“Bogie on the stage,” I whispered, my warning carried to my men over the transponder embedded in my jaw. “Move in — now!” Reflexively, I shoved through the crowd, placing myself between the assassin and my emperor, knocking Napoleon VI to the floor in the process, interrupting the speech in mid-sentence. The gasps of those around him went unnoticed by me; my whole attention was focused on the poison-tipped blade that glinted in the bright spotlight bathing the podium.
Seeing me blocking his way, the assassin took a step back to size me up, dropping into a crouch and grasping the blade to his side in a style that marked him as a highly trained killer. Those standing around us drew back; a woman screamed at the sight of the blade.
I swallowed, wishing the Emperor had kept his praetorian guards around him instead of ordering them to remain at the sides of the stage where they were now helpless to do anything quickly enough to stop the attack. They were pushing through the crowd, but not making great headway, and it would be too late by the time they got here for them to offer me any help.
“Commander, it’s going to be a few seconds before we can get to you,” the voice of my nearest assistant whispered over the radio.
I made no reply; I knew I was on my own for the next few critical seconds.
A lot can happen in a few seconds, especially when your opponent has a wicked looking dagger in his hand.
I blocked everything out, focusing on my opponent. The crowd was too dense for me to risk drawing my pistol; a stray shot would be disastrous. That meant I’d have to disarm the assassin with my bare hands, or at least slow him down enough so the guards and my men could be on top of him.
Suddenly his blade darted toward my chest.
I sidestepped, my hands reflexively grasping for the killer’s knife hand. For a moment I almost succeeded in restraining my adversary, but then the assassin changed the direction of his thrust, circling around for a jab at my chest. There was a momentary thump of the point of the weapon against my breast, and then the attacker broke away, circling for a follow-up jab.
I circled, keeping myself between the assassin and the emperor.
Now that he knows about my ballistic vest, he’ll try for my groin or face
. I instinctively raised my right hand to my throat and lowered my left in front of him, keeping my feet spread so I could move quickly without loosing my balance.
The assassin lunged forward, arm extended as far as it would reach. I swung to the side, the blade slashing past my neck, missing fatal contact by just an inch. I grasped the assassin’s wrist before he delivered a follow-up backward slash. For a moment my fingers failed to gain purchase on his silk sleeve — and then I had a secure grip, tight around his wrist and lower hand.
“Got you,” I whispered, throwing my weight to the side before the assassin could twist his hand free for another thrust. I swung my opponent’s wrist to the side, jerking back hard as my foe’s arm crossed my chest. My action was rewarded with the dull snap of the killer’s elbow.
His arm suddenly useless, the assassin exploited an ancient Judo move, throwing himself backward, using my strength against me. The two of us tumbled toward the floor; the crowd surrounding us scrambling to avoid the deadly blade skidding across the stage.
As we hit the floor, I leveraged our momentum to roll once, landing on top of the assassin, pinning his face to the floor while restraining the man’s good arm. I pulled back my fist to deliver a blow that would knock the man unconscious and then felt him convulsing in my grasp.
Too late.
The killer’s flushed cheek and the convulsions rippling through his body betrayed the first stages of cyanide poisoning.
I released the killer, swearing under my breath as I rose to my feet. “This one’s taken the dose,” I whispered to those on the security band.
“
Loupé
?” my assistant asked over the radio.
“Looks like it. Probably ingested the poison just before mounting his attack.” I pulled my gaze from the killer whose death spasms racked his frame. “Everyone stay alert. There’re probably more.” There always were; the
Loupé
operated in packs.
My eyes darted around the stage, the electronic circuits tied into my brain scanning faces for a match with known terrorists.
There!
I warned myself as a positive ID flashed inside my brain, causing a red outline to superimpose itself over the image of a man half hidden in the crowd at the front of the stage. I caught the man’s eyes just before the would-be killer turned and leaped into the crowd below, trying to lose himself in the now confused throng.
“Another bogy traveling down the center aisle in front of the stage,” I said into my radio, pushing a spider-legged news camera out of the way to follow the criminal. I could leave the Emperor because his praetorian guards had finally reached the stage, surrounding him with cold steel and Kevlar, their guns at the ready. “He’s headed for the south entrance,” I added as he turned down a row that was now empty.
I mentally switched the frequency of my radio to the band the guards at the south entrance used. “Stop the man in the green velvet suit — he’s headed your way. Use your swords.” I ordered.
I hoped the guards would have the good sense not to shoot; with as many people as there were on the stage and throughout the packed auditorium, a single stray shot would cause a disaster. It was good the emperor insisted on arming the
noblesse d’épée
both with pulse rifles as well as out-dated swords.
I leaped from the stage and for a moment the lone
Loupé
was lost from my view. I ran toward the south entrance and spied him again; the guards had managed to cut off his retreat from the room. The assassin paced between them and me like a caged animal. Then he stopped, took two steps toward me, and froze.
The guards spread out, ceremonial swords in hand, half encircling the criminal while taking care to stay out of reach of the dagger pulled from his vest. Seeing he was trapped, the assassin’s eyes locked with mine as I approached.
He stood at attention and saluted me with his dagger and for a moment I though he might surrender. But instead, with a grim smile, he plunged the blade into his throat, tumbling to the floor where he writhed for a few moments as a pool of blood quickly formed around him.
“Back to your posts,” I ordered the guards who ringed the fallen assassin. “There may be more assassins in the crowd.”
The guards retreated to take up their positions at the exits of the hallway. I searched the crowd for another would-be killer, even though I knew my effort would now most likely be futile. If there had been others, they would have managed to escape back into the anonymity of the crowd by now. As I scanned the faces on the stage, I spoke over the radio band reserved for my men. “Anyone else got any positive IDs?”
“Negative, commander,” one of my men said over the radio link. “We can’t see any more from the catwalk. Shall we seal off the hall?”
“No,” I answered. “But re-activate the smart cameras at the exits. We might get lucky and ID more
Loupé
when they leave.”
“Should we search the crowd for weapons?” the voice of one of my new men asked over the radio.
I suppressed a smile at the thought of strip-searching the
noblesse de robe
gathered in the hall. “Not today,” I said. “I want to be employed tomorrow even if you don’t. Besides, the
Loupé
would have dropped their weapons by now. When the janitors sweep out the hall, I’m betting they’ll find four or five plastic daggers that were sneaked through the metal detectors. But that’s the only thing we’ll have to show how many more there were. For now everyone get back to positions.”
I headed back down the aisle toward the stage. “Mike?”
“Yes, commander.”
“Get a clean-up crew down here to cart off the bodies. But have the crew wait until the lights are low and everyone’s attention is on the new generator.”
“The crew’s already on their way, commander. I’ll tell them to be discreet.”
I climbed back onto the stage and crossed to the emperor. The guards parted so I could reach the monarch. “Sorry I had to shove you aside, Excellency.”
The old man smiled. “A fall is better than a blade through the ribs any day. The weapon was poisoned?”
I nodded. “One pin prick and…
au revoir
. “
“Suicide killer, from the look of it.”
I nodded again. “I hope you weren’t injured, your majesty. Perhaps we should have a doctor —”
“Nonsense,” the Emperor said. “I’m fine.” He leaned forward and whispered, “We owe you and your men a great debt of gratitude for what you did today, commander. I will speak with you later.” Then the ruler tapped his microphone on his lapel, turning it back on and spoke calmly as he shooed his praetorian guards to the side. “
Mesdames et Messieurs
. If I may have your attention, please.”
The crowd on the floor quieted as Napoleon VI returned to the front of the stage. “Well,” the emperor said, gazing over the now silent throng in front of him. He paused for a moment, his eyes flashing in the spotlight that focused on him. “Now that the formalities are out of the way, we can continue.”
The crowd burst into laughter, and then applauded wildly.
The emperor held up his hand to quiet them. “We can’t let an ill-guided malcontent stop the opening of France’s new generation system, can we?”
“No!” the crowd shouted.
I smiled to myself.
The Emperor still knows how to turn a major debacle into a political plus.
Ralph Crocker
I crashed through the brush behind Alice, cursing the heavy armor I wore. While the weight of the suit was no problem — my body in SupeR-Gs is always strong and healthy, nearly tireless — the armor seemed to pinch my crotch with each step. Worse, the plates clanked with each step and clanged whenever a branch brushed against a steel surface, betraying our progress to the Jabberwocky.
Pushing a branch out of the way with a steel-encased paw, I continued down the path a few more steps, then decided that I should at least give Alice a chance to escape by no longer tagging along behind her. So when we came to a fork in the path, I took the route to the right after seeing her head toward the left. I jogged forward, continuing to make a loud din that I hoped the Jabberwocky would follow.
After going a short distance, I plowed off the path into the thick vegetation. After traveling several yards, I hid behind a knurled oak tree, trying to restrain my panting less I give myself and the Dormouse, who still was riding in my helmet, away.
I hoped that if I could remain quiet and hidden long enough, perhaps the Jabberwocky would trudge past us and lose our trail.
I then discovered that staying quiet might not be an option, because my tiny companion had a mouth inversely proportional to his stature.
“Beware the Jabberwock, my son,” the Dormouse cried, his voice echoing in my empty helmet where he now stood on hind paws, reciting the poem that seemed to have driven him insane.
“Shhhh,” I hissed. “Do you want to get eaten?”
The Dormouse’s beady eyes glowed in the dim light coming through the thick canopy of leaves above us. “But it’s such a wondrous poem,” he whispered.
“No doubt,” I said. “But now’s not the time for a theatrical recital. Just go back to sleep or something. Can you do that?”
He nodded his head and then curled up inside my helmet, pretending to sleep.
I turned my attention from him toward the crashing that ominously approached. For a moment I wondered if Alice had continued on by herself down the other pathway. What if she had doubled back looking for us?
Then I forgot all about her, because of the thrashing of a mammoth beast headed my way.
With a shock I also realized I had no idea what a Jabberwocky looked like. But I knew that soon I would learn — the hard way. Whatever came down the path was obviously very, very large, and definitely tracking me. Trees shook and brush was torn asunder as the monster approached.
Fourteen heart thumps later, a giant pine was swept aside and there was the Jabberwocky in all his terrible glory. The sunlight, raining down through the opening in the canopy of trees, glistened on the behemoth’s hide giving it the appearance of an obscene saint rather than the lizardy creature it was.
Peering through a screen of bush, my eyes were drawn to its killer jaws lined with razor-sharp teeth that glinted in the light. I noted its forelegs, held in the air like hands, with claws the size of daggers. Two leathery wings sprang from its back to complete the nightmare, wings that must have been more for looks than flying, since it was doubtful that they could ever lift the tonnage they were connected to.
I ducked back behind the tree as the Jabberwocky continued down the path toward us; in just a moment it was alongside our hiding place in the foliage.
Where it stopped.
And sniffed.
I listened to its breath swishing in and out of massive lungs. The moist air it exhaled condensed in the cool of the glen, spawning clouds of steam that drifted toward my hiding place as if searching me out. Abruptly it quit breathing and I knew it was listening, waiting for some sign of where I was. I closed my eyes and held my breath.
I don’t know whether it was our scent, or simply a lucky guess, but the creature stepped off the pathway precisely where we had, and headed toward us, twigs snapping like dry bones beneath its feet. Its huge lungs scooped up air again and within moments the steam from its nostrils streamed on either side of the tree I hid behind, drifting down to engulf me in a thick, foul-smelling fog.
I stood paralyzed, hoping the monster would somehow fail to detect me. Then the creature leaned against the oak and the massive tree groaned against the weight, a large branch crashing to the ground beside me.
Now would be a nice time for the jet to wear off, I thought, reaching down to the spot where I usually carried my pistol — and discovering nothing on my belt but a pouch of coins. Oh, well. A pistol wasn’t going to cut it with the behemoth anyway. Even an elephant gun would have been pressed to do the job.