"And that, Colonel Fletcher," Diana told him, "is what makes your cooperation so valuable. I think Our Leader can get along very well with a man like you."
Chapter 13
A wheeled medical cot had been placed in the center of the conversion chamber. Sean, naked and relaxed, lay on the cot. They had done it this way instead of making him stand up during the process because Juliet Parrish, Barbara, Arnold, and the other conversion technicians had wanted to reduce tensions in the boy, not increase them.
Strange lights from overhead played on the small figure. But they were soothing lights, not the wild, frightening flashes Juliet remembered. At the controls the technicians were feeding thoughts directly into Sean's mind, amplifying his memories of his father's love and care, easing his conflicts over betraying the rebels' false plans to Steven.
"It's slippery," Arnold said, fine-tuning a dial. "The effects of conversion are so recent, so spurious, that I can't get hold of them securely enough to counter them directly."
"If anything even starts to go wrong," Julie said nervously, "we stop at once."
The technicians bent to their delicate task. On the cot in the chamber; Sean whimpered softly.
Three hours north of Los Angeles, on the long road to Sacramento, the rebel caravan of vans pulled over to the side to
change drivers. The pause lasted only five minutes, then they were on their way again.
In one of the vans, Grace Delaney listened to the communicator, using earphones so that the other rebels with her could rest. Mike Donovan stretched out on the seat beside her, ready to catch a moment's sleep, when she prodded him gently.
"It's Martin," she said. "Governor Riggsbee has just been brought down."
"How is he doing?" Mike asked softly.
Grace whispered into her microphone. "Weak," she said after listening for a moment, "but game. He'll be coming up as soon as he can."
"I hope he makes it," Mike said.
"I'm more concerned about Chris," Alice Reynolds said from the back of the van. "I know he and Gorf are friends, but I just don't trust that motorcycle gang."
"What choice do we have?" Mike asked. "Besides, they came through for us before."
The lights in the conversion chamber went out one by one. And one by one the exhausted technicians sat back in their chairs. On the cot, Sean stretched once and sat up.
"How do you feel?" Juliet Parrish asked him through the communicator.
"Just fine," Sean said. "Those were pretty good dreams."
"I'm glad you enjoyed them," Arnold said as a technician entered the chamber, carrying a robe to cover Sean's nakedness.
"I did, but I'm glad they're over. Is Josh around?"
"He's with the other children," Victoria said. "Shall I call him?"
"Yes, please, and tell him to bring his mitt. I'd like to play some catch."
He stared at them in surprised confusion as everybody cheered.
Spotlights at the corners of the governor's mansion lit the surrounding grounds in the predawn darkness. At Sidney
Carvelle's suggestion, the rebels had secured a house from which they could observe the mansion easily. Police patrolled the grounds, but there had been little public disturbance up here, and they had little cause for alarm.
From a third-story window, Carvelle was pointing out key locations to Mike Donovan and Robert Maxwell, while Ham Tyler coordinated what they saw with the rough sketch map Carvelle had prepared earlier. There was no way their small force could just occupy the place. The mansion was too large and complex, and there were too many police as well as contingents of National Guardsmen close by. They were going to have to make a quick raid, search only those rooms in which Carvelle thought Diana might be staying, and then get out again.
They were interrupted when one of the rebels let in a large man wearing black leather pants and a leather vest and with greasy hair down to his shoulders.
"Are you Smiley?" Ham asked, looking up from his map.
"Yeah, and you're the Fixer. Chris says hello." He reached out a hand darkened with motorcycle oil, and Ham shook it.
"What do you have in the way of weapons," Mike asked, coming over from the window.
"Not much—a few pistols, small stuff."
"Can you get him something?" Mike asked Ham.
"Not at this late date," Ham said. "How come Chris didn't find you guns?"
"We decided not to be too obvious," Smiley said. "We've got our plan all worked out, and only need to know time and place."
"You've got a radio?"
"Chris has it."
"Then we'll let you know, but it will be within the next hour or so. Carvelle?"
The older man came over to the table and was introduced.
"Show Smiley where you want his boys to be," Ham told him.
"Okay," Carvelle said, took the sketch map, and went with the biker to the window to point out the place he'd chosen.
"Is that it, then?" Ham asked Mike.
"I think so. Robert, anything more you want to add?"
"Nothing. Let's start getting into position. There's just enough traffic out there that we're going to have to move one at a time."
"All right," Ham said. "If everybody knows what they're supposed to do, let's get moving."
The sky was just turning pink. The police officers stationed in front of the mansion had another hour yet before change of duty. It had been a dull night as usual, and they were bored.
Then a grubby biker driving a chopped hog that had only glass packs for mufflers drove up the far side of the street, stopped, and turned his bike so he was facing the mansion. He didn't turn off the machine. He just sat there, occasionally revving the engine.
One of the policemen walked to the edge of the grounds and shouted across the street at the biker. "What do you want?" he said. "Move along."
But the biker just sat there. Another biker, this one dressed in denims with fringes, came up from the other end of the street but also on the far side, and parked his bike next to the first. He too just sat there, staring at the mansion, occasionally revving his engine.
Two other officers joined the first. After exchanging glances, they drew their sidearms. "You'd better get moving," the first officer said.
"Shooting unarmed people now?" the second biker asked. His hands were on the handlebars. He was wearing no gun.
The officers, not quite sure what to do, just stood there as two more bikers in black leather came up, one from either side, and turned their bikes parallel to the first two. They too repeatedly revved their engines, and after a moment all four were revving in unison.
One of the officers went toward the mansion to summon a superior while several others, hearing the noise, came from either side of the building. Two more bikers joined the group across the street and sat there, watching, smiling, just twisting the throttles on their handlebars.
"You're going to have to move along," the first officer shouted above the noise.
"It's a public street," one of the bikers called back. "And we're public," another one added.
The sergeant, summoned by the officer, came out of the mansion just as four more bikers, two from either direction, came to take their places beside the first group.
"What's going on out here?" the sergeant called.
"We just came to look," the original biker said. "Curious about the place where all those stupid bulletins are coming from."
"You're causing a public disturbance," the sergeant shouted. "Now, either you move along or I'm going to have to call in reinforcements."
In response, four more bikers roared up, taking up positions near the ends of the block. The sergeant backed off a pace, looking from one sardonic grin to another. Behind him, policemen from the far side of the building were gathering, guns drawn, ready for they knew not what.
"Somebody call the National Guard," the sergeant said.
As if that were the cue they'd been waiting for; all the bikers burst into motion, roaring across th
e street and onto the grounds, swerving to dodge the police's fire and running an occasional officer down. For a few moments there was total chaos. The police were afraid to fire lest they hit one of their own officers. The bikers, gunning their engines hard and swerving wildly, tore up the lawn roaring through the frantic and dodging police.
And just as suddenly, the whole gang turned almost in unison and sped off, weaving to avoid being shot. The police, rattled by the sudden and bizarre attack, were less than effective. No cyclists fell.
When the rebels heard the rhythmic revving of motorcycle engines change to a constant roar, they leapt from their hiding places behind the mansion and ran toward the now unguarded rear entrance. The door was locked, but Carvelle had his key out, and within half a minute, they were all inside with the door shut behind them.
Quickly they moved past the kitchens and staff offices toward the main part of the building. There were no police inside. They had all gone out to join in the melee, the noise of which was clearly audible. Following the plan they had rehearsed, they rushed up the main stairs to the second floor and started going into the rooms, one of which, they hoped, would contain Diana.
The few sleepy staff, awakened by the noise, were quickly silenced and locked away, though some of them recognized Mike Donovan and grinned encouragement at him. But though the rebels found Lieutenant Governor Simon and his wife sitting up terrified in bed, there was no sign of Diana.
"Try the third floor," Carvelle said as they heard the bikers riding furiously away.
Ham Tyler, Grace Delaney, and Thomas Lee ran up the back stairs while the others kept silent, hoping to put off discovery for yet a few moments longer. After what seemed like an eternity, Lee came back to the head of the stairs.
"She was here, I think," he said, "but it looks like they left sometime last night."
"They couldn't have known we were coming," Robert Maxwell said. "The police would have been ready for us if they had."
The front door opened downstairs. Mike and Sancho Gomez looked over the railing to the foyer below and saw a slightly battered police officer going toward one of the side offices.
"Just a matter of seconds," Mike whispered. "We're not going to get out without a fight."
"I think the cavalry just came," Elias Taylor said. He was standing by a window at the front of the building, from which he could see the police slowly regaining order on the tom-up lawn below. Sidney Carvelle came to join him.
Out in the street, a big Lincoln limousine was drawn up to the curb right in front of the entrance. Half a dozen state highway patrol cycles stood propped nearby. The other rebels came forward to see the chauffeur get out and open the back door The mansion police had stopped their activity and were watching too as first a nurse, then a man in a three-piece suit got out. They turned to the car door and helped another man from the back seat.
"It's Riggsbee," Carvelle said. "The cavalry indeed, and ours to boot."
Riggsbee straightened, leaning on the nurse and the man for support. As he stepped away from the car, the figure of Caleb Taylor emerged, dressed like a normal civilian for a change^ but still carrying his sidearm.
Riggsbee spoke to the mansion police. The rebels couldn't hear what he was saying, but the sergeant saluted sharply while the highway patrol closed in around the Governor, the nurse, Caleb, and the other man, and escorted them to the door.
They heard the front doors open below them."All right, Mr. Donovan," they heard Riggsbee call. His voice was determined but weak because of his illness. "No need to shoot. I'm on your side."
Chapter 14
It was a strange party in the main parlor of the governor's mansion. The Governor, his doctor and nurse, and three highway patrolmen sat or stood at one end of the room. At the other end were Mike Donovan, Ham Tyler, Robert Maxwell, and several other rebels. To one side was the Lieutenant Governor, half dressed, and the sergeant and two officers of the mansion guard.
"I want you to know," Governor Riggsbee said, "that I am very grateful for all you have done, Mr. Donovan." He looked at a very confused Dennis Simon. "I have been assured by people on the Visitors' ship," he went on, "that unlike my friend here, my mind has not been tampered with."
"Can you give us any proof of that?" Ham asked suspiciously.
"No, I cannot, but when I spoke with Martin at the plant where all the human captives are being revived, he told me to give you a message which might lend some credence to my words in general. You have a son, Mr. Donovan?"
"Yes," Mike said hesitantly.
"His name is Sean, I believe. Miss Parrish, working with a Visitor named Arnold—" He hesitated until Mike nodded recognition of the name. "Miss Parrish sends word that Sean likes baseball again."
"Oh, my God!" Mike said, his voice breaking. He turned away, covering his face with his hands.
"I don't know what that means," Riggsbee said, "but I see that you do."
"It means they've figured out how to reverse the conversion process," Robert Maxwell explained.
"Ah, then there's hope for us yet," Riggsbee said. "I'm very glad to hear that, considering all I've heard during these last few very long hours. Well, Mr. Donovan, do you trust me?"
"Yes," Mike answered, turning back and struggling to regain his composure.
"Very good," Riggsbee said. "Then with your permission, I will resume my position here. Martin has been good enough to entrust me with one of your communicators, which is following in another car. As soon as it arrives—and I get a little rest— I will establish contact with your people at the plant and begin to contact people I can trust in the state government. Mr. Simon has thoughtfully left us in a state of martial law, so I should have no difficulty—once I know who I can trust—reestablishing order again. Only this time, it will be human order, not Visitor order."
"An awful lot of those Visitors are our friends now," Robert said.
"I know that, and I appreciate their sacrifice. But until we know that our world is truly safe, no Visitor is going to be left where they will have any chance of influencing people in authority. Except of course, the suspension plant and your ship."
"This is all well and good," Ham said, "but restoring you to office, Mr. Riggsbee, was not our primary intention."
"I'm aware of that. It's just a most fortuitous side benefit. So, then, have you found our true enemy, this Diana?"
"No," Mike said, "she was here but now she's gone."
Mike Donovan turned to the police sergeant who was standing behind Simon's chair. "We're pretty sure Diana was here," he said. "Did you see her?" "No, sir. I was on duty from ten o'clock last night. I'm pretty sure I'd recognize her if I saw her."
"Mr. Simon," Mike said, "she was here, wasn't she?"
"Ah, yes, yes, she was. She was here yesterday. I know because I spoke with her, uh, about, uh—"
"All right," Ham Tyler said. "So where is she now?"
"I don't know. She and her friends had rooms on the third floor. Aren't they there?"
"If this," Governor Riggsbee said, "is how covertees act when their leashes are cut, then we are in serious trouble indeed." Simon stared at him. "Dammit, Dennis," Riggsbee said. "You were a competent man once."
"It's not his fault," Mike said.
"I know, but I depended on Mr. Simon for a lot, and without his help, I'm not sure I'll be able to handle the job alone."
"We can find somebody for you," Ham said. "But right now, the real question is, where's Diana?"
"Maybe she and her friends left before Sergeant Binkley came on duty," Riggsbee suggested, looking up at the parlor door where Chris Faber was quietly slipping in.
"No way," Chris said. "My biker friends were watching this place since about noon yesterday."
"Well, then," Ham said, "who did leave here, and when?"
"That Colonel Fletcher," Chris said. "He and his staff marched out around midnight."
"Yes," Simon said. "I'd forgotten about him." He seemed to be trying to think, to clear his memory.
"Fletcher, Broad-bent, Casey, and Garret."
"That's four," Chris said. "There were five in his group, according to Smiley. The colonel, a majoi; a captain, a lieutenant, and a sergeant."
"There was no sergeant here," Simon said, "except for police sergeants, of course."
"How much you want to bet Diana was that sergeant?" Robert asked.
"No takers," Mike said. "It had to be her" He turned to the Lieutenant Governor. "But you said she had some friends with her?"
"Yes, three Visitors, a man and two women. The man's face looked funny, wrinkled like."
The police sergeant suddenly looked guilty.
"We let three of the cleaning staff out at four this morning," he said. "One of them was a man with a strangely wrinkled face."
"Goddamn it," Tyler swore, "they can't have known we were coming."
"I don't think they did," Mike said. "I think they had some other plan of their own."
"But why would she want to leave?" Robert Maxwell asked. "She was in control here. Everything was going her way."
"Not quite everything," Sergeant Binkley said. "Most of the staff didn't like her much."
"If I were her," Governor Riggsbee said, "I'd want to be in my own office. That's why I came all the way up here from Los Angeles."
"The ship?" Mike asked. "But she does't have a shuttle."
"There were three shuttles at the suspension plant when we left," Riggsbee's doctor said. "They'd been parked there for quite some time."
"And over eight thousand helpless human hostages inside the plant," the nurse said, her eyes wide.
"And a tame colonel," Ham added, "who has access to National Guard armaments."
"And there's practically nobody left at the plant to defend it," Robert said.
"All right," Ham shouted, "you get the picture. Let's get a move on!"
They were half an hour out of Sacramento before Grace Delaney remembered that she could call the ship from her communicator. Her message was terse and to the point—they needed a shuttle, now, and told them to home in on her signal.
V03 - The Pursuit of Diana Page 17
