The Amtrak Wars - Ironmaster Part 66

dali-dee dali-dee dee-dee dali-dee dee-dee. she knelt to pray..."

A bulky figure eased itself off the wall ahead of him. It was Kelso.

'Hi."

Steve stopped just beyond the reach of the big Tracker.

Kelso had treated him with grudging camaraderie ever since his hop over the wall, but Jodi had been with them.

Now that they were on their own there was no telling which way it might go. 'Haven't heard anyone sing that song in a long time,' he said.

Kelso responded with a dry laugh. 'Not many people know it. Trouble is, I keep forgetting the words." He hummed a few bars. 'How does the last bit go?"

'The mission bells told me, I couldn't stay -' Kelso chimed in, 'South of the border, down Mexico way... Yeah, that's it."

The song, and the exchange of half-remembered lines was one of the secret signals AMEXICO operatives employed to announce their presence to any fellow mexicans who happened to be around. Steve fingered the back of his ear, pressing on the tiny, implanted transceiver but there was no response to his Morse-coded call-sign. There was always the possibility that Kelso had heard the routine at one time or another but even so . . .

Watch your step, Stevie . . .

Kelso, his arms folded, moved closer to Steve and laid his right shoulder against the wall. 'I hear you're not planning on staying long either..."

'Who told you that?"

Kaz."

'Oh, yeah?"

'Yeah. I've been reading you wrong, Brickman. I had you figured for a lump-sucker, but you're all right. You did well today."

'It wasn't any big deal. Any True Blue could've done it."

'Don't bulls.h.i.+t me, Brickman. Modesty doesn't become you."

Steve let it pa.s.s.

'These crates we're building. If a guy knew which way to head, he could go a long way in one of those things."

'Depends on where he was aiming for..."

'Yeah, well, the first thing is to get the h.e.l.l out of here - then work out the rest later."

'You're probably right,' said Steve. 'Just how much did Jodi tell you?"

'Just how much does she know?"

'Come on, Dave. You can do better than that."

'She told me someone was leaning on your kin-sister, that you been sent to pick up a couple of badhats, and

*.. that she's going back in with you."

'And how d'you feel about that?"

'Life in the Big Open ain't all it's cracked up to be.

This deal you promised her. D'you really think you can swing that?"

'Yeah, I'm sure I can. She's already saved my life once. You helped her, remember? That's why you're both here."

'Don't worry. I hadn't forgotten." Kelso hesitated, then said: 'Could you get the same deal for me?"

Steve found it hard to read the Tracker's face in the darkness. 'Don't see why not. But are you sure that's what you want?"

'Listen. If Kaz is happy to throw in with you, then I'd like to come along too."

'Glad to hear it." Steve wasn't at all sure whether he could really trust Kelso but - as a long-gone American President once said when challenged for giving a troublesome opponent a plum post in the White House it was better to have him inside the tent p.i.s.sing out, than have him on the outside, p.i.s.sing in.

He offered his hand to the renegade. 'Welcome aboard."

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

As the month neared its end, Cadillac had every reason to feel satisfied. The Tracker workforce, a.s.sisted by a newly drafted batch of Vietnamese craftsmen, had put in long hours to convert and complete the first twelve aircraft. Four had sustained varying degrees of damage during the initial training period, but these had been quickly repaired and put back into service.

Of the twelve samurai selected as potential pilots, eight were judged to possess the necessary apt.i.tude to complete the intensive four-week training course that was to culminate in rocket-powered formation aerobatics. By the end of the third week, it became clear that only five of the eight had the degree of co-ordination required to perform as a team. The other three had reached a satisfactory level of competence but lacked that indefinable extra something which, in another age, had been called 'the right stuff'. Thanks to the efforts of Kazan and Kelso, his co-instructors, the five top students had reached a remarkably high standard and were now rehearsing the exhibition routine that he and Steve had worked out.

Dozens of gardeners aided by gangs of Mutes were busy tidying up the landscape. A brand-new access road now linked the highway to the eastern side of the flying field where a hundred Korean craftsmen were building a wooden grandstand with boxes at the front for the two domain-lords and the other top VIPs and several tiers of benches for those of inferior rank.

The euphoria generated by the achievements of all concerned and the preparations for what was obviously going to be a major spectacle - of which he was the princ.i.p.al architect - swept away Cadillac's doubts about his future prospects. If all went well, it could signal the

beginning of a new, and even more glorious, stage in his career.

Looking back on what had been accomplished in the last few weeks made the notion that his services might be dispensed with seem totally absurd. He should never have revealed his temporary feelings of insecurity.

But had he not done so, the fair-haired Tracker would not have been so forthcoming about his plans to escape.

Yes. Only one cloud marred an otherwise dazzling horizon: Brickman.

What the stones had foretold was coming true. Sooner or later Brickman would carry Clearwater away to the dark world beneath the deserts of the south. And many would die. Cadillac did not fear for his own life. Mr Snow, who spoke with the Sky Voices, had a.s.sured him that he and Clearwater would both live. For he was to be the sword and she the s.h.i.+eld of Talisman.

The meaning of Mr Snow's words was unclear, but in any case it referred to some future event. What concerned Cadillac was the here and now.

The cloud warrior's presence had disinterred the crus.h.i.+ng sense of guilt he had tried so hard to bury. His betrayal of Mr Snow's trust, his indifference to Clearwater's present fate and the abandonment of his duty towards the clan M'Call were the main reasons why he sought nightly oblivion with the aid of sake.

Yes, guilt was one element of his present unease but the root cause was envy - generated by his own reaction at having to measure up to and work with his rival. A rival who did not even bother to compete; whose sense of superiority was so crus.h.i.+ng he cheerfully accepted the demeaning role of a Mute slave, tackling the menial tasks he was given with the same enthusiasm he brought to solving a knotty problem of aerodynamics. What made it worse was knowing that he could not have got this far without Brickman's shrewd counsel and unflagging cooperation.

The realisation that he was still not the equal of the cloud warrior increased Cadillac's smouldering resentment. But it was worse than that. He needed Brickman. His presence acted as a spur; made him sharper, helped his own brain to function better. But to be dependent on someone you could not trust was both foolish and dangerous.

Cadillac cursed himself for not denouncing Brickman at the very beginning. It was now too late, and he doubted whether he could ever have done it. He already had too many betrayals on his conscience.