The Amtrak Wars - Ironmaster Part 65

'Can we talk?"

'What about?"

'I need that bundle of pink leaves."

Tos.h.i.+ro gave him a sideways glance. 'One thing at a time. I got you transferred to the Heron Pool, didn't I?"

'Yeah, that's right... Thanks a lot." I don't believe it, thought Steve. Our lives are in this guy's hands and he's full of s.h.i.+t!

They landed smoothly on the twin bamboo skids.

Wheels would have made things a lot easier, but the Iron Masters weren't geared up to produce the kind they needed. It had been a major headache finding cartwheels small and light enough for the launch trollies.

'Don't stay away too long,' said Steve, as the ashen-faced Herald made a shaky exit. 'Things are starting to move pretty fast around here."

'Don't worry,' replied Tos.h.i.+ro, with feeling. 'We'll meet soon enough, you need have no fear of that."

What an insolent swine this outlander was! He had endured Brickman's boorish behaviour in order to secure the death of the Consul-General.

It was an unsavoury alliance, but his wounded pride had been soothed by the prospect of exacting an exquisite revenge once the fat degenerate had been dispatched. But now the Shogun had decided that the long-dog should be allowed to escape with his two captives, and that made Brickman's brash confidence doubly irksome.

It was almost as if someone had told the mexican that the veiled threats he, Tos.h.i.+ro, had uttered against him were not to be taken seriously. Was it possible that the Chamberlain's office had become involved in this affair?

Ieyasu's spidery tentacles were rumoured to extend into the farthest corners of Ne-Issan. It was a chilling thought. The Herald prayed it was not so, and cursed himself for having taken the course he had. But there could be no turning back. Promises had been made, expectations raised. He would have to aid Brickman. It was his duty to do so. But he would keep the painted gutter-hound on tenterhooks for as long as possible.

Steve kept his eyes down as Tos.h.i.+ro squared his shoulders and swaggered back to his friends. It would be courting disaster to rely on any offers made by the j.a.p to aid their escape. Or to deliver Clearwater.

She would have to get to the Heron Pool the same way she had secured his own transfer - by getting inside the Consul-General's head.

When the VIPs had been bowed out of the compound, Cadillac told Steve what had been decided. The conversion of the twelve existing and semi-completed airframes into dual-control two-seaters was to be given top priority. Twenty-four samurai would be sent to the Heron Pool for flight-apt.i.tude tests. The twelve best candidates were to be given gliding instruction. After going solo, the top six pupils from this group were to be given advanced training on the rocket-powered version.

When they had reached the required level of competence, they would display their flying skills before the domain-lords Min-Orota and Yama-s.h.i.+ta, the chief members of their households and - it was hoped the Shogun himself.

'Did they give you a date?"

'Yes. A month from now. If they leave it any later, the Shogun won't be around. He spends the summer on a big island off the coast of Ro-diren, then moves south during the Yellowing."

Steve nodded thoughtfully. Cadillac's use of the Mute term for autumn prompted memories of his brief spell with the M'Calls - and the fact that time was pa.s.sing.

'The three of you are going to have your work cut out."

'Yeah, it's all your fault. Mine too in a way. We outsmarted ourselves. The reason the Shogun's Herald went up with you was because he wanted to check you out. He told Min-Orota's people that if I could teach a gra.s.s-monkey to fly like that in a week, then their samurai ought to be able to grow wings of their own in four."

Steve bit back a smile. 'Do you want me to help?"

'As an instructor?" Cadillac shook his head. 'They'd never wear it.

They didn't mind me using you as the fall-guy during the trials, but they couldn't cope with a Mute telling them what to do. It goes against everything they've been taught to believe in."

'That figures, but ... like you said, Trackers are slaves too. How are you and the other guys going to put the message across?"

'With difficulty,' sighed Cadillac. 'But they've managed to rationalise the situation with the aid of some very convoluted thinking. As outlanders, they regard us as non-persons, but they're prepared to acknowledge the fact that Jodi, Dave and myself possess certain high-grade skills they don't have. While they are acquiring those skills they're prepared to defer to us in those specific areas.

But once we're out of the c.o.c.kpit, away from the flying field or outside the workshops, they expect to see our noses in the dirt."

'What a bunch of stiff-necked a.s.sholes."

'Yeah, well. that's the way it goes."

'It's a pity I couldn't get cleaned up and reregistered as a Tracker...

' Steve let the suggestion hang in the air.

'Well... I've got some soap-leaves ' 'You have?"

'Yes, a whole bunch of them. Got a set of body-paints too. Clearwater and I both brought a set - just in case."

'Good thinking,' mused Steve. 'Yeah... I'm glad you told me."

'But there's no way I could get you a set of papers."

'Then fake 'em. You can write. Make a copy of Kelso's?

'It's not as easy as that. Everyone's papers are held in the Records Office. I just can't walk in there. It's not my territory. But even if I could, what about the arm tag?

They're stamped out of metal. I don't see how we can fake one of those."

'Yeah." Steve grimaced reflectively. It looked as if they'd have to rely on the Herald after all. With his connections, Hase-Whoever should be able to come up with everything they needed, including a route-map and a compa.s.s. 'You're right. Forget it." He mulled things over, then c.o.c.ked a finger at Cadillac. 'There is one way we can speed things along. You, Jodi and Kelso concentrate on training these d.i.n.ks and I'll, uhh -' 'Flight-test the planes as they come off the line...

Steve spread his hands. 'You got there ahead of me."

Soft-soaping this guy really paid off. 'And I'll also see what can be done to improve the performance of those rockets. I'm sure we can boost the power and duration without a significant increase in weight.

What d'you say?"

Cadillac thought it over. 'Yeah, okay. Good idea."

Are you kidding? It's not just a good idea, amigo, it's a stroke of pure f.u.c.king genius . . .

Steve stayed with Cadillac in the study, poring over the constructional drawings of the glider, trying to decide how they could strengthen the airframe to cope with the added stresses of powered flight. Along with Jodi and Kelso, they had both found the vibration slightly unnerving, and what they were looking for was some way of dampening it down without getting into a major rebuild.

Their search for a quick fix went on till after dark. Some of the drawings they needed to look at had been left in the a.s.sembly workshop, and when Cadillac broke for supper he sent Steve over to fetch them.

As Steve left the workshop with the drawings and came back up the almost pitch-black alley he heard someone humming a familiar tune.

'Dali-dee da-da-dahh ... down Mexico way ...