Even so, he almost lost it. The tigerish beast that was charging silently over the hard rock roared when it saw him sit up and increased the lengths of its bounds and its speed. Kickaha was so surprised that he froze for a second and thus gave the animal an edge. But he did not give enough. The beamer fired just as the animal rose for its final arc, and the ray bored through its head, sliced it, cut through the neck and chest, took off part of a leg, and drilled into the rock beyond. The body struck the ground and slid into him and knocked him off his feet and rolled him over and over. He hurt in his legs and his back and chest and hands and nose when he arose. Much skin had been burned off by his scraping against the rock, and where the body of the beast had slammed into his legs was a dull pain that was to get sharper.
Nevertheless, the animal looked edible. And he thought he knew where it had come from. After he had cut off several steaks and cooked and eaten them, he would return to the northwest gate and investigate again.
The beast was about a quarter larger than a Siberian tiger, had a cat-like build, thick long fur with a tawny undercoat and pale red zigzag stripes on head and body and black stocking-like fur on the lower part of the legs and the paws. Its eyes were lemonade-yellow, and its teeth were more those of a shark’s than a cat’s.
The steaks tasted rank, but they filled him with strength. He took the Beller by the arm and dragged him the two miles to the gate. The corpse, by this time, was in a badly damaged condition. It stank even stronger when he lifted it up and threw it through the gate.
This time, it disappeared, and it was followed by a spurt of oil from the gate that would have covered him if he had been standing directly before it within a range of ten yards. Immediately after, the oily substance caught fire and burned for fifteen minutes.
Kickaha waited until long after the fire was out and then he jumped through with his beamer ready. He did not know what to expect. There might be another of the tigers waiting for him. It was evident that the first time he had thrown the Beller through it, he had set off a delaying activation which had released the beast through it some time after he had given up on it. It was a very clever and sadistic device and just the sort of thing he could expect from Red Orc. It seemed to him, however, that Red Orc might have given up setting any more machines. He would believe that it was very unlikely that anybody could have gotten this far.
For a second, he was in a small bare room with a large cage, its door open, and a black dome on three short legs. Then, he was in another room. This one was larger and was made of some hard gray metal or plastic and lacked any decoration and had no furniture except a seatless commode, a washbowl and a single faucet, and a small metal table fastened to the floor with chains.
The transition from one room to the other shocked him, although he could explain how it happened. On jumping through the hoop into this room, he had triggered a delayed gate. This, activated, had sent him into this seemingly blind-alley chamber.
The light had no visible source; it filled the room with equal intensity. It was bright enough so that he could see that there were no cracks or flaws in the walls. There was nothing to indicate a window or door. And the walls were made of sturdy stuff. The ray from the beamer, turned to full power, only warmed the wall and the air in the chamber. He turned the weapon off and looked for the source of air, if there was one.
After an extensive inspection, he determined that fresh air moved in slowly from a point just above the table top. This meant that it was being gated in through a device embedded inside the solid table top. And the air moved out through another gate that had to be embedded in the wall in an upper corner of the wall and ceiling. The gates would be operating intermittently and were set for admission only of gases.
He turned the full power of the beamer on the table top, but that was as resistant as the walls. However, unless his captor intended him to starve, he would have provided a gate through which to transmit food to his captive. It probably would be the same gate as that in the table top, but when the time came for the meal, the gate would be automatically set for passage of solid material.
Kickaha considered this for a while and wondered why no one had thought of this idea for escape. Perhaps the Lord had thought of it and was hoping that his prisoner also would. It would be just the kind of joke a Lord would enjoy. Still, it was such a wild idea, it might not have occurred to the Lord.
He imagined that alarms must be flashing and sounding somewhere in the building which housed this chamber. That is, if the chamber was in a building and not in some deserted pocket universe. If, however, the Lord should be away, then he might return too late to keep his prisoner imprisoned.
He had no exact idea of how much time passed, but he estimated that it was about four hours later when the tray appeared on the table. It held Earth food, a steak medium well-done, a salad of lettuce, carrots, onions, and a garlic dressing, three pieces of brown European bread with genuine butter, and a dish of chocolate ice cream.
He felt much better when he finished, indeed, almost grateful to his captor. He did not waste any time after swallowing the last spoonful of ice cream, however. He climbed onto the top of the table, the beamer held on his shoulder with the strap, and the tray in his hands. He bent over and, balancing on one leg, set the tray down and then stepped onto it. He reasoned that the gate might be activated by the tray and dishes and not by a certain mass. He was betting his life that the influence of the gate would extend upward enough to include him in it. If it did not, somebody on the other end was going to be surprised by half a corpse. If it did, somebody was still going to be surprised and even more unpleasantly.
Suddenly, he was on a table inside a closet lit by one overhead light. If he had not been crouching, he would have been deprived of his head by the ceiling as he materialized.
He got down off the table and swung the door open and stepped out into a very large kitchen. A man was standing with his back to him, but he must have heard the door moving because he wheeled around. His mouth was open, his eyes were wide, and he said, “What the …”
Kickaha’s foot caught him on the point of the chin, and he fell backward, unconscious, onto the floor. After listening to make sure that the noise of the man’s fall had not disturbed anyone, Kickaha searched the man’s clothes.
He came up with a sawed-off Smith & Wesson .38 in a shoulder holster and a wallet with a hundred and ten dollars in bills, two driver’s licenses, the omnipresent credit cards, and a business card. The man’s name was Robert di Angelo.
Kickaha put the gun in his belt after checking it and then inspected the kitchen. It was so large that it had to be in a mansion of a wealthy man. He quickly found a small control board behind a sliding panel in the wall which was half open. Several lights were blinking on it.
The fact that di Angelo had sent down a meal to him showed that the dwellers of this house knew they had a prisoner. Or, at least, that the Lord knew it. His men might not be cognizant of gates, but they would have been told to report to Red Orc if the lights on this panel and others flashed out and, undoubtedly, sound alarms were activated. The latter would have been turned off by now, of course.
There must be a visual monitor of the prison, so the Lord, Urthona, in this case, must know whom he held. Why hadn’t Urthona at once taken steps to question his captive? He must surely be burning to know how Kickaha had gotten in there.
He ran water into a glass and dashed it in the face of the man on the floor. Di Angelo started and rolled his head and his eyes opened. He jerked again when he saw Kickaha over him and felt the point of the knife at his throat.
“Where is your boss?” Kickaha said.
Di Angelo said, “I don’t know.”
“Ignorance isn’t bliss in your case,” Kickaha said. He pushed the knife in so that blood trickled out from the side of the neck.
The man’s eyes widened, and he said, “Take it easy.” Then, “What difference does it make? You haven’t got a chance. Here’s what happened …”
Di Angelo was the cook, but he was also aware of what was going on in the lower echelons. He had been told long ago to inform the boss, whom he called Mr. Callister, if the alarms were activated in the kitchen. Until tonight, they had been dormant. When they did go off, startling him, he had called Mr. Callister, who was with his gang on business di Angelo knew nothing about. It must have something to do with the recent troubles, those that had come with the appearance of Kickaha and the others. Callister had told him what to do, which was only to prepare a meal, set it on the table in the closet, close the closet door, and press a button on the control panel.
Kickaha asked about Wolff, Chryseis, and Anana. Di Angelo said, “Some of the guys took them into the boss’ office and left them there and that’s the last anybody’s seen of them. Honest to God, I’m telling the truth! If anybody knows where they went, it’s Callister. Him and him only!”
Kickaha made di Angelo get up and lead him through the house. They went through some halls and large rooms, all luxuriously furnished, and then up a broad winding marble staircase to the second floor. On the way, di Angelo told him that this house was in a walled estate in Beverly Hills. The address was that which Red Orc had said was Urthona’s.
“Where are the servants?” he said.
“They’ve either gone home or to their quarters over the garage,” di Angelo said. “I’m not lying, mister, when I say I’m the only one in the house.”
The door to Callister’s office was of heavy steel and locked. Kickaha turned the beamer on it and sliced out the lock with a brief quick rotation of the barrel. Di Angelo’s eyes bulged, and he turned paler. Evidently he knew nothing of the weapons of the Lord.
Kickaha found some tape in a huge mahogany desk and taped di Angelo’s hands behind him and his ankles together, While di Angelo sat in a chair, Kickaha made a quick but efficient search of the office. The control panel for what he hoped were the gates popped out of a section of the big desk when a button in a corner of the desk was pressed. The pushbuttons, dials, and lights were identified by markings that would have mystified any Earthling but Kickaha. These were in the writing of the Lords.
However, he did not know the nature of Gates Number One through Ten nor what would happen if he pressed a button marked with the symbol for M. That could mean many thousands of things, but he suspected that it stood for miyrtso, meaning death.
The first difficulty in using the panel was that he did not know where the gates were even if he activated them. The second was that he probably could not activate them. The Lord was not foolish enough to leave an operable system which was also relatively accessible. He would carry on his person some device which had to be turned on before the control panel would be energized. But at least Kickaha knew where the panel was so that if he ever got hold of the activator, he could use the panel. That is, if he also located the gates.
It was very frustrating because he was so sure that Anana and his two friends, if they were still alive, were behind one of the ten gates.
The telephone rang. Kickaha was startled but quickly recovered. He picked up the phone and carried it over to di Angelo and put the receiver at a distance between both their ears. Di Angelo did not need to be told what was expected of him. He said, “Hello!”
The voice that answered was Ramos’.
“Di Angelo? Just a minute.”
The next voice was that of the man Kickaha had talked to when he thought he was speaking to Red Orc. This must be Urthona, and whatever it was that had brought him out in the open had to be something very important. The only thing that would do that would be a chance to get Red Orc.
“Angelo? I’m getting an alarm transmission here. It’s coming from my office. Did you know that?”
Kickaha shook his head and di Angelo said, “No, sir.”
“Well, someone is in my office. Where are you?”
“In the kitchen, sir,” di Angelo said.
“Get up there and find out what’s going on,” Urthona said. “I’ll leave this line open. And I’m sending over men from the warehouse to help you. Don’t take any chances. Shoot to kill unless you’re dead certain you can get the drop on him. You understand?”
“Yes, sir,” di Angelo said.
The phone clicked. Kickaha did not feel triumphant. Urthona must realize that anyone in the office could have picked up the phone to listen in. He knew this cut down any chance of di Angelo’s surprising the intruder and meant that the reinforcements would have to be rushed over as swiftly as possible.
Kickaha taped di Angelo’s mouth and locked him in the closet. He then destroyed the control panel for the gates with a flash from the beamer. If Urthona meant to transfer his other prisoners—if he had any—or to do anything to them, he would be stopped for a while. He would have to build another panel—unless he had some duplicates in storage.
His next step was to get out of the house quickly and down to the railroad station, where the Horn was in a locker. He wished that he could have gotten the Horn first, because then he might have been able to use it unhindered. Now, Urthona would be certain to guard his house well.
Kickaha had to leave the house and go downtown. He decided to cache the beamer on the estate grounds. He found a depression in the ground behind a large oleander bush near the wall. The estate was excellently gardened; there were no loose leaves or twigs with which to cover the weapon. He placed it in the depression and left it there. He also decided to leave the gun which he had taken from di Angelo. It was too bulky to conceal under his shirt.
He left without incident except having to return to the beamer’s hiding place so he could use it to burn through the lock on the iron gate that was the exit to the street. This was set in a high brick wall with spikes on top. The guardhouse by the big iron gate to the driveway was unoccupied, apparently because Urthona had pulled everybody except di Angelo from the house. There were controls in the guardhouse, and he easily identified those that worked both gates. But the power or the mechanisms had been shut off, and he did not want to take the time to return to the house to question di Angelo. He burned through the lock mechanism and pushed the gate open. Behind him, a siren began whooping and he could see lights flashing on the control board in the guardhouse. If the noise continued, the police would be called in. Kickaha smiled at that thought. Then he lost his smile. He did not want the police interfering any more than Urthona did.
After hiding the beamer behind the bush again, he walked southward. After five blocks, he came to Sunset. He was apprehensive that a police car might notice him, because he understood that any pedestrians in this exclusive and extremely wealthy neighborhood were likely to be stopped by the police. Especially at night.
But his luck held out, and he was able to hail a taxi. The driver did not want to go that far out of Beverly Hills, but Kickaha opened the back door and got into the car.
He leaned forward and handed the driver a twenty-dollar bill from di Angelo’s wallet. “This is yours, over and above the fare and the regular tip. Think you can detour a little?”
“Can do,” the cabbie said.
He let Kickaha off three blocks from the railroad station, since Kickaha did not want him to know where he was going if the police should question him. He walked to the station, removed the ball of gum and the key from the hollow in the tree, and then went inside the station.
He removed the instrument case from the locker, left the station and walked several blocks before coming to a public phone booth in the corner of a large service station area. He dialed Urthona’s number. The phone had rung only once when it was picked up and an unfamiliar voice answered. Kickaha said, “Mr. Callister, please.”
“Who is this?” the rough voice said.
“Di Angelo can describe me,” Kickaha said. “That is, if you’ve found him in the closet.”
CHAPTER TEN
There was an exclamation and then, “Just a minute.”
A few seconds later, a voice said, “Callister speaking.”
“How did you …?” Urthona said and then stopped, realizing that he was not going to get a description of the escape.
“I’m Kickaha,” Kickaha said. There was no harm in identifying himself, since he was sure that Urthona had gotten both his name and description from Anana. “The Earthling who did what you supposed Lords of Creation could not do. I killed directly, or caused to be killed, all fifty-one of the Bellers. They are no longer a menace. I got out of Red Orc’s house in that other Earth, got through all his traps, and got into your house. If you had been there, I would have captured or killed you. Make no mistake about that.
“But I didn’t call you just to tell you what I have done. I want only to return in peace to Wolff’s world with Wolff, Chryseis, and Anana. You and Red Orc can battle it out here and may the best Lord win. Now that the Beller is dead, there is no reason for us to stay here. Nor for you to keep my friends.”
There was a long silence and then Urthona said, “How do I know that the Beller is dead?”
Kickaha described what had happened, although he left out several details that he did not think Urthona should know.
“So you now know how you can check out my story,” he said. “You can’t follow my original route as I did, since you don’t know where Red Orc’s house is, and I don’t either. But I think that all the gates are two-way, and you can backtrack, starting from that room in which I ended.”
He could imagine the alternating delight and alarm Urthona was feeling. He now had a route to get into Red Orc’s dwelling, but Red Orc could get into his house through that same route, too.
Urthona said, “You’re wrong, I know where Red Orc lives. Did live, that is. One of my men saw him on the street only two hours ago. He thought at first it was me and that I was on some business he’d better keep his nose out of. Then he returned here and saw me and knew I couldn’t have gotten here so quickly.
The World of Tiers, Volume 2 Page 16
