The Silencers

"But that's different. That's… unfortunately, it is an essential step towards saving thousands of other lives, maybe millions. This is just cold-blooded murder!"

"Now you are simply playing with words," Wegma

"Well, I-"

"I had you arrange for one delay. It was necessary in order to get them out there precisely today. But another delay would have been fatal to our plans. You know that. Why did you try to talk Dr. Re

Naldi licked his lips nervously. Then, abruptly, he drew himself up and squared his shoulders. He spoke firmly, "Because I thought in another week it might be safe for them to make the shot. At least the risk would be much smaller; my instruments show that conditions are rapidly becoming much less critical. I thought, if I could get the old fool to hold off another week, just a few more days, we wouldn't have to go through with this terrible-"

"Naldi," said Wegma

"All right, Mrs. Hendricks," Wegma

Gail stared at him in a stu

Wegma

Three men here, I thought, one in the tower with a rifle and Wegma

Ahead of me, Gail slipped to one knee, then picked herself up again awkwardly. Her bound wrists looked unreal and theatrical. The thing up in the tower looked phony, too, like something in a science-fiction movie. I paused under the church tower and looked up. From this angle, I couldn't see the rifleman, but the gadget itself was clearly visible.

"Nervous little beast, isn't it?" I said, with a backward glance at Wegma

"It is only seeking now," he replied. "When it finds what it is seeking, it will lock on and commence tracking. It will report distance, direction and speed of flight to the instruments inside the church. When a certain switch is thrown, it will also assume control. We will be able to steer the big bird towards us, or to send it away-say to a suitable target far across the valley."

"When it takes off like that," I said, "assuming that it does, won't the range officer hit his little red button and blow it up?"

"The range safety officer will undoubtedly close the destruct circuit, or try to," Wegma

"When does the show start?" I asked.

"The bird flies at ten," he said, and gestured with the gun he still held-my gun. I found myself wishing that I'd thought to sabotage it in some way before passing it to Gail, but that would have been a dead give-away if discovered. "Please keep moving," Wegma

"I read you," I said, "loud and clear."

Wegma

She stopped and waited at the door of the hut. I could feel the vibration of the machinery inside as I came up. Gail glanced at me briefly and looked away. A little color had returned to her face. She brushed snow off the knee of her pants. Wegma

"You will be comfortable in here, I hope," Wegma

There was no answer, but he signaled us forward anyway. I followed Gail inside. The windows were blacked out; the only illumination came from a forty-watt bulb on a cord attached to one of the round log rafters-vigas they are called in that country. The machinery took up half the space in the little building. Inside the place, it made a fearful racket. I looked around for the man to whom Wegma

For a moment, I saw no one. Then Wegma

"Don't play possum with me, Mr. Romero!" Wegma

The bundle of clothing stirred and revealed itself to be a rather small man in a gabardine topcoat that was liberally smeared with the dirt and grease of the floor. His black hair, rather long, hung lankly into his face which- under the dirt-was quite pale except for some spectacular bruises. He had a small, black moustache. I was looking at the man who'd tried to run us off the road up in San Agustin Pass. I was looking at the M.C. of the Club Chihuahua.

XXIV

I didn't let myself try to figure it out. One thing you learn early in the business is not to waste cerebral energy trying to solve the problems for which answers are already available at the back of the book. Our cellmate, whoever he might be, would undoubtedly tell us his sad story in due time-if we lived that long.

In the meantime, flat on my face on the dirt floor, I was busy using all the old muscle-tensing tricks to get a little slack for my ankles, which Wegma

"All right, Mrs. Hendricks," he shouted over the noise.

Gail hesitated and dropped awkwardly to her knees. Wegma

"So," he shouted. "Now, I will leave you… Oh, make no elaborate, self-sacrificing plans about sabotaging that generator as the hour approaches, Mr. Helm. There are fully charged storage batteries in reserve, adequate to operate our equipment over the critical period. Stopping this machinery will merely deprive you of light and heat in here."