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Rather than bunch together it had been agreed that they would split up and hide
themselves separately amongst the lush vegetation of the garden.
Ryan picked a huge clump of brilliantly flowering hedgehog cactus, sliding in
behind it, his back against the impenetrable wall of yew.
Outside in the later afternoon sunshine he could now hear Strasser's hunters
drawing closer. He slowed his breath and waited.
Chapter Twenty-Four
STRASSER HAD TAKEN UP a position on the western side of the main street,
keeping himself in the spreading pools of shade as much as possible. As the
abortive search dragged on, he was beginning to regret his decision to scour the
ville.
His men were tiring, and it had been necessary to flog one of them into bloody
unconsciousness to prevent a direct challenge to his authority. He tried to put
himself into Ryan's mind, struggling to guess what the one-eyed man might be
planning. All he could hold to was the certainty that Ryan wouldn't have left the
ville while the old cretin Tanner was still in his hands. But where? They'd already
combed through nearly three-quarters of Salvation, and there hadn't been the least
sign of them.
He saw his lieutenant go across one of the side streets, still twirling the nunchaku
sticks.
"Rafe?"
"Yeah, boss?"
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"Keep 'em at it."
"Sure."
"The one who finds them gets the pick of any five of the prisoners. For anything
they want. Tell them that."
Rafe held up his right hand, bringing finger and thumb together. As he half turned
away again, Strasser called again to him.
"Tell 'em to watch out."
Peering around the spikes of the cactus, Ryan was able to see the corner of the
house and part of the wall near the broken front door, watching as Strasser's patrol
finally reached them.
"Tired and careless," Ryan breathed.
There were four three men, and a woman in torn pants. All carried M-16s, and
all looked as if they came from somewhere close to the Grandee.
They were only going through the motions, and if Ryan and the others had been
hiding inside the house, all four would have died almost immediately. Two waited
outside, either side of the door, while the other pair ran halfheartedly inside.
After a muffled shout, the four were inside and Ryan could glimpse them through
the dulled glass of the side window, moving around the rooms.
Using the baffle silencer on the SIG-Sauer, Ryan was tempted to ghost in after the
four thugs and chill them. But he figured that Strasser would probably have
ordered some sort of backup patrol following to check any attempt to slip out the
back door from the searchers.
The four came out again, barely bothering to take even a cursory glance around
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the wilderness that had once been a trig and trim garden. Three of them lighted
cigarettes and stood together talking quietly. One of the men, short and plump,
had allowed his right hand to creep around the back of the woman, fondling her
buttocks, slipping his fingers through one of the ragged tears in her pants and
caressing her high between the thighs. She, in turn, pressed her hip against his,
turning to smile at him.
Ryan felt a trickle of sweat running down his chest, across the flat, muscular wall
of his stomach. Moving with infinite slowness he switched the panga into his
other hand, wiping sweat from his fingers on the thigh of his breeches. Waiting.
There they were. The backup that he'd predicted Strasser would have ordered. But
he guessed that Jordan Teague's old sec boss wouldn't have been pleased to see
the languid way his men were now operating, late in the tedious, sweltering day.
They had their rifles slung across their backs, and they sauntered into the garden,
hands in pockets. Both were smoking and greeted the other four with a negligent
shout.
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