Universe Twister - Keith Laumer [103]
"I'll level wit' youse," Clutch said. "These boys ain't no cops. And they ain't got what you'd call a whole lot o' inhibitions. If they catch us, what they'll hand us won't be no subpoena."
"Look," Lafayette said quickly, "we'll turn back, and explain that the whole thing was a misunderstanding—"
"Maybe you like the idea o' being fed to the fish, yer worship, but not me," Clutch stated. "And we got the little lady to think of, too. Them boys is a long time between gals."
"Don't waste breath," Lafayette said. "Save it for rowing."
"If I row any harder, the oars'll bust," Clutch said. "Sound like they're gaining on us, Cull. Looks like I'll have to lighten ship."
"Good idea," Lafayette agreed. "What can we throw overboard?"
"Well, there ain't no loose gear to jettison; and I got to stick wit' the craft in order to I should row. And naturally we can't toss the little lady over the side, except as a last resort, like. So I guess that leaves you, chum."
"Me?" Lafayette echoed. "Look here, Clutch—I'm the one who hired you, remember? You can't be serious—"
"Afraid so, Mac." The big man shipped oars, dusted his hands, and turned on his bench.
"But—who's going to pay you, if I'm in the lake?" O'Leary temporized, retreating to the farthermost angle of the bows.
"Yeah—there is that," Clutch agreed, stroking his Gibralterlike chin. "Maybe you better hand over the poke first."
"Not a chance. If I go, it goes!"
"Well—I guess we ain't got room to like scuffle. So—since youse want to be petty about it, I'll just have to collect double from the little lady." Clutch rose in a smooth lunge, one massive arm reaching for Lafayette. The latter ducked under the closing hand and launched himself in a headfirst dive at the other's midriff, instead crashed into a brick wall that had suddenly replaced it. As he clawed at the floorboards, he was dimly aware of a swishing sound, a solid thud! as of a mallet striking a tent stake, followed a moment later by a marine earthquake which tossed the boat like a juggler's egg. A faceful of icy water brought him upright, striking out gamely.
"Easy, Lafe," Swinehild called. "I clipped him with the oar and he landed on his chin. Damn near swamped us. We better get him over the side fast."
Lafayette focused his eyes with difficulty, made out the inert form of the giant draped face down across the gunwale, one oak-root arm trailing in the water.
"We . . . we can't do that," Lafayette gasped. "He's unconscious; he'd drown." He took the oar from her, groped his way to the rower's bench, thrust Clutch's elephantine leg aside, dipped in, and pulled—
The oar snapped with a sharp report, sending Lafayette in a forward dive into the scuppers.
"I guess I swung it too hard," Swinehild said regretfully. "It's all that skillet-work done it."
Lafayette scrabbled back to the bench, ignoring the shooting pains in his head, neck, eyeballs, and elsewhere. "I'll have to scull with one oar," he panted. "Which direction?"
"Dunno," Swinehild said. "But I guess it don't matter much. Look."
O'Leary followed her pointing finger. A ghostly white patch, roughly triangular in shape, loomed off the port bow, rushing toward them out of the dense fog.
"It's a sailboat," Lafayette gasped as the pursuer hove into full view, cleaving the mist. He could see half a dozen men crouched on the deck of the vessel. They raised a shout as they saw the drifting rowboat, changed course to sweep up alongside. Lafayette shattered the remaining oar over the head of the first of the borders to leap the rail, before an iceberg he had failed to notice until that moment fell on him, burying him under a hundred tons of boulders and frozen mammoth bones . . .
O'Leary regained consciousness standing on his face in half an inch of iced cabbage broth with a temple gong echoing in his skull. The floor under him was rising up and up and over in a never-ending loop-the-loop, but when he attempted to clutch for support he discovered that both arms had been lopped off at the shoulder. He worked his legs, succeeded in