Read Online Montezuma Strip by Alan Dean Foster - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Alan Dean Foster
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easy.
But it wasn’t easy, it wasn’t easy at all.
“You so much as twitch the wrong way, Federale, andshe’ll be sorry.” The flashman was grinning at something only he found amusing. “You should’ve stayed in bed, man.”
No hurry. No emergency. Not yet. He moved off to his right. “Why’d you have to kill my dog?”
He didn’t get the response he expected. The flashman let out a short, sharp laugh. “Hey, that’s funny! You don’t know why
it’s funny, do you? I’ll tell you later, after I’m through here. Or maybe I’ll let her tell you.” He glanced quickly at the
screen, not giving Cardenas any time. “Got to be an end to this damn tunnel soon.”
“All I have to do,” Cardenas said softly, “is shout, and Security’ll be down on you like bad news.”
Again the unhealthy, relaxed laugh, a corrugated giggle. “Sure they would, but you won’t shout.” He held something up so Cardenas
could see it.
A Scrambler. Military model, banned for private use. Of course, banning was only a legal term. It didn’t keep things from
falling into the hands of people who wanted to have them. When everything else failed the police used less powerful versions
of the same device to subdue juice addicts who outgrabed. It put them down fast but it didn’t do permanent damage. Fourth
world military types used powered-up models for less reputable purposes. The flashlight-shaped device scrambled nerve endings.
The federale issue paralyzed. The military model could break down neurons beyond hope of surgical repair. In hand-to-hand
combat it was much more efficient than a knife or bayonet and a lot easier to use. You didn’t have to penetrate. All you had
to do was make contact.
“Go ahead and shout, if you want to.” The flashman calmly touched the Scrambler to Hypatia’s exposed left breast.
She thrashed. Hard, but not hard enough to break the secrylic. She whined loud enough to penetrate the slightly porous gag.
The flashman showed the Scrambler to Cardenas again, ignoring the heavy, gasping form beneath him.
“See here? No safety. A simple modification.” Cardenas bit down on his lower lip hard enough to draw blood but he kept his
hands at his sides, his feet motionless. “You shout,you move funny, and I’ll shove this between her legs. Maybe it won’t kill her, but she won’t care.”
“I won’t shout.” Only practice enabled him to reply calmly, quietly. His fingers were bunched into fists, the nails digging
into the flesh of his palms.
“That’s a good little sponger.”
“How long?”
Again the grin. “Since Crescent vacuumed himself. Since the investigation started.” He looked ceilingward, toward the low-key
incandescents. “One bulb up there’s got an extra filament. Records and holds. Can’t broadcast each pickup. Security would
track it. Just a five-second high-speed burst when a receive-only passes outside the door. Me. Just enough range to clear
the room. Not real noticeable, if you know what I mean. I walk by once a day, stop long enough to sneeze, move on. Hardly
suspicious. Then playback at normal speed when I’m home. Nothing very entertaining until you showed up.”
“You’ve been monitoring her place, too.”
The flashman chuckled. “Sure now. You think I knew she’d be coming here tonight via e.s.p.? Expected you to snore on. Been
getting some custom design work of your own?”
He took a step forward. The flashman lowered the Scrambler slightly. Cardenas saw Hypatia’s eyes widen, her body tense.
“Ah-ah. Don’t want to make me nervous, Federale.” Cardenas took back the step, his expression bland, screaming inside. “Glad
you started pushing your hypothesis here, man. I would’ve been in a world of hurt if you’d started down this tunnel over at
Parabas. Guess I’m just lucky.”
“What do you want?”
“Don’t games me. I want whatever’s at the end of this tunnel. A subox, resonance, miracle crunch.
But it wasn’t easy, it wasn’t easy at all.
“You so much as twitch the wrong way, Federale, andshe’ll be sorry.” The flashman was grinning at something only he found amusing. “You should’ve stayed in bed, man.”
No hurry. No emergency. Not yet. He moved off to his right. “Why’d you have to kill my dog?”
He didn’t get the response he expected. The flashman let out a short, sharp laugh. “Hey, that’s funny! You don’t know why
it’s funny, do you? I’ll tell you later, after I’m through here. Or maybe I’ll let her tell you.” He glanced quickly at the
screen, not giving Cardenas any time. “Got to be an end to this damn tunnel soon.”
“All I have to do,” Cardenas said softly, “is shout, and Security’ll be down on you like bad news.”
Again the unhealthy, relaxed laugh, a corrugated giggle. “Sure they would, but you won’t shout.” He held something up so Cardenas
could see it.
A Scrambler. Military model, banned for private use. Of course, banning was only a legal term. It didn’t keep things from
falling into the hands of people who wanted to have them. When everything else failed the police used less powerful versions
of the same device to subdue juice addicts who outgrabed. It put them down fast but it didn’t do permanent damage. Fourth
world military types used powered-up models for less reputable purposes. The flashlight-shaped device scrambled nerve endings.
The federale issue paralyzed. The military model could break down neurons beyond hope of surgical repair. In hand-to-hand
combat it was much more efficient than a knife or bayonet and a lot easier to use. You didn’t have to penetrate. All you had
to do was make contact.
“Go ahead and shout, if you want to.” The flashman calmly touched the Scrambler to Hypatia’s exposed left breast.
She thrashed. Hard, but not hard enough to break the secrylic. She whined loud enough to penetrate the slightly porous gag.
The flashman showed the Scrambler to Cardenas again, ignoring the heavy, gasping form beneath him.
“See here? No safety. A simple modification.” Cardenas bit down on his lower lip hard enough to draw blood but he kept his
hands at his sides, his feet motionless. “You shout,you move funny, and I’ll shove this between her legs. Maybe it won’t kill her, but she won’t care.”
“I won’t shout.” Only practice enabled him to reply calmly, quietly. His fingers were bunched into fists, the nails digging
into the flesh of his palms.
“That’s a good little sponger.”
“How long?”
Again the grin. “Since Crescent vacuumed himself. Since the investigation started.” He looked ceilingward, toward the low-key
incandescents. “One bulb up there’s got an extra filament. Records and holds. Can’t broadcast each pickup. Security would
track it. Just a five-second high-speed burst when a receive-only passes outside the door. Me. Just enough range to clear
the room. Not real noticeable, if you know what I mean. I walk by once a day, stop long enough to sneeze, move on. Hardly
suspicious. Then playback at normal speed when I’m home. Nothing very entertaining until you showed up.”
“You’ve been monitoring her place, too.”
The flashman chuckled. “Sure now. You think I knew she’d be coming here tonight via e.s.p.? Expected you to snore on. Been
getting some custom design work of your own?”
He took a step forward. The flashman lowered the Scrambler slightly. Cardenas saw Hypatia’s eyes widen, her body tense.
“Ah-ah. Don’t want to make me nervous, Federale.” Cardenas took back the step, his expression bland, screaming inside. “Glad
you started pushing your hypothesis here, man. I would’ve been in a world of hurt if you’d started down this tunnel over at
Parabas. Guess I’m just lucky.”
“What do you want?”
“Don’t games me. I want whatever’s at the end of this tunnel. A subox, resonance, miracle crunch.
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