The Kalispell Run Page 8

  Napoleon draped his left arm across the gladiator’s broad shoulders.

  “You, dear Spartacus,” he said, “I can promise a prize more precious than any sword, a treasure comparable to the fabled Helen of Troy.”

  “What are you talking about?” Spartacus demanded.

  Napoleon’s grin seemed to stretch from ear to ear. “I am referring to Jenny.”

  Spartacus appeared stunned.

  Napleon laughed. “What? You thought I wouldn’t recall how you vied for her affection? How you tried to persuade her to like you instead of Blade?” Napoleon paused. “Let’s see. Wasn’t it when you were in your late teens? I never did understand why you wasted your time on her. Everyone knew she loved Blade, and had loved him since childhood. And, like me, everyone saw how she rudely rejected your sincere devotion and preferred that musclebound lout. I must confess, women have always been something of a mystery to me. They are so illogical, so… strange. Don’t you agree?”

  “How could Jenny love me?” Spartacus finally found his voice.

  “Ahhhh. I never promised she would love you.” Napoleon shook his head. “I simply emphasize, with Blade out of the way, Jenny would be, shall we say, available to the first man wanting to claim her. Do you get my drift?”

  Spartacus stroked his square chin, pondering the implications of Napoleon’s words. “Jenny. Mine?”

  “If you want her.” Napoleon beamed.

  “You mean,” Spartacus said slowly, comprehension dawning, “just take her?”

  “With Blade dead,” Napoleon responded, “who could stop you?”

  “You think the Family will just stand by and do nothing?” Seiko interjected.

  “The Family are sheep!” Napoleon snapped contemptuously. “Except for the Warriors, of course.”

  “And what about the Warriors?” Seiko inquired. “What about Omega Triad and Beta Triad?”

  “Follow me on this,” Napoleon said. “If we remove Plato from his position of leadership, the Elders will have lost their authority figure, their conduit of command. By eliminating Blade, Geronimo, and Hickok, we have disposed of our primary opposition, Alpha Triad.”

  “Hickok won’t be easy,” Spartacus mentioned.

  “Let me finish,” Napoleon urged. “After Seiko disposes of Rikki, Beta Triad will be leaderless. Omega Triad will be the only other Triad still intact, and like the majority of the Family they’ll be confused by our takeover, uncertain of what to do. Remember, in the century since Kurt Carpenter founded the Home, this has never happened before. The Family will be like headless birds, flopping around with no sense of direction.

  We’ll tell them there was a plot, that Plato, with the complicity of Alpha Triad, planned to turn the Home over to the Watchers…”

  Spartacus waved his hands in the air. “Hold the fort! Are you crazy, or what? The Family may be sheep, but they’re not stupid. They’d never buy that bull in a million years!”

  “I agree,” Seiko chipped in. “I’m surprised you would concoct such a stupid plan.”

  Napoleon sighed and turned away from them, gazing at the distant western wall. He didn’t want them to see the look of triumph on his face.

  The fools! Seiko and Spartacus were as gullible as the rest of the Family, and so easy to manipulate. Of course he told them an idiotic scheme! He wanted them to reject it, so they would the more readily embrace his real scenario. A true leader of men knew how best to utilize psychology to its maximum advantage. He faced them, frowning, his shoulders slumped.

  “Well, if you feel that way about it, let me propose another idea. Tell me if you like this one.”

  “Just so it’s better than the first,” Spartacus remarked.

  “Okay. Point out any flaws,” Napoleon told them. “The entire Family knows about the saboteur, the one who tried to blow up the SEAL.”

  “The one Blade killed,” Seiko elaborated. “Right before Alpha Triad departed for the Twin Cities.”

  “Exactly. No one knows where the saboteur came from, but the speculation is he was a Watcher, sent to destroy the Family’s only mode of transportation. Correct?”

  “That’s what everyone thinks,” Spartacus acknowledged.

  “So,” Napoleon said, winking at them, “what’s to prevent these same Watchers from sending an assassin into the Home?”

  “An assassin?” Spartacus repeated.

  “Of course! An assassin sent to murder our leaders in the dark of the night.” Napoleon grinned.

  “I get it!” Seiko exclaimed. “If Plato and Rikki are killed in their sleep, we could blame an assassin seen escaping over the wall. Everyone would assume the Watchers did it, and we would be off the hook.”

  “Precisely,” Napoleon nodded. “Now, according to the instructions Kurt Carpenter left us, who assumes leadership of the Family in an emergency, in a time of crisis?”

  “The Warriors,” Spartacus answered.

  “Specifically?” Napoleon goaded him.

  “The head of the Warriors,” Spartacus clarified.

  Napoleon rubbed his palms together, a devilish gleam in his eyes. “And, if Plato and Rikki are murdered by the assassin, and with Alpha Triad absent, who is next in line to become leader in a crisis?”

  Spartacus extended the fingers on his left hand as he listed the chain of command. “Let’s see. Plato comes first, and if something happens to him, Alpha Triad is in charge in emergencies, and if they were put out of commission, Rikki, as Beta Triad head, would be next…”

  “And if something happened to Rikki?” Napoleon goaded him.

  “Then the next in line would be…” Spartacus glanced up, smiling.

  “You.”

  “All nice and legal. What do you think?” Napoleon asked them.

  “It’s brilliant,” Seiko commented.

  “With Alpha Triad gone,” Spartacus detailed, “and if we—sorry, I meant the assassin—kills Plato and Rikki, you would have every right to become official Family Leader.”

  “Official Family Leader,” Napoleon nodded, savoring the sound of his new title.

  “This proposal has merit,” Seiko said, complimenting Napoleon.

  “Will you go along with me on this?” Napoleon earnestly asked.

  “It would enable me to settle my score with Rikki-Tikki-Tavi,” Seiko mentioned. “At the same time, I would finally acquire the katana, the only legitimate weapon for a true samauri.” He paused, mulling his decision.

  Come on, you buffoon! Napoleon was on the verge of achieving a victory years in the shaping, and he could scarcely contain his impatience.

  “You can rely on me,” Seiko finally stated.

  “Good!” Napoleon stepped over to Seiko and gave him a friendly pat on the back. “I am delighted!”

  “But what about Spartacus?” Seiko asked.

  “Yes indeed.” Napoleon faced the third member of Gamma Triad.

  “What about you, Spartacus? Will you join us: Spartacus, his hands hooked in his belt, idly poked a small bush with his right foot. “I don’t know…” He was wavering.

  Damn your bones! Not now! Napoleon inwardly seethed at this seeming reversal of his master plan. Outwardly, he smiled. “You don’t want Jenny?” he inquired politely.

  “You know I do,” Spartacus replied.

  “Then what’s the problem?” Napoleon queried him.

  “It’s a big step. If we’re caught…”

  “We won’t be caught,” Napoleon hastily interrupted.

  “You can’t guarantee that,” Spartacus noted.

  “Spartacus, Spartacus, Spartacus,” Napoleon said in a paternal tone.

  “What am I to do with you?” He placed his arms behind his back and began pacing, talking as he walked. “For years I have tried to convince you that I could do a better job of leading the Family than Plato, bless his poor, inept soul. I have tried to reason with you, to explain the necessity for the Family to reach out, to attain broader horizons. The Family can’t stay cooped up in the Home for its entir
e existence. We are at a critical point in Family history. A new form of leadership is called for. Bold, imaginative, aggressive leadership such as you well know I can supply.”

  Napoleon shook his head and sighed. “And still you refuse, still you balk. Why? Don’t you want to see the Family assumes its rightful position of dominance in the world today? Don’t you want to be a part of all this?”

  “Of course I do,” Spartacus responded.

  “Then what’s the problem?” Napoleon demanded again.

  “I feel guilty,” Spartacus admitted, “like I’m betraying my trust, betraying the Family.”

  “How can you be betraying the Family if you are helping to lead them to bigger and better things?” Napoleon asked, pressing him.

  “But what about Plato and Rikki?” Spartacus asked.

  Napoleon stopped his pacing. “Progress,” he stated somberly, “demands sacrifice. Study your history.”

  “Rikki won’t be easy,” Spartacus said, nitpicking.

  “You said the same thing about Hickok,” Napoleon noted. “Believe me, they’re only men, just like us. They’re no harder to kill than anyone else.

  Don’t worry about Rikki. We’re going to get some assistance there. We may not even need the assassin alibi.”

  “What type of assistance?” Seiko curiously inquired.

  “The newcomer Tyson,” Napoleon answered. “I’ll explain once I’m certain we can count on him.”

  Tyson? Involved with this horrible plot? Cindy couldn’t believe her own ears! She wanted to jump up and run, to race to Rikki and reveal all the sordid details, but she held herself in check. Napoleon would probably murder her on the spot. Besides, if Tyson were somehow caught up in this scheme, she had to learn to what extent and how best to extricate him before he found himself in serious trouble.

  “I guess I’ll just have to trust you,” Spartacus was stating. “You can count me in.”

  “Good!” Napoleon almost leaped for joy. At long, long last! The fruition of his cherished ambition was within his grasp! To become Family Leader was a necessary goal, but it was only the first step in his grand design.

  Thanks to the information supplied by the Alpha Triad, he knew the Family possessed more raw firepower than most other groups and occupied communities. If directed by a capable military mind, the Family’s arsenal could be utilized most effectively in subduing any opposition. The Watchers might pose a problem, but Napoleon suspected they might be amenable to a mutually beneficial truce. If the Watchers hadn’t wiped out the Family by now, there could only be one logical reason; they simply weren’t strong enough to conquer the Family in pitched warfare. The Watchers would welcome a treaty of peace, and leave him free to prosecute his strategy for reorganizing the pitiful remnants of society still functioning in a world scarred by a nuclear holocaust. What the world needed was someone with vision, someone capable of recharting the course human destiny should take.

  Someone, Napoleon knew, like himself.

  As he so often did, Napoleon grinned at the thought of his pet motto, one conceived during his turbulent teen years after he had repeatedly approached the Family Elders with his concepts for improving Family life and after his grandoise ideas had been constantly rejected. Today the Family, tomorrow the world!

  Chapter Nine

  He abruptly became conscious, wishing he hadn’t. His head was sore, his temples throbbing. He had the impression of being carried. And, somewhere close, someone was whistling.

  Whistling?

  Blade opened his eyes and squinted in the morning sun. He realized his arms were tied behind his back.

  “Welcome back, yes? Sleep good, no?”

  His assailant was effortlessly toting him across a barren field, one arm under his knees and the other around his shoulders.

  “Put me down!” Blade ordered.

  The creature chuckled. “You make Gremlin laugh.”

  Blade took stock of his situation. His weapons were gone. “Where are my Bowies?” he demanded. “And my revolver and the Auto-Ordnance?”

  “Not needed, no. Left behind,” the thing replied.

  Damn! Unarmed, in hostile territory, and a prisoner. This day was definitely not getting off to a good start. “What if we are attacked?” Blade questioned his captor.

  “Not worry, no. Gremlin protect,” the creature responded.

  “I take it your name is Gremlin?” Blade probed.

  The thing actually grinned. “You smart, yes?”

  Blade realized the creature had a sense of humor. What else? It was incredibly strong and fast, obviously intelligent. So many questions flashed through his mind. Where to begin? “Why do you talk the way you do?”

  “Know brain, yes?” Gremlin countered Blade’s query with one of his own.

  “Do I know the brain?” Blade repeated. “A little bit. Anatomy wasn’t my primary study, but we had to learn the nervous system, pressure points, kill zones, and the like. Why?”

  Gremlin glanced at Blade and frowned. “Warrior training, yes?”

  Blade involuntarily attempted to straighten, surprised at the creature’s knowledge of his Family status.

  Gremlin stopped and looked around. A patch of grass to their right arrested his attention, and he crossed to the roughly circular area and gently deposited Blade on the ground. “We stop, yes? Walked all night.”

  He remained standing, alert for any potential threats.

  “How do you know I’m a Warrior?” Blade demanded, perplexed.

  “Doktor tell, yes?” Gremlin answered.

  “Who is this Doktor? You mentioned him before,” Blade noted.

  “You meet soon, yes?” Gremlin chuckled. “Wish you hadn’t.”

  “Well,” Blade pressed the creature, “how does this Doktor know so much about me?”

  “Doktor know everything,” Gremlin informed him.

  “But how?” Blade asked.

  “Learn soon, yes,” Gremlin replied.

  This was getting him nowhere! Blade returned to his original question.

  “You still haven’t told me why you talk the way you do. Does it have something to do with the brain?”

  Gremlin’s features seemed to soften, to sadden. He nodded. “Brain control words, yes? Part of brain kaput!”

  “Part of your brain has been damaged?” Blade requested clarification.

  Gremlin shook his head, one corner of his mouth slanted downward.

  “Damaged, no. Gone, yes.”

  “How could part of your brain be gone?” Blade asked skeptically.

  Gremlin’s jaw muscles tightened. “Doktor.”

  Blade struggled to a sitting position. “The Doktor removed part of your brain? Why?”

  Gremlin avoided looking into Blade’s eyes. “Experiment.”

  Blade’s mind was racing. What was going on here? What type of physician experimented on the brains of… Wait a minute! Inspiration struck. “Gremlin, what are you? Where are you from?”

  “From, Doktor, yes? Understand, no?” Gremlin angrily glared at Blade.

  “Enough talk, yes? Rest!”

  “Just answer one more thing for me,” Blade said, taking advantage of the creature’s loquacity and apparent friendliness. “You could have killed me and didn’t. You said I would meet this Doktor soon. Is that where you’re taking me? To the Doktor?”

  Gremlin nodded. “Doktor say take alive, yes?”

  “Where is the Doktor, Gremlin?”

  The creature pointed to the southeast. “Citadel.”

  “You’re taking me to the Cheyenne Citadel?”

  Again, Gremlin nodded.

  No! He couldn’t allow it to happen! He had to get back to Geronimo and the SEAL.

  “Rest!” Gremlin ordered.

  “One more question,” Blade said, refusing to comply. “You said this Doktor knows everything, that he knows I’m a Warrior. How could…”

  Blade paused, his memory stirring. Deja vu. When Alpha Triad had made the run to Thief River Falls
and fought with the mysterious Watchers, they had learned that the Watchers evidently knew all about the Family and the Warriors. For weeks afterward, they had engaged in futile speculation, debating possible methods the Watchers could have employed to gain their familiarity with the Family. Was there a spy in the Family? Were the Watchers mind-readers?

  Was the answer staring him in the face? Was there a connection, Blade wondered, between the good Doktor and the Watchers? Only one way to find out.

  “Gremlin.” Blade nudged the creature’s left ankle with his right moccasin. “Have you ever heard of the Watchers?”

  Gremlin grinned at his prisoner. “Yes.”

  “Are the Watchers and the Doktor related in any way?” Blade inquired hopefully.

  “All the same, yes?”

  “How do they know so much about everything?”

  Gremlin gazed skyward. “Spy in the sky, yes?” He glanced at Blade.

  “And parabolic ears, yes? Understand?”

  Blade shook his head, confused.

  “Rest!” Gremlin directed. “Talk more later.”

  “But…” Blade began.

  “Rest!” Gremlin curtly cut him off. “Now!”

  Blade shrugged and reclined on the grass. What was he to make of all this new information? The Watchers and the Doktor were related in some respect. Did the Watchers hail from the Citadel? Was the Doktor the head of the Watchers, or simply part of their organization? What in the world was a spy in the sky and a parabolic ear? Was Gremlin deliberately speaking in riddles? Each answer received created dozens of new questions and only compounded the overall picture, producing additional uncertainties.

  Of one thing he could be certain, though.

  He was positive his wrists were bound by stout rope, and no matter how firm a rope might be, if it was worked on long enough, pulled and stretched and tugged at every opportunity, any rope would eventually slacken. Surreptitiously, during his conversation with the creature, he’d applied his powerful arm muscles to work on the rope.