by Ward Wagher
“Uh huh. And you would feel bad if he decided he didn’t want to see us anymore.”
“I honestly don’t think we have anything to worry about, Mags.”
The friends went their separate ways. Larry pushed Maggie’s wheelchair to the lab building and used his keycard to open the door. Once they were inside, he turned to make sure the door was latched.
“A bit paranoid, are we?” she asked, with a lilt in her voice.
“You betcha!”
“Since the Cambridge police cracked that Man-Free Planet group, I think our problems are over.”
“I hope you’re right,” he replied. “But, I’ve decided we need to be careful all the time. With the kind of money Arthur is predicting this stuff will generate, there’s no telling who will get greedy.”
“That’s kind of sad,” she said.
“Yeah, and it’s human nature. I don’t think anybody ever came out ahead betting against it.”
“What was that?” she interrupted, pointing down the hall.
“What?”
“I thought I saw somebody walk past the other corner of the hall.”
“Well, crud,” he said. “Wait here, Maggie.”
Larry padded down the hall quietly. He was glad he perpetually wore soft-soled shoes. When he got to the corner, he eased his head around to get a look. He saw the door to the lab finish swinging closed. He heard a noise behind him and spun around. Maggie had rolled up behind him.
“I told you to stay back,” he hissed.
“Did you see anybody?” she whispered.
“No, but I saw the lab door close.”
“I think you should call the constables,” she whispered.
“I don’t think we can wait. I don’t want to replace yet another lab.”
He stepped quietly down the short hall and held his card up to the door reader. When the lock snapped, he quickly pulled the door open and stepped into the entry. And stood there. A few moments later, she pulled up behind him.
“Who is it?” she asked quietly.
“There’s nobody in here,” he said. “I know I saw the door swinging shut.”
“Maybe whoever it was, opened the door, but then just went down the other hall,” she suggested.”
“You know how fast that door usually swings shut?”
“You’ve complained about it enough,” she replied.
“The door was closing slowly like somebody was holding it on the inside.”
“Larry, this is kind of scary. It hasn’t stopped, has it?”
“I think we need to call Arthur, again,” Larry said. “He is not going to be happy about this.”
“I’m not happy about this. But it’s got to stop, Larry. It simply has got to stop!”
“Okay, let me give Arthur a call.”
“Now, I wonder who that is,” she said as the sound of a grasshopper intruded.
Larry got up and walked over to the windows that lined one wall. “Looks like Arthur is about to pay us a visit. Great timing.”
“Oh, good,” Maggie said. “But, I really don’t want to go out and meet him at the door. He probably shouldn’t even come in here.”
“He’s got Alex and Brad with him,” Larry said.
“That helps. Maybe they can catch whoever is in the building.”
They waited for Arthur and the guards to come to the lab. And, from the front of the building he heard a female scream, “Arthur!”
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
Larry scrambled to the doorway into the lab and flung the door open. He ran down the center hallway and slid to a stop at the doors to the lobby. At first, he saw no one in the lobby. Then someone literally flew past the doorway and impacted the wall, about halfway to the ceiling. He leaned closer to the door in time to see Abby Kreitzman slide to the floor.
“Larry, what is going on?” Maggie asked as she rolled up beside him.
A large old woman marched across the room towards Abby. The young woman appeared to be stunned and tried pushing herself to a sitting position. As the old woman walked past the doors she looked to her right and was now glaring at Larry.
“There you are you little creep!” she said. “And the little vixen, too.”
She turned and moved towards the doors.
“Oooohmigod!” Larry shouted.
He grabbed the handles of Maggie’s wheelchair and started pushing her down the hallway as fast as he could.
“Larry, what is happening?” she called.
“I don’t know. I think that old woman just killed Arthur. She’s after us, now. Get ready to hit the crash-bar on the door.”
Larry’s feet were slipping on the polished floor, but he still managed something close to a dead run while pushing the wheelchair. As they neared the side door out of the building, Maggie suddenly raised both legs up and hit the crash-bar with her feet. The door slammed open against the stop, and they rolled through fast enough that it closed behind them.
Now, on the sidewalk, the traction was better, and Larry was able to approach his top speed. Once he overcame the inertia, the wheelchair was not that hard to push. He heard a crash behind them as the old woman hit the door, and then the sound of another couple of blows as the old woman attempted to get the door open. She apparently figured out the mechanism and there was another bang when she shoved it open.
Larry glanced behind them and saw the old woman launch into a bounding run after them.
“Hang on, Darling,” he yelled and summoned an additional turn of speed.
“What is happening?” she yelled back.
“I… don’t… know,” he panted. “This… is… not… good.”
A car lurched over the curb and sped across the grass, sliding sideways to a stop in front of them. Seb was driving. A window slid down.
“Get in!” he yelled.
Larry pulled open the back door. He turned and picked Maggie up and threw her into the back seat. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the old woman getting close. He slammed the door from the outside.
“Larry, get in!” Maggie screamed.
“Go, go, go!” he yelled.
Apparently, Seb needed no urging. The rear wheels spun in the grass, and the car slithered back to the street. There was a prolonged screech of tires when the car bumped over the curb and rolled onto the street. Larry turned and started running again. The old bag behind him was coming like a fast freight train, and he despaired of getting away.
He glanced over to his left as he ran and saw Mrs. Willow bounding like a deer across the green sward towards him, and she had death in her eye. A number of the students were out on the grass enjoying the afternoon and they stared open-mouthed as the old lady blew past them.
Larry had just decided he needed to change direction when the freight train hit. He felt an enormous blow in the center of his back and he was flying through the air. He landed on the sidewalk on his hands and knees. He felt and heard the crack as his wrist fractured, and then he tried to plow a furrow in the concrete with his face.
He quickly looked up again from his prone position and saw Mrs. Willow dive past him. With a heavy thud she collided with the other old woman, and the two rolled over and over several times. They both jumped back to their feet and began circling each other. A heavy rumble of thunder clove the sunny afternoon air.
“You are not going to stop me, Willow!” the other old woman grunted through clenched teeth.
“You have destroyed enough lives, Besaga,” Mrs. Willow said conversationally. “It stops here.”
“I think not.”
Lightning bolts flew between the two women as they circled one another, and the air was rent with continuous loud reports of thunder thrown off by the lightning. The students fled into the building as a heavy cloud formed and began circling over the two pugilists. Larry had a sudden memory of two old ladies getting into a knock-down drag-out fight over a single remaining package of toilet paper in a market in Cambridge. At the time, his reaction was hilarity. Now, he was si
mply terrified.
Between the peels of thunder, Larry heard the buzzing hum of propellers, and the grasshopper rose from behind the lab building. It swooped across the field and landed behind him. He glanced over at it, and Abby was motioning through the open door for him to climb in. He pushed himself to his feet with his good hand and staggered over to the grasshopper. As soon as he pulled himself aboard and closed the door, the little craft leaped into the air.
As he looked out the window at the two old women, a third stocky old woman appeared with a flash and a bang. Then a fourth. It appeared they joined Mrs. Willow in fighting the first old woman, but he couldn’t be sure. The lightning and thunder intensified. A funnel formed under the swirling clouds and descended towards the battle.
“What is going on, Larry?” Abby shouted. “Who are those people?”
“One of them is Mrs. Willow, but beyond that, I have no idea. Are you all right?”
“I think my shoulder is dislocated. That old lady in the dark dress killed Alex and Brad. Then she killed Mr. Winkleman.” She struggled to stifle a sob.
“Arthur is dead?”
“She just reached out and broke his neck.” And then, Abby did sob.
“Abby. Abby.” Larry tried to calm her down. “You need to fly the grasshopper.”
She took a deep breath. “No, you’re right. I can cry later. Where’s Maggie?”
“I don’t know. Seb drove up, and I threw her in the back seat. There wasn’t time for me to climb in.”
“We need to find them,” Abby said. “Mr. Winkleman had concerns about Seb.”
“You don’t think...”
“We don’t know,” Abby replied. “But, she may be in danger.”
“We’re all in danger.”
“What color is Seb’s car?” she asked.
“It’s purple, of all things.”
“Well, it should be easier to find.”
She pulled the grasshopper into a steep climb and leveled off at about five-thousand feet over the town. They both began scanning the streets below them, as she circled the little craft.
“I don’t see them,” he said.
“Patience, Larry,” she said. “Just keep looking.”
A cloud of dust drew his attention. A vehicle headed south away from the town, moving at a good rate of speed. He pointed to it.
“What do you think?” he asked. “I can’t see what color the car is through the dust.”
Abby swung the grasshopper around and began following the road.
“We’ve only got about thirty minutes of time left on the batteries,” she said.
“Is there anything at the airport we could use?”
“I should have thought of that,” she said.
She started to reach for the radio and cried out as she moved her shoulder.
“Here, let me help,” Larry said.
“Turn that dial to channel 43,” she said. “That’s the local frequency for the airport.”
Larry glanced out behind them and to the right. The funnel now reached to the ground where the battle raged. It was a true tornado, and debris was circling the now black colored whirlwind.
“I don’t think we want to go back there, right now,” he said.
She glanced back over her shoulder and shook her head. She keyed the button on the control stick.
“Urbana Control this is Palatinate One.”
“One, Urbana,” was the quick reply.
“Urbana, One, we are following a vehicle south of the town. Possible kidnapping. I am skosh battery. Any other air assets available?”
“Palatinate One, Urbana, wait one.”
She glanced over at Larry. “It looks like they’re on the ball today.”
He moved his arm and winced. It felt like somebody jabbed an ice pick into it. “I think my wrist is broken.”
“Palatinate One, Urbana Control.” The voice came over the speaker.
“One, Urbana, go.”
“Sinker Seven is airborne. Will vector around the storm and to your twenty.”
“Roger, Urbana,” Abby replied. “Say identity of Sinker Seven.”
“One, Urbana. Sinker Seven is a Boeing twelve-seventeen.”
“Roger, Urbana.”
She looked over at Larry. “A twelve-seventeen is a Vertol. I was afraid it would be fixed wing. You and I are in no shape to take on Seb if this is a kidnapping. Hopefully whoever is in Sinker Seven won’t be afraid to tangle with him.”
“Maggie,” Larry said.
“What?”
“Whatever am I going to do if something happens to her?”
“She’s going to be all right,” Abby said.
“Just like Arthur?”
Abby exhaled noisily. “I can’t believe she just killed him. That old bitch! If I had been carrying my gun I would have shot her.”
“Look back there, Abby,” Larry replied. “Do you think you could have stopped her with a gun?”
She glanced back, then forward again. “That’s definitely a purple car.”
“That’s him all right. I think he noticed us. He just sped up.”
“I wonder how much fuel he has,” she commented.
“He runs it on empty out of habit,” Larry said. “Says it doesn’t leak as much gas. Maybe he’ll run it dry.”
Abby looked around again. “I hope Sinker Seven gets here pretty soon. I’m going to have to set us down soon at this rate.”
Seb slowed down for a corner. As the car slid around, Larry spotted a body rolling into the ditch.
“Set it down in the road,” he said.
“What?”
“Set it down in the road, right here. She bailed out.”
“Palatinate One, Sinker Seven,” the speaker sounded. “Say location.”
“Sinker Seven, one. On the ground. Passenger bailed out. See if you can stop the purple car.”
“Roger, One.”
When Larry opened the door to climb out, he heard the sound of a turbine engine, and saw what looked like a super-sized grasshopper howl overhead. He ran towards the ditch.”
“Maggie! Maggie, are you all right?”
He saw a head appear out of the ditch. “Maggie are you okay?”
“Larry, what have you done to yourself? You’re all skinned up… and your face.”
“The old bag knocked me down on the sidewalk. I don’t think I can pick you up. My wrist is broken. Are you all right?”
“I am fine. But, once again, we can’t take you anywhere.”
In the distance, they could hear a warbling siren.
She nodded back to the north. “What’s going on back there?”
“I think the police are headed this way.”
“No, I mean with the storm,” she said.
“You wouldn’t believe it. Mrs. Willow was fighting with the other old lady. She came running across the grass. People can’t run like that. Then a couple of more old ladies appeared.”
“Where did they come from?”
“I mean, they just appeared,” he repeated. “With a loud pop. And they were throwing lightning bolts at each other, and a tornado formed above them.”
She stared at him for a long moment. “You didn’t just hit your head when you fell, did you?”
“Seriously, Mags.”
“That is some weird stuff. But something else happened,” she said.
“What was that?”
“I moved my legs.”
“Maggie, that’s amazing news.”
Abby walked over to them. “I think there’s enough juice in the machine to get us back to town.”
“I can’t pick her up,” Larry said. “And you can’t either.”
“What’s wrong with you?” Maggie asked her.
“I think my shoulder is dislocated.”
“I can slide over to the grasshopper on my bum,” Maggie said.
A police car slid around the corner and came to a stop. It took several minutes of explaining before the two police officers were confi
dent of what happened. At that time Sinker Seven swept back overhead and settled on the road. One of the officers had kept glancing at the storm. It was now dissipating and drifting towards the east. A burly man climbed down out of the Boeing and walked over.
“We stopped the purple car. We have the driver immobilized aboard the aircraft. One of my people is driving the car back.”
“May I suggest, Sir,” one of the police officers said, “that we meet back at the airport and settle this thing out?”
“That would be a very good idea.” He turned to Abby. “You would be the Paladin’s pilot, correct.”
“Yes, Sir,” she replied.
“Where is the Paladin?”
“He’s dead, Sir.”
“Oh no,” Maggie said.
The man sighed deeply. “I was afraid that would happen. Arthur always had to be personally involved in his projects. Things just got very complicated.”
“The Paladin is dead?” one of the police officers asked Abby.
“Yes, Sir. I saw it happen. That… thing, whatever it was, killed Brad and Alex, and then killed Arthur.”
She choked up. “I couldn’t stop it. It happened so fast.”
The other officer looked at Larry, who was cradling his arm. “Are you injured, Sir?”
“I think my wrist is broken.” He pointed to Abby. “And she probably has a dislocated shoulder.”
The man from the larger aircraft said, “I’ll have one of my people fly it back for you, Abby. You can ride with us.”
“Do you know him?” Larry asked.
The man turned to Larry. “My apologies. My name is Jasper Wilton. I am, or rather was a friend of Arthur Winkleman’s.” He turned to the first officer. “Very well, then, we’ll meet you at the airport. But, I want these people to have medical attention as soon as possible.”
The policeman nodded. “Of course, Sir. I think this is the easier part of the day’s problem. We are going to need to know just what happened back there,” he said, pointing back to Urbana.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
Larry looked out the window of the aircraft as it climbed out of the roadway and turned towards the east.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“We are heading to Indianapolis,” Wilton said. “With all of the strange things going on, I am not comfortable staying in Urbana until we find out what is going on.”
