“I know,” the man returned, and reached down to pull a pearl-handled revolver out of its resting place. He cocked it. “I’ll be all right.”
The Sergeant shrugged and motioned his people out of the room. He followed them, closing the door behind him. Plissken looked at the closed door for a minute. This was the best shot he’d ever had, one on one with an old softy. He turned to the man, smiling broadly. He held up his chained hands.
The man shook his head, his face without expression. “I’m not a fool, Plissken,” he said. “Maybe we’d better get that out of the way first.”
“Call me Snake,” Plissken smiled.
The man set his lips. Plissken could see that there was something definitely bothering him. He set the gun down carefully on the desk top, then he reached into the top drawer and pulled out a beige folder. He opened it and read:
“Plissken. American. Lieutenant in Special Forces Unit: ‘Black Light.’ Two Purple Hearts in Leningrad and Siberia. Youngest man to be decorated by the President.” His eyes came up for just a second to touch Plissken’s, then he continued. “You robbed the Federal Reserve Depository. Life sentence in New York Maximum Security Penitentiary.” He looked up from the folder again, raising his eyebrows. “I’m ready to kick your ass out of the world, war hero.”
Plissken narrowed his gaze. There was something different about this man, something he couldn’t put his finger on. He wasn’t like the others. “Who are you?” he asked.
“Hauk,” he replied. “Police Commissioner.”
“Bob Hauk?”
Hauk smiled. “You remember, huh? Special Forces Unit: ‘Texas Thunder.’ We heard plenty about you.”
Plissken remembered. Hauk commanded the air cover at Leningrad. He had lost a lot of men, too. But, look at who was on what side of the desk. “You stuck with it, then. Didn’t you… blackbelly?”
Hank’s voice came back angry. “You don’t know a thing about it.”
There was dead air between them, an absolute wall.
“Why are we talking?” Plissken said at last.
“I have a deal for you,” Hauk said, his voice cold and businesslike. “You’ll receive a full pardon for every criminal action you committed in the United States.”
Going into the folder, Hauk pulled out a piece of paper and held it up. Plissken had never seen a pardon before, but that sure looked like one. He stared at Hauk, not trusting him, not willing to trust anyone who had lived through Leningrad without being changed by it.
Hauk got up and moved around the desk. Plissken was surprised by how dirty the man was. He moved up closer to the Snake, almost close enough to reach out and grab.
“There was an accident about an hour ago,” Hauk said. “A small jet went down inside New York City. The President was on board.”
“President of what?” Plissken asked, ready to jump on Hauk if the opportunity presented itself.
“It isn’t funny, Plissken. You go in, find the President, bring him out in twenty-four hours, and you’re a free man.”
Plissken watched Hauk carefully, waiting for the punch line. It didn’t seem to be coming. “This a joke?” he finally asked.
“I’m making you an offer.”
“Bullshit.”
“Straight. Just like I said.”
Plissken sat back. He wasn’t anybody’s sucker bait. “I’ll think about it,” he answered.
Hauk took a breath, but his expression remained deadly earnest. “No time,” he said. “Give me an answer.”
“Okay,” Plissken replied. “Get a new President”
He watched Hauk’s jaw muscles tighten, but the man remained in control. He may even have been sane. “We’re still at war, Plissken. We need him alive.”
“I don’t care about your war,” the Snake answered. “Or your President.”
“Is that your answer?”
Plissken threw up his hands. “I’m thinking it over,” he snapped. He looked at Hauk again. He was really beginning to believe the man was on the level. He thought about Duggan and the steri-chamber. “Why me?” he asked.
“You flew the Gulffire over Leningrad,” the man answered quickly. “You know how to get in quiet.” He turned and walked a few paces across the room; when he turned back around his features were softer. “You’re all I’ve got,” he said quietly.
Just on the surface, it seemed to Plissken that the deal had more holes in it than a metric ton of Swiss cheese, but what the hell. He shrugged. “Well… I go in there one way or the other. It don’t mean shit to me. Give me the papers.” He reached for them.
Hauk shook his head, snatching back the papers. “When you come out,” he said, and this time he was smiling.
“Before”
“I said I wasn’t a fool, Plissken.”
Plissken fixed him with his cool, reptilian eye. “Snake,” he said, smooth as syrup. “Call me Snake.”
IX
10:14 P.M.
Plissken walked between Hauk and Rehme. It was obvious that they were uneasy in his company since they had taken the cuffs off him; it was just as obvious that he hated being in that particular corner of the universe at that particular time.
He hated Hauk, hated him just like he hated any blackbelly. Oh, the man wore a suit and talked about prerogatives, but he was still the head killer in a society of killers-Witchfinder General. He couldn’t forgive the man that. Forgiveness was nowhere to be found within the countless reflecting shards of the broken mirror that was Plissken’s spirit.
“In here,” Rehme said.
They turned into a door marked MATERIAL DISBURSEMENT. The room was painted battleship gray. It had a counter that slashed its width. On the other side of the counter, a cage, floor to ceiling. Within the cage were neatly stacked shelves of supplies that stretched far back into darkness.
Hauk flicked a switch beside the door, and several banks of neon lit sequentially down the length of the storeroom. It went way back.
Rehme dug down into his pocket and pulled out a chain of keys. He moved around the counter and started trying them in the cage lock. He’d try one, shake the lock until it rattled the whole cage, curse softly, then try another.
“You know I haven’t had anything to eat,” Plissken said.
“For how long?” Hauk asked. Then to Rehme: “We haven’t got all night.”
“The motherfuckers aren’t marked,” Rehme said, his voice edged with frustration.
“Just take it easy.”
“Since yesterday,” Plissken said.
“Goddamn son of a bitch,” Rehme muttered.
“You look well-fed to me,” Hauk said.
“It’s your game,” the Snake shrugged. “But if it was me, I’d want every advantage I could get. I sure wouldn’t send some half-starved..”
“You made your point,” Hauk interrupted. “We’ll take care of it.”
