The Human Blend - Alan Dean Foster [115]
“Actually, you can. Rest, that is.”
Holding the blunt and brutal short-barreled twin-triggered flurry out in front of him, Napun Molé descended soundlessly from the accessway’s last step and into the cabin.
16
“Please keep your hands where I can see them. Please do not move any more than is necessary to breathe.” Molé gestured with the flurry. The weapon was lightweight, big-mouthed, and lethal. “I would just as soon not kill anybody.”
“We are in agreement.” Sitting up stiffly in his enveloping chair, Wizwang stared fixedly at the newcomer. “Who are you, old man, and how did you get past my security?”
“My name is not important and often confusing to those who do not know me. Since you will not have the opportunity to know me, you will not be unnecessarily confused. As to your security—what a funny-looking little Meld you are!—I suppose it qualifies as sophisticated for this backwater blackwater segment of a submerged state. I am used to dealing with far more elaborate defensive measures. I assure you I have on my person enough equipment to defeat everything up to and including the surveillance facilities of a small military base. That which was emplaced to safeguard one houseboat did not delay me more than a few minutes.” His attention shifted to the openmouthed Ingrid.
“Your activities, on the other hand, Dr. Seastrom, have been grounds for a good deal of irritation on my part.” With the muzzle of the weapon he gestured at Whispr, who had been looking frantically and unsuccessfully for a hatch to bolt through ever since the heavily armed oldster had entered the cabin. “Why couldn’t you simply have left this sorry individual alone, or treated him and sent him on his way? Had you done that you could now be back home in your comfortable codo in Savannah relaxing in the midst of a mindless entertainment vit while, as most women of your age, pondering whether or not you are teetering on the biological cusp of sacrificing family for career.” He shook his head sadly. “Instead you are here, where I may unwillingly resolve that conundrum for you by blowing your head off.”
She had thought herself inured to the imagined dangers presented by possession of the thread. Proof that she was wrong was doubly confirmed; by the shaking of her body that began in the pit of her stomach and spread to her arms, and by the trickle of warm liquid that had commenced running down her left leg. Trembling visibly, she looked to her left. Her partner, her companion, her advisor, Whispr was paying no attention to her. If she expected him to leap to her defense, either physically or verbally, she was plainly badly mistaken.
Only Gator’s voice remained unshaken. “There’s no need for slaughter. You yourself just said you’d rather not kill anybody. Tell us what you want and we’ll give it to you. If it’s money I can …”
The old man almost came close to smiling, though the eventual expression was far less pleasant. “Oh please, don’t insult me. Would anyone, especially someone my age, go to all this trouble and come to this stinky hot place in search of mere lucre? If robbery is what was on my mind I would have set to work in Miavana, where there are actually things worth stealing.”
“If not money, then what?” Whispr felt he had to ask the question even though he was sure he already knew the answer.
“I don’t mind heat, but the humidity in this part of the world really is appalling.” The intruder returned his unblinking gaze to the shivering Ingrid. “In concert with another revolting Meld, the stick-insect standing alongside you killed a courier and stole from him something that belongs to my employers. The courier’s death is of no consequence. What was taken is very much of consequence. He brought the stolen item to you. My employers want it back.” Once again he gestured with the murderous flurry. “This will conclude much more pleasantly for everyone if you simply hand it over to me.”
Ingrid swallowed. Quite to her surprise she heard herself saying, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.