"That's all right. I do," Death Master said. He tensed and peered intently toward the tunnel. "One of the guards is coming this way."

  Eric looked back, surprised to see a man sprinting toward them, already halfway there, winding among the stone, shapes. He'd missed spotting the guy before, probably because he was preoccupied with the thought of his probable fate for delivering bad news. But the boss didn't seem to mind; maybe he'd get to live after all.

  "Death Master!" the guard called out when still dozens of yards off. "Fire! A fire!"

  "Where?" the titan demanded.

  The man pounded closer, out of breath, struggling to compose himself. "In the town. We saw the smoke, but we knew better than to desert our post to check."

  "You did well," Death Master said.

  "Thank you," the tunnel guard said, and glanced over his shoulder. "Did you hear that roar, boss? What was it?"

  "Roar?"

  "Yeah," Eric chimed in. "We all heard it just before you came out."

  Death Master's countenance became a mask of fury. "Why didn't you tell me this sooner?" he snapped, giving each of them a baleful look. "Are you all cretins?" He took a step toward Eric and lifted a hand, about to strike, then abruptly changed his mind. "No. I need every man now. Eric, take these seven men and get to the tunnel. Keep on your toes. If you see Grizzly, Blade, or the woman, shoot to kill. Understood?"

  "You got it, boss," Eric said, relieved that his life had been spared.

  "Go!" Death Master bellowed to speed them off. He stared for a moment, then wheeled and went inside, taking a right and going down a hall until he came to a closed door. Without bothering to knock he shoved it open. On a bed in the center of the room were a man and woman humping like crazed rabbits. "Nelson, you can bang Ally later. Get up and get dressed."

  The man promptly moved to obey, no questions asked. The woman rolled over and winked at the colossus.

  "I want all the men out front in five minutes," Death Master ordered. "I want all the hybrids, too. Every last damn one. If they give you any grief, tell them I will personally deal with the troublemakers. Got it?"

  "Five minutes. No problem."

  Death Master nodded and departed, then went upstairs to the third floor bedroom he'd occupied when interrupted by Eric's arrival. He went in and saw Claire huddled near the pillows. "Put your clothes on, woman, and leave my house."

  "What about the money you promised me?" Claire said.

  "Be thankful I don't charge you," Death Master said and slammed the door on his way out. He took a stone stairway to the eighth story and entered another bedroom that was four times the size of those below. The sight of Lolita sleeping naked on a pink sheet drew him up short. How unfortunate that Cobra had blown it. Now he must forego another tumble with his beloved.

  He walked to a closet and finished dressing rapidly. Next he went to a glass gun case and took out a gunbelt containing a matched pair of Desert Eagle .357 Magnums. He buckled it on and adjusted the holsters on his stout hips. Ordinarily he disdained the use of firearms in personal combat, but his enemies tonight were hardly ordinary. Grizzly was a being to reckon with, and Blade promised to be equally challenging. The woman, naturally, was as threatening as a pile of sand ray dung.

  Death Master moved to the bed to admire Lolita, noting the rhythmic rise and fall of her breasts and the angelic innocence her face radiated. Lord, what a lynx. She had the hottest box in the Southwest, maybe the whole damned country. Reluctantly he tore his eyes from her beauty and returned to the first floor.

  The head of security, Nelson, had all 21 men and the five remaining hybrids assembled out front. Many were yawning and shaking their heads in an attempt to wake up. They all did the instant Death Master walked outside.

  "This is the way it is," Death Master announced curtly. "There are two humans and one hybrid I want dead, and I want them dead yesterday. All of you know Grizzly. He has turned against us and is helping two newbies who were sent to assassinate me. One is the man called Blade; the other is a bitch named Athena. By now they are somewhere in this cavern. Find them. Whoever takes them out will become rich." He paused. "Nelson, you will organize five squads. Each is to have a hybrid as its leader. Understand?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Post one of the squads on the ground floor as a reserve unit. I want Brahma in charge of that one."

  "Brahma it is, boss."

  Death Master nodded and began to turn. The crackle of gunfire stopped him in his tracks.

  Eric and his seven men were 50 yards from the connecting tunnel when the snarl sounded off to the left. He halted and held up his hand for the others to do likewise, then crouched and scanned the cavern floor. Nothing moved, but he knew Grizzly was out there somewhere.

  He twisted, pointed at three of the gunners, and motioned for them to go to the left. Rising, Eric headed to the right with the others. He figured pincer strategy would do the trick and flush the freak out, which was fitting given that Sting was Death Master's favorite pet.

  Not so much as a whisper of wind stirred the air. The cavern resembled an enormous stone tomb.

  Licking his lips, Eric neared a boulder and glanced back at the four toughs close behind him, each packing a shotgun or an assault rifle. That chump Grizzly didn't stand a frigging chance. Eric looked forward to blowing the mutation away personally.

  Another low snarl came from up ahead.

  Eric thought he glimpsed something in the shadows and almost snapped off a shot, but he refrained at the last instant. There was no sense in wasting ammo. He would fire when he had a definite target.

  For the next several minutes Eric and the seven men hiked farther and farther from the tunnel. Every time Eric had about made up his mind that they were going in the wrong direction and was considering turning around, another snarl would entice him onward. He figured Grizzly was playing a game, which suited him just fine. The madder he got, the worse it would be for the hairy puke.

  Eric passed under a high arch and entered a boulder field. A scuffling noise drew his attention to a group of columns 30 yards away. A struggle appeared to be taking place. He gestured for his companions to move out and ran toward the fight. Two-thirds of the way there silence descended.

  Holding the shotgun steady and level, Eric threaded through the columns until he came to a cleared space at the center. Bile rose into his mouth when he beheld a trio of his gunners sprawled in violent postures of death. Blood pumped from the ruptured throat of one. A second guard had been torn open from sternum to crotch and his intestines were seeping out. The third man sported an inch-wide furrow where his eyes and upper nose had been.

  "Son of a bitch," one of the men declared.

  "Quiet," Eric hissed, knowing the hybrid must still be nearby. His eyes darted right and left.

  "Let's get the hell out of here," the same guard said. "I told you to shut your face," Eric snapped. "And we're not leaving until we find the freak."

  "Maybe we should spread out," suggested another guard.

  "Oh sure, and get ourselves killed one by one," Eric said. "Not on your life, dummy. We'll stick together. There's still five or us and only one of him."

  "A minute ago there were eight of us."

  "Enough talk. Stay alert," Eric directed, stepping forward warily. Going through the columns until he reached a high stone mound with a wide split up its middle, he paused to ponder his next move. Roaming all over the cavern was a waste of time. He needed a plan, a way of drawing the hybrid into the open. But what?

  Eric headed up the mound, walking at the bottom of the split. The walls only came to his waist. From the top he'd be able to see for a considerable distance in all directions. He might even get lucky and spot the mutation.

  "Did you hear something?" one of his men asked.

  "No."

  "I think I did."

  "You think?"

  "Yeah. Off to the right."

  "It's just your nerves," Eric said. He surveyed the cavern floor as he ascended. Come on, bastard! Show your mangy hide.

  Eric and the others were nearly to the top when a female voice called out off to the right. "Hey, boys. How's it hanging?"

  Eric halted and spun.

  "Who was that?" asked the blabbermouth.

  "Who do you think?" Eric said. "It was that bitch Athena."

  "I don't see her."

  Neither did Eric, and that bothered him. Why had she yelled? Just to attract their attention? If so, it meant—

  Oh, God!

  Eric whirled, certain he was too late, terror gripping his heart as he saw Grizzly bounding up the left side of the mound. Eric squeezed off a burst of gunfire, but the freak was already in midair, those man-shredding claws sliding out as Grizzly uttered a primal roar. The bear-man's shadow fell over Eric's upturned face, and then the hybrid was among them.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Someone other than Death Master heard the shots fired by Eric. Stealthily approaching the arena from the north, Blade halted and listened. The gunfire ceased abruptly and he nodded in satisfaction. Grizzly and Athena were doing their job well. He'd instructed them to keep the guards busy while he penetrated the residence and terminated the titan. So far he'd managed to work his way around to the far side of the arena, reasoning that the guards would be least likely to expect an attack from that direction. With any luck, Death Master's minions were concentrating on the stretch of cavern between the tunnel and the ten-story stone skyscraper.

  Blade continued toward the amphitheater, a circular structure encompassing over an acre with adequate seating for several hundred in the form of rising tiers of solid rock. Entrances had been hewn by human hands every 50 feet, little more than narrow gaps between tiers. So this was where Death Master conducted his vile entertainments?

  Soon they would come to an end just like their demented sponsor.

  Blade bore to the east, moving along the base of the outer arena wall. He held an M-16 in each hand, their stocks cradled against his ribs. Try as he might, he couldn't shake the image of Havoc's body being consumed by the flames. Another good man had died, another member of the Force, another person under his command. How many did that make now? Too damn many. And although he shouldn't, he blamed himself for Mike Havoc's demise. If he hadn't brought the officer to Mesaville, Havoc would be alive. Ironically, his motivation in bringing the captain had been altruistic: he had meant to save Havoc from Gallagher's reprisal.

  He shook his head, striving to dispel the morbid train of thought. Hadn't he learned by now not to take the blame for factors over which he had no control? Apparently not.

  Blade angled around the amphitheater, surprised he hadn't encountered guards yet. Was Death Master so confident that he had no perimeter sentries? Blade covered 15 more feet, then halted when his ears registered the rapid padding of feet and heavy breathing to his rear. Instantly he rotated.

  A lone hybrid was bearing down on the Warrior, a creature possessing the characteristics of a dog and a man. Loping along on two legs, bent at the waist so he could keep his nose close to the ground, the mutation didn't realize he had overtaken his quarry until a mere ten feet separated them.

  The dog-man looked up, his German-shepherd features contorting in a savage growl. Five feet in height, he had a stocky body covered with grayish-black hair. His eyes were solid brown, his ears large and pointed at the tips. At the second he spied the giant he charged, his canine heritage supplanting his human reason.

  Blade stayed where he was. He fired both M-16's, his arms quivering from the recoil. At such close range he couldn't miss.

  A swarm of lead caught the dog-man in mid-stride, puncturing his chest and his head, and two dozen holes blossomed in the span of a single second. He howled as the hot slugs tore through him, hurling him onto his back. Leaking like a sieve, he tried to rise, propping himself on his elbows. He glared at the giant, the spark in his eyes fading rapidly. "Damn you!" he croaked.

  The Warrior didn't waste time waiting for the hybrid to die. He jogged toward the residence, annoyed he'd been discovered. Now the guards—and there had to be others—would know his approximate position. They would close in from all directions. He'd lost the element of surprise.

  So be it. He'd grown accustomed to doing things the hard way.

  Shouts broke out, men asking where the shots came from and others replying on the east side of the arena.

  Blade looked over his shoulder and spied four gunners on his tail. He increased his speed, letting the contours of the arena work in his favor. When he'd outstripped the gunners and they were no longer in sight, Blade ducked into the very next gap and crouched.

  The gunners didn't suspect Blade's trap, for a minute. All four raced past his hiding place, puffing and pumping, their collective carelessness appalling.

  The Warrior stepped from concealment, trained the M-16 on his enemies, and let them have it, pouring rounds into each, slaying them mercilessly, brutally, giving them the same treatment the gangs had given so many innocents. They died thrashing in pools of their own blood.

  Blade inserted fresh magazines into the rifles and forged ahead. There was no turning back even if he wanted to. Havoc's sacrifice would not be in vain.

  He was almost to the end of the arena, within 20 yards of Death Master's stronghold, when four more gunners and a mutation came running around the wall. The hybrid, a rodent-human mix of some sort, squeaked a warning, and the quartet let their weapons do their talking.

  Blade dived, hitting his elbows and knees hard, and fired from the prone position, sweeping both rifle barrels back and forth, the combined firepower enabling him to hold his own against superior odds.

  All five died on their feet, their bodies leaking life's precious fluid from multiple entry and exit holes.

  Pushing upright, Blade replaced the magazines again. He spied a glass door set into the stone base of the tower and raced over to it. Luckily, no more guards appeared. A quick check showed an empty corridor; he entered and turned to the right.

  Now Blade had to find Death Master.

  He passed several closed doors, trying each one, and found supply rooms and a utility closet. Most of the living quarters must be on the upper floors, he reasoned, and sought a stairwell. Soon he came to one and went up, taking several steps with each long stride. At the first landing he stopped and looked both ways down an empty hallway.

  Where was everyone?

  Perplexed, Blade began to go higher when a loud thumping echoed from below. Someone was coming up the steps with all the subtlety of a dinosaur. A glance over the rail confirmed his assessment.

  Barreling up the stairwell was yet another mutation, the biggest of the lot, a hulking brute of a bull-man who stood nearly seven feet tall and weighing in the neighborhood of 300 pounds. Like the animal whose biological traits had been fused with his human characteristics, this hybrid sported a pair of wicked, curved horns a foot and a half long that extended from the sides.of his head above the ears. A large hump bulged at the top of his wide shoulders. His features were bovine, his skin a light brown. As with the other hybrids, he wore a simple loincloth.

  Blade crouched, waited until the bull-man was almost to the landing, and stepped into view, aiming both M-16's. He expected to riddle the brute, to slay it on the spot, but he failed to reckon with the hybrid's astonishing speed. His fingers were starting to curve around the triggers when the hybrid bellowed and sprang, vaulting up the last four steps with a prodigious leap that brought it down on top of him.

  The Warrior was unable to fire. Both rifles were batted from his grasp even as the bull-man crashed into him, the creature's massive weight bowling him over. He landed on his back, slightly dazed, and placed his palms on the floor to shove erect.

  Still upright, the bull-man now charged, lowering his head and snorting as he ran.

  Blade rolled to the left, glimpsing the mutation streak past, and got to his feet. His M-16's were lying near the edge of the landing, too far off to do him much good considering that the hybrid had already spun and was coming straight for him again. Blade darted to the right, the tip of one horn scratching his arm in passing, and whirled to confront the mutation. His right hand closed on Havoc's Colt, his arm sweeping out with the barrel trained on the bull-man's head. "Don't move," he said. "I want some answers."

  The words might as well have been directed at a tree.

  With another bestial snort the hybrid hurtled forward, his head lowered, his nostrils flaring.

  "Not this time," Blade said and fired, the .45 booming and bucking in his grip.

  The slug struck the bull-man above the left eye, jerking his head around and slowing him for a second. And then he came on, head lowered as before, seemingly oblivious to the hole and the blood flowing down his brow.

  Blade tightened his grip on the Colt. How could anything take a direct hit in the head and live? He fired again, rocking the hybrid on his heels, and yet again.

  The third shot did the trick, bringing the bull-man to his knees. Wheezing and shaking his great head, the hybrid gamely tried to rise.

  "Stay down," Blade said.

  A demonic smile split the creature's face, and its left leg began to straighten.

  The Warrior squeezed the trigger until the clip was empty, each shot placed in the bull-man's head. Only after the last round was expended did the mutation vent a raspy cry and pitch onto its face with a pronounced thud.

  There was no time to lose. Blade wedged the Colt under his belt and retrieved the M-16's. Certain more guards would be on the site in seconds, he decided to go elsewhere fast. Up the stairs he went, past more landings, and stopped at the eighth floor when he heard someone whistling. He ran down the empty corridor until he came to a partly open door. The whistling came from within. Voices from the lower levels spurred him to push on it and enter without bothering to check first. He drew up short at an unexpected sight.

  A spacious bedroom spread out before him. In the middle of the room was an immense bed and lying on her stomach, her back to the doorway, twisting her hair in her fingers, was a nude woman. She whistled happily.

 

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