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He thought about just waltzing into the pub above, but for all he knew
Socrates had described him, and the whole town was watching for him. He was
still in camouflage and armed with an Uzi not your typical Ptolemaist out for
a nightcap.
Instead, Mac went by what Chloe and Hannah had told him of the place and
stayed in the shadows, coming the far way around, slipping in the back door
and into the tiny bathroom. The pub was full and noisy, and that was to his
advantage. He locked the door, tried not to inhale deeply, and scrubbed the
grease from his face.
Mac didn't look much cleaner in the dingy mirror, and he was struck by the
fatigue showing around his eyes. Some night, he thought, end we've just
started.
Mac studied the pipes. They ran straight down through the floor, probably just
a few feet from George and who knew how many local believers huddled in the
back room of the laundry. He sat on the floor and used an Uzi clip to tap in
Morse code on the pipe.
"Seeking friend from S. D."
He repeated the message twice more.
Finally, return taps. Mac had nothing to write with, so he had to remember
each letter. "Need assurance."
Mac responded: "Amazing Grace."
The reply: "More."
He tapped out: "Let's go home."
Back came: "Favorite angel?"
That was easy. And only a compatriot would know that. "Michael."
"Welcome. Hurry."
Mac turned out the light before he opened the door, saw no curious eyes, and
hurried down the stairs. He heard a "Psst" from the back room and ducked
through the curtain, only to look down the barrels of two Uzis in the dim
light.
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A young, dark haired man appeared ready to shoot. "Let me see your hands."
Mac raised them, his own Uzi supplied from that very room dangling from. his
arm.
"Is that him?" the young man asked.
"Could be," George said.
"If it's not," Mac said, "how do I know you're Costas ? "
Then he realized why George had to be waffling and
whipped off his glasses. "I used to work for Carpathia, i
man! The freckles had to go and the hair color had to
change. "
"That's him," George said, stepping forward to embrace Mac.
Several others mostly men, all ages and all armed emerged from under piles of
clothing. Only three women were there one meddle aged, one elderly, and one in
her
late teens. The first introduced herself as Costas's j
mother, Mrs. P. The older said, "My husband is K's
cousin."
A thin, wiry man who looked to be in his late seventies
i
said, "That would be me."
George pointed at the teenager. "This one answered Elena's ehone a little
while ago. Despite a very bad connection and a lot of static, she assured her
partners I was still safely locked away."
"Nice to meet you," the girl said, adding the staticky sound as she spoke and
causing the others to smile.
"Excellent work," Mac said. "Now, brothers and sisters, we have no tune. There
is a massive manhunt for me, and it won't be long before they find out Elena
is dead and their prisoner gone. I
have two compatriots on foot. K's cousin, are you also a Kronos.
"I am, sir."
"Are you the one who lent your truck to the cause?"
He nodded solemnly.
"And is that truck available?"
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"Two blocks from here."
"I want to buy it." Mac pulled a huge wad of Nicks from a packet below his
knee.
"No, no, not necessary."
"Actually it is, because by the end of the night, it will be well known to the
GC and you will be unable to be seen in it again."
"I do not reed the money."
"does the Co op? the underground?"
"Yes," Mrs. Pappas said, and she stepped forward to take it.
"Tell me about the truck.. Four wheel drive?"
"Yes. But not new, not fast. Five speed manual transmission, very heavy and
powerful."
"As soon as I connect with my other two team members, George and
I will take the truck and pick them up. The GC expects us to head for the
Ptolemais airport, but that's a suicide run. We have a plane at an abandoned
strip eighty miles west of here. If we can head that way without attracting
attention, that's where you'll find the truck tomorrow. If we draw a tail,
pretend you never saw that truck."
"I want to come," Castas said.
"I'm sorry, no. Unless you are going all the way to America with us, there
would be no way for you to help us and to also escape."
"But I "
"tee will accept all the ammunition you can spare. I would say if we leave
now, our chances are only about fifty fifty. Agree, George?"
"No, sir. I think that's optimistic. But I agree it's our only option and that
we need to go now."
Mrs. P. held up a hand. "There is nothing wrong with working while someone is
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