“This is the mission,” Steiger said. “In case it escaped your attention, those commandos who hit you were about six inches tall. And that means the Network is involved in this thing up to their necks. Either that or we’re all trapped in a Walt Disney movie. Doctor, get the general to the hospital right away. Harris, take your detail and accompany them. You’re not to leave the general’s side for so much as a second, got me? If any medical personnel give you any grief about it, refer them to me, but he’s not to be alone under any circumstances, you got that?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Is there a doctor over there that we can trust?” Steiger asked Delaney.
“Capt. Hazen,” said Delaney.
“Yeah, I know her. I’ll call her right away and explain the situation. Hams, nobody comes near the general unless Capt. Hazen says it’s okay. Nobody. That means no nurses administering pills or drip I.V.‘s, no cafeteria workers bringing him his breakfast, no orderlies to prep him for an operation, nobody. Either Hazen clears it or they don’t get near him. Understand? If anything happens to him, it’s your ass.”
“I understand, sir.”
“God damn it, Steiger,” Forrester began, but Steiger cut him off again.
“I’m sorry, sir. My first responsibility is seeing to your welfare.”
“Forget about my welfare. I’ll be fine. You can’t leave your team shorthanded!”
“They’re not. They’ve got some very competent help.”
Chapter 7.
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Hunter thought he might be able to break the wooden chair that he was tied to and work free of his bonds, but unfortunately, there were two problems with that idea. One was that the noise of the chair breaking would be certain to alert Vincent, with his hatchet face and his razor-sharp switchblade. And if Hunter managed to break the chair, it was doubtful that he’d have enough time to slip free of his bonds before Vincent came rushing in. The second problem was that the chair might not break on the first try, and one try was all that he’d have time for. If he tipped himself forward onto his tiptoes and then fell backwards hard, smashing the chair down, it would make a lot of noise even if it didn’t break at once and he didn’t think that Vincent would give him a second chance.
Hunter wondered what in hell he had gotten himself into. Was Manelli a temporal agent? If so, then why hadn’t he simply clocked his captive to the future for interrogation? And what was he doing posing as a 20th century Mafia don? Posing, hell. he was running one of the biggest Family operations on the entire East Coast! It didn’t make any sense. The T.I.A. didn’t work that way. The only other possible explanation seemed to be that Manelli was in the Underground, but then he had said he wasn’t. “No. Not exactly,” was what he had said. Now what did that mean? Either he was or he wasn’t. And why did he seem so interested in Hunter being a deserter, a conclusion be had incorrectly jumped to and one that Hunter had seen no reason to dissuade him from. The idea of Hunter being a deserter from the Temporal Corps had definitely appealed to Manelli. And that would have made sense if Manelli was in the Underground. But then be had said he wasn’t. “No. Not exactly.” The response was maddening. Why the qualifier? It seemed to imply that he was either indirectly associated with the Underground... or perhaps with something like it. Only what?
Hunter’s mind kept going around in circles and he was getting nowhere. One thing was certain. He’d been careless and now he was in a lot of trouble. If he was going to attempt escape, he’d damn well better get it done soon, before Manelli returned with his silent, deadly looking friend in the violently flamboyant suit. The eyes on that man worried him. They weren’t evil eyes, like Vincent’s, nor were they expressionless, like the flat-dead stare of a psychotic. They were calm. Confident. Attentive. They were the eyes of a man who did not overreact or panic. The eyes of a pro. A pro with a warp disc. And, once again, that brought Hunter back to the T.I.A. and that made no sense whatsoever. Unless …
The door behind him opened.
“Well, well,” said a deep, baritone voice. “Capt. Hunter. Imagine meeting you here. “
Hunter looked up into the face of Nikolai Drakov and his heart sank. That’s it, he thought. I’m dead.
Finn Delaney remained long enough to make sure that Forrester had made it safely to the hospital and that Dr. Hazen was in attendance, with a sizeable force of heavily armed LS.O. men on the premises, then he checked out a floater pak and prepared to clock out to the past, to the co-ordinates that Gulliver had supplied them with. With Forrester out of commission, Steiger had to remain behind at headquarters and assume command.
“It never should’ve happened,” Steiger had said, after they had viewed the tapes taken from the disabled security system. They saw how the courier, “Stroud,” had smuggled the Lilliput commandos right up to the penthouse security station in his briefcase and they saw how the attack had commenced, up to the moment that the miniature assassins had knocked out the security system. Steiger was disgusted. “That son of a bitch just walked right in.”
“Well, he did have proper credentials,” said Delaney. “And no one ever expected him to be carrying an entire commando assault force in that briefcase.”
“That’s precisely the point,” Steiger had said. “We should’ve been expecting it! We’d been warned! Christ, my own brother had been killed by those little bastards and I was still asleep at the wheel!”
“You were clocked out on a mission, Creed—”
“It doesn’t, make any difference, dammit! I should’ve made sure my people were prepared! I was in command of the I.S.D.; it was my responsibility.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. Creed,” Delaney said. “What happened to Sandy wasn’t your fault. Neither was what happened to the old man. There was no warning with Sandy, no way anybody could have known. And as for the old man, we were expecting the Network to make a try for him, not Nikolai Drakov.”
“Yeah, and that’s another thing that’s got me worried,” Steiger said. “You said you actually saw Drakov die.”
Delaney nodded. “Forrester shot him point blank with a plasma gun.”
“So how the hell can he still be alive?”
Delaney shook his head. “Hell, I don’t know, Creed. But Andre saw Lucas get killed right before her eyes and he’s still alive. I’m not discounting anything. One way or another, I aim to find out the truth…
“Well, while you’re at it, keep this in mind,” said Steiger. “The Network’s got a contract out on Forrester. My brother was killed in what seemed to be a practice exercise for what just went down here. And we still don’t know who ‘Stroud’ was. His credentials were good, which suggests the possibility that he was on the inside. If it turns out that Stroud was an agency mole for the Network, then assuming Drakov is still alive and responsible for this ‘Lilliput legion,’ that means he’s working with the Network.”