
“What—“ he began again when the pilot moved. Both his dark hands closed, about the other’s throat, cutting off voice and breath.
Dard caught the hands clawing at Kimber’s hold and together they dragged the struggling captive through the archway into the dimly lighted inner court.
“Either you come quietly,” Kimber hissed, “or you don’t come at all. Make your choice quick.”
The struggles ceased as Kimber pulled him on.
“Why try to take him?” Dard wanted to know.
Kimber’s grin was no longer pleasant, it was closer to a wolfish snarl. “Insurance,” he returned concisely. “We aren’t out of this place yet. Now move!” He gave the captive a vicious shove, keeping one hand clamped on the nape of the other’s neck, as the three moved on toward the outer door and freedom.
6: FIVE DAYS—FORTY-FIVE MINUTES
A GRILLE of bars and metal wire was down across the entrance of the outer court. When they reached it their captive snickered. He had snapped out of his first panic- surprise, and though he was quite helpless in Kimber’s hands, the voice with which he asked a question now was entirely self-possessed.
“How do you propose to get past this?”
The pilot met that demand almost jauntily. “I suppose that this is equipped with a time lock?”
The Laurel Wearer did not reply to that, he had a second demand: “Who are you?”
“What if I should say a rebel?”
But that was the wrong answer. The man’s lips thinned to a single cruel line.
“So-“ his half-whisper was soft but it promised deadly reprisals, “Lossler dares this, does he? Lossler!”
But Kimber had no time for that. He shoved the captive into Dard’s ready hands before he applied a black disc to the grille’s lock. There was a crackle, a shower of spitting sparks. Then Kimber struck the barrier with his shoulder and it yielded. Taking the prisoner with them, they went out into the freedom of the night.
The town was in darkness, a dark broken only by a scattering of street lights. The full moon picked out light and shadow in vivid black and white across the snow on roofs and yards.
“March!” Kimber pushed the captive before him in the direction of the ‘copter park. Dard trotted behind, nervously alert, not yet daring to believe that they had been successful.
Before they came onto the crumbling concrete of the takeoff Kimber had instructions for the Laurel Wearer.
“We’re going to take a ‘copter,” he explained—bored—as if he were discussing a dull report. “and, once we do that, we shall have no more use for you, understand? It remains entirely up to you in what condition you shall be left behind—“
“And you can tell Lossler from me,” the words came slowly, ground out one by one between teeth set close together, “that he is not going to get away with this!”
“Only we are getting away with it, aren’t we? Now step right ahead—we are all friends—in case there is a guard on duty . You shall see us off and we will trouble you no more.
“But why?” protested the other. “What did you want here?”
“What did we want? That is a minor problem and you shall have all the rest of the night to solve it—if you can. Now, where’s the guard?”
When the man made no answer Kimber’s hand moved and brought a gasp of pain from the captive.
“Where—is—the—guard?” repeated the pilot, his patience iced by frigid promise of worse things to come.
“Three guards—gate and patrol—“ came the gritted return.
“Excellent. Try to answer more promptly next time. You shall escort us through the gate. We are being sent by you on a special mission.”
Just as Dard saw the black and white coat at the entrance the command snapped out:
“Halt!”
Kimber obediently brought their procession of three to a stop.
“Speak your piece,” he whispered.
“Pax, brother.”
Dard was alert-waiting for some warning to that sentry. But Kimber must have taken precautions, for the voice of the Laurel Wearer sounded natural.
“Laurel Wearer Dawson on special business of the Company—“
The guard saluted. “Pass, Noble Dawson!”
Dard closed in on the heels of Kimber and Dawson with all the military bearing he could muster. He held the pose until they were passing along the row of idle ‘copters. Then Kimber spoke to his fellow conspirator.
“There’s the little matter of fuel. Climb into that baby and check the reading on the top dial in the row directly before the control stick. If it registers between forty and sixty—sing out. If it doesn’t, we’ll have to try the next.”
Dard crawled into the seat and found the light button. Between-between forty and sixty! White figures danced crazily until he forced his nerves under control. “Fifty- three,” he called out softly.
What Kimber intended to do with Dawson Dard never learned. For, at the moment, the Laurel Wearer gave a sudden heave, throwing himself down and trying to drag the pilot with him. At the same time he shouted, and that cry must have carried not only across the field, but into the Temple as well.
Dard hurled himself at the door of the ‘copter. But before he could get out he saw an arm rise and fall in a deadly blow. A second scream for help was cut off in the middle and the pilot jumped for the machine. Dard found himself face down while the pilot scrambled over him to the controls. The ‘copter lurched, the open door banging until Kimber was able to pull it to. They were airborne, and not a moment too soon as the whip crack of a shot testified.
The boy pulled up on the seat, trying to see behind them. Was that another ‘copter rising? Or would they have more of a start before pursuit would be on their tail?
“Couldn’t expect our luck to last forever,” Kimber murmured. “How about it, kid? Do they have anything up yet? Evasive action right now would be tough.”
There was an ominous wink of red light now in the sky.
“Some one’s coming up—wing lights showing.”
“Wing lights, eh? Well, well, well. aren’t we both the forgetful boys though.” Kimber’s hand went out to snap down a small lever.
From the corner of his eye Dard saw their own tell-tale wing-tip gleams disappear. But the pursuer made no move to shut his off—or else he did not care if he betrayed his position.
“I have now only one question,” the pilot continued half to himself. “Who is Lossler and why did our dear friend back there expect trouble from him? A split within the ranks of Pax—it smells like that. Too bad we didn’t know about this Lossler complication sooner.”
“Would such a split make any difference in your plans?”
“No, but we could have had a lot more fun these past few months. And playing one group against the other might have paid off. Like tonight—this Lossler may take the blame for us, and no one will come nosing around the Cleft for the crucial time we have left here. What the–!”
Kimber’s body strained forward, he was suddenly intent upon the dials before him. Then he reached out to rap smartly on the very indicator he had told Dard to check before they had taken the ‘copter. The needle behind the cracked glass remained as stationary its if it were painted across the numbers it half obscured. A line drew Kimber’s brows together. Again he struck the glass, trying to jar loose the needle. Then he settled back in the seat.
“Dear me,” he might have been remarking on the brightness of the night, “now we do have a problem. How much fuel? Is the tank full part full, or deuced near empty? I thought this was all a little too smooth. Now we may have to—“
The smooth purr of the motor caught in a cough, and then picked up beat again. But Kimber shrugged resignedly.
“It is now not a question of ‘may have to,’ that cough was a promise that we are going to walk. How about our friend behind?”