Rico? What is this?”
Rico didn’t answer. “Proceed, Central.”
“DNA samples… purged.”
“Central, activate the DNA sampling console.”
“Sampling console activated and ready.”
Ilsa clenched her fists at her sides. The robot warrior whirred, swiveled its head an inch to the right.
She watched, too frightened now to move, as Rico walked to the dark metal wall. A panel opened with no sound at all. A ceramic shelf appeared. It was antiseptic white, slightly concave. Rico ripped his sleeve away and placed his bare arm in the hollow. A shiny tube whined out of the wall, split itself into eight gleaming needles, clawed for an instant at the air, then plunged its silver fingers into Rico’s arm.
Narrow columns of red began to climb the spidery points. The red disappeared. The needles rose quickly, and sucked themselves into the wall. Rico smiled at the eight crimson droplets on his arm.
“DNA samples have been obtained.”
“Done, and done again, I believe somebody said.”
Ilsa shook her head. “This isn’t right, Rico. It wasn’t part of the plan. Griffin did
Rico turned on her, faster than a snake.
“Analysis and replication… proceeding.”
“I’m not trying to
Rico threw back his head and laughed. “Griffin is a… a plumber, a file clerk. All he’s doing is exploiting my genius, my intelligence and abilities. And
Ilsa closed her eyes. “My God. It was a mistake to keep you alive. He should never have done it this way.”
Rico poked a finger between her breasts, hard enough to make her gasp.
“I don’t have to ask what
“Don’t be foolish. You know better than that.”
“I know what you said at my trial. You wanted me to live then. You want me to live now.” He touched the lobe of her ear, let his finger trail to her cheek. “Don’t you, Ilsa? Because then, as well as now, your reason, that fine cold intellect of yours, told you one thing, and another part of you could not imagine me dying.”
Ilsa forced a laugh. “You don’t—you don’t know that at all, Rico. You don’t
Rico touched her lips. Ilsa held her breath, stunned by the power, the force, the raw heat that seemed to draw them together. It was even more intense than the first time, when Griffin had brought him here, the first time she’d seen him in the nine years he had been hidden from the world in the depths of Aspen Prison.
And, when he finally drew her to him, his presence overwhelmed her, took her in a rush.
He bared his arm again, showed her the red spots of his blood where the silver spider had drunk its fill. He didn’t have to ask her, to tell her, she knew what to do, what she ached to do, though she had never known this need before.
“You are an extraordinary woman, Ilsa. This is a moment only you and I could share. No one else, because there are no others like us in the world.”
She brought his arm to her face, let the droplets brush her cheek, brought her lips to each small well of red.
“Yes…” she heard herself say. “Yes… yes…”
THIRTY-EIGHT
He stood in the narrow hallway, clutching the Remington, squeezing the stock until his fingers went white. He remembered every break-in he’d ever seen, a thousand doors he’d found twisted, violated, broken into splinters because they stood in the way of a terrible rage, of an anger shut out that wanted in. He remembered, too, the things he’d seen, the things he’d found behind those doors.
“Stay behind me,” he told Fergie. “Whatever I do, I don’t want you in the way.”
“Hey, no problem,” Fergie said. “You won’t even know I’m here.”
Dredd stepped quickly into the living room, bent at the knees, and swept the room with the Remington. He felt the tight constriction of his throat. The room was totally wrecked. Furniture was overturned, the upholstery slashed with a knife. Pictures had been torn off the wall. Broken glass littered the floor. At the far end of the room, a desk was broken in half, papers scattered about. Hershey’s computer had been dashed against the wall. Dark scars on the wall said someone had picked up the machine and tossed it half a dozen times.
“You got a machine abuser here, is what you got,” Fergie said. “I’ve seen it before. Guy doesn’t like anything of the electronic persuasion, he’s going to take a little extra time, hurt it all he can. It’s something happens when that person’s a kid. Maybe he sticks his finger in a socket, sees something scary on the screen—”
“Shut up,” Dredd said. “Hold it down.”
He left the living area and moved quickly down the hall. More broken glass. Blue shreds of paper that looked familiar to Dredd. He picked up a piece, held it to the light. It came from a Judge Training Manual:
“Can I say something? Can I talk?”
“What?”
“This is not what we ought to be doing, Dredd. We stick around up here, this is where the Hunters are going to expect you to be. Let’s get
“Sewer rats.”
“Pardon me?”
“You want me to hide out with the sewer rats, the lawbreakers, the scum.”
“Oh,
“Can it.”
“What?”
“I said
Dredd stepped into the bedroom. Everything was torn apart, upside down. “You don’t like the company, take off,” he said. “Nobody’s holding you down. Go find a sewer rat. Go find a—”
The boot hit him hard in the chest, driving him back against the wall. Hershey stepped from behind the closet door. She held the Lawgiver steady in both hands, the muzzle aimed between his eyes.
“Both of you, you know the drill! Up against the wall, spread ’em wide!”
Dredd stared at her. There was a dark smudge on her cheek, an angry cut above one eye.
“Hershey, I thought they’d—”
“Thought they’d what?
“Hold it a minute. Stop it. What happened here?”
“I’m a Judge. Someone wants to kill me. Someone almost did. They get you in the street, in your home, anywhere.” She paused, and gave Dredd a chilling look. “Why don’t you tell