Читать книгу The Trail of the Technology Tyrant! - Flwankie Psy.D. Wilco - Страница 5

As she fell into the warehouse Donna Matrix kicked her opponent off of her. Below them the dozen gunmen looked up in shock. Web Hunter, behind the almost completely-destroyed stack of crates, did not look up, but instead launched himself into a sideways roll out from behind the crates. He pumped his shotgun four times as he did so, and each shot found its mark. Four gunmen fell without ever seeing Web Hunter move.

The remaining eight stopped gawking at the falling pair and turned their attention to Web Hunter. But now Web Hunter had the advantage. He ducked behind a pillar, and shot around the side of it. Two more gunmen fell.

Above, Donna Matrix twisted her body quickly and extended her right arm. With a soft puffing sound, a thin wire shot from a concealed tube in her glove. The end of the wire was attached to a small but sturdy grappling claw no more than three inches in diameter. The claw hit the edge of the shattered skylight and clamped to the metal frame.

The line went taut. Donna’s arm jerked and a pain shot through her shoulder joint. But Donna Matrix had designed her T1 Line to be sturdy, and the wire held. Her body swooped in an arc, and as the man she had been grappling with crashed to the concrete floor, she swung to one of the warehouse’s walls. Simultaneously she retracted her T1 Line and extended small metal climbing claws from her gloves. Clinging to the wall, she caught her breath.

One of the gunmen took careful aim at Donna Matrix. But he never fired. Web Hunter’s bullet caught him on the left side, above the heart. He spun completely around, then tripped over the body of the man who had fallen through the skylight. Both bodies lay unmoving.

As Donna climbed quickly down the wall, Web Hunter’s shotgun sounded over and over. By the time she reached the ground the warehouse was thick with smoke and the smell of cordite. All of the gunmen lay dead on the warehouse floor.

Web Hunter rested his shotgun casually on his shoulder and approached Donna. She gave him a wry half-smile.

“Thanks for saving my life from these guys,” she said.

“I was just returning the favor,” explained Web Hunter. “If you hadn’t dropped in when you did, I would’ve bought it, I bet.” As an afterthought he added, “I’m Web Hunter,” and extended his hand.

She shook it. “Donna Matrix. I’ve heard of you.”

“I’m quite famous in certain circles,” said Web Hunter.

They talked for a few minutes. Web Hunter explained his quest to find Doctor Luddite, and Donna Matrix told him about the stolen computer parts.

“No doubt about it,” said Web Hunter, nodding his head. “Doctor Luddite has had those parts stolen as part of some nefarious scheme. Damn all this technology! Did the inventors of all these new-fangled devices ever think about how they might be twisted to serve the whims of evil?”

Donna looked at the Web Hunter skeptically, opened her mouth as if to speak, and then evidently thought better of it. After a moment of slightly uncomfortable silence, she asked, “Hadn’t we better look for those computer parts?”

The two of them searched the warehouse thoroughly, but failed to uncover the stolen parts.

“They’re not here,” said the Web Hunter, “But look at this.” He was kneeling by the body of one of the felled gunmen.

“What is it?” asked Donna.

He showed her a number of small laminated cards. A few of them were bloodstained. Each of them read: “VIP Member. Stone Age Club.” An address in downtown Inter City was printed on the cards.

“Each of these goons had a membership card,” said Web Hunter.

Donna, whose knowledge of Inter City was profound and wide-reaching, told him, “I know that club. It’s kind of retro, but it’s fun.”

“It’s a sure bet that these guys weren’t all part of the same swing dancing class,” said Web Hunter. “I’d say this club is a front for Doctor Luddite’s organization of evil!”

Donna smiled. “Want to go dancing?”

“Do I need to know any particular kind of steps?” asked Web Hunter.

“No,” said Donna. “Nothing like that.”

Two minutes later they were outside. Web Hunter took a small electronic device out of his duffel bag and pushed a button on it. Seconds later a jet-black stealth helicopter with “Web Hunter” written in white letters on its side swooped down out of the sky and landed near them. The helicopter was almost completely silent.

Donna looked at the copter. “Wow,” she said, awestruck.

Web Hunter shook his head and growled. “Hate this damn thing. Wish there was a better way to get around.” He opened the helicopter’s side door. “If we’re going to a young person’s nightclub, I’ll need a few supplies.”

He rummaged in the helicopter and selected a pair of earplugs, which he put in his pocket. He removed twenty-five fragmentation grenades, a pound of C-4 plastic explosive and a few fuses from the helicopter and placed them in the duffel bag. “There,” he said. He pushed a second button on the device and the helicopter lifted soundlessly into the air and flew away.

Donna nodded.

They had no trouble finding the club. The bouncer did not want to allow Web Hunter in with his duffel bag (“Club rules,” he shrugged), but Donna charmed him into allowing this one exception.

The club was packed with young people. Loud music was playing a PA system and the walls were decorated with Victorian wood paneling. The dance floor was packed.

“I recognize this song,” said Web Hunter, surprised. “This was already old-fashioned when I was a kid.”

Donna shrugged. “I said it was retro.”

Web Hunter grumbled. “It must be Doctor Luddite’s club. Blasted anachronism.”

Most of the crowd seemed to be drinking colorful vitamin drinks. Donna said that was the new hot thing in Frisco. Web Hunter was confused. The vitamin drinks seemed too “hip” and “groovy”—in other words, too contemporary—for this club.

On a raised platform near the dance floor sat the DJ booth. The DJ’s hi-fi equipment and eight-track players were cranked up to top volume. Web Hunter could see the DJ through the glass of the booth. He thought the man looked a little suspicious.

The music stopped. Over the PA system came the voice of the DJ: “Hope we’re all having a good time tonight!” The crowd cheered. The DJ continued: “We’ve got a special treat for you all. There are two corny altruistic do-gooders in the audience tonight!”

Web Hunter and Donna Matrix were suddenly blinded by a spotlight shining right onto them.

“I’d like you all to...” The DJ paused dramatically like an announcer in a strip bar. “...Kill them! Kill the interlopers!”

For the first time Web Hunter and Donna Matrix noticed the glassy look in the eyes of each of the patrons. The entire crowd began to shuffle slowly toward them, arms thrust forward. Each of them mouthed silently: “...Kill... the... inter... lopers...”

“Doctor Luddite, you fiend!” apostrophized Web Hunter. “You’ve hypnotized these innocent people with those insidious vitamin drinks!”

Donna gasped. “How can we fight them? They don’t know what they’re doing. We can’t hurt them!”

Web Hunter growled as the crowd surrounded them.

“But if we don’t,” continued Donna. “They’ll rip us apart!”